"However harshly you decide to judge me, I will accept it," she said.
"I won't judge you," I said.
"You may change your mind after you've heard my tale," she said. "I have done things that would make Veles shudder in revulsion."
Rowan began in a confident tone, almost as if she weren't speaking of herself, but repeating a history that she'd read in a book of myths. Except she wasn't the hero, the slayer of fell beasts, but the villain. I listened all the way through, never once interrupting her, but try as I might, I could not help but judge her so completely that by the end I was shaking and wanted to bring that slab of stone down upon her wicked head.
Chapter Thirty-Three
I was not always a healer. I wasn't even a mercenary, or a traveler. I was none of these things yet. What I was, was the ruler of an entire universe. It wasn't as massive as yours, as yours is one of the largest in the multiverse, but it was mine.
I was an angry woman. Mad that the universe had conspired to destroy me. That crucible of pain had created a different woman than you see now. They gave me names like 'the Terrible' or 'The Sorceress Queen of Angrular.' Names I earned and paid for, with the blood and tears of my subjects, every one.
At the apex of my power, I found myself on a backwater planet, on my way to another place. I decided to take in the local culture. I don't know why, perhaps I was bored. I'd ruled for an impossibly long time. There was a village. A village of mud and bugs.
Wait. I must back up. You might be confused why I am not in the hut, not sharing time and space with my sisters. When Neva first contacted me through the veil and offered her deal, she had figured out how to access power, the kind of power that could split suns. It's this power that sustains us.
We hid it on Trevalorian, the original, where Neva had survived. There was nothing left of her universe except a cage for power.
This allowed us to become immortal and rule our individual universes. There were hundreds of us at this point, and we were spreading.
By the time I reached the village of mud and bugs, I was bored with power. I had begun to fantasize about ending it. All of it, my universe included. Why should it continue without me?
So I looked for things that bothered me, took umbrage at imagined slights, lashed out at open arms, and generally made life miserable for everyone around me.
I'd come to the village because I'd heard of something unique, and at this time, uniqueness was a trait I treasured above everything else.
It was said there was an old woman who could carve song out of the air using a special knife. And not just any song, but the cries of the universe, and each one was different and could make a statue weep.
Song! From my universe! This was an experience that I had not yet even conceived. Though I went to that place as emotionless and unapproachable as a black hole, I was vibrating inside with the thoughts of something new.
Not just new, but a hidden secret. Something that was mine, as I had ruled long enough that I'd forgotten my humble beginnings.
Oh, I should have known that it was too good to be true. I should have expected trickery. But I didn't care at this point. Conceptually, the idea that something was powerful enough to challenge me seemed ludicrous, and if such a thing was possible, then it was unique, and therefore deserved a chance.
In other words, I was excited by the possibility of being assassinated, so I allowed the old woman to get near.
The old woman had set herself up in the traditions of the Crone. She had a bone fence and ravens on the chimney. There was even a cauldron! A glorious cauldron oozing out mist, and a golden-haired child to tend it.
It was a delicious illusion, and I played my part with aplomb.
You know what the Old Crone looks like. Your books of myth would find similarities throughout the multiverse, which has since made me wonder if the originator of this whole cascade was a Crone herself, or maybe it's just an eventuality that naturally repeats itself.
She bade me to come close. Come closer, my child. Come closer, my child. Even though I was her senior by eons.
The song. The song!
The Crone held in her wrinkled hands a pronged knife. I knew what it was at once: a tuning fork. Upon sight, I worried that I'd been brought here for a fabrication, a delusion from an old woman playing at myths.
I bristled with power upon seeing that mundane object, and I saw real fear in her eyes. The kind of fear that only the truly powerful know. For it's one thing to snuff out a mayfly, whose life barely registers as a spark. But to those that have existed for ages, we know the fear of losing our place, even as we undermine our own efforts with suicidal tendencies.
The Crone regained her composure and acted the part well, speaking in riddles and nonsense words. I enjoyed the farce, keeping my power at the ready to destroy her root and bough should she prove false.
I was having more fun than I'd had in a thousand years!
When she struck the tuning fork with a yellowed fingernail, hardened with age, I was at once transfixed.
Vibrations of a subluminal kind seemed to put cracks into the smoky light. But it was not beautiful. It was awful. It was the screams of suns being ripped apart by black holes. It was the tearing of time. It threatened to turn my immortal bones to infinite dust.
At once I realized my mistake. They'd not sent one assassin to kill me, but two.
I turned at the last moment to find the golden-haired child advancing with a terrible shifting blade in her fist. Yes, you know it as the Blade of Time.
Crone and child unveiled their power, revealing beings from another universe. They were not my match in raw power, but the artifact in the child's hand gave them the advantage.
But I had not lived this long due to inaction.
I deflected the Blade of Time into the Crone. The destruction of her being was worse than the blade itself. As she disintegrated, the child realized that she was outmatched, and slipped away through a hidden portal.
With the Blade removed from my universe, the Crone was given one chance at continuation. The last conscious act of the Crone—try as I might to stop it—was to meld the remnants of her being with mine.
In me is a dying god. An assassin from another universe. The Blade scrambled most of the Crone's being, sending it to all times, but the remainder attached itself to me.
That's the hunger that drives me. Imagine a drain slowly emptying a tub of water. That's me. Through the Crone, I am infinitely empty.
At first, it was more pronounced. To save myself, I devoured everything around me, hoping to quench my hunger.
When the others realized that I'd survived, they sent more gods to kill me. You see, the other universes had begun to realize that we were becoming a problem. Neva had gifted the other versions of herself with immense power, allowing us total domination.
The other gods realized that left unchecked, they would be consumed by us. So they made a pact to destroy us, using the tools of the multiverse.
It was this war that wiped out the majority of the Baba Yagas, and the other gods. Down to the last handful, Neva constructed a plan to escape. We lured the gods into a final battle and used our power against them.
Except it didn't go as planned, and in the last fitful moments, the hut was born and our lives linked. Since then, my sisters and I have traveled the multiverse, diminished.
The gods we fought were ended, severing a link to the earliest times of the multiverse. Only we remained, though I've always suspected that Neva had more secrets than she would let on.
In the early days of the severing, I was consumed by hunger. I spent my turn in the hut traveling and sucking whole planets dry. I was known as the Hunger, a near inescapable force. This went on for untold millennia, until it began to subside. Maybe I had filled its gut, or the link was fading.
As the Hunger lessened, my interactions grew. When I'd been the ruler of my universe, it was one thing to give commands and expect them to be carried out, even if the result was the de
aths of others. It was another to suck the life from someone again and again, up close, watching their life spark dim and disappear into your bottomless maw.
Eventually such deeds can bend a person. Remember that in the beginning, I was much as Neva, as cruel and capricious as death itself. Only through my curse did I learn the price of my actions.
So I fed my Hunger on distant battlefields, claiming that which was soon to perish, rather than take that which had much left to live.
There is no penance large enough for me to ever account for the deeds of my life. Even an infinite span would pale against my life's ledger.
But that does not mean that I should not try.
Yes. I know, Katerina. It's much to accept. I am more vile than all the new gods put together.
I hear your silence, your teeth-chattering condemnation. I would do the same. If the sisterhood we have enjoyed is lost, then know that my only regret is that these truths have caused you pain.
But these truths have a purpose. Know that my goal since my awakening has been, much as your Enlightenment on this earth, to end this pact of Baba Yaga so that we may no longer cause harm.
I tell you these things to harden you against my end so that when the time comes, you will banish us even if it means losing our friendship. For that is the prophecy that was given to me by the Gamayun, and why I was willing to be their pawn, if it meant drawing closer to you, who might be the savior that finally puts us to rest.
Chapter Thirty-Four
Pain and rage had never burned so bright. If I could have ended Rowan, even knowing that it would kill Ben as well, I would have done so. But the hut would save her, by yanking her back, leaving Ben crushed and me trapped.
I wiped tears on the sleeve of my coat, trying to silence the tremble in my lower lip.
"You're a monster," I said.
"The worst," she replied, undaunted.
"You used me," I said, capturing tears in my palm.
"I deserve your scorn," said Rowan.
I balled my fists and smashed them against the stone. "Stop that! Stop accepting it! I want to hate you!"
"If hate is what is required to end Baba Yaga, then so be it," said Rowan.
"How can I end it if I'm stuck here? How do I end you at all?" I asked.
Rowan spoke calmly, as if these conversations were something she'd prepared herself for for a long time. "I don't know, but we must escape. The prophecy tells me so."
"What is it?" I asked.
"No," she said sharply. "I dare not let you know, or let you warp it away from its desired purpose."
"Then what do we do?" I asked.
"First, we must escape. Then, I don't know, but we're not near the end...yet," she said quietly.
"You're willing to let me kill you," I said.
"If it means my sisters and I can no longer haunt this multiverse," she said. "Or would you dare allow Neva loose? Only the constant rotation of our position has kept her from further mischief. If she was ever to take control of the hut completely, my previous actions would be saintly in comparison."
"The slab of stone is the problem," I said. "If I nudge it away from this passage, it'll crush you both."
"I could keep it from falling on us," she said.
"Could you climb out as well?" I asked.
"No," she said. "But it would give time for Ben to escape."
"And then?"
She sighed heavily. "Eventually I'd have to let the stone fall. Then it would only be a matter of time before Neva returns."
"How long?"
"We're in luck that the hut is still repairing itself. And her battle with the Star Eater had to take a toll. At worst, a few weeks, and best a few months."
I squeezed the bridge of my nose with my fingers. "I need you against the Jörmungandr."
"No you don't," she said. "You have what you need already, though you're going to have to retrieve it. The spear Gungnir was clearly meant for killing that beast."
"That thing is gargantuan. How could one spear slay a creature that large?" I asked. "Even with a tip that can slice through stone, the creature would have to be stabbed through the skull to do damage. It would swallow me whole first, and I wouldn't trust myself anyway since it has a link to me. We need Harvest—he's strong enough. But we can't have him if you return to the hut."
After a moment of quiet reflection, Rowan spoke. "I can give you someone strong enough."
"You can? Who?"
"I think you'll find the name quite poetic. He's long been a warrior of the mind. This time he can be a warrior of the spear," she said.
"Ben? Ben Franklin?" I asked, as if she didn't know his last name.
"The very one," she said.
"But he's injured. How will he gain that kind of strength?" I asked.
"Leave that to me," said Rowan.
"But how we will get out? My passage ends right outside," I said.
"I think this slab blocks the passage. Once it's out of the way, you'll have a short climb back up," she said.
"Then it's settled," I said. "Heal him and let's get this over with. Despite your willingness to help, it's difficult to be in your presence knowing what you've done."
"Just promise me you won't hesitate when the time comes," said Rowan.
"If the time comes," I said. "And don't worry, the scales have fallen from my eyes."
"It will come," she said with quiet intensity.
The pit went quiet, then I heard grunting and thrashing and the scraping of boots against stone. For a moment, I thought about flashing light into the pit to see what Rowan was doing, but then I realized I had no desire to see her latched onto Ben.
"Dear God, what have you done to me?" said Ben as his boots slapped against stone.
"I healed you and then some," said Rowan.
"Ben. It's me, Kat. I'm up above. I'll explain what the plan is once you're up top," I said.
I had no intention of telling him what was going to happen with Rowan, in case he might try to save her.
I cast my eldritch light into the pit. Ben held his arm over his face. His skin and hair practically glowed. "I feel like I could leap up to that hole."
"You probably can," said Rowan, "but save your strength. You're going to need it later. For now, stand back. I'm going to shift that stone so you can climb up."
Rowan gave Ben no time to ask questions. She closed her eyes and held her arms above her head as if she were holding a platter. The slab started to shake, and dust and pebbles fell on them as the stone shifted.
As soon as a gap formed, Ben scrambled up the wall like a monkey in a tree. I barely had time to slide out of the way before he was through the hole. He snaked past me until we were facing opposite directions.
"How do we get her out?" he asked.
"I'm sorry, Katerina," said Rowan, a moment before she let go of the stone slab.
It hit with bone jarring force, sending a cascade of dust into the tunnel, leaving Ben and me coughing and sputtering. When I was sure that the whole pit hadn't fallen in, I dared a glance out of the hole to see a chimney going up a few meters. There was a way out.
Keeping the light in my fist, I started climbing up the side. There were plenty of handholds.
Ben stuck his head out. "Where are you going? Where's Rowan?"
"Back in the hut," I said over my shoulder. "She sacrificed herself so we could continue. Hurry up and climb, we have much to do."
Chapter Thirty-Five
The crack in the earth led back to the main tunnel. After checking for the Midgard Serpent, we ran to the passage that led back to the cavern beneath the lake.
I explained the plan to Ben on the way back. We would gather Ana and Brassy, and commandeer the airship. Between the four of us, we could fly the aerial craft.
Back in the village, I spied firelight flickering against the opaque windows of the khan's hall.
"Rouse Brassy and meet me at the gate. I have something to do before I fetch my daughter," I said.
&
nbsp; Ben started to say something, but then he saw the resolve in my gaze and left without further comment.
The hall was empty. A few logs flared on the bed of coals, indicating someone had been in the room recently. I heard arguing from the side room. I thought about interrupting them, but decided what I had to do first was more important.
No one was guarding the steps into the earth. The ice crystals in the muck cracked as I headed into their secret prison.
To my unfortunate surprise, I found the Uthlaylaa's desiccated body slumped in a pile along the stained earthen wall. Koryak was busy at his table with his back to me.
He flinched and turned around. His black lips curled towards the floor. The room stank of rot and death.
"You're too late," said Koryak. "I harvested it before it died on its own."
A glass vial in his pale hands was filled with a dark liquid.
"Murderer," I said.
"Survivor," he replied.
It took all my resolve not to march over and throttle his neck. "You realize that we were tricked into raiding the Nenet. We killed them for no reason other than to satisfy your Great One."
He failed to react to my comment, leading me to believe that he already knew. He glanced at the exit, which I was blocking.
"You know you can't get past me unless I let you," I said. "Even with that creature's blood in your system, you couldn't take me."
His lips twitched with annoyance. "Then what do you propose?"
"I'm leaving the village tonight, along with a few others. You can submit to me and let me tie you up so you won't cause mischief, or I can leave your corpse in the mud."
I had no intention of killing him. There'd been enough death already, but he wouldn't know I was bluffing.
He glanced at the ground. "Will you leave me alive?"
"If you cooperate," I said.
The ease of his submission worried me. But he allowed me to use the chains that had been on the Uthlaylaa on him. A fitting reversal.
When I picked up the vial of blood, I thought about smashing it on the floor. It was a crime that the creature had been tortured and siphoned of its blood. But now that it was dead, I hated to waste an opportunity.
Dragons of Siberia (The Dashkova Memoirs Book 7) Page 16
