by N M Thorn
Zlydzen left his hidey-hole behind the fireplace and levitated in the air attempting to avoid the flames. Gunz raised his hand up, pointing at the evil spirit and a ray of purifying fire hit it straight in its chest, setting the fur ablaze. A moment later, Zlydzen was gone, devoured by the merciless flames. A small pile of ash with boots in the middle of it, was all that remained of the wicked creature.
Gunz ordered the fire to cease, staring at the ash and the boots with curiosity. But he knew that the Zlydzen couldn’t be killed by fire and he had a very limited window of opportunity before it would rise again.
Swiftly, he swept all the ashes into the box, threw the boots on top of the ashes and closed the lid, locking it with the hook. Holding the box in his hands, he ran to the door, breaking through the half-rotten wood with one kick of his leg. Yaroslav and Siv were already waiting for him by the steps.
Gunz shoved the box into Yaroslav’s hands and flew up on top of Siv’s back, grabbing the stallion’s golden mane. “Siv, can you keep up with Yaroslav?” he asked. “Him and I cannot be separated by more than a hundred feet.”
“What are you? Lovers?” asked Siv mockingly, rolling his eyes. “You can’t be separated… Let’s see if your defective vamp can keep up with me.”
“I’m not defective,” growled Yaroslav, for the first time showing his true annoyance with the cocky horse. “You will—”
“Stop it! Both of you!” roared Gunz. “This is not a race between you two. Siv, Yaroslav and I cannot be separated. Period! Slavik, no games. We need to bury this box and we need to do it swiftly. So, Siv will lead us to the nearest crossroads and you will stay by his side. Am I clear?”
“Fine,” replied Yaroslav, throwing a furious gaze at the horse.
“Fine!” neighed Siv, starting to walk toward the gates, pushing Yaroslav with his shoulder as he passed him by.
Gunz had learned how to ride a horse when he was just a five-year old boy. He had also had enough practice in horseback riding when he lived in Kendral. But none of his previous experiences prepared him to how it felt riding the legendary Sivka-Burka. The magical stallion moved with incredible speed, hardly touching the ground with his massive hooves. The wind whistled as he rushed forward, silent like a shadow.
He leaned forward, almost lying atop the stallion’s neck, his fingers frantically grasping at the silky mane. Gunz wasn’t scared. On the contrary, he wanted to let go and spread his arms as the smooth movement of the stallion made him feel like he was flying.
Gunz looked to the side and saw Yaroslav moving along his side, clutching the box in his hands. He didn’t want to call his fluid, soundless motion a run. It was so much more than that. He wasn’t even sure if the vampire was touching the road with his feet or if he was airborne – graceful and weightless, yet dangerous like any predator.
Yaroslav caught his gaze and smiled a joyful smile. He was fast and he was strong, just the way Gunz remembered him. Whatever Zlydzen hit him with had counteracted the effects of the gray stone jewelry, at least for a short while.
Siv stopped in the middle of an intersection. Two narrow byroads crossed here, surrounded by dark woods. Gunz slid off the horse’s back and surveyed the area. There was no one here. Yaroslav kneeled, putting the box next to him, and quickly made a deep hole in the ground.
Carefully, they lowered the box inside the hole and covered it with a layer of dirt. Siv watched them with curiosity and when they were done, he approached the place where they buried the box and hit it with his hoof a few times, making sure the ground was well packed.
“Are you sure, it’ll keep this whatchamacallit down?” Siv asked, a layer of doubt in his words.
“I’m sure,” replied Yaroslav dryly, shaking the road dust off his pants. “Zlydzen is not coming back.”
“I wasn’t asking you, glitchy vamp,” snapped Siv, baring his massive teeth.
“You—,” started Yaroslav but cut himself off, shaking his head and turned to Gunz. “Let’s go, Gunz. Time is working against us.”
“Wait,” said Gunz, raising his hand. “I need you both to shake hands and make up. If we’re planning to travel together, I can’t have you two constantly at each other’s throat.”
“He started it,” neighed Siv pouting, turning his head away.
Gunz turned to Yaroslav, frowning. “If you’re going to tell me that he started it, I swear, I’m going to kick your undead ass.”
“You could never kick my ass,” said Yaroslav, a boyish grin splitting his face. “Even when you were in your full power. Too slow, too small and too weak, little lizard.”
“Ugh,” muttered Gunz, admitting to himself that Yaroslav was right. Even though he fought and killed enough vamps, when it came to fighting, Yaroslav was in a league of his own. “Never mind that. Shake hands and make up. We need to get moving.”
Yaroslav pursed his lips but extended his hand to the stallion. Siv pressed his ears down and stared at his hand, narrowing his eyes. Then he snorted and touched Yaroslav’s hand with his hoof, quickly pulling it back. Gunz mounted the horse and a few minutes later, they walked inside the gates of Lord Miller’s house.
Chapter 19
~ Zane Burns, a.k.a. Gunz ~
Siv galloped through the gates and didn’t stop until he reached the stable. He danced impatiently as Gunz dismounted and Gunz found his eagerness worrisome. With everything he had seen so far from the magical stallion, he wasn’t sure what kind of trouble he was going to walk into next. Yaroslav was standing by the door of the stable, leaning against a pole, his arms folded over his chest. The expression on his face was a perfect reflection of Gunz’s thoughts.
“Siv,” said Gunz, grabbing the horse’s mane, stopping him, “what are you not telling us? You better tell us everything before we walk into your next con.”
“Why? What did I do?” The stallion turned his head to Gunz exuding purity and blissful unawareness. “I just want to be away from this town already. That’s all…”
“Are you sure?”
“Cross my heart—,” started Siv, but Yaroslav interrupted him.
“And die you will, if you’re lying to us,” he promised in a low growl, baring his blade-like fangs. “After all the fighting and running, I feel a bit peckish, and horse’s blood would do perfectly well.”
Siv winced and backed away, his ears down. “Well, maybe there is a little something,” he mumbled, his oversized eyes glued to Yaroslav. “But I swear, it’s not going to affect you or your mission in any way.”
“I told you,” said Yaroslav with a half-shrug. Gunz glanced at him and couldn’t help but chuckle – the terrifying vampire’s fangs didn’t work well with a very much human, boyish grin on Yaroslav’s face.
“Spit it out, Siv,” said Gunz with a sigh. “What is it this time?”
“Wizard, you’re not going to let your vamp feed on me, are you?” asked the stallion carefully, stepping from hoof to hoof.
“I don’t know.” Gunz shrugged, suppressing laughter. “Yaroslav is my friend and I don’t want to see him starve, you know? So, it depends on what you’re going to say next.”
“I swear, it’s not going to affect you,” Siv reassured them again. “But have you ever been in love? The kind of love that doesn’t let you sleep, eat, or think clearly? And you would do anything just to be with her again, to be able to run by her side one more time, to see her mane flowing freely in the wind… You know?”
Gunz blanched but suppressed the agonizing memories Siv’s question brought forth. “Let’s assume for the sake of this conversation that we know what you mean,” he said dryly. “What does it have to do with us?”
“Well, the beautiful Mariella, the mare I love, is in this stable,” explained Siv, inching his way closer to Gunz. “All I want you to do is pick her as your price. She’s strong and powerful and almost as fast as I am. If anyone can keep up with my pace, it’s Mariella. Please, fire-wizard, pick her…”
“Is she as talkative as you are?” asked
Yaroslav snickering.
“Um… no,” replied Siv, looking away from Yaroslav’s fangs.
“Oh, good.” Yaroslav sighed in fake relief. “So, how do we know which horse to pick?”
Siv neighed happily, his normal upbeat disposition coming back to him. “It’s easy. She’s the only white mare in this stable.”
Gunz shook his head and walked inside the stable. Yaroslav and Siv followed him. The stable was light and clean. Unlike the house, everything here was in perfect order. For some reason Zlydzen’s vile presence hadn’t affected it. There were at least fifteen horses housed in the stable – all pure bred, long-legged beauties.
Lord Miller was sitting on a bench at the far end of the stable. With his hands folded on his lap and his head bowed down to his chest, he appeared to be sleeping. However, as soon as Gunz walked in, he lifted his head and a hopeful gleam lit up his eyes.
“My lord.” Gunz greeted him with a light bow. “Your house and your property have been cleansed. You can safely return to your life, sir.”
“I can’t believe it,” whispered the old man, tears gathering in his eyes. “Are you sure it’s gone?”
“Yes, my lord,” replied Gunz with a light smile. “You can send your servant to check.”
“No, no.” Lord Miller shook his head. “I would not disrespect you by not trusting your word, young wizard. What can I do to repay you and your friend?”
“All we need is one horse from your stable,” said Gunz.
“Pick any horse and it’s yours.” Lord Miller waved his hand around.
Yaroslav headed toward the white mare. Tall and elegant, with her long silvery tale and mane, she stood out among the other horses in the stable. Her smart brown eyes were staring longingly past Yaroslav, at Siv.
“We’ll take her,” said Yaroslav, throwing a quick look at Siv, an uneven smirk on his lips.
“I was expecting that,” said Lord Miller, pursing his lips. “I knew that this sneaky thief would find a way to get her. All the same, I’m a man of my word. Mariella is yours.”
He waved his hand at his servant, ordering him to get Mariella ready for the ride. The old lord also offered them a saddle and bridle for Siv, suggesting that Gunz would be more comfortable riding the magical stallion with a saddle.
Needless to say, Siv wasn’t thrilled with this idea, but in the end he agreed and picked the best saddle and bridle the old lord owned. Lord Miller was so happy that the evil house spirit was gone, he didn’t object to that either.
Thirty minutes later, Gunz and Yaroslav left town, directing their horses toward the “highlighted route” as Darling Lily put it.
When Siv promised that he could get them to Yaginya’s land in two days, he hadn’t been kidding. Both Siv and Mariella were galloping at such speed that the only thing Gunz could see was a continuous blurry wall of trees. They rode through the endless dark forest, with hardly any stops to get food and water.
Despite all the training in horseback riding Gunz had received in Kendral, by the end of the second day, only the power of his will was holding him upright in the saddle. His back was aching mercilessly, and he could hardly feel his legs. He kept readjusting his position, quietly cursing the endless ride and absence of proper transportation in the magical nexus.
Once in a while, he threw a quick glance at Yaroslav. Unlike him, the vampire looked like he was born in the saddle. Slightly leaning forward, with his wrists soft and flexible, he didn’t show any signs of tiredness, seemingly relaxed and comfortable. The only thing Gunz was concerned with was how long the energy boost that Zlydzen gave Yaroslav would last.
By the end of the second day, as the sun gradually lowered down toward the horizon, the horses slowed down to a soft trot. The forest was still just as gloomy and thick as ever and with the sun gone, the darkness became overwhelming.
“Siv, why are we slowing down?” asked Gunz, readjusting his position to straighten his aching back.
“We’re almost there,” replied Siv in hushed voice. “You’ll see soon.”
Just to be sure, Yaroslav pulled out the Darling Lily device. He pressed the home button and the screen lit up, displaying the map. The checkered flag that marked the final destination was visible at the end of the bright pink line.
“Darling Lily,” called the vampire, and the corners of his mouth quirked up in anticipation of Lily’s antics.
“Hell-ooo, kitty. Mmmmm, my processor is on fire…” purred Lily, the screen displaying a large winking eye. “What can I do for you, golden handsomeness?”
“Can you please tell me how much farther to Yaginya’s land?” asked Yaroslav, stifling laughter.
“I can tell you anything you want to hear, my cold hotness,” purred Lily, arrows with red hearts flying across her screen. “Your final destination is only a hundred feet ahead.”
“Thanks,” said Yaroslav, putting the device away.
“You’re actually enjoying this.” Gunz snickered, shaking his head. “For a few-centuries old vamp, you’re a bit on the vain side, aren’t you?”
Yaroslav chuckled, wild twinkles dancing in his eyes, but didn’t object to his friend’s snide remark.
A few minutes later, the forest opened up into a small clearing. Gunz stopped Siv at the edge, carefully surveying it. The space was perfectly round, like someone drew it using a compass. The dark sky above the clearing was punctured with little dots of stars and the bright disk of the full moon was showering it with its cold light.
A small hut with a tall gable roof covered with straw was positioned right in the center of the clearing. The edges of the roof and the window frames were decorated with lacy wooden designs, and a wind vane in the shape of a rooster topped the tip of the roof. But it wasn’t the roof that drew Gunz’s attention. The whole contraption was sitting on thick chicken legs.
“A hut on chicken legs,” mumbled Gunz, exchanging a quick look with Yaroslav. “Really?”
“Should we try?” asked Yaroslav, his hand slowly traveling to his sword.
Gunz rolled his eyes. Did he really have to repeat the words from Russian fairy tales to make this hut turn around? That felt absolutely ridiculous. He sighed, riding forward and halted in front of the hut.
“Hut, hut,” said Gunz throwing a warning gaze at Yaroslav, whose eyes started to spark with laughter, “turn your back to the forest and your face to me.”
For a moment he held his breath, wondering if the fairy tales his mother read him when he was a child were just that – fairy tales. But when the hut on chicken legs screeched mournfully and slowly started turning around, stepping carefully on the tall grass with its chicken legs, he almost gasped.
“It worked,” muttered Gunz, staring at the rotating hut in awe.
“Gunz, forget about the hut. We’re not alone,” hissed Yaroslav. He was off his horse, holding his katana at the ready.
Gunz scanned the area with his senses, realizing that Yaroslav was right. A presence of strong magical energy somewhere next to them was undeniable, and the old vampire with his constantly heightened senses had registered it right away. Gunz manifested his sword, but besides feeling the magic somewhere nearby, he couldn’t see anything or anyone.
“Slavik,” he said quietly, channeling the energy of the Fire, “come here and stay as close to me as you can.” Then he turned to the stallion. “Siv, I need you to keep an eye on Mariella. I don’t want her to get scared and run when she sees the fire.”
He waved his hand, conjuring a flaming circle around them. The wall of fire surrounded them from every direction, shredding the darkness with its fiery presence. To his relief, both horses didn’t react to the fire, standing calmly inside the circle.
“Whatever it is, it’s here…” He heard Yaroslav’s voice in his mind. The vampire was standing back to back with him with his sword in his hands.
Through the wall of fire, he noticed that the hut had finished its rotation and there was someone standing in front of it. The swirls of hot air made the fig
ure shimmer and its silhouette appeared to be distorted and blurry. The veil of white smoke rising above the circle didn’t help the situation.
At first, the person was just standing there, silently staring at the bright light of the fire. After a moment he or she slowly moved forward, toward the fire circle. Even through the veil of smoldering flames, Gunz could feel this person’s magical signature and it was incredibly powerful, too powerful for a witch or a wizard.
“Aw, boys, you picked the wrong element to fight me,” said the stranger whose voice unmistakably belonged to a woman, “I love fire. My favorite toy.” She put her hand into the flames and the fire slowly subsided. “Now that I can see all of you, I would love to say I smell humans, but neither of you are. At least not entirely.”
“Baba-Yaga?” asked Gunz flabbergasted.
He was expecting to see an old, ugly crone with matted gray hair and warts on her face, riding in a mortar with a broomstick in her bony hands. The woman standing before him was no more than thirty years old. She had a pleasant oval face with a clear complexion, surrounded by wavy strands of long deep-brown hair. The outside corners of her honey-colored eyes were turned down slightly, giving her a sad appearance. Dressed in black leather pants, leather jacket and tall boots, she stood almost as tall as Yaroslav.
“I would prefer if you called me Yaginya, boys,” Baba-Yaga said, a slight smirk touching her coral lips. “The image of Baba Yaga was severely damaged by some of the Russian fairy tales and I don’t feel like doing damage control.”
“Yes, ma’am,” mumbled Gunz, but a split-second later, he got over his initial shock and bowed to her respectfully. “My lady, we were looking for you.”
“Zane Burns and Yaroslav Potemkin. I was expecting you,” she said calmly, pivoting on her heels and headed toward the house. After a few steps, she halted and glanced back at them, her eyebrows raised. “Do you need a special invitation? Sheath your swords, boys, and follow me.” Then she waved at the stallion and continued, “Siv, you and your lady-friend can stay in my barn, behind my house. You’ll be safe there and there is enough hay for the both of you.”
