by Valia Lind
Now, a long time or a short time later, the same rich and proud merchant came to the bazar. And the young merchant's son was there. Once again, he was the only one left. This time the young man asked for two hundred rubles and the rich merchant agreed. For he did not recognize the young man.
The two sailed back to the island of the golden mountain, but this time, the young man was prepared.
"Come, let us celebrate this day," he said, mixing a sleeping drink and giving it to the rich merchant. The rich merchant drank and immediately fell asleep. The young man found and killed an old horse, stuffing the merchant on the inside and sewed the skin together. Then, he hid in the bushes and watched the crows take the horse's carcass up the mountain.
When the rich merchant came to, he yelled, "Where am I?"
And the young man answered, "On top of the golden mountain. Dig for gold and I will tell you how I came down."
So the rich merchant began to dig. He dug twelve carts full.
The young merchants son has finally had enough, so he told the merchant, "Enough and farewell!"
"Wait," the rich merchant shouted, "what about me?"
"There have been nine and ninety who have perished, and you yourself will be the hundredth."
With that, the young man left the rich merchant and the rich merchant became the victim of the black crows with the iron beaks.
And the young man, he married the young lovely daughter and he never wasted his riches again."
The forest itself has grown quiet around us, as if it too was listening to the soft lull of Brendan's voice. It never seized to amaze me how terrible these stories were. But in the end, those who had it coming, got their just reward. And the horrible person about whom the story was told, has learned a lesson and came out on top because of it. I don't even realize I'm crying until Brendan is beside me.
"I didn't mean to make you cry," he says, confusion written plainly across his handsome face. For what girl cries at a story like that?
"It's not that, it's just..." but I don't know how to finish that thought. There are a million things for me to say and none that I can utter. I bury my face into my hands, overwhelmed by the grief pulsing inside of me. So many emotions rush through my body, I feel as I'm going to burst. But before I can self-combust, Brendan's arms are around me and he's pulling me to his chest.
"Shh, zaichik. You're okay."
"But that's the thing, I'm not," I hiccup, crying so much harder at the use of the familiar endearment. He won't be saying that once he learns the truth about me. I have no doubt Cornelius will be sharing that tidbit about me as soon as he gets the opportunity.
"I wish life was as simple as the stories you tell. I wish there were nicely wrapped up ending to the messiness of every situation. But that's not how it works."
"And so what?" There's fierceness in that question and I push away to look up into his face. "Life, real life, is full of problems and trials. It's full of mistakes and tears. But it's also full of love and smiles and laughter. You can't have one without the other. If you take away the bad, you take away the good, because it wouldn't be real life anymore. It would be a fairytale."
He believes every word he speaks and I can't break his heart by telling him I don’t want the messy bits. Because those are the pieces that will end up ruining us and I am selfish enough to hold on to the fairytale, even if it isn’t real. So instead of replying, I bury my head further into his shoulder and wrap my arms around his middle, holding him close. Because tomorrow, we may reach the heart of Shadowlands and he will know exactly what bits I'm made off. I will take his touch for as long as I can. For soon, he will hate me.
The next morning, we are awakened by the loud rumbling in the ground. The trees we have called home for the night, shake, swaying with the ground. The three of us jump off the branches, before we topple down, landing steadily to our feet. Glancing around, we find no source of the noise, just the feel of it under our feet.
"What is it?" Brendan asks, and I shake my head, having no idea.
"An earthquake," Maxwell calls out, a few feet to our right. Both Brendan and I twist in his direction, wearing, what I assume, similar expressions of surprise. Before either one of us can comment, the noise and the movement stops, and the forest returns to its normal sounds.
"We don't have those in Skazka," Brendan comments, straightening his clothes after a night's rest.
"Apparently we do now," Maxwell shrugs, his eyes still intently on the ground. He's got his scholarly look, running his hands over the soil.
"Is it like what's happening in the human realm?" I ask, when it doesn't seem like he’s going to elaborate. He looks up at that, his face set in serious contemplation.
"I believe so," he says, "it would be too much of a coincidence, if it's not."
"And we don't believe in those," Brendan comments. All three of us stand rooted in place, contemplating what this means. If the storms in the human realm are getting so bad that it's spilling over to Skazka then two things are true: my homeland is way worse off than we initially imagined, and someone left a door open somewhere.
"You don't think Cornelius would be stupid enough to open a rift, do you?" Maxwell asks, reading the expression on my face, as easily as a book. I really should learn to keep my thoughts to myself a little better. I glance at Brendan, and he's watching me expectedly.
"I think he's stupid enough to do anything he wants, but I can't see Glava approving of that plan at this point in their attack. It would just make things worse for them." I reply, playing over the strategy in my mind. Sure, there could be advantages to distracting the Royal Ones with a rift, but at the same time, the imbalance in majyk would be too much of a risk to take.
"I have a feeling Cornelius is doing a many things Glava wouldn't exactly approve of," Brendan comments, reaching for his pack and producing some jerky. After tossing a piece my way, and then Maxwell's, he dons the pack on and turns expectedly to us. "Either way, we're running out of time."
I know he means that in more ways than one. Whatever the Glava is cooking, it's not going to bode well for Jemma first of all. The rest of the land will come later.
"Then let's get moving," I state, biting a piece off the jerky, and moving past the boys in the direction my body is calling me. They don't question the sureness of my steps, just fall readily behind. I'm waiting for one of them to bring it up, to ask exactly how I seem to be more and more sure of which direction to go. But they don't. Exactly like they still haven't asked about the orb. As long as it’s not putting us in danger, they’re waiting for me to be the one to break the silence.
It's like a big elephant in the room, the unspoken questions between the three of us. I don't know if they're afraid they'll set me off, or trigger some memory that will tear me apart, but they're waiting me out. I don't know if I should be grateful or frustrated by their lack of initiative. They have no way of knowing that they shouldn't trust me as much as they do. And I don't have the willpower to shatter that illusion just yet.
I'm about to speak up, unsure of what exactly I want to say, when I hear it. A slight movement in the breeze, just west of us. I hold up my hand, freezing in my tracks, and the boys are on alert at once. That feeling of danger creeps in under my skin, making my whole body buzz with energy.
We step closer to each other, back to back, creating a three sixty coverage around us. But as we all shift, one step to the side, I see nothing. The feeling doesn't subside though, it becomes stronger with every passing moment.
"Cal, what is it?" Brendan's voice comes from somewhere far away, as I try to hone in my majyk on the feeling, and he's sounds just as baffled. My alert system hasn't failed us yet, but it failing now. I open my mouth to speak, but the majyk inside of me overpowers my sense and I scream.
Dropping to my knees, my hands hit the ground hard, the impact vibrating up my arms. I scream again as the images assault me from the inside out. Brendan is there, I see him through the fog in my brain, but I can't hear him an
y longer. The noise in my ears grows, louder and louder, until I am no longer me and I am no longer here.
I stand in the midst of a burning forest, watching the flames dance it's mesmerizing dance, a smile on my face. My hair has turned blazing red, billowing in the heat of the fire. The cat is at my left shoulder, his fur a deep orange-y red as well. He's shrunk in size, only a foot taller than me now. I can feel his purr, his content, as we watch the world around us burn. That's when I realize the screams are all around me as well, mingled with the flames. My smile blossoms into a grin, as I raise my hand and make the flames burn hotter. Moving them aside, to form a wall, I walk through, with the cat at my back, as the smell of flesh flows all around me.
The screaming doesn't stop as I come back to myself. My face is now as close as it can get to the earth, my hands pushing themselves deeper and deeper into the ground.
"Cal, come back to us. Come back to me."
Brendan's voice comes back into focus, and I realize he's sitting in front of me, his hands on my wrists, holding me steady. At least as much as he can. I raise my head, my hair sticking to the sweat on my face and find his eyes full of concern. And fear. But not of me. Of what this is doing to me.
I don't have words to explain what just happened, but the tears come before I can stop them and the next moment, I'm tumbling into Brendan's arms, wrapping myself tightly around him. My sudden attack sends us to the ground, but he doesn't hesitate to wrap his own arms around me. I don't remember a time when I willingly went into his arms like this, but I don't care about showing weakness now. The images are still fresh in my mind and I shake with the knowledge that they bring.
What I saw was not a memory. It was a premonition. I don't know if it will ever come true, but I know that it can. The evil that lives in my veins would love it to come true. It pushes for it every single day. But the struggle I feel, in the warring natures of myself, has never been so frightening before. What if what I saw is what I am meant to become? What if all I have to offer is blood, and fire, and death? How can I save anyone if I can't even save myself?
I shake and I sob and I cling to Brendan in the way I have never clung before. The onslaught of emotions have no anchor and I can't seem to pull myself together.
"It's okay, zaichik. You're safe. I got you. I always got you. I will never let you go."
Brendan whispers the words as if he's making a promise and I wish I had the strength to tell him to keep his promises to himself. If he knew the truth about me, if he knew what I was capable of, he wouldn't be holding me this close. But if this ordeal has taught me anything at all, is that I am weak. My weakness lies in the way I feel about him. In the way he makes me feel. I am my own burden, weighed down by the truths I can never utter.
"Don't be afraid, Cal."
And that's the gist of it, isn't it? I am afraid.
I am the most powerful volshebnitsia of Skazka and Shadowlands. I can bring down the Royal Ones with a wave of my hand. But I am afraid of what that will make me and I don't think Brendan can save me from that. I don't think anyone can.
4
I stay asleep for a long time. I'm not sure if I'm actually that tired, or if I'm just using it as an escape against the questions. Maxwell and Brendan both kept those to themselves as we made camp, but I know sooner or later, I will have to tell them the truth. At least in part.
When I finally wake up, I realize that we’re not in trees, the boys are sitting by the fire. They set up an actual camp on the ground, and I think it’s because we all need some resemblance of normal at this point. They don't speak as I move towards them, settling down on the opposite side, closing the triangle. Taking a deep breath, I look them each in the eye and begin.
"I saw something...and I don’t know what to do with the images or what they may mean." I say, my voice shaking just a tad. They boys don't miss it either, and coming from someone who is typically the rock in the group, they sit up slightly taller, on full alert now. Clearing my throat, I continue.
"I was in the midst of the forest. I couldn't tell if it was Shadowlands or the healthier parts of Skazka because everything, and I mean, everything was burning. There were screams, coming from all direction and I...I just stood there."
It's half a truth, but it's the best I can give them. They mull over my words, before Maxwell speaks up.
"It wasn't a memory," he states, confirming my suspicions. "Nothing like that has ever happened here. Not to that extent."
"Then what? I can see the future now?" I ask, trying to keep the fear from creeping into my voice.
"Maybe." My stomach drops. "Or maybe it's just a manifestation of your inner turmoil." I jerk to attention at that.
"What do you mean?"
"I mean, we don't know what's happening to you. We still don't know who put the spell into you. Maybe this is a safety mechanism. Maybe it's you working out your problems. At this point, we just don't know."
I haven't considered those possibilities, but they do sound better than the version of me being an evil being bent on destroying everything. I am more inclined to believe that, considering the impulses I've been trying to push down, but if this isn't set in stone, then that means I can still do something about it.
"It scared me." I say, giving them the one truth that I can.
"Which is totally understandable," Maxwell says, his voice firm and sure. I smile at him, thankful of the reassurance, before my eyes find Brendan once again. He hasn't said a word. I watch him now and it's as if he's trying to prepare himself for what he has to say.
"You shouldn't be afraid to talk to us, Cal," he finally says, sighing. "If you need help working through whatever is going on in your head, let us help. We're here for you."
"I'm okay."
"No, you're not," Brendan snaps, making my eyes squint in response. "But that's okay. And you need to let yourself not be okay. Because we understand. And we're here for you. But you need to let us be, instead of working it all out in your head and working yourself into a vision of death and fire."
He pauses then, the wind seemingly going out of his sails and I shut my eyes for just a second. He's right of course. But how do I tell him half truths and still expect him to stand beside me? He needs it all. Beginning to end. And I don't know if I'm ready to do that just yet. After we rescue Jemma. Then, I will tell them and suffer the consequences. But not before.
"I trust you. I trust you both," I say now, keeping my voice firm. "I just need to figure this out for myself, before I bring you into it. Our mission is Jemma. Then...then, we figure out the rest."
We sit silent for a long minute, before Maxwell is the one to speak up.
"Are we going to talk about how exactly we're planning on rescuing Jemma? They want the orb, right? We don't exactly have that. And even if we did, handing it over would break Skazka apart in a way that’s too dangerous." He's finally putting into words what they both have been wondering. I glance at Brendan, and he's still watching me, waiting for an answer.
"But we have me," I say, raising my hand to stay off any protests. "Just hear me out. I am the next best thing."
"You're not actually planning on trading yourself for Jemma?" Brendan burst out, jumping to his feet. "That's insane and in no way what we signed up for."
"You signed up to follow my lead," I say, standing up as well. The fire between us burns hot, but not as hot as the energy that's flowing around us. "You will do as ordered. No questions asked."
"Oh, are you pulling the commander card again?" Brendan all but spits at me. "You only do that when you know you are in the wrong. I am not going to stand by and allow you to put yourself in danger!"
"It's not up to you what I do!" We've had this argument a dozen times and each time, my emotions are at war. I love him for caring, but I hate him for thinking he can decide for me.
"I'm not trying to make your decisions for you. But you have trusted me to follow your lead all these years. Why can't you trust me enough to follow mine?"
"It'
s not about trust."
"It is absolutely about trust," he contradicts. "Working together we can come up with a much better plan than you surrendering. You know you can't give them what they want."
I hate the fact that he's right, but I can't exactly tell him that I'm carrying the orb inside of me. They can't get it from me and they can't kill me. They only way to do so would be to find my heart and stab it. Whatever torture they may throw my way would never be enough to make me crack. But if they take Brendan, or Maxwell...I don't know what I'll do. And that scares me more than words can express.
"Brendan, all of this? It's more complicated than you know," I finally sigh, unsure of where this will end. This back and forth is unbreakable cycle and I don’t know what to do to get out of it.
"I understand that. Trust me, I probably do more than anyone else. But it doesn't matter that we have to make stupid decisions. And giving yourself up to them will be just that."
"You know he's right," Maxwell finally speaks up, silencing whatever other protest I would've come up with. "We're in this together, so we need to come up with a plan together. If you go rogue, someone will end up getting hurt. And I'm not talking about just you."
I study their faces, so full of trust in me, but also of determination. They were raised as soldiers, just as much as I was. In Maxwell’s case, he may not have the extent of our battle training, but he’s a strategist. Both of them, they will do whatever it takes. I don't want to put them into any more unnecessary danger then they're already in. There has to be a way for me to keep my secrets and to allow them to be part of the plan. But I can't come up with anything right now. So I take a deep breath and say,
"Okay, then what's the plan?"
It's another full minute before Maxwell finally says, "I have no idea."
"Well, I'm so glad I've enlisted your help. Me being traded for Jemma stands." I turn away, but I don't get far, before Brendan grabs me by the arm.