“I spoke truly before. There will come a time when he will be able to have control again, and we will become subject to him, but that will take time—more time than you have on this plane as human. If he had awoken younger this would not be the case but he would not have the same feelings for you.”
“Look, I don’t want to talk about this anymore, and I don’t want to talk to you anymore. Get out of my way.”
He sighed at me but ultimately he moved, and I left the room. Beyond Yorwrath and Grwn were packing things up, getting ready for their trip back. I watched them for a handful of moments and as I watched them I could feel Aneurin’s heavy gaze on me. Standing there in that room, I made up my mind to do exactly what Islwyn has discouraged me from doing. On the way back I was going to pay a visit to Baba Yaga.
Chapter Seventeen
We were on the road traveling on our way back to the camp outside Heves before I came to grips with the fact that the ritual had failed. That failure preoccupied my whole existence, and I soon found myself unable to think of anything aside from seeking out Baba Yaga’s help with returning my Aneurin to me.
We were close enough to Baba Yaga’s lands—according to the books I had found in the tower—that I could walk to their home for help. I readied myself for the quick journey after most of the others had gone to sleep. Yorwrath stared at me as I slowly slipped my sword onto my back. He was the only one still awake—it was like he was refusing to let me leave unnoticed. His irises were like molten gold as he watched me with that stoic severe stare. The crackling of the wood seemed to be the only sound for the longest time, like the whole world had stopped. I was almost certain he knew what I was going to do. However, I was prepared in case he tried to stop me. In my hand was a pouch of herbs in a small linen satchel and a scrap of linen for me to press over my mouth and nose to avoid the sleeping herbs. However, he didn’t say anything. However, he didn’t say anything or try to stop me. He just sat there as I tucked that small pouch of herbs and cloth away. He stabbed the fire with his dagger. Most would have poked it tentatively like they were afraid of the flames, but not Yorwrath. No, he stabbed at the coals like they had displeased him somehow.
“So what now, Dy’ne?” He glanced up at me for a moment before returning to his task. “Running to Baba Yaga to beg for help?” He sucked his teeth but said nothing else about my impending errand.
“Yes.” This was Yorwrath I was talking to. There was no reason to offer explanations.
“All right then, Dy’ne. Best of luck.” He spat on the ground but didn’t look up at me.
“That’s it? Best of luck? You’re not going to try and dissuade me from walking into the forest alone?”
He snorted back a half laugh. “No. Why should I? Is that want you want me to do? Should I declare my love for you like some whimpering boy and beg you to stay?” He was laughing now; bitter peals of laughter escaped those lovely lips. “I’m sorry if you’ve mistaken me for someone who gives a fuck, Dy’ne. But I’m not my brother, and I’m not Islwyn.”
“Are you sulking?” I furrowed my brows and watched him for a few moments. He rolled his eyes at me.
“My, don’t we have a high opinion of ourselves, Dy’ne. No, I’m not sulking. It’s a good thing you’re pretty because you clearly don’t have much between the ears.”
“Oh, fuck you, Yorwrath.”
“Already did. It was nice. We should do it again sometime, Dy’ne. But not now. You’ve an errand to run”—he took his dagger out of the glowing embers and pointed the red-hot tip at the moon—“and you’re running out of time.”
“Shit,” I cursed as I pulled my hood over my head and darted into the forest. Yorwrath was right. There were only a handful of hours that Baba Yaga heard supplicants, and those hours were drawing to a close.
* * * *
The forest pressed in on me as I made my way through the near-inky blackness of the night. The farther I went into the woods, the more deafening noises around me became—it was like every creature knew that winter was fast approaching. Numbness had set into my fingers by the time I reached what had once been a clearing in the wood. We had passed through it before on our way to the temple, but now there was a small cottage where dirty villagers lined up with clucking chickens, baying goats, or screaming infants to offer. There were elves in the line, as well as dwarfs and gnomes. The cabin seemed exceptionally ordinary. Even with the line it was like most healers’ homes used to be before the onset of the Dawn.
However, when I took my spot at the end of the line a large form in red tempered armor stalked toward me. The plate armor glinted in the moonlight as that figure made his way past those gathered, as though on a mission. I had nothing to offer Baba Yaga, but the figure said he had a gift for me. Gifts were things freely given without payment. That’s the only reason I was able to stand my ground as the towering figure stopped before me and craned its neck as if to peer down at me. With a swallow, I held my head high, and that massive knight dropped to his knees before me.
Kneeling in prostration as he was—this could only the Red Sun I’d heard so much about—he was as tall as I was when standing my tallest. The swords on his back were as long as I was tall. I should have been intimidated standing before him, but I wasn’t. I felt a connection with him that was hard to place. He unsheathed his swords and balanced them across his palms. I had only read of knights doing such things. He was pledging his swords to me. My eyes narrowed at the gesture, I didn’t trust it one bit. That mammoth figure remained kneeling.
“I cannot accept this,” I called, looking around. I could feel their gazes on me. Oh, the line of those gathered were all staring, but there was more. Something was lurking just out of the edge of my sight. And then Baba Yaga left the cottage in the guise of three young, beautiful women.
“We almost thought…”
“…you wouldn’t come…
“…receive your gift.” They spoke in their broken way, yet they were no longer joined.
“I came as soon as I could. There was a complication,” I said, my gaze drifting from form to form following their speech.
“Of course there…”
“…was! The Swynwr…”
“…never comes easily.” The three of them sniggered at their double entendre.
“But enough of that…”
“…you’re here for your…”
“…gift. We kept it for you.” They held out their hands, and after a few seconds, a garland of black flowers appeared.
“However, we…”
“…demand a…”
“…payment for our troubles!”
“Keeping this fresh…”
“…for so long…”
“…was no easy task!” They snatched the garland away from me.
“And if I pay this price, you’ll allow me to go from your lands as I please unscathed?” I asked as my gaze drifted from one form to the next. The gathered villagers stared in awe. Some dropped to their knees in the dirt and were whispering quiet prayers in a tongue I didn’t know.
“Of course! We…
“…cannot hold you…”
“…we’d anger him.”
“What is your price?” I chose my question carefully. I didn’t want to anger them, and I wasn’t entirely certain they wouldn’t harm me.
“The least painful of…”
“…all things we are within…
“…our right to request.” I cringed at the thought recalling the state of Aneurin’s phallus as they withdrew him from their pus-coated throat those weeks ago. But I was practical. I could survive some unwanted sexual attention from Baba Yaga and its fetid throat if it meant my safety and a possibility of bringing my Aneurin back.
“If you need convincing…”
“…this gift we give…”
“…will bring back your beloved Aneurin.” It was like they could see into my mind. In truth, I wasn’t entirely certain that wasn’t the case. Their sudden mention of just the right thing a
gain made me narrow my eyes. I didn’t trust their perfect timing, but I couldn’t pretend they hadn’t offered me exactly what I sought from them.
“Follow our Red Sun…”
“…he will give you…”
“…what you seek… Go!” The three of them gestured together at the cottage and the door opened. Red Sun left the line of people gathered there and crossed the threshold.
“And if I don’t?” My lips pursed, and they collectively rolled their heads to the side.
“We will be gravely disappointed…”
“…in you. Here we thought…”
“…you wanted to save Aneurin.”
“What will happen once I’m inside?” My gaze wandered back to the cottage.
“Such a smart girl to…”
“…ask questions. Most would…”
“…run in without a thought.”
“And because I’m so smart, I noticed you didn’t answer my question.” My gaze darted to the sky. The darkness wasn’t as profound as before. The sun was sure to rise in a few hours, and when it did Baba Yaga would be gone.
“Trust in the glorious maidens, Dy’ne. They have served the woods for centuries and if they meant you harm they would not have asked,” an elf beside me snarled, glaring at me. He was shorter than Aneurin and Yorwrath but still far taller than I. In the moonlight his irises were almost silver and his hair pitch-black. His hands were clean—no dirt under the nails—and he wore an embroidered riding jerkin. The elf before me was clearly wealthy, maybe even one of their nobility.
“We only want a little…”
“…blood, and a trifle…”
“…of your nectar.”
“That’s all? Nothing else?” I watched them carefully.
“Yes,” the three of them replied at once, and I sucked my teeth.
“All right. Fine,” I grumbled before trudging back to the cabin and that looming open door. I walked down that line of people and their sacrifices. Once I passed that threshold the door closed behind me, drowning out the clucks of chickens, the cries of babes, and the cacophony of insects that filled the night.
The air of the hut was foul and stale. The smell was that of a musty library mixed with an apothecarium that hadn’t been touched in centuries. My nose twitched as I walked through the tiny room. It looked like it could have been a nice home if not for the smell. Passing from the main room, where they must have entertained their worshippers, I noticed that the room beyond wasn’t half as nice. There was a table coated in gore and bits of flesh with a trail of blood drops leading from it to shelf after shelf of herbs, body parts, and bodily fluids. A few labels caught my eye. They weren’t written in common, but I had seen the symbols before. A small vial with this year scribbled on yellowed parchment held an almost pearlescent fluid in it. I knew it was Aneurin’s seed, which they had so carefully collected weeks before. Another one looked like it once contained blood but was now empty save for a thin dried coating.
Behind me, I heard the dull clanking of armor being removed. Rolling my eyes, I turned around before searching for the origin of the sound. The room I was in was clearly the end of the ground floor, but tucked away in a corner was a set of stairs that led below. Do I really want to go down there? I peered down the staircase, it was actually better lit than the room I was standing in.
With my hand resting on my sword, I descended the steps, recalling Red Sun’s size and Yorwrath’s harrowing tale of his fight against Darkest Midnight. Oh, I knew there would be little I could do if whatever was under that armor decided to attack me, but I wanted to at least be able to try if I found myself in such dire circumstances.
Below, the stone walls were covered by a tapestry, not unlike the walls of the tower in the abandoned forest. Arwn stood, knighting a figure in black armor, surrounded by a great host of black-armored figures carrying brilliantly gleaming swords. Next to the knighted figure was an enormous white hound with red ears and a red nose. The scene looked familiar to me, but I couldn’t place it, so I pushed it out of my mind. It was just a tapestry after all, and I had more pressing matters to attend to.
The sound of armor being removed continued, and I turned a corner to find an open room with nothing but a pile of pillows and furs in the middle. The edge of the room was ringed with candles that burned high. The scent of the beeswax muted the staleness. Red Sun knelt with his back to me as he continued to remove his armor. His form was impressive, as to be expected; he was taller than Yorwrath and even Aneurin. His shoulders were slightly broader, but he had that same lean, defined muscle covering his body. Admittedly, I admired it as I allowed him to continue stripping. When that red armor was in a pile and nothing remained but the leather trousers he wore under his leg plates, he stood and I gaped at him.
Red Sun was an elf. There was no mistaking it—his ears came to those delicate points. However, he was bigger than any elf I had ever seen, but not bulky. His frame I’d almost call too lithe to effectively wear the plate armor, but that didn’t mean he didn’t look powerful. That, however, wasn’t what caused me to stare at him slack-jawed—it was his face. He had Aneurin’s features, but the coloring was all wrong. Yes, his skin was so white it was translucent, but those irises weren’t mismatched. Instead, they were the color of the palest sprigs of lavender. His hair was also the wrong color; it was coppery instead of chestnut. But the lips, the chin, and the cheekbones were the same as Aneurin’s.
Shaking my head, I closed my mouth and let my hand fall from my sword. That has to be glamour. Sighing, I ran my tongue over my teeth. If it was glamour it had the desired effect. I was less guarded, though half of me was still tense.
“How are we doing this?” I asked, glancing at the mostly nude male. I had enough problems with Aneurin and Yorwrath—there was no way in hell I was going to stick whatever monstrosity he had between his thighs inside me. He stared at me blankly. “Great. You don’t speak common, do you?” He smirked a bit, furrowing his brows. I held my hand out to him. He snatched a vial off the floor and a linen cloth before he walked over to me, producing a small knife from his boot. My hand felt like a child’s in his as he turned it over so my palm was facing up. He moved his fingers across my palm. His skin was rough, and the calluses scraped like sandstone.
The knife made me uneasy, but he barely cut me with it. All he did was slice my palm and catch the blood in that tiny vial. Once it was full, he carefully wrapped my hand in the linen and closed my palm before cupping my hand in his. Our gaze met, and he reached up with one of his massive hands and caressed my jaw.
“Thywysogesau,” he said with a smile, before he quickly pressed his lips to the tiny, neatly laced bow of my trousers.
It was awkward as hell to have a stranger—no matter how attractive—press his lips to the laces of my trousers. I placed my hands on his shoulders and pushed his stooped form back from me, shaking my head no. He nodded and took a step back, retrieving another few scraps of linen from the pillows, and returned to press them into my hands. Unlacing my trousers, I shut my eyelids and slid that cloth between the lips of my sex as I caressed myself to climax as Red Sun watched me.
While still shaking, I held the linen out to him, and he took an open jar and closed it around the sopping fabric. Fastening my trousers, I made my way out of the hut. The line had progressed, and Baba Yaga in the guise of the three maidens was now meeting with the highborn elf in a circle of logs off to the side. Once finished with the silver-eyed elf, they approached me, still holding that black garland in their hands.
“For your wedding gift…”
“…we return to you…”
“…what is rightfully yours.” As the three of them spoke, they placed the garland on my head. At first, I felt the leaves and sprigs of branches scrape my scalp and forehead. Then I heard whispers in the night, as the garland atop my head shed its leaves and petals, leaving only gnarled, woven twigs behind, which turned to dust that caught on the wind and scattered in the slight breeze.
; “That’s it?” I couldn’t hide the bitterness from my voice.
“Yes, my dear…”
“…what did you…”
“…expect? Lightning? Thunder?” The three of them shared a laugh at my expense.
“But you said this would help Aneurin return!”
“Yes, but we say…”
“…a great many things…”
“…child, not all of them true.” The three of them stepped together, and the shadows in the clearing grew thick and long, so thick I couldn’t see for a few moments. When my sight returned, I was greeted by the sights and smells of Baba Yaga in the form of the three-headed hag.
“So you lied to me, just so you could get the ingredients you need for your glamour?”
“Oh, no. We could never ever…”
“…lie to you. He would take…”
“…our heads and other bits if we did.” They continued to cackle at my frustration as my hands balled into fists and my lips twisted. I wanted to hit them. I wanted to pull my sword off my back and slice open their guts just to see if they were as rotten and fetid on the inside as they were on the outside.
“How is this going to help me get him back?”
“Time will…”
“…show you…”
“…everything.” The face missing its eyes twitched its head to the side like a massive vulture, smiling at me, wide and half toothless. They faded with their cottage as the sun started to rise behind the trees. They disappeared so fast that by the time I had picked up the rock to throw at them, they were gone. I stood alone in the clearing and screamed out my frustration.
* * * *
When I returned to camp, everyone was packing up. No one asked me where I had been, and Yorwrath never asked if I had been successful. The sun hadn’t even finished rising by the time we were on our way again, and the consistent rhythm of Caoilfionn’s hooves on the road lulled me to sleep. Every time my lids started to close Caoilfionn would snuff at me, forcing me back awake. We made excellent time, but the journey back to their main camp was far different than our journey to the abandoned forest. Every day that passed on the road only served to drive home my resolve to leave.
Heart of the Forest (Arwn's Gift Book 1) Page 24