The Golden Stag

by Mark Baggett

hair Dmitri understood. It was true, he supposed, that he had stopped living. When was the last time he had strayed far from this house without the cover of darkness to hide his face? Months? More perhaps?

  “Your brother saved my life, but I am not special. I am just…”

  “Not ready,” the creature finished his sentence. Dmitri winced at the phrase. The Golden Stag had mentioned similar tidings about him long ago. It was infuriating, as well as depressing, to be told such things. How was he to know what he was meant to do in life? There was no one here to guide him. No one had told him the secret plan…

  “Oh, but that is not true, boy.”

  Dmitri turned away from the thing. Being in his head did not give it the right to bully him about. It simply meant that the creature was powerful. But even the wolfen held power. Just not him.

  It was better that he linger here in the rotting corpse of his childhood home, being that it was all that he possessed in life. And hardly worth the kindling it might soon become. But it was his and his alone. His one prize.

  Obviously the brothers had made a huge error…

  “Of course there has been no mistake. I do not make mistakes,” snarled the cricket as it fluttered its wings in agitation.

  “I told you to stay out of my head!” Dmitri barked before covering his ears again. This time he began to hum a tune to drown out the insect’s voice as best he could. But then something sprang to mind and he froze.

  “You don’t make mistakes?” he asked in a rush of excitement. As soon as the cricket responded with a cocksure grunt he pressed on. “So only your brother – the Golden Stag – Fate – makes those? Mistakes, I mean. You don’t. He does. So you are angry and spiteful because you, not the stag, has to correct these blunders. Am I right?”

  With wings trilling at a fantastic rate an eerie whine had filled the lonely and barren home. Dmitri sneered at the creature. He had been correct. The blasted bug resented having to do its brother’s dirty work. And thus it took out its anger not on Fate, but with him instead.

  Finally as if it could stand no more the cricket bounded into the air. Its wings fluttering frantically the youth was thrilled by this retreat of the obnoxious otherworldly being. He would prefer the stag’s presence any day.

  The cricket spiraled in the air before lunging directly at Dmitri. Caught unguarded the young man thoughtlessly lashed out.

  Swift as he was Dmitri missed the speedy insect entirely. Or rather almost entirely.

  The lancing pain in his palm hit him immediately and he drew back in fear. There, piercing the flesh of his hand, right between the webbing of thumb and forefinger, the cricket’s spur went deep. And it burned unnaturally.

  “There,” barked Destiny as it circled about nearby before fluttering toward the window. “This spur shall remind you of your insolence, child.”

  “Blasted bug,” Dmitri shouted as he wrenched free a shoe and heaved it at the infernal monster. The shoe crashed through the window glass and the cricket simply followed suit.

  “Do not try to remove this token of my visit, Dmitri Kovtun. For you cannot by mortal means alone. Any effort to reject it will be remedied with swift, harsh pain.”

  “What? Why?”

  “You need to learn humility child.”

  “I am not a child! Blasted demon. This is your brother’s fault…”

  “Indeed. Thus it is part and parcel to your fate.” The powerful creature in an insect’s frail body chittered harshly at his victim. “Consider it a… bit of fine tuning to the cycles of fate.”

  Followed by hateful laughter the thing did flee his home then but only after it had left a piece of itself with him. And that tiny bit hurt like hades.

  “Stupid, stupid, stupid,” railed the hapless recipient of Destiny’s attention. But whether he was admonishing himself or the mystical bug even Dmitri did not know.

  Fumbling about in a house that had long fallen into disrepair, as had the youth within its mildewing walls, Dmitri sought out something sharp to remedy the stinging pain in his hand.

  Completely ready to disregard the warning given him by Destiny itself he found, and smashed, an old piece of pottery. Gathering the best pieces he chose the longest, most dangerous looking shard and set about ridding himself of the cricket’s final ‘gift’.

  Using the shard was clumsy, as well as foolhardy, even for one as brash as Dmitri. But he steadfastly refused to be dictated to a life not his own for a moment longer. Neither Fate nor Destiny was going to tell him how to toe the line from now on.

  Inadvertently slicing his palm with the sharp fragment the teen released a sharp gasp and a torrent of blood. This confused him greatly. Why was it bleeding so? It was a simple cut, not deep at all, yet it now poured as if from a cup.

  In disgust and fear Dmitri tossed the shard away. What had he done?

  Suddenly weak-kneed he staggered dizzily and nearly fell. Luckily he caught himself, for the stairway loomed large in his blurred vision. A fall from here might have broken his neck.

  Again his legs gave beneath his weight. His knees splayed, Dmitri frantically reached out for support.

  “I’ll kill you for this, bug!” he bellowed in vain. His voice echoed back from the empty shroud of a home as he blacked out completely. The last vision he had was of him greeting the stairway face first on his way down.

  Then all turned black, bleak and cold.

  With a dampness seeping along his brow and puddling beneath his cheek Dmitri flickered between worlds. For brief periods of time he hurt terribly. Ungodly pain. Then nothing. Like the lapping of waves he felt pulled downward. Deeper and deeper.

  Voices hovered nearby. Overhead, behind, beside him. Everywhere at once yet nowhere in particular.

  “See, the child is a dullard. An utter simpleton. Hardly worth…”

  “All are worthwhile,” replied a second voice. Was that the Golden Stag? The voice was so eerily similar. Dmitri thought that it was indeed the stag.

  “Still protecting the boy?”

  “Not protecting,” came the calm retort. Then it seemed to mull over the answer. “Guiding.”

  “You cannot guide a fool.”

  “Caution, brother. You have become bitter, just as the child told you.”

  “Of course I am bitter. He is not the one. We would be better to sacrifice…”

  “No.”

  “No?” The second, obviously the insect’s voice, was in utter shock.

  “No,” responded the first and the meaning was clear. The answer was final. Resolute.

  In the dark place of his mind Dmitri listened as Destiny stammered angrily.

  “You, brother, were the one that led me to the boy. You were the one to pronounce his destiny. You made this choice alone.”

  “But…”

  “Yes, I did interfere. The natural flow was disrupted. My apologies have been given. Accept them and move on, brother.”

  With a loud harrumph the cricket fumed impotently. Even in this unnamed place Dmitri could feel the anger seeping from the being’s soul. How could any being of such otherworldly power, so very godlike, be so utterly petty?

  But before he could possibly divine an answer the young man slipped away once more into the inky depths.

  When he next woke it was to a bright – harsh – beam of sunlight. Shying away from the glare Dmitri covered his face with his arm. The light hurt. It was so bright.

  Within moments he noted the bandages on his hand. And still more upon his forehead. Then the thought occurred to him that nowhere in his home did the sun shine this brightly. Clues, he thought dully. Clues that meant… what?

  Sitting upright suddenly Dmitri almost tumbled from a small bed. Dizziness beset him so mightily that he had to lie back down for it to pass.

  When capable he opened one eye slowly, peering about in great curiosity. This was most definitely not his old shamble of a home. Even in his youth that house had never been so airy and bright and cheerful.

  A clatter from else
where startled him. He had felt it as much as heard the sound. Sensed it with unknown abilities. Was this how it began for the wolfen? Was he at last becoming a man?

  The teen shrugged his sore, swollen shoulders. Stiffness had settled upon his body as he had slept. How long had he been unconscious?

  There was no answer for this question for he was alone. Just as he had been in his home beforehand. As he had been most of his life. Which meant that now, as then, he would have to search out his own answers.

  Careful to move slowly for the time being Dmitri inched his way to the edge of the bed and lowered his legs to the floor. Here he took a moment to survey the room as his head adjusted to being upright. Already a pounding had begun behind his temples. And his ears were ringing loudly.

  The room was a modest one, though colorful, and as he had noted, brightly lit. Obviously his hosts wished him awake and out of bed. Wish granted, he groused as he stood and felt so light headed that he swayed unsteadily. Now his head truly began to throb in pain.

  Still dizzy and wavering in that one spot he noted someone whisk past the partially open doorway. With hardly a glimpse of the person he somehow reasoned that it had been female. But how?

  With a dip of the head he tried his best to open this riddle. There had been no obvious perfume and hardly a sound as the person rushed by. Definitely no voice to judge by. So how exactly was he so sure that it had been a woman?

  Still mulling the answer over Dmitri was startled when the object of his curiosity returned to peer inside. The expression on her young face was as clear as a bell. And it mimicked his own