The Echoed Realm

by A. J. Vrana

  She exhaled with wonder. The willow felt like her dreams—like the thrum of a hidden world teeming with fey spirits and ancient gods. They were quiet, revealing themselves only to those who listened carefully enough to hear their whispers.

  Then, a crunch of leaves shattered the silence. The spell broken, Kali spun to see a dark mass moving beyond the willow’s wickery branches. Sweeping them aside, she watched as the silhouette came closer; its edges sharpened into pointed ears, an open maw, raised hackles, four lithe legs, and a long, thick tail.

  A black wolf was standing guard in the glade.

  He circled forward as Kali backed up beneath the willow’s canopy. Undeterred, the beast stalked closer until his coal-coloured nose parted the branches gilded in emerald blades. Fangs like daggers dripped with the animal’s thirst as his hot breath thundered through the air. If Kali had hoped the tree would shelter her, she was mistaken. The wolf crossed the threshold, now only a modest lunge away. Two blood-red eyes pierced the darkness between them.

  Swallowing down her fear, Kali focused on the willow’s bark pressing into her back. This was the monster tormenting the village—the one that savaged hunters and snatched dairy goats. With dwindling milk and butter, and with the hunters yielding fewer kills, the children grew thin and hungry. And it was because of this wolf.

  Decebal and Milena were dead…because of this wolf.

  Yet Kali couldn’t help but wonder: why was the wolf alone? Wolves lived in packs; those who broke away risked dying if they didn’t find a mate.

  Perhaps he’s no ordinary wolf, a tiny voice chimed from within. Perhaps he’s the Viyest you’re to mark for the Hollow hunters.

  Anger boiled up Kali’s throat where the fear once lurked. No. She wouldn’t be a part of that. She didn’t want to end the stygian wolf’s life, but she had no intention of becoming his next meal either. “I just wanted to make a basket and pick some herbs,” she laughed breathily.

  The wolf, suddenly appearing bored, plunked down on his haunches. Throwing his head back, he released a high-pitched squeal as he surrendered to a gaping yawn. Stunned, Kali straightened. The wolf had lost interest in her.

  “It can’t be,” she muttered.

  The wolf’s ear twitched, pupils darting towards her and then back to the forest. Tail up, he lowered his head to the ground and stretched, then ambled from the glade. The border between black fur and foliage fell away as the wolf melted into the shadows like a dark mist.

  The menace was gone.

  32

  VELIZAR

  A bone-shattering scream pierced the sky. Birds fled the treetops, and the shrubbery near the mouth of the Hollow rustled as twigs snapped, branches shook, and leaves the colour of dandelions fluttered to the ground.

  Out stumbled Pavel, wide-eyed and bloodied from elbows to knees, sweat and dirt painting every patch of pale, fear-stricken skin.

  Bartha rushed from his workbench towards the young hunter. “Merciful gods, where have you been?” The old man caught Pavel as he collapsed like a newborn fawn, then stared into the darkness beyond the trees, waiting. “Where are Marko and Jove?”

  The young man’s head shook in sharp, spastic motions. Even Velizar couldn’t tell if it was a willful gesture or a violent tremor.

  “The wolf?” Bartha whispered, and Pavel nodded.

  Heat crawled up Velizar’s face. Sendoa was to leave Jove and Marko alive; they were to be witnesses to Pavel’s dismemberment. Why, then, had his brother spared the dissenter?

  Pavel’s seething gaze found Velizar. He might’ve conceded that Velizar had been right; the forest was too dangerous. Yet this was no triumph. Pavel’s wounded pride would be a threat to Velizar’s control. What if he lashed out to restore his ego?

  Moreover, the slaughter of two innocent men—men who’d volunteered to help Pavel on Velizar’s behest—would only fuel the villagers’ righteous anger.

  “This cannot stand any longer,” said Bartha. “The black wolf must be put down.”

  Some approached the injured Pavel, his leg mangled. Murmurs of discontent swelled. Facing the crowd, Velizar raised his hand to soothe them.

  “My good people, now is not the time to act in anger—”

  “Now is not the time for your sermons!” Pavel spat. “We can no longer stand idly by while this monster devours us like sheep.”

  “Yes, yes!” a voice cried from the growing mob.

  “Who will avenge Jove and Marko? Will we leave their spirits restless and unappeased?” another challenged.

  Velizar’s jaw clenched. “I warned you all of the danger. Young Pavel did not heed me. Jove and Marko offered their support in goodwill, and this is the result.”

  “The result is always the same!” Pavel threw out his uninjured arm. “We heed your warnings, and people die. We ignore them, and people still die. All that’s left is to gather our best and pierce the beast’s heart with an arrow—something you’ve discouraged since you arrived!”

  Nods of agreement. Declarations of resolve. Velizar could no longer keep track of who was defying him. He clasped his hands behind his back. “Do as you will,” he said tightly, “but mark my words: more will die if you disobey.”

  “Is that a threat?” Pavel called. “This began with your arrival. Perhaps you’re behind it.”

  Silence. Uncertainty.

  Velizar spun on him, eyes ablaze. “A threat? Dear Pavel, if I were actually responsible for this savagery, it would be you who lies rotting in the woods, not Jove and Marko.” He bore into the hunter, towering over him even from afar. “I implored you to be prudent, but you chose to ignore me, did you not? You were ill-equipped by virtue of your own ignorance, were you not? Are Jove and Marko not dead, then, because of your own boyish pride?”

  The anger crumbled from Pavel’s face. Nourished by the shame and guilt that replaced it, Velizar continued.

  “Your choices led to this tragedy.” He parted the crowd with smooth strides until he stood before the defeated hunter. “I’ll not tolerate such heinous accusations from a child scrambling to shed responsibility for his actions, though I suppose it would be unreasonable to expect a boy to act with the wisdom of a man.” The corner of his mouth quirked. “Worry not, Pavel. You may be too young to understand, but it is my role as your king to ensure that you learn.” Velizar turned to two men. “Take him to the cellar, where he may think on his actions.”

  “What?” one of them balked. “He nearly died!”

  “And his actions led to the death of two others!” Velizar roared. “Do we not have laws? Do we not punish those who trample on them? Or will we rely on false accusations and far-fetched conspiracies to bring peace and order?”

  The two men turned to Bartha. The lines on the elder’s face cut deep with worry as he glanced between Velizar and Pavel. Finally, he nodded. “Take Pavel to the cellar. His wounds will be treated, and he will be fed, but Velizar is right. Pavel was brash, and it cost us all dearly.”

  Pleased, Velizar smiled, but his satisfaction was short-lived.

  “However,” Bartha continued, “I sympathize with Pavel’s frustrations. We will hunt the wolf, but we will do so out of necessity, not anger. We will ensure no more lives are lost.”

  Velizar stood frozen as Bartha beckoned the throng to disperse. The men led Pavel away, though not before Bartha placed a gentle hand on his shoulder.

  This simply could not stand. Velizar would have absolute obedience. Even Bartha was challenging him, and it was Sendoa’s fault.

  He stalked toward the woods, radiating fury. Unchecked power leaked from his mortal form, and the grass withered beneath his heavy steps. Fighting to contain it, he didn’t notice the figure traipsing through the trees until he crashed into her.

  She cursed under her breath and reeled back from the collision. “Forgive me,” she said. “The branches are so thick here.”

  Only when she spoke did Velizar recognize the cloaked figure of the Dreamwalker. “What were you doing in the woods?”
/>
  She raised a bundle of willow branches. “Collecting supplies.”

  “I see you too have chosen to defy orders.”

  She clutched the wicker. “Those of us not protected by the rules have no choice but to break them. The village abandoned me, so I sometimes abandon them. It’s survival.”

  Her words struck a chord in him—one that gave rise to a peculiar medley of indignation and understanding. He loathed having anyone outside his flock, yet this one girl remained a pariah, hovering beyond his domain. Worst of all, he couldn’t blame her for it.

  “Take care of yourself, Dreamwalker,” he said stonily, then pushed past her. He felt her probing eyes on him as he disappeared into the woods. She no doubt wondered why he was exempt from his own code. The conjecture made him smile.

  He may have resented her boldness, but at least she was interesting.

  Velizar slowed as he stepped into the glade. “You’re ruining everything.”

  A growl rumbled from the shadows, followed by the grizzly crack of bones. Sendoa emerged into the clearing, dragging a dead deer behind him. “Don’t be dramatic.” He tossed the carcass at Velizar’s feet.

  “What’s this?” the elder asked, his nose wrinkling in revulsion.

  “A peace offering.” Sendoa plopped down onto a stone. “Take it to your people.”

  “What?”

  Sendoa leaned back and raised a brow. “You can’t expect them to honour your decree if you don’t feed them. They’re not angry that you have laws. They’re angry because your laws don’t provide. No one cares about safety when they’re starving, brother.”

  “Well, perhaps I should let you be their king,” Velizar sneered.

  A smirk crept onto Sendoa’s face. Sucking deer’s blood off his thumb, he ran his tongue over his teeth but said nothing more.

  Velizar turned brusquely away, unable to tolerate the sight of him. Sendoa was already half-animal, unbothered by the taste of raw flesh. Velizar had hoped those unsavoury qualities would stay confined to the wolf, but he realized now how meaningless the distinction between Sendoa the wolf and Sendoa the man had become.

  Ultimately, he was neither man nor wolf. He was a god, and he could take whatever form pleased him. Clearly, he preferred the beast.

  Velizar raised his eyes to the colossal willow witnessing their quarrel. Its slim leaves pulsed with green life even as the surrounding foliage browned and withered. The tree’s ancient roots plunged deep into the earth and through other worlds. Pieces of faraway realms flaked from it like granules of magic.

  The old guardian was neither here nor there, but a doorway to everywhere.

  The bundle of branches under the young woman’s arm was speckled with those fey flecks; they could have only come from here. How fitting that the Dreamwalker should find the gates of the dreamscape and strip off pieces of it to weave herself a basket.

  “You spared the girl,” Velizar said at last.

  “What girl?” the younger asked dryly.

  Velizar turned to his brother. “The Dreamwalker. The one who found her way to the heart of these woods, to the sacred places no mortal should ever find.”

  “Does she threaten you?” Sendoa’s molten gaze glinted with mockery.

  “She defies me.”

  The beast’s raffish laugh rolled through the glade like thunder. “The gravest of insults!”

  “No,” seethed Velizar, “but do you know what is? Having my brother spare the wretch I condemned to death while murdering those destined to behold my divine punishment.”

  Sendoa howled until the birds fled their roosts. “Clearly, they weren’t destined to behold your divine punishment.” He grinned with menace. “I ripped their throats out.”

  Velizar stepped forward. “Have you any idea the trouble you’ve caused?”

  His brother shrugged, picking dirt from under his nail. “Pavel didn’t deserve to die. The other two, however—”

  “I ordered him to die. Therefore, he deserved to die!”

  Sendoa’s good humour dissipated, his eyes gleaming red as the blood from his hands. “Your creed isn’t universal, Vel. I have my own too.”

  “And pray, tell, what creed does a wild animal have?”

  Sendoa’s jaw clenched, and momentary hurt rippled across his face. “Pavel was trying to feed his family. He treaded my territory with care and respect. But those witless sons of bitches you sent with him were too stupid to live.”

  Velizar gnashed his teeth. “I counted on their stupidity, Sen. I needed those witless sons of bitches to cement my rule. Pavel is what threatens it.”

  “And the girl, apparently.”

  “Why didn’t you kill her?” Velizar demanded, incensed by Sendoa’s gibing. “You know what she’s capable of.”

  “She’s harmless,” his brother scoffed. “She came looking for food and wicker. I may be a god of destruction, but ending a helpless girl’s life serves no purpose. I destroy the old so that the new can flourish. And that girl is not old, in body or belief.”

  “She represents old beliefs.”

  “The Hollow’s beliefs,” Sendoa corrected, then chuckled, his gaze turning to the willow. “She looked me dead in the eye and said she just wanted to make a damn basket. How could I say no? You don’t often stumble upon a woman willing to face off with a devil.”

  “You’re too easily impressed.” Velizar sighed and rubbed the bridge of his nose. “The hunters will come for you. I cannot stop them.”

  “Let them,” he welcomed the challenge.

  “You will ruin everything I’ve worked to build with your flippancy!”

  Sendoa strode up to Velizar and bared his teeth, his snarl low and seething. “The Hollow may be your kingdom, but the forest is mine. Here, I decide who lives and who dies. Here, my law presides. Not yours.”

  Immobilized by the destroyer’s ferocity, Velizar took a meager step back. Although he was the conniving of the two, Sendoa was the force that snapped what couldn’t be bent.

  “Very well,” Velizar relented. “But I warn you, brother, this cannot end well. The way of beasts is inferior to the rule created by higher minds.”

  “Save your warnings for fearful men,” said Sendoa. “I am only a beast, after all. What do I know besides teeth and blood?”

  Velizar’s thoughts slowed as something dawned on him then, and he offered a careful smile. “How right you are, brother. How right you are.”

  “Ekaliya,” Bartha implored sombrely, “We need you.”

  Velizar stood in the corner of the elder’s longhouse, the warm glow of guttering candles leaving shadows dancing on the timber walls. Although Velizar still sulked over his loss of authority, he’d managed to maintain his calm façade. He watched quietly as Bartha and the Dreamwalker faced one another, each of them rigid as their dying beliefs.

  “I don’t see how I can help you.” She pretended to be oblivious, but Velizar saw through the act. She knew what she was. She’d known all her life.

  Bartha sighed and leaned on his walking stick. He tossed a scrap of grouse to his mouser cat, its thick winter coat signalling the impending freeze. Outside, the clouds hung heavy with unfallen snow. Their looming presence served as an ominous reminder that the Viyest remained unhunted. “Let us dispel with the lies. You are Milena’s successor; you are the Dreamwalker. Hence, you are the only one capable of finding the beast that torments the Hollow. The black wolf is…not of this world. He must be the Viyest.”

  “I’m not convinced,” said Kali, smoothing her dark ash-brown hair over her shoulder. “In fact, I’ve met this wolf—the one responsible for the deaths.”

  Bartha straightened, his knee buckling as he clutched his staff more tightly. “You what!”

  “If I’m the Dreamwalker, then you ought to listen to me. I say the Viyest only wants to live free of our bloodthirst. What if your traditions have birthed a vengeful spirit? What if it’s merely striking back?”

  Flames of fury licked at Velizar’s ribs. This arrog
ant wench. Who does she think she is?

  Just then, her murky green eyes turned on him, piercing him like a dull blade. Had she somehow read his thoughts? Just how deep did her power run?

  Fear vised around his throat. How many times had she rendezvoused with Sendoa? His treacherous brother had spared his greatest enemy, and Bartha was now turning to her for aid, ignoring Velizar as though he were a broken tool that’d ceased to be useful.

  The Dreamwalker was chaos incarnate. His brother was destruction made manifest. They must have been in leagues. Even if they didn’t know or intend it, they were natural allies. Together, chaos and destruction would erode order—everything Velizar had sacrificed to create.

  He’d never anticipated the scathing love affair that could result from destruction flirting with chaos. What did they care if they unravelled all that was good in the world?

  They were drawn to each other, and their union spelled Velizar’s demise.

  “Bartha,” Velizar cleared his throat. “What if I could lead you to the beast?”

  Bartha frowned. “You know I love you as my own son, but the people have lost faith in your methods, Velizar.”

  “Then let me restore their faith,” he beseeched. “How many have died in pursuit of the black wolf?” He pushed himself off the wall and brought a solemn fist to his chest. “I promise I’ve not been idle. I’ve taken steps to locate the wolf’s den.”

  From the corner of his eye, Velizar saw the Dreamwalker’s disdain melt into shock. He resisted the smile tickling the corners of his mouth. “I know where the wolf is,” he insisted. “I can lead the hunters there and have the beast killed once and for all.”

  The Dreamwalker opened her mouth but was silenced by Bartha’s hand on her arm. “Girl, if you will not help, then at least do not interfere.”

  “You’re making a mistake.” She tore her arm away, heading for the door. She stopped next to Velizar. “That wolf is no monster,” she said loudly enough for all to hear. “We’re the monsters.”