Tara smirked. “So that’s it then? You’re my spirit guide?”
“The choices you have are yours,” the dog said. “No one forces you on the paths that you have taken. You must choose the path that will take you to your goal.”
Tara sighed. “Look, I don’t know what I want to do. A few weeks ago I just wanted to get away from my dad because he kept hitting me. Then I ended up with Larry, and then that ex-cop. Now they’re both dead and I’m stuck out here. I’ll probably die too.”
“You are at a crossroads,” the dog said. “There are many paths around you and you must choose … for only then does your destiny reveal itself.”
A few tears slid down her ruddy cheeks. “I’m just a kid. And I miss my little brother.”
“Is that the path you wish to take?”
Tara pushed her knees up and placed her chin on them as she wrapped her arms around her shins. “I just want the world to go back the way it was so I can get a job, and then take Timmy to live with me.”
The dog stared back at her with its bulging brown eyes. “If you want to make the world a peaceful place, then it shall be a long path you must undertake, one filled with many dangers. There were many ancient tales of heroes who rid the world of monsters, so perhaps you shall be the focus of a new legend.”
She wiped the tears on her cheek with her wrist. “I need to do something. I gotta help Timmy. Will you guide me to that path?”
“If that is the path you wish to take, then so be it,” the dog said. “It’s been ages since I last aided mortals, perhaps it is time to do so once again.”
Tara narrowed her eyes and looked at the dog closely. “I remember now. There was a kid’s book I read in class about a spirit guide. I think it was a dog or a coyote or something like that and it led the hero on a journey as an advisor or something. That story was about you, wasn’t it?”
“I was known by another name and I chose another form back then.”
“What did they call you back then?”
“Some tribes called me Coyote. Others called me the trickster.”
Tara stood up and grinned. “I knew it! You’re the Trickster God.”
“I have been called that,” the dog said.
She winked at the dog. “Trickster God sounds too long, I’ll just call you Bibsy.”
The dog growled. “That was the name given by my last master and it was a terrible one.”
Tara laughed as she zipped up her jacket and started walking towards the riverbank. “Okay, as long as you guide me the right way I’ll call you Trickster, if you give me trouble I’ll call you Bibsy.”
The dog ran alongside of her. “That was not funny.”
Tara giggled as she made it to the van. The vehicle was still there as it lay on its side along the riverbank. She opened the rear door and looked for some food and found two unopened cans of soup. Tara reached in and grabbed her backpack and then placed the two cans inside of it before slinging it over her shoulder.
She turned to look at the dog. “We’ve got one, maybe two days’ worth of food before we start starving. Where’s this next path supposed to take me?”
“In order to journey into the Spirit World, your senses must be further attuned,” the dog said. “I know of an old man that you can talk to and he lives a few days walk from here. You will need his instructions and teachings.”
Tara frowned. “Spirit World? Is that like the land of the dead or something? I don’t think I’ll like going there. Do I have to die first?”
“If you want peace to return to this world and to be reunited with your little brother then this is the journey you must take.”
Tara thought about it for a minute before giving out a smile as she shrugged. “Ah heck, I got nothing better to do anyway. Might as well try to be a heroine and save the world then. Lead the way, o' Trickster God.”
22. The Otherworld
Unknown Location
The boy could no longer remember what time or even what day it was. For some strange reason, he felt neither hunger nor thirst, and he wasn’t tired either. Of course, when he would close his eyes, he would sleep and dream, but even then, he just didn’t feel the need to rest and would only do it when she entered the room so he would not have to look at her.
Ilya Volkhov was trapped, suspended in a wooden cage that hung over the hut’s ceiling … for how long now he didn’t know. He saw the old woman kill and eat his best friend Andrei. She simply tore him into little bits and pieces with her bare hands, then threw the parts into a black cauldron by the fire. She then licked the blood off the wooden floor with an enormously long black tongue. Ilya closed his eyes in shame when he remembered because he just stood there and watched. But as he thought about it further, there was really nothing he could have done. He was just a child and she was a monstrous, evil witch who just couldn’t be defeated.
His mouth trembling in fear and rage, Ilya made a silent vow to himself that if he could somehow escape and survive, he would avenge the death of his best friend, the one he called Buratino. He had thought long and hard on how to escape and as time had passed, he felt his courage growing as he nurtured it with fond memories of his friend and of his desire for vengeance. While the old woman would move around the room and do her various chores, he would pretend to be asleep so as not to catch her attention, observing with half-closed eyes to see if there was a time and an opportunity with which to escape.
As he heard her singing an old Slavic tune while she rummaged through her treasure trove in the room below, he realized this would be the best time to initiate his plan. From his past observations, she would usually go back upstairs and then go over to him and open the door to the cage so she could feel how thick his arms were. Ilya had read an old storybook in the library of the orphanage where he grew up in. The book told a fairy tale about a little boy and a girl who were held captive by a fearsome witch. In that story, the witch had always felt up the boy’s arm in order to see just how fat he was, so she could eventually kill him and eat him, but the children finally tricked the witch and killed her instead. Ilya hoped that this witch wouldn’t have known about that fairy tale, but he had a slightly different plan as he rummaged through his jacket. That was when he finally took out the piece of chewing gum he had saved just before they went out into the forest.
Hearing her coming up the wooden stairs, he immediately unwrapped the piece of gum before popping it into his mouth, and then started chewing. As the old woman made it up the stairs and looked around, she noticed that the boy in the cage was awake and looking at her.
“Ah, so you have finally awoken from your long sleep,” she said as she moved towards him. “I was hoping to talk to you now that you are rested.”
“I do not want to talk to you, witch,” Ilya said. “You killed my best friend.”
The old woman moved closer, her long, beaklike nose almost touched the bars of the cage. It was like she was floating on air. “Your friend was telling lies and he was stealing from me. I merely exacted justice for his greed and deceptions. The balance must be maintained.”
Ilya mustered up some courage as his anger overtook his fear. “You didn’t have to kill him!”
The old woman grinned. He could see her long yellow teeth as she began to unlock the cage. “In my abode, I decide what is fair or not. Now, let me see how you have grown.”
She instantly grabbed Ilya’s left arm and pushed back his jacket sleeve so she could see his pale forearm. The old woman ran her hand along it, feeling the soft flesh and the bones underneath.
As she kept her attention on his arm, the old woman didn’t notice Ilya take the gum out of his mouth with his other hand, and stick it in the hole on the side of the cage where the latch was supposed to rest after it was to be locked.
Letting go of his arm, she pushed him back deeper into the cage. “You are still very thin. You do not eat the food I offer you. How do you expect to grow up?” the old woman said as she closed the cage door and turned the lock with h
er key, which she then took out and placed within the folds of her tattered black robes.
“Because I’m not a cannibal,” Ilya said brusquely.
The old woman tilted her head back and laughed. “I cook all sorts of things in my pot, boy. Today I have chicken and vegetables simmering away in it. Are you sure you won’t like to have some of that?”
Ilya shook his head and closed his eyes. “No.”
The woman laughed once more before taking a wooden bowl from her cupboard and ladled some food on it, then began to eat. After the meal, the woman then sat down on an ancient wooden chair by the roaring fire and sang more ancient songs until she finally dozed off.
Now would be the time, Ilya thought, as he got on his knees and tried to push on the cage door, hoping that the gum had dislodged the latch for the lock to open. But as he pushed there was nothing. The cage door didn’t budge. As the heat of frustration began to wash over him, he tried again. Still nothing.
Ilya’s chin began to tremble and his eyes started to tear up. No! He just couldn’t give up like this. He didn’t want to be killed and eaten by this witch—he had to do something. Finally, he couldn’t take it anymore as he lay down on his back and used his legs to press against the cage door with all of his might.
With a shrill creak, the door began to give way. Ilya quickly looked over at the old woman to see if she noticed the sound. She was still sitting in her chair, snoring.
Bracing himself, Ilya pushed at the cage door once more. This time the lock only made a slight shriek as the latch recoiled and the cage door swung open with a wooden squeak. Ilya once again looked to see if she woke up, but the old woman still hadn’t moved from her chair.
The cage lay suspended at about ten feet over the room, so Ilya carefully lowered himself using his legs first, until he was dangling with his arms just above the long table that occupied most of the hall. As he finally let go and landed on the table with a soft thud, his right boot knocked a wooden cup that was on the counter and it began to roll sideways towards the edge.
Ilya quickly crouched down and made a grab for the cup just as it fell over the rim of the table. The cup almost slipped through his fingers, but he was able to hold onto it, just a few feet from the floor. Silently sighing with relief, he placed it back on the table, as he carefully made his way towards the door just as he heard a snort behind him.
Slowly turning his head with a sense of dread, Ilya looked back. The old woman was still snoring away and bits of food had come out of her nostrils. Shaking his head and facing the door, Ilya tried the latch on it. Unlike the cage, this one had a simple wooden bar that slid over the lock and the boy had no trouble sliding it back and opening the door, before finally stepping out through the opening and into freedom.
As he ran through the forest, Ilya was quite sure he was nowhere near the orphanage. As he saw the gargantuan gnarled trees all around him, he soon began to realize he might not even be in Russia at all. The weather out here was no longer winter, it seemed to be either spring or fall since there was no snow. The towering trees were like hundreds of feet tall and their trunks were as thick as skyscrapers, their leaves the size of dinner plates. Ilya wasn’t sure where he was going, but he just kept running, hoping to make some distance before the old witch could realize that he had escaped and would no doubt come looking for him.
A strange, multi-colored bird flew past him. Ilya kept on running as his breath began to slow and only then did he note that there was something up ahead. He had thought about perhaps climbing the trees, but the nearest branch was at least forty feet above him, and there wasn’t any way he could get a handhold on the smooth bark of these strange plants. He had thought it was night when he first got out through the door of the witch’s hut, but now he realized that it was neither the evening nor daylight either. The whole forest seemed to have a strange, unearthly glow, like some sort of celestial luminescence that lighted his way and kept things visible.
It was then that he realized that he had ran into a small clearing. As he stood by and caught his breath, he noticed a figure had entered into the clearing on the other side. As he prepared to run, he soon realized that the figure was a man. His curiosity getting the better of him, Ilya moved closer to get a better look. The man was sitting on a silvery boulder and was polishing a very long spear. He was dressed in black medieval armor, the kind of protection that knights had and he had a black fur cloak wrapped over his shoulders. Before the boy got close, the man noticed him and quickly stood up as he turned to face him.
Ilya’s eyes were wide open as he raised his hands to his chest, palms forward. “Hello, sir.”
The man had a great brown beard that almost touched his chest. He looked to be at least seven feet tall. “Hello to you, young traveler. What are you doing in this part of the forest?”
Ilya tried to catch his breath. “I-I’m lost. I just escaped from a witch that killed and ate my best friend.”
The man tilted his head and snorted in disgust. “So, Baba Yaga is on the loose again is she? That old hag never learns.”
“P-please, sir,” Ilya said. “I need your help. I just want to go home, back to the orphanage.”
The man looked at him quizzically. “Orphanage? I’m afraid you will not find a place like that anywhere here, boy. What is your name anyway?”
“Ilya Volkhov, from Novosibirsk,” the boy said.
The man bowed. “Greetings to you, Ilya Volkhov. I myself go by many names, but the most commonly known one for me is Radegast. I am here to hunt some game, but as you can see, I have been out for a long time and I have nothing to show for my efforts. The guests at my banquet will be very cross indeed. In fact, I myself am very hungry since I’ve not had any food nor have had any drink since I left the hunting lodge.”
Ilya then remembered something that he still had in his pocket. He knew that proper manners when greeting a stranger meant the sharing of food and drink, but all he had was a moldy piece of cake from his last birthday party. Hoping that the stranger wouldn’t eat it and instead just consider it as a token of hospitality, Ilya took out the old pastry from his jacket and held it out to the man. “All I have for food is this piece of moldy cake, it might give you a stomach ache if you eat it though,” the boy said as he offered it.
Radegast laughed as he took the boy’s gift and he popped it into his mouth. “Mmm, that is a very sweet cake and it satiates my hunger considerably. I am now in your debt.”
For the first time in a long time, Ilya smiled. At least he brought some happiness to someone for once. “You’re welcome, sir. Could you tell me how to get out of this forest so I can keep running before that witch finds me?”
Radegast bowed to him. “I’ll do much more than that, boy. Your kindness has incurred a debt in which I cannot repay except through helping you. How would you like to join me in my lodge for a banquet? Do not worry about Baba Yaga, you are under my protection now.”
Ilya grinned. “I would be very grateful if you would, Mr. Radegast.”
The god laughed once more. “Just Radegast is fine, Ilya. Let me lead the way then!”
As he sat down on a wooden bench in a corner of the banquet hall, Ilya wondered if this was all a dream. Just moments before, he had been walking in a forest of gigantic trees that reached out to the sky, and then all of a sudden a path had appeared before them. Minutes after that, they came upon the edge of the woods that faced a twilit veldt with a hilltop at its smoke-filled horizon. No sooner that they had walked towards that hill that its base soon appeared right in front of them, and a path which led them up to a great wooden hall. Now here he was, a little boy surrounded by glowing men and women wearing strange and ancient garments, as a great bonfire roared at the central pit of the room. Radegast had seated himself on a carved wooden throne near the roaring fire and told the boy he could sit anywhere he wished.
Looking around, he had noticed that the people around him had a strange cyanic glow about them, it was as if they weren’t fully ma
terialized and looked to be ethereal spirits of some sort. They all seemed to be quite happy as they drank liquid light from metal cups while singing and dancing without any apparent fatigue.
A glowing woman dressed in a tunic and carrying a wooden pitcher came over to him. “Greetings child, and welcome to Radegast’s hall. Would you like something to eat? Perhaps a manna pie, or some roasted ambrosia?”
“No, thank you,” Ilya said to her. “I’m not quite sure, but it seems I just don’t get hungry here.”
The woman grinned. “Very well, if you need anything, don’t hesitate to give me a sign.” With those words she walked away to attend to the other guests.
As he leaned with his elbows on the banquet table to try and overhear the others, Ilya soon heard another woman’s voice just behind his left shoulder. “That’s because your body is still living, while you’re in the land of the dead.”
Ilya opened his eyes wide and turned around. Standing behind him was a tall woman. She had blue hair that seemed to float in the air, even as she moved quickly and leapt over the table above him, and then landed in a sitting position opposite him as she leered at his surprised face. Ilya could see that she was garbed in a combination silvery tunic and dark blue corset that hugged her shapely figure. Other than her hair which seemed to be constantly shifting as if it was suspended underwater, her eyes had a fiery glow like rubies in the night. Unlike the other guests, she didn’t glow.
The woman’s right hand extended a narrow finger that rubbed the boy’s chin. “My, what a handsome child you are. So what brings you to the land of the spirits?”
Ilya could barely bring the words out of his mouth. “W-who are you?”
The woman instantly stood up from the table and smiled at him as she made a quick acrobatic twirl before quickly sitting down again. “They call me Ozwiena. I am a goddess by the way, just in case you didn’t know.”
The Glooming (Wrath of the Old Gods Book 1) Page 26