by D. M. Almond
No one had come to the door yet. Perhaps Yaga was not home. He turned, eager to escape this folly, and had taken a step when the door creaked open.
“Who is it bangin’ at my door?” an old woman asked. “What game is it then, another silly child playing knock and ditch?”
Hublin turned, red-faced. An old, crooked gnome bent over a cane squinted at him from beneath a maze of wrinkles. “Erm, madame, I meant to do nothing of the sort,” Hublin stammered.
Her tiny shaking eyes steadied on his face for a while, studying his features. “Oh ho, yer no child, are ye?”
“No, I am not, though there are many that say I do have a childlike exuberance,” Hublin said, throwing on his warmest smile.
Yaga turned and headed back into her home, waving a bony arm in the air. “Yeah yeah, bladdy blah blah. If yer comin’ in, get a move on.”
Hublin quickly followed her into the aerie. The round door shut behind him with a clang that made him jump in his boots. He looked back at it questioningly.
“Take off yer shoes. Don’t want no mud tracked over my rugs,” Yaga snapped. “C’mon now, quit yer dawdlin’and take a seat over here by the fire where I can get a better look at ye, priest.”
Hublin slipped off his shoes by the door. On his way into Yaga’s cozy parlor, he passed a long mirror that made his body look more squat than it was.
Yaga sat in a rocking chair by a large stone fireplace that crackled with tall flames. Something cooking in a black kettle over the fire smelled delicious.
The fluttering of leathery wings gave him pause, and he gazed up at the ceiling, which was one great chimney that got smaller and smaller as it went ever up the interior of the stalagmite. Over his head hung a cage where a bat flew around wildly. Beside it were some other cages, each with different animals inside: a mole, a toad, and a leathery, one-eyed creature with wings he had never seen.
“Ye came here to stare at my pets, or ye wanna get down to business, holy man?” Yaga said. “An old woman’s got to get some rest, ye know. I ain’t got all day.”
Hublin apologized and took a seat in an empty armchair across from her. The heat of the fireplace felt comforting, and whatever Yaga was cooking reminded him of his own Nana’s house. It smelled mouth-watering.
Still fidgeting with his hat, he cleared his throat. “How did you know I am a cleric, Madame Yaga?”
“Got the stink all about ye, don’t ye?” Yaga said, pausing to push her cane into the fire and move a log. Hublin was surprised to see the walking stick had nary a smoldering ember when it came out. “And don’t ye give me that sweet talk. Putting on airs won’t make no difference in the bargaining.”
Hublin watched her, uncertain how to proceed.
Yaga rolled her eyes and sighed. “Always the same with ye Ul’kor folk. Ye came all the way up here, so what was it ye needed?”
“Oh…um, well.” Hublin licked his lips and shifted in his seat. “I was hoping that—well, I heard from Drogo the barber that you could provide, he said you might be able to tell me…”
Yaga put both hands on her cane and leaned the rocking chair forward. “Child, if you don’t spit out what it is ye come here for, I just might die of old age before yer very eyes. Or I might get sick of yer stammering and make meself a new pet.” She gestured to the cages overhead, and Hublin gulped. “Now enough with the suspense and be out with it.”
“I am looking for the library of Ankobellum,” Hublin said all in one breath.
Yaga pursed her lips and leaned back again. “Hmm, now there’s an interesting request. A damn near sight more interesting than the love potions and hexes the youngsters come ‘round lookin’ for these days. But what’s a holy man like yerself interested in that place for?”
“I have my reasons,” Hublin said.
“And yer smart to keep ‘em to yerself. Guess yer a wee bit wiser than ye are brave.”
“Thank you, Madame.”
“Wasn’t a compliment, but seein’ as how ye come all this way, perhaps there’s somethin’ I can do about your search.”
“Yaga, ma’am,” Hublin said, “I’ve heard enough about you to know how this works. If I may?”
“Oh ho, ye think ye’ve got the old lady figured out, is that it? Okay then, show us what ye’ve brought to pay for the information ye seek.”
Biting his lip, Hublin flicked open a pouch hanging from his belt and rifled through it. He produced a small canvas parcel and loosened the cord so that it fell open, revealing a small pile of dried mushrooms.
For only a fraction of a second, Yaga’s tiny eyes widened to the size of a normal person’s, and she stifled a gasp. The old witch quickly caught herself and tried to turn her head away nonchalantly, but Hublin noticed she was rocking a bit harder than before. He hid his smile.
“Hmph, just a lump of old mushrooms is all?” she said, raising her nose in the air. “Ye think that such a paltry offering is worth such valuable information as the whereabouts of the lost dwergaz library of Ankobellum?”
Now who is the one putting on airs? Hublin thought. “I was told these are your favorites, good lady,” he said, “but I see now that I was mistaken. Say not another word, I’ll remove this unsavory gift from your presence and head back to town to find something more suitable.” Hublin coyly began tying the canvas wrapping back up.
“No!” Yaga yelled, stopping her rocker in place and startling him. She got a hold of her voice. “I mean, since you came all this way, I suppose I can accept them as payment...this time.”
Hublin’s smile bubbled to the surface, and he gladly offered them to her. “Then it is a deal, the mushrooms for the way to Ankobellum?”
Yaga snatched the package from his hand with a nimbleness he was sure a gnome of her years should not possess. In a flash, the parcel disappeared into the folds of her skirts. “A deal, ye say? Yeah, I’ll take the mushrooms, but I also want one more thing from ye ‘fore I give over such valuable information,” she said, surprising Hublin. Yaga leaned forward and leveled her gaze at him. “I be wantin’ yer firstborn child.”
The tiny round room grew still. Even the caged animals seemed to be craning their necks to see what Hublin might say to this proposition. He gaped at Yaga in disbelief, the only sound in the room the crackling of flames.
Yaga opened her mouth and made a strangled choking noise. Hublin moved to help her, but then it dawned on him that the old witch was laughing at him—cackling, actually. Yaga slapped a leathery hand on her lap and pointed at him. “Oh, I had ye, holy man, I had ye good!”
“S-so you don’t want my firstborn?”
“Gods no, what am I to do with a wee baby? Damned things cry too much. ‘Sides, how could I turn away such a humble request after ye brought me such lovely treats?”
Hublin slapped his hands together and rubbed his palms eagerly. “Excellent! So where is the library of Ankobellum located? How can I get there?”
“Hold yer horses, lad,” Yaga cackled, slowly rising from the rocking chair on a shaking cane. “I’ve got to figure that out, don’t I?”
“So you don’t already know?”
Yaga made her way through a beaded curtain and into a backroom and began rummaging through her shelves. “What do ye expect from an old maid like me? I’m too old to be remembering everything.”
Hublin heard her moving aside books and tossing things over her shoulders as she searched. Finally, Yaga came out of the backroom with a small ceramic bowl. She blew a cloud of hairy dust out of it and shoved the bowl under his chin. “Go on and spit in it.” Before he could comply, she pulled the bowl away. “But make sure ye got yer question good and ready in yer head before spittin’.”
Hublin closed his eyes and tried to picture the place he was searching for. Once he thought he had a good enough image, he nodded and spit.
Yaga set the bowl down on a small table and took down some jars from the shelves. “Hrmph, yes, that’s it: one kidney root, five shakes of ground gatzell, a spoonful of yak gut,” she
mumbled to herself as she fell to work.
Hublin could not help staring into the blazing hearth. The mouth-watering aromas coming from her black kettle were getting the better of him. His belly grumbled, and he wondered if she might invite him to sup with her before he left.
“What’s left? Something’s missing.” Yaga pondered aloud, pointing a crooked finger at her glass vials. “Eye of sauria? Wing of roc? No, that’s not it. Damn an old woman’s memory.” She folded her arms and tapped a foot, trying to think. Her eyes drifted up toward the ceiling, and her expression brightened. “That’s it!”
She used her cane to tap the bottom of one of the cages, unhooking it and lowering it on a swinging chain to her level. The old witch cooed to the fat yellow toad and reached her greedy hands in the cage. “Now give Mommy what she needs, Urel. No use puckering up. Be a good toad, now.”
The toad blinked and baaed like a sheep. Once Yaga’s hands clamped around it, she gave a squeeze, and an egg the size of her palm popped out of the toad’s mouth.
Yaga gave a triumphant cackle and closed the cage, leaving it swinging on its long chain. She hobbled over to the table and smashed the egg in the center of the bowl. She grasped her cane to steady herself again and stirred the ingredients together with her middle finger. “It’s ready for ye now, lad. C’mon over and get yerself an eyeful.”
Hublin hopped to his feet and leaned over the table. She shoved the bowl under his chin, and Hublin felt like his nose hairs shriveled up and died from the putrid odor.
He shirked away, but Yaga snapped at him, “Tut tut, that’s no way to behave when yer given the offering, lad!”
“You’re right.” He bowed his head then forced himself to look into the bowl hovering in front of him. The contents had been stirred into a grainy mess that looked like it was mixed with spoiled milk and bloody yolk. “Do I…what do I do? You don’t want me to eat this, do you?”
“‘Course not, nitwit. Ye just gaze into the bowl and focus hard on yer question.”
Hublin nodded and stared at the contents. He tried to picture his question clear and free from the rest of his jumbled thoughts. Ohm, please show me the path to the Ankobellum library.
The tip of Yaga’s cane cracked against the side of Hublin’s temple hard enough to lay him out on the floor. He clutched his head and yelped at the throbbing pain. Oh no, the witch is going to eat me! A lifetime of witch stories came flooding back to him.
“Open yer eyes, pea brain,” Yaga said from far away.
When he did, Hublin saw it all in flashes, as if they were memories he had always possessed at the edge of his mind. He saw the way to Ankobellum clearly now, from the town of Embridge down to the Lily Waterfalls, and then South into the Anwer Tunnels. Hublin stared in awe as the scene played out before his mind’s eye.
When it finished, the blinding light dissipated, and he was back in Yaga’s home, sitting on her furry rug and clutching the throbbing, egg-sized bump on the side of his head. He blinked a couple times and rubbed his eyes.
“Did ye get a good look at it?” Yaga asked. She was sitting by the fireplace, leaning forward in her rocking chair and stirring the contents of the black kettle.
Hublin nodded and stood. He was not sure if he was dizzy from the vision or the knock to the head, but he had to steady himself for a moment on the back of the armchair.
“Well then, ye have a fine trip,” Yaga said over her shoulder, waving him toward the front door.
Hublin frowned and looked at the kettle. His belly rumbled. “Perhaps you can see fit to send me on my way with something to fill my belly?”
Yaga closed the lid of the kettle and turned with a sneer. “I’m impressed. Didn’t know ye holy men liked witches stew. Thought ye was too fine for the bone marrow of babies and testicles of an ox.”
Hublin looked mortified. Yaga popped out of her chair and sauntered toward him. With each step she took, he backed away toward the door.
“Have a seat at the table, and I’ll prepare ye a plate. Ye’ll just die over the taste of the brain custards I’ve got chillin’ for dessert too!”
With a final yelp, Hublin bolted to the door. “Thank you anyway, madame!”
“Where ye goin’? I thought ye was hungry? Come back and eat.”
“So sorry, I forgot I have that thing to take care of back at that place.” Hublin’s voice trailed off as the door slammed behind him.
Yaga cackled to herself and hobbled over to the fire. She took a clean bowl down from the hearth and set the lid to the side so she could ladle out a heaping helping of mushroom stew. She sat down in her rocking chair still cackling to herself and took a deep smell of her meal.
“Stupid clerics,” she mused, helping herself to a spoonful of her mother’s world famous dish. “Think a witch wants to share her meal?”
The bat fluttered its wings frantically above her, and she paused.
“What’s got ye all hot and bothered now, Azriel?” Yaga curiously looked around the room until her eye caught on a shadowy corner. “Oh…it’s you again. Go away and leave me be, Necromancer. Yaga’s got no time for yer wandering eye,” she said with venom, seeing him spying through the shadows.
Yaga flicked her cane, and the Necromancer was suddenly awake again, locked in his tomb. He gnashed his rotted teeth and tried to roll on his side, pushing away the muffled sounds of the outside world.
Taking up the rear, Corbin shimmied down the hole with his back pressed against one side and feet the other. He was nearing the bottom. The way down had been tight but manageable, and the farther they descended, the lighter the air became.
“You’re almost here,” Logan called from below. “Careful though, there’s a slight drop.”
Corbin nodded, not that his brother could see, and slowed, trying to feel with the toe of his boot and clutching the bumpy rock behind him with his hands under his body. As Corbin dragged his heel down, the rocky tunnel ended and he suddenly dropped into the open air. With catlike reflexes, Corbin threw his legs out wide and landed deftly amid his companions.
“Nice acrobatics,” Logan scoffed, his voice echoing off the walls.
“Did better than you,” Bipp snickered.
Instead of getting cross, Logan shrugged and grinned.
Corbin took a moment to adjust to his surroundings. Isaac’s staff had a halo of light around it to illuminate the area, but for the Falian native, it was unnecessary.
All around him, at intersecting angles, jutted wide crystals the size of pillars and boulders. Corbin was in awe at the translucent white pillars of gypsum that had grown from both the floor and ceiling, here in small clusters, there in long angular rods larger than a human.
A man with shoulder-length black hair stood across the cramped cavern, gaping at him. Corbin quickly stepped back and swung his voulge out in front of him, falling into a defensive stance.
“Relax genius,” Logan said, patting Corbin’s shoulder and walking past him. “I’m pretty sure your reflection’s not going to attack you.”
Corbin looked around and realized the many crystals were so smooth that they reflected the party of adventurers from all angles. A wisp of light shimmered past him, tracing a path between the crystals.
“This will light our way,” Isaac said, referring to the spell he had summoned.
As they followed Isaac’s wisp, Corbin gazed around the crystal cavern. “It’s beautiful.”
“Creepy, you mean,” Bipp muttered under his breath.
“You want creepy? Try staring in the face of Nadja as you await execution,” Logan said.
Bipp rolled his eyes. “Oh, man, are you going to start prattling on about the snake witch again? You do remember we were all there, right?”
“Corbin and Isaac weren’t there.”
“You know, I’ve been thinking a lot about that run-in you had with the Witch Queen,” Corbin said, stepping over a cluster of crystals sharp enough to split a hair.
“Oh, really? Do you want to hear the story of ho
w I vanquished the evil temptress?” Logan asked.
Corbin held up a hand. “Please, no. I’ve heard it enough times that it’s seared on my brain for eternity. And besides, Nero was the real hero that day.”
“Then what?” Logan said, trying to hide his annoyance.
“It was before we left the White Tree. I had a dream, one of those strange ones I told you about before. It’s been bothering me ever since you told us about the Witch Queen, like a cloud of guilt hanging over me.”
“Why should you feel guilty about a dream?” Logan asked.
Isaac turned his head, watching them intently.
Bipp chuckled. “Uh oh, lover boy must’ve had a different lass walking through his thoughts.”
Corbin scowled. Elise was the only woman he ever thought about. He would never have impure thoughts about another. “Get your head out of the loo,” he grumbled. “Anyway, at the time, I thought it was nothing more than another silly dream, too much of Isaac’s port or something. But now…that is, after you told us of the snake woman…I realized it was something else, something different.”
“Like what?” Logan asked, genuinely interested.
“I don’t know, sort of a vison or something, I guess. In it, I saw mom turn into the Witch Queen. Her face…it split right open and turned into that Nadja woman.”
Logan stood still and the rest of the party stopped as well. “What did you say?”
“It was her, Logan, I know it now. I had a vision that the snake woman was going to try to hurt you,” Corbin said.
“That was mine,” Logan said as his right eye twitched.
“I know I should have warned you…I should have said something. Maybe if I had, you would’ve been more careful. I just didn’t understand it…but I should have.”
“No, Corbin, that was my dream. How could you know that?” Logan asked.
Corbin gaped, replaying the dream in his mind. The entire thing had been from Logan’s perspective. But how could that be possible?
Isaac broke the silence. “It’s the power of the precog.”