“Well, they’d be wrong,” Bella said softly. “A Baba Yaga knows true treasure when she sees it.” Then more loudly, so the others could hear, “I will take this in payment.”
She handed the chest back to an openmouthed Bob and said, “What is it you wish from me in return for your treasure, so freely given?”
“Uh, we want you to stop the fires. Or leastwise, find out what or who is causing them, and put an end to it if that’s possible,” Bob said.
“Keep our people and our homes safe,” Mrs. Kneis added. “And save the forests, as much as you are able.”
“So be it,” Bella said, feeling the promise vibrating through her bones and down into the ground beneath her feet. “I will do what I can.” Koshka growled low under his breath, seconding her vow.
For a moment there was silence, and then the gathered crowd seemed to realize that they’d accomplished what they’d come for, as odd as it seemed, and began to retreat to the vehicles they’d arrived in. Some of them nodded to Bella before they left; one or two even assayed a clumsy bow. In the end, only the old woman and her great-grandson were left.
“Go wait by the car, Jeffery,” Mrs. Kneis said, sounding slightly out of breath. “I want to ask the Baba Yaga something.”
“But—” The young man looked torn between wanting to protect his great-grandmother and the habit of doing what she said without question.
“I’ll be fine,” she said firmly. “Go on now. I’ll wave for you when we’re done.”
Jeffery walked away reluctantly, glancing back over his shoulder as if to make sure the wind didn’t blow her away.
“Koshka,” Bella said in a quiet voice. Nothing more, but for once he didn’t argue and went to sit on the steps of the caravan. Not far enough to keep him from hearing, of course, but at least it gave the old woman the illusion of privacy.
“You wished to speak to me, grandmother?” Bella knelt on one knee in the dirt, lessening the distance between them.
“I am old, Baba Yaga,” Mrs. Kneis said. “And I am nearing the end of my days. I’ve no regrets about that; it has been a long life and a good one. I bore five children, and four of them lived. Twelve grandchildren and more great-grandchildren than I can count. Did my best for my family and my community. I figure that bringing you here is my last act of any note, and that is good enough for me. Not many can say they met a Baba Yaga, now, can they?” She gave a light laugh that conjured an echo of the sweet young girl she’d once been.
“That is true enough,” Bella said. “But not what you wanted to talk to me about. You told your great-grandson you had a question for me? I will answer it, if I am able to.”
They sat in silence for the space of a few heartbeats, the old woman and the younger. Bella was content to wait; magic always was, even if those who wielded it could sometimes be impatient.
“I miss him,” Mrs. Kneis said, almost too quietly for Bella to hear. “My Henry. We loved each other from the hour we met, and I miss him every day. But I’ve never been sure, you know, even though I’ve gone to church my whole life. What comes after. And I wondered if you could tell me, Baba Yaga, since you are said to wander far. Do you know what lies beyond? Will I see my Henry again?”
Later Bella thought she might cry for this woman, but for now, she wore the mantle of the Baba Yaga, and so she was calm when she spoke. The magic came at her call, giving her a vision so clear it might have been drawn by an artist in vivid pastels.
“Your Henry, he was tall and blond, and when he smiled, there was a crooked tooth at the front?” Bella could see him, standing behind his wife, one hand resting gently on her shoulder.
“Yes,” Mrs. Kneis said in a wondering voice. “That’s my husband. He used to try and hide that tooth behind his fingers, but I loved his crooked smile. You can see him?”
“I can,” Bella said. “He is waiting for you. And when your time comes, he will walk at your side again, into whatever waits. I promise it will be wonderful. On this, you have my word.”
Bella stood up, staggering a little under the weight of knowledge, which could be a heavy burden at times. Not so much, on this occasion. She could see the old woman’s great-grandson crossing the clearing toward them, no doubt tired of waiting, and bent down to whisper in her ear.
“Not long now,” she said. “You will see your Henry soon.”
The elderly lady gave her a brilliant smile, her eyes filled with happy tears. “I thank you, Baba Yaga. It has been a great pleasure to meet you.”
“The pleasure has been all mine, grandmother,” Bella said with all sincerity. “I hope we will see each other again.” They both knew they would not.
After Jeffery’s dented Toyota drove away, Bella and Koshka sat on the steps for a while, watching the dust settle.
“Nice old lady,” Koshka said finally. “What do you think? Two days?”
“Maybe three,” Bella answered. She was glad to have met Mrs. Kneis; glad enough that she almost forgave the woman for sending the rest of them to ask her for help.
“She’s lucky,” Bella said after another minute.
“Because she’s dying?”
“Because she is going to be with the love of her life. I envy her that.”
“You could still find one, you know,” Koshka said, blowing a few smoke rings through his nose now that there was no one around to see. “Your sister Babas did.”
“Yeah, well, they didn’t have the unfortunate habit of setting the people they liked on fire,” Bella said with a sigh. “Somehow I think that would take all the shiny off a relationship.”
“Hmph,” Koshka said, settling down with a thump and putting his large head across her knees. They’d had this discussion enough for him to realize he wasn’t going to change her mind. “Well, I guess you’re officially on the job now.”
Bella held up three fingers and waved them through the air. “Jobs,” she said morosely. “I have to solve the problem of the fires for the locals, find the origin of the mysterious message the sprite brought, and somehow figure out where the Riders have gone and bring them back to the Queen. How the hell am I supposed to accomplish all that, Koshka?”
The dragon-cat pondered her question thoughtfully for a second. “I think we need . . . snacks.”
Bella rose to her feet, dislodging the feline with a grunt. “I think we need a damned miracle. But I guess snacks are as good a place to start as any.”
* * *
BRENNA POKED THROUGH the magical tools on the makeshift worktable she’d set up in one corner of the cave, looking for an empty vial among the cluttered piles of books and herbs and bubbling pots. The wooden table looked like a cross between a witch’s altar and a mad scientist’s laboratory. Fitting, really, since she was a bit of both these days. Alchemy—an uncertain endeavor under the best of circumstances, and a dusty old cavern in the middle of nowhere certainly wasn’t that. Still, needs must.
“Aha!” she said, turning to display the glass container to her captive audience. “Here we go. Now whose turn is it?” She pulled a dull pencil from her untidy bun and sharpened the end with her teeth. She’d twisted her frizzy gray hair up to get it out of her way. It was never a good idea to have stray ingredients falling into one’s potions. Then she picked up the notebook she was using to track her work, meticulous in that, if not in her general neatness.
“Ah, Day, my darling boy, it looks like you’re up again.” She tapped the pencil against her teeth fretfully. “A pity. You’re not looking all that well.”
Of course, none of the Riders looked well, exactly. How could they, since she only fed them enough to sustain them, and bled them repeatedly under varying and unpleasant circumstances? She’d carefully set up her magical restraints so that none of them could hurt her; it just wouldn’t do to have them interfere with her work. She didn’t much care if she hurt them. In theory, the Riders could live forever, and
they were damned tough—they could take whatever punishment she dealt out in the name of progress. Probably. If not, too bad.
“Use me,” Alexei said, his voice low in a growling plea. “I am stronger. My blood will be better. Let him rest for a day or two before you bleed him again, and use me instead.”
Tap, tap, tap. The pencil knocked against her teeth as she pondered. Perhaps the bearded giant had a point. After all, the whole purpose of the potion she was creating was to make her stronger, both physically and magically. Perhaps it wasn’t good to let the source of the main components become too weak. So hard to say what would make a difference and what wouldn’t when one was dealing with an obscure ancient manuscript written in faded scrawling calligraphy by a discredited wizard. Tut.
“What do you think, Mikhail?” she asked the man once considered the handsomest of the Riders. With his pristine white clothes covered with dirt and blood and his long blond hair hanging in matted hanks, she doubted the women would be so impressed with him now. “Shall I let your friend take your turn, or do you want to be the one to contribute to science today?”
“You can hardly call what you are doing science,” Gregori Sun said from his patch of rocky floor. Even battered and filthy, he kept his usual calm, even tone. “It’s barbaric and a waste of time. Not to mention our blood. I still do not understand what you hope to achieve with this nonsense—besides eventually having the Queen feed your heart, eyeballs, and liver to her pet falcons. Not necessarily in that order.”
“Bah. Don’t talk to me about the Queen.” Brenna spat on the floor. “It is her fault that you’re here. I wouldn’t have to go to these lengths if she hadn’t forced me to retire from my job as a Baba Yaga. And given away my share of the Water of Life and Death.”
“All Babas have to retire eventually,” Gregori said. “Most are grateful to finally be able to rest and enjoy their lives.”
“What’s left of them, you mean. Who would be happy to grow old and die, watching her power slowly ebb away along with her vitality?” Brenna shook her head at his foolishness. “Not I. But the Queen insisted, so I must find my own way. If that means creating a potion using your blood, then so be it. I have nothing against you three; you were always helpful. It’s nothing personal.”
“Then let us go,” Alexei suggested.
“Oh, I can’t do that,” Brenna said in a reasonable voice. “This ancient tome I found hints at the potential to create a potion that will replace the Queen’s enchanted Water, but it requires the lifeblood of immortals, and let’s face it, there aren’t all that many of you around. I’m banished from the Otherworld for trying to kill that silly Beka, so it isn’t as though I can stroll in and snatch one of the Queen’s courtiers. And you were willing to come to me, which made things so much easier.”
Mikhail rolled over and stared at her balefully, well aware that it had been his weakness for damsels in distress that had gotten them all into this in the first place. He licked cracked lips, trying to work up enough moisture to speak.
“You’re mad,” he said. “The Water Sickness is upon you.”
“Pfft.” Brenna stirred a large cauldron with a wooden spoon. “There’s no such thing as Water Sickness. No one goes crazy from drinking the Water of Life and Death for too long. That’s just a myth the Queen tells so that none of us Babas will hold on to our power long enough to threaten her.” She cackled, enjoying the way the sound bounced off the cave walls. “Well, I have a surprise for her. Once I’ve completed my lovely potion, that is.”
Gregori lifted himself up onto one elbow. “I fail to see how the blood of immortals will give you the power you seek. It simply is not possible.”
Brenna waved her wooden spoon through the air, spattering droplets that hissed and burned when they hit the dirt. A little more cautiously, she placed it into a silver bowl next to the cauldron.
“Foolish man. You know nothing. You may be the brains of the Riders and have lived for thousands of years, but I have discovered secrets even you have never seen.” She patted the large leather-bound book that had pride of place in the middle of her worktable. “Inside this manuscript are the writings of a man far wiser than you. I have based my potion on his work.”
“Who is this man?” Gregori asked.
She ignored him, raising one increasingly gnarled finger into the air to make sure he was paying attention. “But his theories were flawed; they did not go far enough, which is why he never succeeded in his task, and why I will.”
Brenna smiled down at the cauldron, currently bubbling softly and emitting a scent both noxious and strangely inviting. Its color was the green of new moss, tinged with a hint of gray the exact color of a dead man’s skin. It was her creation, her masterpiece, and it would make her great again. Just as soon as she perfected it.
“What do you mean, he did not go far enough?” Gregori asked, sounding incredulous. “How could anyone go further than this barbarity?”
She sighed at the limitations of small minds. No wonder no one else had ever come up with the solution.
“The wizard postulated that the blood of immortals, taken unwillingly and with great pain, would lend everlasting potency to this brew. I believe the formula never worked because it was missing an additional component. After all, the power of the Baba Yagas comes from nature, from the elements themselves. But to create this potion, those powers must be twisted, perverted in ways that the gods never intended. Fire, that’s what he needed.”
“Fire?” Gregori looked baffled, poor dear. She tried one last time to explain.
“The agony of the dying trees, plants, animals, and birds as they succumb to the fury of the flames will feed my magical abilities. I capture it with sigils and enchantments and channel it into the cauldron to mix with your blood and all the other ingredients I have gathered. Together, they will create a potion that will give me back my power and enable me to live forever. And that, my darling Gregori, is worth any price.”
“You are insane,” Gregori said. “Are you truly indifferent to the cost to the natural world and Human lives?”
Brenna shrugged. “They are of no consequence to me. And I may be insane, but at least I’m not the one trapped in a magical cage, helpless and hopeless, am I?” She smiled at him cheerfully as she held out the glass vial. “So lovely of you to volunteer, darling Sun. Hold out your arm now. Time to begin again.”
TEN
A TREE BRANCH swung back as Bella worked her way through the forest, smacking her in the face like the tail of a too-large and overly exuberant dog. Pine pitch stuck to her hands as she pushed it out of the way.
“Cut that out,” she muttered. “You’re not helping.”
Of course, this wasn’t the Otherworld, so the tree hadn’t done it on purpose. But after a morning spent trying to follow the sprite’s not very helpful directions had gotten her nothing other than hot, sweaty, and annoyed, she wasn’t really in the mood to fight with Mother Nature.
She’d started out the easy way, of course, trying to track the Riders by magical means. But something seemed to be blocking her, and so she’d finally ended up searching the old-fashioned way by looking under every rock and tree for some hint of the Riders’ passage or the sprite’s wandering journey. Unfortunately, there were a lot of rocks and trees.
It would have been helpful if Koshka could have come out with her, but it was his job to guard the Water of Life and Death hidden within the caravan, and that meant that at least one of them had to be close enough to sense an intruder at all times. He would go out searching on his own later, since the dark didn’t slow him down at all. Meanwhile, she was ready to call it a day and head back to a warm shower and a cool beer.
Another branch slapped her in the rear, and as Bella swiveled around to glare at it she caught a glimpse of someone slipping off into the forest behind her. It wasn’t the first time she’d sensed another person in the vicinity, but whoe
ver it was clearly didn’t want to be seen and didn’t seem to mean her any harm. Some hiker accidentally crisscrossing her path, maybe, or a homeless vet who’d taken to the woods rather than deal with the vagaries of an indifferent system. She didn’t care who it was, as long as he or she didn’t get in the way of that cold beer. But goddess help anyone who did.
* * *
INSTEAD OF HEADING back to the caravan like any sane witch would, Bella walked up the stairs to the fire tower. All the stairs. She was in pretty good shape, but damn, that was a lot of stairs. Sam must have thighs like iron, she thought, and then tripped on the next step, nearly dropping the bag of dead mice she was carrying. She would have loved explaining that to Koshka, who had brought them back for her after his early morning run. “Sorry, but I dropped them when I was thinking about Sam’s thighs. Could you please get me some more?” The dragon-cat wouldn’t have stopped laughing for a week.
Koshka had already left some mice off late last night, but baby owls needed to eat a lot, and besides, it gave her a good excuse to get a view of what lay off to the east from a different perspective. She was hoping she’d be able to pick out some of the landmarks the sprite had mentioned if she was looking from the air instead of the ground. The fact that she got to spend more time with Sam was just a bonus, no big deal.
At the top of the tower there was a small, square cabin, with windows on all four sides that started about midway up the wooden walls. It was surrounded by a deck with a waist-high metal railing. Modern, functional, and slightly shabby around the edges, it wasn’t much to look at. There was no privacy it all, since the glass went all the way around. But the view was spectacular. For a moment she just stood there, lost in appreciation of the beauty spread out beneath her, forests and mountains as far as the eye could see.
“Impressive, isn’t it?” Sam’s raspy voice made her jump as he came up to stand by the rail beside her. “I didn’t expect to see you today.”
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