"As soon as you touched the sixth stone, she grabbed the black ones," said Ben, shaking his head. "She tensed up as if she'd been hit by a hundred bolts of lightning and then fell over dead. I don't understand it. Not at all."
"I understand," I said. "She was escaping."
"Escaping from what?"
"Being alive," I said. "I think she'd been alive for a long time. I don't know that Khan that she spoke of, but my guess is that she was alive for more than five centuries. Maybe this wise-woman enslaved Khutulun as a guardian and this was her way out."
"What does that say about our wise-woman?" he asked.
I thought about the name she'd been given: Baba. It wasn't promising.
"We're about to find out," I said, sensing movement on the other side of the clearing.
A monstrous shape stepped out of the darkness. It was a sturdy log-built hut with a thatched roof, opaque windows, and a rickety porch.
It also had two giant chicken legs holding it high into the air. The hut walked over to the fallen log and crouched down, its yellowed segmented knees crackling with age, until the porch was low enough to climb onto.
"What do we do now?" asked Ben.
I knocked a loose strand of hair out of my face and adjusted the weapons on my hips. "I think we go in."
Chapter Six
Smoke inside the hut made me cough upon entering. I waved it away from my face to no avail. The fireplace crackled, and more smoke rolled into the room, obscuring the features. I had not noticed a chimney upon the hut's approach.
The space seemed no longer or wider than my old house in Philadelphia. Yet, when I took a step further inside, it did not appear that I moved any deeper. Ben touched my arm, to let me know he was inside. By his angled frown, he was as disturbed as I was.
In the corner was a mound of antlers stacked to the ceiling. Otherwise the room was bare.
While repressing a cough, I said to Ben, "There's no one here."
He glanced around the room, eyes squinting. "And no place to hide. What sort of wise-woman invites us in and does not greet us? We should leave and take our business elsewhere."
Ben turned, and for a moment, I followed so I could get out of the harsh air.
"Wait," I said, touching his arm. "We came here for a reason. Earned our passage. I'm not leaving until I meet this Baba."
"But she's not here," said Ben. "Maybe she flew off."
I frowned. Something was very wrong, but I couldn't place it. Holding onto Ben's sleeve so he couldn't leave, I scanned the room again.
"Release your glamour," I said to the empty room. "Your tricks will not work on us. This hut has no chimney. The fireplace and the smoke are an illusion. I do not know how you do it, but make it stop. I earned the right to speak with you by defeating your guardian."
When the vision dissolved, I found I was not holding onto Ben's sleeve, but the curtain over the window. Ben stood a few paces away with a shocked and disgusted look on his face. It seemed he'd been having a different vision than I.
The room itself gave me vertigo as I realized it was much larger than before. The size of the interior did not match the simple hut that we'd seen in the clearing. Nor did the decor match the log cabin exterior.
I'd seen pictures of the Sultan's palace in the Ottoman Empire before. This place was like it, except less familiar. Low couches with ornate patterns stretched along the wall beneath honeycomb windows. A gilded partition with scenes from some strange location divided part of the room. I wanted to examine the bulbous buildings and angular trees depicted on the partition but the room's visual delights nailed me to the floor.
Black wicker baskets held food that appeared to be bread, but was too spindly and delicate to be edible. A smokeless candle burned like a rainbow, each flicker producing another color.
Haunting music that reminded me of Mozart's dirges, but more intricate, fell upon my ears. The sorrow contained within it was so mournfully beautiful it brought wetness to my eyes just to listen to it.
"You did not defeat my guardian. She let you pass by escaping from this world," said a voice that was at once both ancient and powerful.
An older woman wearing a silken shawl overtop a black garment that was gauzy thin and revealed her slender shape when she passed before the colorful candle wandered into view from behind the gilded partition.
Her dark hair was whipped into a storm upon her head and contained by delicate coral combs. She had bottomless eyes and lips like knives, but none of those features were as stunning as her enormous nose. It was a gnarled, desiccated apricot jammed into the middle of her face. I wondered briefly how a woman who could make us believe that we'd stood in a room full of smoke couldn't present a more pleasing aspect. But that choice told me something about this Baba.
"I am—" I began, but the old woman cut me off with a swipe of her hand, whipping the shawl around her face.
"I know who you are, Benjamin Franklin and Princess Dashkova. You have the Russian smell, after all. I know why you've come here and what you seek. I even know the price of such a thing and do not wish to part with it cheaply," said the old woman.
"If you know us," said Ben, "then tell us your name, so that we might be introduced."
He followed it with a short bow. I matched his gesture. The old woman's eyes creased with a smile.
"You are a charming devil, aren't you?" she said. "Very well. My name. I am Neva. Grandmother Neva if you want, but I do not recommend it."
A memory struck me cleanly and I spoke before thinking about it.
"It was you in the clearing, when I was on the train," I said. "I saw antlers just like the ones outside, or the pile that stood in your glamour."
Neva seemed like a woman who wasn't surprised often, but her face wrinkled in genuine confusion. She seemed to consider what I said, as if it had a different meaning than I had originally intended.
She went on, ignoring my comment as if it'd never tainted the conversation, "You want into Russia, past Veles' shield, the one he has conjured from the Thrice-Tenth Kingdom."
"So it's true," said Ben. "Veles has made his claim on the empire."
Neva chuckled with amused contempt. "If you're ignorant of even that, then you might as well give up."
Ben's features flashed with a momentary anger, but he contained it. "Sometimes it's enough to have the truth confirmed, so we might set aside those thoughts for other tasks. The mind is a finite space in an infinite universe. We must be judicious."
The old woman raised an approving eyebrow. "Go on, then."
"What is your price for taking us to Russia?" asked Ben.
Neva pulled the silken shawl tighter around her shoulders as if she were suddenly cold. "There is no price you can pay me to do such a thing."
Ben and I shared a confused glance.
"Are we asking the wrong question?" I asked.
Neva collected herself, setting her shoulders square and lifting her chin in a regal manner. She oozed a dangerous pride, the light of arrogance reflected in her black eyes.
"I cannot take you to Russia. Veles and I do not see eye to eye. I would not risk the journey. You want my sister, whom you know as Morwen Hightower," she said.
Ben made an involuntary gasp of understanding and then put his hand to his lips. His eyes burned with sudden knowledge.
"Yes," said Neva. "You understand now, don't you?" Then she brought her ancient gaze firmly onto me. "But you, Katerina, you do not understand, so I shall illuminate.
"We are three. Myself, Morwen, and Rowan. My sisters have other names—Vesna, Jesen, Agatha, Dawn—they are creatures of their times, molding themselves to the moment."
Her lip curled briefly, indicating her distaste for their habits.
"But to say we are sisters," she continued, "is to obfuscate. I must explain fully so you understand the reason why you must pay this price. We are not sisters, but the same person from universes nearly identical. Only one of us can exist in the same universe at the same time, so w
e must take turns. We must share and pretend to be equal. The simple explanation would be to say we split the year into equal thirds, but nothing is ever so simple."
"Or we would only have to wait for Morwen to appear, rather than negotiate with you," I said.
Neva showed me her whole, white teeth in a feral grin. "Now you're beginning to understand. The manner of their removal from this universe has placed them at a disadvantage. They will eventually recover and force me from this land, but while they are injured and away, I can keep them there."
"Long enough to matter in our war against Veles," said Ben.
"By the time Morwen would be able to force me out, Veles would own your world completely," said Neva.
"Don't you care?" I asked, regretting the words instantly.
She faced me, holding her hands clasped in front of her. "Don't think that my other aspects actually care about this world either. They are mercenaries, as I am. We've existed longer than even those two petty beings, Veles and Perun."
I believed her, which shaded my memories of both Morwen and Rowan, but especially the latter.
"How did this come to be?" I asked. "The three of you."
"Our universes, ones far from yours, were destroyed a long time ago. We three are the only survivors. The others, my other selves and the universes they lived in, thousands of them, were wiped out," she said.
"So once, there were more versions of you," I said, the words falling out of my mouth as I tried to comprehend the idea that this wasn't the only universe and that they could be shattered like fragile glassworks.
Neva continued, despite my obvious discomfort. "Just as there are more versions of the two of you in universes right next to this one. But you will never meet them, because they cannot be in the same place as you. We live in an infinite landscape of existence."
The immensity of what she said settled on my shoulders. It was an intellectual weight that would take some getting used to. It also explained the existence of the Thornveld, sort of.
"So what you're offering is to step aside so that Morwen Hightower can claim this space," I said. "But how do we know that it won't be Rowan?"
Personally, I preferred Rowan Blade. We had been like sisters during our time together, but now I realized how fully she worked for Veles, while Morwen was our ally with Perun.
"Because I will make it so," she said. "You needn't worry about anything else."
"How can we trust you, if you're a mercenary?" I asked, a little more anger in my voice than I wanted.
Ben placed his hand on my arm, a cautious holding back.
"She has a point," said Ben. "How can we trust you?"
"In some ways, you can't. But know that we've existed through time and space by being true to our word. Also know that I have other suitors and if you wish to let me deal solely with them, you'll likely regret it," she said with a cunning smile.
"Who are these other suitors? Representatives from the empire?" asked Ben, receiving a nod from Neva.
"What is your price?" I asked.
Neva smiled coyly and wandered to a low couch and took her place upon it as if she were an empress at rest.
"When my universe was collapsing and the stars were disappearing from the sky at an alarming rate, night itself grew colder and lonelier. Even though the death of a universe takes time, like old age, it comes far too quickly when one is aware.
"To pass the time, give meaning to a meaningless future, we played games. We called them the Nightfell Games. They could be anything really. But what they were was a distraction from our eventual demise," she said.
"Did you know you would escape at this time?" I asked.
The wrinkles on her forehead bunched up, painful memories rising up until she pushed them back.
"Knowing or not knowing? Everyone I'd ever known was to be snuffed out," she said, then lifting her chin, "but that doesn't matter now. What matters is you want something from me, and so does your counterpart. Rather than choose between the two, I shall challenge you with a contest, three contests. The winner will get their request. For you, the return of my sister, Morwen Hightower. For them, well, that is a private matter."
I opened my mouth to accept the contest, for what choice did we have, but Ben stayed me with a glance filled with apprehension.
"Is there a penalty for losing?" he asked. "Besides, of course, not receiving our prize."
Neva started chuckling, which made the loose strands of her hair dance around her face. "Clever boy. You remembered that certain structures must be followed. Yes, there is a penalty. Since you allowed my guardian to escape my service, the penalty for losing the contest is that you take the place of Khutulun and serve me until I grow tired of you, or you find your own way to escape."
"You ask a high price for your service," I said.
She scoffed. "I do not sell myself so cheaply like my sisters. I also prefer my existence unchained. So if you want Morwen, you'd better be prepared to pay the price."
"I accept," I said, and before Ben could say anything, "I alone, Katerina Dashkova, accept your challenge of the Nightfell Games."
Neva's gaze bounced between Ben and me, a bubbling mirth shaking her chest. "What a delicious irony. Very well, Katerina Dashkova. You shall be the Champion. The success and failure of the games rests solely on you, though you may bring a second for the first task."
"What is it?" I asked.
Neva drummed her fingers lightly across her lips, looking playful. "Not yet, my child, not yet. We must observe the formalities. Come back to my hut on the full moon and I shall give the first task."
"We need Morwen now," I said.
She wagged a finger at me. "Despite your concerns, you have time. I promise you."
"Can you see the future?" I asked.
She snorted. "See the future? Only a fool thinks they can do that. No, I know because I have knowledge. A more worthy prize."
The way she narrowed her gaze told me that she knew about the prophecies in my head. She was taunting me with their uselessness. I had to agree with her. So far, they'd only been a distraction as I seemed to understand them only after it was too late.
"Now, begone," she said, dismissing us with a wave of her hand. "I will see you again on the full moon. Be prepared, you shall need to be."
I opened my mouth to ask a question, get a clue about the task we would be set against, but blinding smoke enveloped us at once, swirling around until I could scarcely see the nose on my face.
When it passed, dissipating into tendrils, then disappearing completely, Ben and I were left on the mountain path amid the chirping night insects. We were without our lantern, but the pinks of morning colored the horizon so we could see, faintly.
"What do you think?" Ben asked as he set off down the path, towards the village.
"I don't trust her," I said.
Ben snapped off a branch to use as a walking stick. "Nor do I, but it seems we have little choice."
"She said something that I wonder if she meant to say. She called Otherland the Thrice-Tenth Kingdom," I said.
"Yes, I recall that, but what does it mean?"
"I've seen it mentioned in those books of myth that I've been reading. I always took it as a made-up description that was familiar, but confusing enough to give the idea of otherness," I explained.
"But you think it's real?" asked Ben.
I nodded. "Some, but not all, of what we've encountered has been mentioned in these books. I think each author tried to tell the truth, as much as they knew, but they were limited by their experiences. Just like Neva, Morwen, and Rowan can be explained by the stories about Baba Yaga. Sometimes she's young and helpful, at other times, a spiteful old crone sending knights to their gruesome deaths. She even tried to glamour us with that vision of Baba Yaga's hut at the beginning, which I think was a joke for her."
"It sounds like you should be reading more books on myth," he said.
"That's what I was thinking as well," I replied.
We fini
shed the journey down Kings Mountain by the time the sun was a blob of red-gold through the trees. After a visit to the inn, in which we collected our belongings, we went to the barn to start the steam carriage.
A quick examination showed the vehicle had been untouched. While I was loading my gear into the back, Ben made a curious noise. He was holding something a couple of inches long with a bloody end with a handkerchief.
"What's that?" I asked. "Something left over from your surprises?"
Ben swallowed heavily, balled up the handkerchief around the object, and threw them both into a pile of hay.
"Yes," he said, grim faced, "they worked quite well. Maybe too well." And after I tilted my head at him, he continued, "That was a finger."
We left Gastonia an hour later and made it back to Philadelphia the next day.
Chapter Seven
Two weeks until the full moon left me with time to over think what might happen. To distract myself, I read the many books of myth I had acquired over the last year, practiced my fledgling magic in the courtyard, and studied Professor Walker's notes for clues to his disappearance.
It was a pleasant mid-September day. The wraparound courtyard kept the light breezes from disturbing the papers I had scattered over the table, except for an occasional rustling. I had placed round, smooth stones on each stack and sometimes when I picked up the rocks, I flinched from the memory of my contest with Khutulun.
So Zora could enjoy the day, I'd drilled two small holes into the skull—she'd promised me that it didn't hurt—and looped a fine silver chain through the holes. I left the bird-skull hanging from a hook on the shaft of the sunshade.
"What are your papers about?" asked Zora, as I was reading a new stack.
"I'm trying to solve a mysterious disappearance," I said, leaving out the prophecy about monsters overrunning the city. "I'm not sure I'm getting anywhere. I don't know enough about alchemy to know if any of these formulas are important and Djata's too busy to help me understand the gaps in my knowledge. Do you know anything about alchemy?"
"No," said Zora. "I never had the time to study such things."
"What did you do before?" I asked, and when the skull went silent, I continued, "It would help me to trust you if I knew more about you."
Nightfell Games (The Dashkova Memoirs Book 5) Page 5