One after another, in quick succession, the skulls and spines exploded like fast-growing flowers out of the ground, creating a fence around the hut. I now knew why Yaga didn't bring the fence with her—she didn't need to. Yaga threw her “seeds” behind her just before she went in. And then the corpse fence grew up around it. So this what Dog meant!
I wondered what happened when the hut moved. Perhaps the bones descended into the ground again as a final resting place; perhaps it was a bizarre graveyard that left fearful villagers wondering when Yaga would return.
"Go under the arms!" I shouted at Lycus.
Lycus bit his lip and attempted to duck under the makeshift fence, but the arms crossed upwards and downwards, connecting to shoulders and hipbones. Lycus collided with the fence and landed on his back, losing his grip on Will.
The jack-o'-lantern rolled to Yaga's feet. One gnarled hand picked Will up.
"Hello Scrap," said Yaga. "Will's told me so much about you."
* * *
"I'm so sorry!" said Will, his normal grin carved into a sorrowful pout. "I didn't know!"
"Quiet you!" Yaga tossed Lycus like a rag-doll onto the floor of her hut. I couldn't see Ivasik; if he was in the room, he was wisely hiding.
Stirred by the commotion, Dawn walked in, eyes wide.
"What happened Mama?"
"It's time," said Yaga. "The boy was trying to escape. Tonight, I shall feast. Strip him down, tie him up and throw him in the pot."
There was sadness in Dawn's eyes, but she began to bind Lycus' arms. He said nothing, staring defiantly up at the witch.
"As for you," Yaga pointed a long, clawed nail at me and I felt my will melt away. I took a few stuttering steps out from Lycus' sleeve. "I think you'll make a nice addition to my menagerie."
Yaga stomped over the shelf full of pickled creatures and pulled out an empty jar. She slowly unscrewed the lid.
"Did you seriously think you could hide from me? I know the secrets of all that I create!" She reached down and plucked me up by the scruff of my rat neck. Then she dangled me over the jar.
This was it. I was a goner. Think, Scrap, think!
"Wait!" I squealed. "I can be of service to you!"
Yaga paused. I could see below me the noxious fumes of whatever was in the jar. It didn't look pleasant, and it smelled even worse. All she had to do was stop squeezing her nails together and I would become a pickled rat.
"I'm listening."
"I have…power within me. I served the Margrave of Carabas in this fashion. I enhanced his spells!"
"Oh?" asked Yaga, a hint of amusement in her voice. "Is that so?"
"Why would I lie? If it's not true you can always pickle me later. But surely a powerful w—" I caught myself, "sorceress such as yourself can sense it."
Yaga's long nose drew closer, so close I could make out the wiry hairs that stuck out of it. How did I ever imagine this was a kindly old lady?
She sniffed at me, like some sort of predator. "Yes, yes I do smell something about you. Hmmm." My heart finally stopped pounding when she moved me away from the jar. "Let's do a little test, shall we?"
Yaga poured the contents of the jar out onto the floor. Dawn frowned, but didn't say anything; she knew she would have to clean up the mess.
Then Yaga punched holes in the lid with one iron-hard fingernail. She dropped me into the jar and screwed the lid back on. I caught a glimpse of Lycus being trussed up, the key removed from around his neck.
Yaga strode outside into the morning air. Dog saw us and whined as we past.
"Quiet, you lazy mutt!" snapped Yaga. "You should have barked a warning when they tried to escape! I'll deal with your insolence later."
Using a hook usually reserved for a lantern, Yaga hung my jar on the front of her huge mortar – a magical tub. Whatever was about to happen, I would have an excellent view.
She grabbed the pestle, which she had left by the door, the broom temporarily forgotten inside the hut. Then she climbed in.
Immediately, the tub hovered a few inches off the ground. The bottom of the tub was frictionless, floating. But it didn't fly. And thus Yaga had to push with her pestle, like poling a skiff.
Yaga shoved off. We slid along the forest floor. The skeleton gates opened as we passed with an incline of their skulls, as if to bow. Yaga ignored them.
We slid a good couple of feet with each push. For an old woman, Yaga was tireless. But she grunted with every push, smashing logs out of the way and gliding between trees. She was, it became clear, also immensely strong.
Soon I saw it. Another fence, this one made of traditional iron, long since rusted. It had fallen apart and the gate was partially off its hinges. The graveyard was located apart from wherever the village might be, perhaps out of superstition.
Yaga grunted. "Now, we will create some soul seeds." She stepped out of her tub. Then, holding one bony claw out before her, she closed her eyes.
For a moment nothing happened. Then slowly, something nudged the earth near one of the tilted gravestones. The ground wavered as if it was quicksand and a corpse slowly floated to the surface.
"The soul seed is created from the heart, or where the heart used to be." She held one hand over the ribcage. "It is the very essence of the person's soul." Yaga closed her eyes and concentrated.
There was a flash of light beneath the ribcage.
The corpse turned to powder, almost indistinguishable from the cemetery grounds. Yaga reached down and delicately plucked a single gemstone from the ground. She unscrewed the lid of my jar and tossed the gem in with me. It was easily the size of my head; peach-pit sized, at least.
"Now let's see if you can do any better, hmm?"
She screwed the lid back on and, holding me under one arm, extended her hand again. Yaga closed her eyes.
I closed my eyes too. This had better work…
I could feel the energy flow out of me and into Yaga, and from there out into the many corpses buried beneath the earth.
"Sorry fellas," I thought to myself. "I don't have any choice."
There was an explosion. Yaga took a step back as every corpse in the cemetery bobbed to the surface at once. Yaga stared, wide-eyed, as the energy continued to flow from her fingertips.
A wave of heat thrummed from her outstretched hand, pulverizing the corpses. In each of their places was a single gemstone.
Yaga chortled, a horrible sound. "Magnificent!" she shouted. "I can harvest my seeds in almost no time!"
"Will you let us go now?" I squeaked.
"Let you go?" Yaga pulled the jar near her to stare at me with one bloodshot eye. "Oh, no my dear. You're not going anywhere. You're about to become my familiar."
* * *
Yaga thumped along, sliding the tub with ease. Morose, I sat very still in the jar, battered by dozens of gemstones. I thought I could hear the trapped souls within, angry with me for my complicity in Yaga's grave robbing. There were angry shouts, accusations, and at least one person yelling, "over there!" repeatedly.
Wait, that wasn't from the gemstones …
I looked up. Torches bobbed in the early morning mist. Shouts rose up from all around us. The villagers had found us.
Yaga cursed and pushed faster. Without her broom, they were able to track Yaga's path from the graveyard. And now she was leading them back to the hut.
I desperately tried to formulate a plan. I pounded on the lid of the jar, but it was screwed on tight.
Then I tried focusing my magic, whatever was left within me, to do something useful. But it didn't work. It felt as if I was being dragged by a lead weight. Yaga was leeching energy from me, and so long as she was around, I wouldn't be able to do anything.
The villagers shouted again, and this time they backed up their threats with a volley of arrows. Hunting hounds bayed behind us.
An arrow whistled past the swinging jar that was my prison. I hoped against hope that maybe an arrow would strike the jar hard enough to dislodge it or break it.
But then Yaga stopped pushing her tub. She turned around and, placing the pestle in the tub with her, lifted up my jar with one hand.
"I call upon the spirits of the wind and rain!" she shouted.
Energy pulsed out of me. I felt like I was being flattened by a rolling pin. This was not the subtle magic that Ura used. Yaga's magic was predatory, punishing in its hungry use of energy. I may have been a powerful cache of magic, but she had no qualms about abusing it.
The wind picked up, shrieking around us. Trees groaned in protest as a sudden storm formed where no storm should be.
The villagers’ shouts turned from anger to fear, but someone urged them forward and they advanced, close enough for me to make out worried faces.
More arrows flew, but the wind was so strong it batted them aside. Yaga was still shrieking something, but I couldn't hear her anymore. Lightning crackled above us and thunder roared. The dogs, who were previously barking ferociously, shifted to whines of terror.
Yaga cackled, the wind tearing at her hair. She looked like death itself, come to reap upon the villagers who dared interfere with her important work.
It was too much for the villagers. The people at the forefront of the mob were bowled over, disappearing into the depths of the woods with a howl. Those who weren’t swept away simply turned and fled. Instantly, the wind stopped and the heavy storm clouds above us began to dissipate.
Yaga diminished, once again nothing more than an old woman puttering about with her jar. She placed my prison on the hook. For a moment I wondered if the display of magic had weakened her, but any doubt vanished when she reached for the pestle and began pushing us along again. No tired old woman could do that.
She was merely dimming her power. Unlike her, I was sorely affected by her spells. I clung to consciousness. Just before I blacked out, I heard her mutter: "After the bonding ceremony, I won't even need Vasilissa anymore."
I didn't know who Vasilissa was, but felt bad for both of us already.
* * *
I dozed off, exhausted from the expenditure of magical energy that Yaga had taken from me.
I was still face down in the street when the two burly men who had thrown Piper out of Venefigrex found me. I hadn't moved since the incident with Piper, Black, and the boys.
A different man stood before me. His feet, as that was my perspective at the time, had curled shoes. Only a wizard wore curled shoes.
The two men grabbed each of my arms and yanked me upright. I got the distinct impression I was in trouble.
"Where is he?"
I got a good look at the wizard. He had matching curled eyebrows and goatee, both a reddish-brown. His nose was long and narrow. His hair wafted like a flame upwards, unruly and unkempt, but that’s wizards for you. He wore an outlandish outfit that made him look a bit more like a clown than a wizard, with a flaring collar. It was all purple, of course.
"Where is who?" I asked.
"The word magician! I know he was here. I can sense him!"
"You mean Piper?"
The wizard stroked his chin. "Yes. Piper." He looked me up and down. "Who are you?"
"Tesso." I didn’t have a last name so I didn’t provide him one.
"Tesso, hmm?" The wizard extended his hand in what can only be described as a condescending shake, as if he expected me to kiss his hand rather than shake it. "I am Heer Halewijn, Guild Wizard. I have been recently assigned this district. And as Guild Wizard of this district, it is my distinct responsibility to monitor all unlicensed magic. And this …" the words dripping from his lips, "… PIPER, has violated the law."
"You already had your chance," I said, feeling oddly brave given the circumstances. Black had long since left, leaving me to face these three men alone. I had nothing to lose. "Piper applied and you rejected him."
"I think you’re lying," he said. "A little magic will pry your tongue loose." He snapped at the two guards. "Hold him."
The men tightened their grip on me. I wasn’t going anywhere.
Halewijn chanted something. As he did so, I could feel energy drain out of me, the same rush I felt when Piper did his magic.
Halewijn blinked. He looked back at the two men, and then at me. "What in…?"
"What’s up boss?" asked one of the men.
"The spell!" Halewijn shouted, as if he were bellowing over the roar of a crowd. "I didn’t just read the boy’s thoughts. I read everyone’s thoughts." He rubbed his temples, struggling to regain his focus.
The two men eyed each other nervously.
"You’ve been stealing from me. You’re dismissed. I will no longer need your services."
The men backed away, hands on the hilts of their weapons.
"Or I could just turn you into toads … "
They turned and ran.
Halewijn rubbed his temples for another minute. Then he gave me a curious stare, as if he were burrowing into my soul.
"I see now that you were telling the truth. But that leaves me with a single question: what to do with you?" He snapped his fingers. "As punishment, you will be my servant. Come along."
And that was how I became Halewijn’s apprentice.
* * *
I awoke once again in Yaga's hut. Lycus was trussed up like a pig, dangling from a long pole. His arms and legs were firmly bound together.
I was on the shelf with all the other jars, their horrible eyes staring at me, perpetually agog. I tried not to look at them.
Eliana stood near the furnace. Using Will, she turned the jack-o'-lantern towards the furnace and a gout of flames belched out of his carved mouth. Will’s perpetual inner flame was useful to Yaga; he was not merely a light source, but as a weapon against the angry villagers who caught up with her. When she left, I reached out to Lycus.
"Are you all right?" I asked Lycus. Fortunately, the jar didn't inhibit my means of communication.
"Do I look all right?" came Lycus' panicked reply. "Get me out of here!"
"Did they get the key?"
"Yes," said Lycus. "But not the other two items."
So Eliana didn't know about the gifts. It made sense; I doubted the sisters wanted it to be known they were currying favor with Yaga's future dinner.
"Where's Yaga?"
"She stepped out," said Lycus. "Not sure why. But she'll be back soon. She's planning on eating me for dinner."
I was running out of options. I thought of Dog, but he wasn't in the hut and probably wouldn't help me anyway. Will was in Yaga's thrall. And Ivasik …
I looked around for Ivasik. I had misjudged him. But he was nowhere to be found.
An eyeball twitched nearby. I tried not to look at it …
But perhaps that was my problem. These things, whatever they were, had some semblance of life. I tentatively reached out with my mind, afraid what I would get back.
"Hello?"
"It speaks." So they could talk! The response was a chorus of voices in my head, a hushed whispering, like children in a library.
"What are you?" I asked.
"Fuel," they responded. Not particularly helpful.
"Can you help me?"
"Yes," they said.
"I am trying to get off this shelf … "
"There is no way out," they said. "Someone must release you. It is the only way."
The pickled creatures weren't being particularly helpful. "How?"
"There are many of us," they said, "but just one of them."
The eyes all turned to stare at Eliana as she returned, her fiery red hair down over her face as she cut up vegetables for the Lycus Stew.
Surely they couldn’t mean a physical confrontation? We couldn't even get out of the jars, much less attack her. And I doubted pickled creatures moved very quickly.
I was sure they meant something else. But what?
"I wanted to share something with you before I get eaten," said Lycus to Eliana. "But you can only get to it with the key on the table there.
Eliana looked sternly at Lycus. "This bet
ter not be a trick."
"No trick," said Lycus. "It's the scarf you asked for."
Her eyes lit up. Eliana scooped up the key. "Where's the lock?"
"In the floor, right next to the doorway in the room where I was staying, on the right-hand side."
Eliana took a step towards the door and then stopped.
"Why would you be so kind to me?"
Lycus smiled. "I … I don't know. You're one of a kind, I guess."
That was it! Of course there was only one of Eliana.
"They're never in the same room together," said Ivasik. "I think they sleep in shifts."
They didn't sleep in shifts …
Just as I was about to shout for Lycus, I caught sight of Ivasik. The cat bounded up to the shelf with one heroic leap. He landed without a sound.
He carefully wended his way between the jars, unnoticed by Eliana. The pickled things went practically cross-eyed trying to focus on him as he passed.
Eliana left the room to carry out Lycus' instructions.
"I told you you'd end up pickled if you weren't careful." Ivasik's cat pupil loomed large, magnified by the jar. "Apologize."
"For what?"
"For thinking I was a spy."
"Oh. That. Sorry about that. Dog said … "
"Dog!" Ivasik snorted. "Never listen to a dog."
He stretched, extending powerful claws. Then he raised one of them up.
"Wait?" I blurted out. "What are you going to do?"
"I'm paying you back." And then Ivasik batted my jar right off the shelf.
I tumbled in mid-air, splaying all four paws in the jar.
The jar hit the ground, an explosive pop that rattled my brain. Soul gems skittered everywhere. Eliana stood in the doorway, the red scarf in her hand, the key in the other, eyes brimming with tears. My escape barely registered on her face.
I knew what I had to do. Gathering what was left of my wits, I sprinted towards the room where she, and Nyx, and Dawn all slept. I darted between her feet and kept running, past the piles of rags and the shuttlecock and Lycus' makeshift bed.
"Ivasik!" scolded Eliana behind me. "That is one rat you were NOT supposed to eat!"
I looked over my shoulder to see if Eliana was behind me. She was torn between dealing with the broken jar, scolding Ivasik, or pursuing me.
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