by Max Candee
I was doing my best to translate into French for Lauraleigh, but there was no way I could replicate Uncle Misha’s and Egor’s amusing intonations. It felt like those intonations combined with their words to form communication; they were creating an odd feeling of distance from my daily reality, of soaring above the castle, of not taking anything too seriously. Even Baba Yaga seemed rather unimportant … and even the search for my father.
Egor listened to my translation with a raised eyebrow and a distracted expression. He approached Lauraleigh and sniffed the air in front of her. “Ah! You don’t have the Russian spirit at all, foreign girl,” he said in smooth French that sounded nicely old-fashioned. His words were odd although his intonation, again, was spellbinding. “You shouldn’t be here. No, no. You must go away soon.”
Lauraleigh looked as startled as I was. “What do you mean?” she asked.
“Lands … territories … they have certain energies, you see. They make some people stronger and others weaker. It all depends on, well, your frequency.”
“My frequency?” Lauraleigh seemed ready to laugh at this nonsense.
Egor looked unaffected by her change of mood. “Yes. This particular spot, my castle, gives off a mixture of Buryat and Russian energy. You…” He sniffed Lauraleigh again, making her take a step back in mock alarm. “You’re tuned to a foreign wave.”
“I still don’t understand what this means, monsieur,” Lauraleigh said.
“You’ll suffer here, that’s all,” Egor informed her with a dismissive wave of his hand. “Ah, to come so far into a foreign land! What were you thinking?”
Uncle Misha picked a sliver of meat from a platter on the table. “Do not listen to him, young ladies,” he said. “And you, Lauraleigh. You are among friends here. That is the only wave that matters.”
A stubborn wrinkle appeared on Egor’s bare forehead. “She’ll suffer,” he insisted. “May die too.”
“So what should we do?” I asked. I didn’t like where the strange old man’s words seemed to be going. I had already exposed Lauraleigh to a lot of dangers; I did not intend to make things even worse for her.
“At least have her drink lots of local water,” Egor said. “That’ll help adjust her energy. Well … a little.”
Lauraleigh and I filled our plates and cups. Although alarmed, I was suddenly starving. Breakfast had been hours ago, and I’d been running on adrenaline for the last while. There were freshly cooked meats, piles of fruit, and bread still warm from the oven. All of which Egor had conjured with the wave of a hand. (My mind was reluctantly starting to accept that.) As I gobbled down my dinner, I resolved to learn how to master magic too — without using the power of my life, if possible. No matter what Uncle Misha had said, one day it might mean the difference between starvation and survival.
“So did this witch just show up at your cabin like the last one?” Egor asked. He wiped a greasy hand on his beard and grinned. “Seems all the pretty witches find their way to your cabin, don’t they? Especially the ones with red hair.”
“I guess they do,” Uncle Misha said. “In fact, this pretty witch is the daughter of the last one.”
Egor choked, and Uncle Misha pounded him on the back.
“You mean…” Egor coughed, looking at me. “You mean you’re Sereda’s daughter?”
“That’s what Uncle Misha tells me,” I said.
Egor’s happy demeanor seemed to dim a little.
“I should have known,” he said quietly. “You look like her. Well, little witch, I’m glad to know you. I just wish it were under happier circumstances. You know, do you not, that your father is a captive? And of whom?”
“I know,” I said. “I’m going to get him back.”
Egor shook his head, but the look in his eyes was not displeased.
* * *
After dinner, we saw that the Horsemen were gone, but we all knew they’d return, possibly with my grandmother in tow. We planned to be gone before then, but Egor refused to let us travel by night.
“There are darker things than the old Queen’s henchmen in those woods,” he said. “You know that, Misha. Rest here tonight and travel by day when the monsters sleep.”
Sounds like a good plan to me, I thought.
“I’m going to move the grizzlies around back,” said Uncle Misha.
“I’ll come help,” Lauraleigh offered.
“Take Koshmarik with you,” Egor said. “He’ll warn you if those blasted Horsemen show up again.”
I watched them leave, and once again, I wished I had not gotten Lauraleigh tangled up in this mess.
“Come,” Egor said. “I have something to show you.” Instead of opening the big oaken door we had arrived through, he waved his hand, and a small door appeared in the wall beside the hearth — and suddenly I remembered it always being there. He pulled the iron handle. The door opened, and out fell a clutter of brooms, cooking pots, buckets, and other household items.
“Sorry,” said Egor. “Wrong door.” He kicked the debris back inside the small closet, shut the door, and waggled his fingers again. This time, when he opened the door, it led to a steep stone staircase.
“This way,” he said, and started to climb. For an old guy, Egor was pretty nimble, and by the time I crawled up the last stair, he was standing on the far side of the tower roof, looking out over the valley below. The wind shrieked through the ramparts that stuck up around the edge of the roof like broken teeth. Egor’s wispy hair and beard flew around his head and face.
“Look. Look!” He pointed eagerly to the thick forest that surrounded the castle. I saw only black clumps of trees, stretching for miles, unbroken by fields or roads. From up here, the trees looked no bigger than shrubs, but I knew they were enormous pines and oaks, untouched for centuries by the ax of a man. The bitter wind whipped tears from my eyes. I squinted through them and saw a faint light glowing in the trees far to the north.
The roar of an engine made me jump, but it was only Uncle Misha and Lauraleigh moving the grizzlies. I turned back to study the odd light glowing in the trees. It flickered like firelight but had a sickly greenish cast rather than the happy orange glow of fire.
“What is it?” I asked.
“That, littlest witch, is your destination. That is the stronghold of the Iron Queen.”
“My grandmother!” I gasped. We seemed so close, and yet I knew that distances were deceiving in the forest.
“Your grandmother,” agreed Egor, “though I don’t think she’ll be glad to be reminded that she has a granddaughter.”
“She’s been looking for me,” I said. “But I don’t know that she’ll be pleased with who I am and that I know who she is and what she’s done. She’ll have to answer for those things.”
“Well, yes, won’t we all someday. But the question is, will she answer to you?”
I chewed my lip, thinking this over. Egor was right. I couldn’t just walk up to Baba Yaga’s door and demand to know why she’d kidnapped my father. I needed a plan. I needed magic.
“Could you teach me about magic?” I asked.
Egor’s beard blew into his mouth and he sputtered on it before answering. “What do you mean? Haven’t you been taught? Every parent knows that the first years are the most important for any child. Especially one like you. Didn’t you have proper tutoring?”
I felt my face grow hot. It wasn’t my fault — or Uncle Misha’s — that I had grown up in an orphanage surrounded by people who knew nothing of magic. I didn’t even know there were magic tutors!
Egor’s face softened as if he were listening to my thoughts.
“No, I didn’t,” I said. “My mother wasn’t around long enough to enroll me in preschool, let alone magic school. My father has never so much as sent me a birthday card. And Uncle Misha never told me who I was. So how was I supposed to know that I had magic?” I felt the power heaving in my stomach again. My fists clenched and tingled with the urge to zap something.
“Stand down, girl!” Egor
said. “Before you blast a hole in my tower. I meant no offense.”
But I couldn’t just shut off the magic. It had been simmering in me all day, with all the anxiety about finding my father, meeting my grandmother, and being chased by her Horsemen. It was all too much — and the magic spilled out of my hands. A blue light zapped the parapet, sending bits of rock flying over our heads.
“Now see here!” Egor shouted. “I’ll have none of that rough stuff in my castle.” His hands made a swooping motion, and a heavy weight, like a wet blanket, fell on me.
“Oomph!” I fell to the floor, the air flattened out of me, and my magic fizzled out as if I were a torch that had just been dunked in cold water. When I could finally take a breath, I found Egor staring down at me with his crazy hair fluttering around him like a white nimbus.
“Can you teach me?” I croaked.
Egor held out his bony hand and pulled me to my feet.
“Only if you promise to keep your temper,” he said. “This tower is held together mostly by luck. I don’t need you undoing all my hard work.”
He humphed a bit and paced the roof as though trying to come to terms with how magically stupid I really was. “Well, tell me. What can you do besides blast things?” he asked finally.
“Not much,” I admitted. “I can fly, but only if I have something to fly in, like a bucket. Not so great on a broom.”
“Just like your granny,” he mumbled.
“Oh, and once I made a vine grow really fast, but that was to trap an evil man who was kidnapping my friends. But blasting is my best trick.”
Egor glared at me.
“And that’s it? Do you not realize that magic has wonderful uses besides blasting and trapping? You can make crops grow for the hungry or find lost travelers. And all without losing your own energy and growing old too fast.”
“I guess.” I stared at my shoes and rubbed my chest. Should I tell him about the shadow inside me? I hadn’t hurt anyone with that last zap of magic, so it hadn’t grown any bigger. But every time I lashed out in anger, the shadow seemed to dance with glee inside me, fiery like an intense heartburn.
Egor saw me holding my chest, and his eyes softened. “You’ve got a little bit of darkness inside you, haven’t you, little witch?”
I nodded, too upset to speak.
“It’s no worry.” He patted my shoulder with his narrow hand. “We’ve all got a bit of darkness. It’s what makes us strong.”
I glanced up at him in surprise. “Strong?” The shadow made me feel weak as if it wanted to take over all of me.
“Yes, that bit of dark chaos inside makes us strong. All emotions are assets to us, even anger. Would you believe it? It’s what you choose to do with those emotions that makes you a dark witch or a white wizard.” His voice rose and fell, spellbinding me, commanding all my attention.
“I never knew I had a choice,” I said.
“Choice is the greatest power, little witch. Use it wisely.”
“But Uncle Misha said—”
“Bah,” said Egor, “Misha is just a grumpy old bear. I mean no disrespect; he is a fine man and my friend. But who are you going to trust about magic: the man who knows how to hook a rug or the fellow who can make one appear out of thin air?”
His bony fingers squeezed my shoulder and, for the first time in a long while, I felt some hope that the shadow inside me could be defeated.
“By the way,” I said, “what’s with your voice?”
Egor laughed — and despite his odd looks, it was the most beautiful laughter I’d ever heard. “It’s just the wizard’s voice. The most basic of all things.”
“Is it magic, too?”
“No, not at all. It’s a skill you develop. See, magic is all about how you use your energy.” He stared at me as though he were wondering whether I’d be able to comprehend what he was telling me. Apparently, he saw something that gave him hope because he added, “That, and how much you’re attuned to the world.”
“How interesting,” I said, not really understanding him. “Attuned to the world, you say?”
Egor gave me a patient smile. “See, the world is but a Sound. It’s a Word.” He stressed those words with his voice, making them seem capitalized. “Have you read the Bible, little witch?”
“Ah, yeah. Kind of.”
“Kind of,” he mimicked, pulling on his beard. “Ha-ha-ha! You either read or you don’t read. There’s nothing in between. Anyway, let me remind you.” He puffed his chest out, filling it with air, and intoned in a deep, melodic voice, “In the beginning was the Word, and the Word was with God, and the Word was God.” His laughing eyes studied me. “That’s all there is to it. You need to know nothing else about magic, see. I’ve just saved you years of study, ha-ha!”
“Um,” I said, “well, thank you … I guess.”
“Ah, little witch. Think about it when you have a moment of leisure. You’re just … a wave. A frequency. A sound.” His voice did a strange thing, becoming louder and then softer, reminding me of the gentle waves of Lake Geneva rolling onto our school’s private beach. That made me feel better and even put a gentle smile on my face.
“You’re tricking me,” I said. “You’ve been playing with my mind all along.”
Egor threw his head back, making his beard look at the sky, and laughed. “I’ve been teaching you. Imagine yourself as a wave on the surface of a vast sea. What can it do? How can it reach the shore one day? Huh?”
I wrinkled my forehead, thinking. The odd little man seemed intent on passing some thought on to me, so I decided to play along. I shrugged. “By moving along with the sea.”
“You got it!” Egor clapped and bowed like I had just made a major discovery. “By being in harmony with it.” He winked. “But enough for today. What are your plans for tomorrow, little witch?”
“Tomorrow, I have to go see my grandmother,” I said. “My father needs me. But maybe…” I didn’t know how to ask without sounding rude. “Maybe when I come back, you can teach me some more?”
“I think that’s a splendid idea,” Egor said with a smile.
But I didn’t get to visit my grandmother the next day. We woke to dark skies. The clouds were heavy and purple with rain.
“I think you need to see this,” Egor said as soon as Uncle Misha, Lauraleigh and I had stirred. We followed him back up the steep steps to the tower roof. Lightning shimmered in the north.
The three Horsemen again stood at the castle gate, but this time they had brought an army of ghosts.
We were surrounded.
Chapter 7
Dear Diary,
Today I realized that I have much to learn about magic. Or as Egor puts it, about the use of energy. It’s a dizzying thought. It was only a few weeks ago that I first discovered that I had magic within me. I sat at the river’s edge with Squire, trying to stop the flow of the water. How silly I was! How naive! Since then, I’ve done some amazing things with magic. And some pretty scary things too.
But never have I sat down and imagined all the wonderful things I could do. Up until now, I’ve had a live-and-learn attitude about magic. Not anymore. Now I want to learn it all. In a few short hours, Egor has shown me more of the universe than I had ever thought possible. I will no longer be happy with studying simple algebra, grammar, and history. I must learn how to do this!
One day, I’ll be a great witch. One day, I’ll have magic to rival my grandmother’s. Then nobody will be able to hurt the people I love again. This I swear to you, Diary.
Today, I, the witch, was born.
* * *
“What is it?” Lauraleigh asked. Her face was pinched tight with worry. “I can sense something, like the pressure of a storm, but all I see are those three Horsemen.”
“Ghosts,” I whispered. “Dozens of them.” I wasn’t sure whether it was better to see them or, like Lauraleigh, to live without that terrifying sight but still know we were surrounded.
“Anna, do you have that dream stone I sent yo
u?” Uncle Misha asked.
I nodded.
“Let Lauraleigh look through it.”
The stone hung from a leather cord around my neck. Its solid weight against my chest was a comfort, but I gladly handed it over to my friend. She held the stone to her eye and gasped.
“So many!” she said.
The ghosts flickered in the morning light like twinkling stars. They shifted around, passing through the hills and trees surrounding the castle ruins.
“Why don’t they come onto the castle grounds?” I asked.
“I’ve got it warded against all but the most powerful magic,” said Egor. “It’s quite simple when you know how — like a wall of special sound. The Horsemen will eventually break through, but it will take time. The question is why are they here? Has Baba Yaga finally found a way to control the dead?”
My heart sank at the thought. Uncle Misha had suggested that was my grandmother’s dearest wish. Maybe even the reason she’d kidnapped my father. With his power, she’d finally control the kingdom of the dead. But if the ghosts were here under her command, did that mean that my father had already given up resisting her? Could he even be dead, even though that was supposed to be impossible? Was my father one of those ghosts?
“I do not think so,” Uncle Misha said, reading the emotions on my face as if I were yelling my feelings out loud. “Look at the way those ghosts move. They are passing right through the Horsemen.”
Uncle Misha was right. The Horsemen looked annoyed as the ghosts flitted around and through them. The horses were trained for war, but even they stamped their hooves and tossed their heads. They didn’t like being mistreated by the ghosts either. I remembered the feeling of the ghost passing through me: cold, like a hand of ice squeezing my heart.
“So if the Horsemen didn’t bring the ghosts, why are they here?” Lauraleigh asked.
“It’s me they want,” I said. “Isn’t that right?”