Through the White Wood

by Jessica Leake

  I pushed those thoughts away and instead focused on the task ahead. The plan was to ride back to Kiev and assemble the militia, call to arms all the druzhina who still lived, and march upon the princes in first Iskorosten, which was the Drevlian capital and the closest to Kiev. From there, we would ride on to Novgorod.

  While the prince spoke with the former captives and Kharan waited to give aid to the ones taken from the steppes, Ivan and Boris retrieved the horses from the knarr. I stood apart, watching as the people we’d rescued fell to their knees onshore, some even kissing the land they’d probably thought they’d never see again. It only reaffirmed my desire to help protect them from the other princes. If we didn’t stop them, those same people could easily become captives again. The thought both filled me with a cold dread and strengthened my resolve; there was much at stake should we fail.

  I glanced up at the prince, and he seemed to be having similar thoughts, his jaw tight as he watched the former captives.

  A horse’s neigh and the sound of hoofbeats drew our attention from the people. The prince tensed as he turned toward the sound.

  A small group of men rode toward the prince, and I thought I recognized one or two from the palace. The prince strode toward them, and I followed, the hair on the back of my neck standing on end at the expressions on the men’s faces. They looked as though they carried the weight of a thousand rocks upon their shoulders. Whatever they would say would not be good news.

  “Gosudar, we are glad to see you back in Kievan Rus’.”

  “Thank you,” the prince said with a terse nod. “What news?”

  The soldier looked like he’d be sick, and an answering stab of fear shot through me. “The Drevlians and Novgorodians have launched an attack on Kiev and its surrounding areas. Many villages have been burned to the ground, and the palace itself is under siege.”

  Before the prince could respond, the king and queen appeared beside him. “What has happened?” King Leif asked.

  The prince remained calm, though the color drained from his face. “My city is under siege. The surrounding villages too.”

  The king and queen shared a look. “We listened to your plea for help before the Byzantine empresses,” King Leif said, “and though they did not honor your alliance, we would like to offer you ours.”

  The prince closed his eyes for a moment as though praising God. “Thank you. You cannot know how much this means to me . . . to all of us.”

  The queen smiled. “It is no hardship. The king always relishes the chance for battle. In fact, I think he was disappointed you hadn’t asked him for it on the ship.”

  King Leif laughed, but the prince looked chagrined. “My apologies to you both. I had only thought of how much you have already aided us. I was loath to ask for more.”

  “We have only a small contingent of men—fifty in total,” the queen said, “but it is yours.”

  “And you will have the queen,” the king said with a grin. “She is worth fifty more.”

  The prince asked questions: When had the enemy arrived? Who was protecting the palace? Had any of the civilians been evacuated?

  Precious little was known, and too much time had been lost waiting for us to arrive. They had no idea what we would be walking into when we made it back to Kiev.

  Kharan and Ivan soon joined us, and each was apprised of the situation. When Ivan learned that the city had fallen under siege, his face grew pale under his bushy beard, and I knew he feared for Vera. We all did. Before long, the ships were emptied of men that could be spared—some would have to remain to guard the king and queen’s ships—and our horses. The wagons of supplies, though, would slow us down.

  Once we were mounted, the prince came and addressed us all.

  “We must ride ahead of the wagons,” Sasha said. “It’s our only chance of reaching Kiev in time. If all is not already lost,” he added, jaw clenched tight. “Our horses were bred for endurance, and we must push them to the limit.” He glanced over at the king and queen’s war chargers. “If you do not wish to push yours as hard, we will understand.”

  “They will keep the pace,” the king said confidently.

  Sasha nodded. “Then onward.”

  The pace was set to grueling, but it wasn’t nearly fast enough. With every beat of my heart, and every stride of powerful hoofbeats, I prayed that we wouldn’t be too late.

  Chapter Twenty-Four

  WE DIDN’T SLEEP. WE BARELY ATE. We only kept on a mad pace toward the city. The horses were tiring, but we kept pushing them. If Kiev fell now, then all was lost. The Drevlian and Novgorodian princes, along with their earth elemental allies, were poised to take over all of Kievan Rus’.

  But on the second day, Kharan fell from Daichin, crashing to the forest floor in a heap. Her little pony let out a frightened neigh, not daring to leave her side.

  I threw myself from Zonsara’s back and ran to Kharan, while the others halted and circled around. Sasha dismounted, too.

  “Kharan,” I said, falling to her side. “What happened? What’s wrong?”

  Her eyes fluttered open. “I should have told you.”

  I searched her face. “Told me what?”

  “One of the Drevlians . . . his sword,” she managed, her face terribly pale. She touched her side. And suddenly, I remembered her look of pain on the ship, her brushing off my concern.

  “Does anyone have a knife?” I demanded, and Sasha immediately handed one to me.

  Feeling sick, I cut through Kharan’s beautiful deel to reveal her ribs. There, beneath bandages, was a wound raging with infection.

  “Oh, Kharan,” I said, my heart pounding in my ears. I could feel under my hands that her body was blazing with a fever. “You didn’t tell me how badly you were hurt.”

  “What can we do?” Sasha asked, his face awash with concern.

  I’d brought herbs and supplies with me, but they were in the wagons . . . at least a day behind us. “I must ride back to the wagons to retrieve my supplies,” I said. “I have precious little with me now. She may not survive without them.”

  The prince looked stricken for a moment before nodding. “Boris,” the prince said, and Boris rode over closer, “you will stay here with Kharan and Katya. The rest of us will go on ahead.”

  I recognized the wisdom in this, but still, I was terrified for the prince to face the enemy without me.

  “I’m sorry,” Kharan said, and tears spilled from her eyes.

  “No,” I said, my stomach churning, “this is my fault. I should have asked to see your wound the next morning.”

  “I should have told you the truth,” Kharan said.

  “I will forgive you if you do not die,” the prince said, and she managed a choked laugh. He turned to me. “I cannot say I’m devastated that you will not be riding immediately into danger like the rest of us,” he said, reaching out to touch my face.

  I leaned into his hand. “And I cannot say I’m thrilled to see you ride into danger without me.”

  And then he was pulling me into him and wrapping his arms around me, kissing me as tears froze upon my cold cheeks before melting again as they came near the heat of his body. I pressed myself into him, molding my body to his. His kiss was a burning heat, a painful goodbye, a promise. His hands plunged into my hair as he deepened the kiss, and I could feel his desperation.

  He pulled away all too soon, huge palms on either side of my face.

  He pressed one more kiss to my lips, gentle this time. “Heal her, as you did me,” Sasha said, touching my face one last time. “And then return to me.”

  “Don’t get yourself killed,” I said, tears stinging my eyes.

  He smiled and mounted his horse again, but he made no promise to me that he would stay alive. And as I looked back at my friend laid out on the ground, stricken with infection and fever, I was terrified I would lose everything I loved.

  Again.

  Once I treated Kharan with the herbal poultice I had remaining from the prince’s shoulder
wound, I left her in Boris’s care while I rode as fast as I could back to the wagon for more. White willow, in particular, was missing, and I needed it to bring down her fever.

  Kharan had repeatedly told me how sorry she was before succumbing to the pain and the fever and falling unconscious. The wound was shallow, and it hadn’t been infected when she’d first told me of it on the ship, so she didn’t think it necessary to ask for an herbal remedy. I told her not to be ridiculous. She’d braved much for us. And of course I knew it was my fault: I should have asked to see it, should have insisted on applying a poultice. The only consolation was that the fever hadn’t progressed as far as Sasha’s had, and I hadn’t needed to use my power to bring her temperature down.

  Zonsara sensed my anxiety, her tail twitching in irritation, but though she’d barely had a rest, she responded instantly, cantering as fast as I dared to spur her on through the thick trees.

  It took us half a day to reach the wagon, and by then, I was so pale from fear over Kharan and Sasha that the soldiers guarding the wagon took one look at me and immediately fell to their knees, fearing Sasha had been killed.

  “He was alive when last I saw him—he had to ride on ahead,” I assured them. “I’ve come only to retrieve my supplies.”

  But when I turned to ride back, Zonsara was standing splay-legged, blowing hard from her nostrils, and I knew I couldn’t push her again that day. The anxiety ate at me even as I fed her kasha and water, rubbed her down and allowed her to graze.

  It wasn’t until hours later, when she appeared rested enough to keep a pace faster than a walk, and my fear had broken through my skin and was now gnawing on bone, that I was able to return to Kharan.

  Boris had kept her warm and sheltered, but she was still feverish—shaking and pale. I made a tea from the white willow and changed her poultice out for fresh herbs. Before long, she was resting easily. I watched over her, even as my mind raced ahead to Kiev. I feared for Sasha until it felt as though I’d split apart. Not being with him to join in the battle was torture, but I also wouldn’t have wanted anyone else here with Kharan. It tore me in two, and I paced throughout the night, alternating between checking Kharan’s temperature—which was falling—and imagining what might be happening with Sasha.

  Sometime before dawn, I’d finally given in to sleep, after Boris had made us all some hearty stew. I woke up some hours later and was surprised to find Kharan up and feeding Daichin her leftover kasha.

  “You look much improved,” I said, coming to her side.

  “Thanks to you,” she said. “I’m sorry I cost us so much time. You must be half mad with worry.”

  I shook my head. “Stop apologizing when you know I’m the one who should have asked to see the wound the next morning.”

  She smiled wanly. “I doubt I even would have let you.”

  I sighed. “I’m only glad to see you better so soon.”

  “There’s something to that, I think,” she said. “How quickly people respond to your treatment.”

  I looked at her questioningly. “I only use the herbs as Babushka did.”

  “Yes, but I was terribly ill, possibly dying. And now, today, I can ride.” She watched me for a moment. “And wasn’t it the same for the prince?”

  I thought back to when the prince had recovered from the festering of his wound. He, too, had been out of bed the next day.

  “Yes, I think you’re right.”

  “A useful skill since we’re about to join the war,” she said with a grin.

  “And you’re sure you’re well enough to ride?” I asked, reaching out to touch her forehead. It was cool to the touch, and her color had completely improved.

  “Yes.” She turned toward Boris as he approached. “It might have been Boris’s stew, actually—perhaps I’m giving credit to the wrong person.”

  He laughed. “You are better. That is all that matters.”

  She touched my arm. “Are you ready? If we push ourselves today, we may not lose as much time.”

  I nodded. “Let us pray God gives our horses wings.”

  Let us pray we are not too late.

  Hurry, hurry. That was the thought that drove us on. That pushed our horses.

  Zonsara picked up on my anxiety, as I’d learned horses do, but still I held her in check. Many times she broke from her smooth canter to a gallop before I had to pull her back, my heart hammering wildly in my chest. I’d learned much about riding in the time since I’d first left Kiev with the prince, but still I feared being thrown—not because it would possibly injure me, but because it might delay me from reaching the battle.

  Zonsara fought me still, snorting and tossing her head when I slowed her pace once again. A sweat was breaking out on her neck and shoulders. Finally, I realized I was making her waste more energy by holding her back than by letting her run.

  I loosened my death grip on the reins, and she hesitated for a brief moment, as though she didn’t really believe I was letting her have her head. But then her stride lengthened as she stretched out into a full gallop.

  I leaned low over Zonsara’s neck as she raced along, a mixture of slush and leaves kicking up in her wake. Elation flew ahead, casting his long shadow. The horses raced to keep pace. My heart beat furiously as cold dread gripped me. I was afraid I’d be too late. After all I’d learned, after all I’d lost, I couldn’t bear to lose anyone else.

  I couldn’t bear to lose him.

  Our horses’ endurance was once again put to the test, as we kept them at a pace just shy of absolute exhaustion. We stopped twice: once for water, and once to rest for precious little time.

  Only a few hours later we awoke, and then we were racing toward the rising sun again. With each beat of Zonsara’s hooves, I felt the power within me grow like a thunderhead on the horizon. Cold leaked from my palms, until a stream of snow began to fall behind us. It built and built in power, until the very air around us began to change temperature. Zonsara snorted, and her breaths came out in great plumes of white. In the sky above, dark gray clouds formed. More power spilled out of me, and I did nothing to stop it.

  Please, I thought, as Zonsara brought us closer to Kiev, and the storm I brought with me strengthened, please let them be unharmed. Let Sasha be unharmed.

  My mind tortured me with images of the people I’d come to care for: Vera lying unmoving on the ground, Ivan with a sword through his chest, and Sasha . . . Sasha impaled again by vines, this time through his heart.

  The dark-gray clouds pressed lower, and it was as if the clouds were feeding off the energy pouring out of me. Hurry, hurry, the voice whispered, and the storm above grew stronger.

  The snowfall increased, the flakes larger, and a wind picked up until it was howling along to the beat of my heart.

  At long last, we burst from the cover of the trees. The branches reached toward us like they wanted to pull us back, and the storm ripped needles and twigs free, swirling them around in the snow until there was a whirlwind behind us.

  We crested a hill, and then Kiev spread before us, and I pulled Zonsara to a halt with a strangled cry. Boris raced on ahead, desperate to give aid to Ivan and the others, while Kharan dismounted and immediately melded into the shadows. The city had been overtaken by thorny brambles and vines so thick, only the tops of the palace towers could be seen. But worse was the battle taking place in the flatland before the gates of the city.

  It was a chaotic, writhing mass of people and weapons. The cacophony so terrible it rippled across the land and vibrated in my teeth: the clang of swords, the shouts of men, the screams of horses. There were so many: the prince’s city militia battled enemy soldiers, and the king and queen’s Varangian men fought among them. But of course, this was no ordinary battle. A group of elementals, scattered around the edges of the field, hurled enormous boulders that crashed down upon the mass of people, crushing bodies and breaking bones as they landed. There were chasms in the ground, much like I’d encountered with the ship captain, yawning open, ready to sw
allow anyone who took a wrong step.

  And towering above it all were creatures I’d never seen before. Craggy and roughly formed, they were like giant men made of earth. I could only deduce they’d been created by an earth elemental. The prince’s men fired upon them with arrows, swung shining blades of swords at them, but they only continued their heavy march, crushing anyone in their enormous hands who came close enough.

  Shining like a beacon of hope through all the chaos was the prince, who burned brightly, lit with his elemental fire. Relief hit me so powerfully I let out an explosive breath. He was alive. The sword he carried was also burning, and it cut through soldiers easily. Any vines that reached for him, tearing through the earth like the fingers of giants, were cut down by the prince’s sword. Yet even with such powerful flames, he still had to dodge the flying boulders and the towering earth men.

  The fire wasn’t enough. The storm within and above me strengthened, blowing snow in a whirlwind. It danced around me, as though waiting for my command.

  I scanned the battle for the others: for Ivan and the king and queen. I found Ivan, fighting perilously close to elementals, and when he got near enough to one who was hurling boulders, he touched him, sucking away his power in a rush. The boulder the man controlled fell on his fellow soldiers instead, and though I couldn’t see his face with clarity from this distance, I could tell from the way he held his body that he was horrified. But in the next instant, he was cut down by Ivan’s sword.

  The king fought powerfully with his sword, his men staying close to him as they cut through enemy soldier after soldier.

  And just when I was scanning the battle again for the queen, she galloped toward me on her all-black charger, spooking Zonsara, who let out a snort of disapproval.

  “The princes are inside the city,” she said, “and none of us can make it past the brambles. Not even the prince’s fire can burn it; it’s too green. You can see if your power is effective against the brambles. If you can get inside, Leif and I will take care of the soldiers outside. Get to the palace, defeat your enemy princes, and the war will be won.”