by Raye Wagner
The animal loomed over her, and she held up her hands to ward it off, even knowing doing so was pointless. It reached for her, and she couldn’t stop herself from whimpering, “Please.”
“You there!”
Both Vasi and the beast startled and turned their attention to a man charging at them on horseback.
Vasi gaped. Her throat ached and voice rasped when she called, “Henryk?”
He pulled a broadsword from its sheath. “Vasi?” he said, his voice filled with disbelief. “Holy djinn. What are you doing here?”
The beast bellowed and lunged for Vasi. Its claws bit into her flesh, and she cried out.
“No,” Henryk yelled, driving his horse forward. The dark-chestnut stallion reared and then charged, the prince swinging his sword.
Vasi stumbled as the creature yanked her back, throwing her behind it. Vasi screamed again as a thorn tore through her dress and into her leg before she rolled to a stop on the grass.
The ring of metal against stone was followed by a grunt. Vasi blinked as Henryk fought the monster. The beast ducked as Henryk smacked it with the flat of his blade. The creature retaliated by swiping at the horse, forcing the animal and his rider back. Henryk swung his leg over the saddle and slid to the ground.
“Let her go,” he said, stalking forward. “I don’t want to kill you, but if you don’t release her, I will.”
The beast bellowed again, but the prince continued his advance. It blocked Henryk’s next swing with its claws, but the dark prince jabbed at the creature with the knife in his other hand, burying the blade into the animal’s thigh. The creature staggered back and sat as if the injury awoke him from his rage.
“Come here, Vasi,” Henryk called, his weapon and attention still fixed on the threat. “Can you?”
“Yes,” she wheezed, crawling toward him.
But as she approached the monster, the creature whined, a pitiful sound of sorrow, and Vasi’s stomach twisted.
She inched past the beast. The animal made no move to grab her but chuffed a low sound as she moved out of reach. He tracked her with his human-like eyes filled with pain.
“Should we just leave him here?” she whispered, halting between her two saviors.
“What?” the prince asked, his voice filled with disbelief. “He’s a beast, Vasi. He just attacked you—”
“He saved me,” she said, choking on the last word.
“He’s fine,” Henryk insisted as he reached toward her. But with Vasi between him and the animal, he couldn’t advance without putting her at risk. “He’ll heal from that wound in a day—listen to me, Vasi. We need to go.”
She turned back to the beast, who still stared at her with those disconcerting eyes, and swallowed the emotion clogging her throat. With a shake of her head, she said, “I can’t come with you to Zelena. I have to save my father. But thank you for helping me with the witch.”
The beast nodded as if it understood and then bowed its head. It crouched and then leapt across the knoll to the wall. A moment later, the creature scampered up the slithering vines. It stopped at the top, pulled the knife from its leg with a grunt, and dropped the blade before disappearing over the barrier.
Henryk sunk to the ground by Vasi, his hands pushing her hair back from her face. “Where have you been? We’ve been looking everywhere for you.”
Vasi clung to the dark prince and sobbed, sagging in his arms.
“Shh,” he said, lifting her. “Come now. Let’s get you to the castle. Nikolai has been sick worried about you.”
His words were a slap, and she clenched his arm. “Please, don’t take me back. I need . . .”
She couldn’t quit. And she couldn’t allow Baba Yaga to banish her forever. The words lodged in Vasi’s chest, warring with the dread now settling within. “I’m going back into the woods. There’s something I must finish with the witch.”
Henryk frowned. “You found Baba Yaga?”
“She’s teaching me magic,” Vasi said, nodding. Fresh tears spilled down her cheeks. “I’m going to get the Phoenix Fire.”
“By all the djinn, you scared me tonight.” Henryk closed his eyes as he leaned over and pressed his lips to her forehead.
Vasi’s heart fluttered in response, and then confusion clouded her mind, but she couldn’t muster the conviction to push him away. “Will you—”
He straightened. “I will take you to her house.”
“You know where she lives?” Vasi asked, grabbing his doublet. The fact that he, the only other adult in Beloch who believed in the djinn and also a prince, knew seemed right somehow.
The prince whistled, and his horse drew near. With a half-smile, he helped her onto the saddle and said, “Of course, I do. I know everything in these woods.”
He mounted the horse, sitting behind her, and pulled her flush to him as he picked up the reins in one hand and encircled her with his other arm. “I will take you.”
She leaned into Prince Henryk, his warmth and the security of his embrace wrapping her in momentary tranquility. “How did you know where to find me?” she asked. “Did Aksel tell you?”
Henryk’s laughter tickled her neck. “Sadly, I can’t boast of knowing the infamous djinn. Are you well acquainted?”
“No,” she said, yawning as her heart rate slowed. “Not really. But the first time I saw him, I thought it was you. He takes after you, your mannerisms—”
Henryk snorted. “I’m fairly certain he wouldn’t appreciate the comparison. He’s far older than my twenty years, Vasi.”
She shrugged. “Even so. You remind me of each other.” She rested her head on his chest, smiling at the steadiness of his pulse. “You know, he’s my patron djinn.”
Henryk kissed the top of her head. “I didn’t know. How interesting. He’s mine, too.”
20
Henryk woke Vasi as they approached the witch’s home. After a hurried goodbye, and Henryk’s promise to keep Vasi’s secret, she ran to the bone gate. The barrier ground open at her approach, and she darted through the meadow and up the steps.
Baba Yaga opened the door, filling the entire space, preventing Vasi’s entrance. The witch’s black hair whipped around her face, and she glowered down at the young woman. “I said leave. You quit.”
“No,” Vasi begged, standing on the doorstep of the witch’s house. “I was scared. I’m sorry I ran, and I’d like to be here.”
“You’ll run away again. The next time you get scared. One mistake after another, and when will it end?” She snarled. “Save us both time, and run away again, now.”
“No. I was wrong, but so were you. You tried to hit me . . . I came back.” Vasi sucked in a deep breath and reined in her emotions. “Please.”
Baba Yaga’s eyes turned lavender for a moment, and in a voice as clear as a bell, she asked, “What did you say?”
“I’ll accept my punishment,” Vasi said, standing straight and holding her head high. “I’ll never run again. All I want—all I care about is restoring the Phoenix Fire so I can bring my father home. I want him safe . . .” By the end, she ran out of steam, and her words trailed into a whisper of desperate hope.
Baba Yaga studied the girl, her fierce gaze shifting back to flame. “The tasks will only get harder and the consequences more severe.”
“I’ll accept whatever punishment you deliver. Even . . .” Vasi swallowed. “Even staying in a locked room until I find my magic. I want this chance. I’ll give you my word that I won’t run again.”
“Do not give your word lightly—not you. As a witch, your oath can bind great power. If you wish to flee, tell me, and I’ll take you out of this forest. It would be better for this world if your father died and all four kingdoms fell than if you swore an oath and broke your word.” She dropped her voice and in a haunted whisper said, “This world needs no more curses.”
“I wouldn’t give my word lightly,” Vasi replied, irritated but too exhausted to do more than grimace. She met the witch’s hard stare and said, “I
give you my word; I will not flee from a punishment from you ever again, and I swear this to you until the end of time.”
A whisper passed through the nearby wood, skipping over the meadow and past Vasi’s ears. She almost heard words though not in any language she knew. An odd sensation skittered over her skin like walking through a cobweb, and she brushed her hands over her face and body.
“Foolish girl.” Baba shook her head, but the flames in her eyes diminished. “I owe you an apology for losing my temper. I’m not used to dealing with babies.”
The apology was ridiculous, but the witch’s sincerity rang true. She shuffled to the side of the door. When Vasi didn’t immediately come in, the old woman waved her hand. “Well, come on then.”
With no small amount of trepidation, Vasi mounted the steps to the house. Before stepping through the doorway, she glanced back at the Ctyri forest, but Henryk had done as she asked and remained hidden in the trees. With a deep breath, she waved and then crossed the threshold to find her magic.
As they climbed the steps to the second floor, Vasi’s insides clenched so tight cramps pained her belly. Not that she could do anything about it now. She squeezed her hands into her dress and gulped down air. Baba Yaga didn’t stop at the second landing but ascended to the uppermost floor. Her eyes lit the narrow passageway, and a door creaked open at their approach. Baba Yaga stopped just after the door.
Vasi slowed. Fear burned her throat and parched her mouth. Her stomach churned, and her hands and soles tingled. “Do I . . . go in there?”
“Yes,” Baba Yaga said, narrowing her eyes and dimming the light. “Get to. I’m hungry, and you’ve made me miss my supper.”
Vasi took one more step. “Can I . . . May I have a candle?”
“No. You’ll stay in there until you find your way out. And don’t think my servants will be helping you, either. I’ve put a stop to that for good.” She crossed her arms over her chest and tapped her foot.
Vasi froze and faced Baba Yaga. “You didn’t hurt them did you?”
The witch grimaced as though Vasi had lost her mind. “Of course not; they’re my servants. I don’t hurt my servants—”
“So this won’t hurt?” Vasi took courage from Baba Yaga’s statement and peered through the doorway. But all the young woman could see was a thick, inky darkness.
“You are not my servant. Now, get in there before I change my mind.”
Vasi took a deep breath and walked into the darkness.
The door slammed shut and light extinguished. She’d been in dark places before, but this was not like being in a room on a moonless night. The darkness here was a solid thing, embracing her in its inky depths.
“How do I get out?” Vasi whispered as she traced her fingers over the ridges of the wall.
She checked every inch of the small room, the walls, floor, and even went to her tiptoes to check the ceiling. There was no break. Time blurred and lost meaning, and Vasi’s fear of being trapped in eternal darkness increasingly felt like a real possibility. As always, magic eluded her. She lay on the floor for a time, closing her eyes and letting sleep take her, but eventually, she awoke and went back to where she thought the door had been.
After scouring the space with her now-raw fingers, yet again, panic clenched her chest. “How can I find the door without magic?”
You can’t; it’s sealed with magic.
Vasi froze with her hands still splayed across the wall. Her breaths rasped loud in the darkened space. Perhaps, she was going crazy. The voice spoke at such odd times, but never . . . “Did you just answer me?”
Yes.
Vasi turned, leaned into the wall, and slid down it until she sat on the floor. “You’re talking to me?”
I’ve always talked to you.
Was the sensory-deprivation finally enough to make her crack? Was she talking to herself or an imaginary being? “Are you—real?”
Yes.
Her mind spun, and she wasn’t sure if the floor moved or if she just felt like her world was dropping out from underneath her. Could the voice she’d heard for so long be more than just her subconscious? Could it truly be separate? Vasi covered her face with her hands. How ridiculous to ask the voice in her head if it was real. How could she ever know? Still, Vasi asked, “Are you inside or outside of me?”
Outside.
“Can I see you?”
Not in the dark. You will need to go to the window.
“I’ve checked fifty times; there are no windows,” Vasi said as she climbed to her feet, holding the wall for support.
Turn to your right, count out ten long steps, then reach up.
Steadying her breath, Vasi whispered her count. The floorboards creaked under her, and at ten long strides, Vasi halted and raised her hands before her. Nothing. She waved her hands in the dark, her heart faltering in fear that she’d truly gone mad. She inched forward, but her foot bumped against something. Vasi leaned over a wooden ledge she’d touched many times as she’d searched the room, and then she felt up to where the bench met the wall. Much higher up, a thick, soft material hung just within her reach. Vasi gathered the fabric, pulling the curtain away from the window, and the light blinded her. Slowly, she opened her eyes, squinting with the brightness of the rising sun. When her eyes adjusted, she looked up at the small circular pane, but all she could see was a brightening sky. How had she missed it during the innumerable times she’d searched in the darkness?
Vasi tucked the curtain behind the copper holdback, noticing the window bench she’d been leaning over, and spun back to the room. “Where are you? Will you show yourself to me?”
Feel around your pocket.
Vasi only ever had two things in her pocket, both inanimate objects, although the blade had helped her out of more than one situation.
Not the knife.
Vasi paused with the implication of the words spoken. There was only one other occupant of her pocket.
Pull me out.
Vasi hesitated as her fingers splayed over the carved wood of her talisman. She clutched the wooden doll and pulled it free from her pocket. Leaning into the light, Vasi stared down at the last gift from her mother. After losing it for months, she’d found it on the altar by the fireplace. That day was the first time she’d heard the voice, too. Deep resonance settled in her soul. All the stories her mother told of djinn and witches made more sense as Vasi accepted the reality of magic. She turned the figurine in her hand until her finger ran over the doll’s painted face. “You?”
The doll did not move. Its wooden body remained as solid and still as ever in her palm. The face remained bright, painted, and immobile. But there was no denying the presence as the doll’s voice clearly spoke in Vasi’s mind. Yes. It is I.
Vasi slumped into the window seat and stared at the doll. Even though both her touch and sight told her nothing had changed, her thumb ran continuously over the doll’s face, the grooves at its eyes and mouth, the carved hair. “You’ve been talking to me, protecting me all this time—I thought you were just part of my mind, but you’re real. Are you my mother?”
The voice took a moment to respond as if perhaps it was unsure.
No.
“Are you a spirit trapped in the wood? Do you want to be set free?” Vasi asked, remembering old tales with similar creatures. She also remembered in those stories the spirits often tried to kill their liberators. Vasi stilled and lifted her fingers from the doll’s face.
I am not that. Your mother created me. I am her blessing to you.
“My mother’s blessing . . .” Vasi considered, trying to remember the past. The days leading up to her mother’s death felt shadowed and gray in memories as if a fog had rolled in to obscure the severity of the heartache. Had her mother mentioned a blessing? The words seemed familiar.
Vasi’s stomach growled, reminding her she’d had nothing since breaking her fast on rolls and porridge yesterday morn.
“Will you help me get out of here?” she whispered at her do
ll.
Yes.
Vasi waited, holding her breath with excitement.
Do as Jeyvan said. You need to see into Lumea, the plane of reality layered on top of this one. If you see into that plane, you can find the door. It’s not gone; it’s just hidden. If you find it, you can reveal it.
Vasi clenched her hands and banged the back of her head against the wall. She gritted her teeth, holding in a scream of frustration. “But how? What you’re saying is impossible.”
You’ve seen into the Lumea before.
“Only when Jeyvan showed it to me,” she said.
No, you’ve seen into the Lumea many times, even before you came here. It was your emerging power that woke me up.
Vasi straightened. All those hallucinations? Had she truly been tripping between two worlds as the Horseman had said? The magnitude of the revelation was too much for her to grasp in the state she was in. “Do you mean with Lord Baine and Roza? If that’s true, it was always an accident.”
Well then, do it on purpose this time.
“I’ve been trying—all day, or night, or whatever. I’ve been trying. It’s not like trying to read,” she grumbled. “And I can’t stop the wind, either.”
You’re not even trying.
Vasi sat up and glared at the doll. “Everyone keeps telling me to do it without ever telling me how.”
The doll didn’t respond.
The sun continued its ascent past the small window, cloaking the room in shadows. Vasi shoved the wooden figurine into her apron pocket and marched toward the wall opposite the window. She closed her eyes and waited. Nope. No difference than the darkness she’d been in all day. No colors burst behind her eyes, and no power suddenly developed within, nothing bursting to come out. The doll had accused her of not trying, so Vasi focused, pretending she could see through the inside of her eyelids, but after a few minutes, she only developed a headache.
Do you remember what the door looks like?
“Yes,” Vasi said, crossing her arms over her chest. She not only remembered that door, she remembered every single door in the house. Ever since the infestation, Vasi made sure to leave a bit of jam on the kurz mites’ homes.