by M. Wiklund
"What makes a man good has been a puzzle since the days of the ancients. Thus I fear I cannot make you better, for I would have to make you too many things at once, and many of them contradictory. But I can offer you some advice. First, Galina chose to marry you as you are, so I am sure she will love you even if you remain the same. Second, the ability to become better is not within the capabilities of magic, but within one's own judgment. Maybe you are a blessing to your house. Maybe you are a good prospective ruler. Maybe you are not. But if you are not, the only way to become better is to act with circumspection and to think more of others than of yourself—and I observe you've been doing that more and more lately, since last we met."
"But I don't like helping others," Elena said. "I'll only be seen as a tool, in the end."
"We are all tools, though, aren't we? What matters is that you put your abilities to the use you wish, a use you choose. You have quite considerable abilities now, as I have given them to you," the pike added. "And if you don't mind, I can offer you one piece of advice more…but I would not pester you with constant preaching…"
"Please, go ahead."
"Until now you have used my gift moderately, which is well for a peasant girl. But if you would become the lover and even the wife of a princess, think bigger. For you must face a king and prove your worth. One does not do so with flying stoves or brooms that sweep on their own. No, you must prove your strength through ambition…perhaps a little showmanship. Well, I suppose you are capable of that, if you put your mind to it."
"I'm not a show-off."
"No, you spend your days on a stove avoiding attention as much as possible. If you stole your Galina and made a pleasant house out in the countryside away from all people, that's still a life you could lead. But I think you want different things now. Grander things," the pike said. "And if I am right and that is so, you must strike boldly, without a seed of doubt in your heart as to your desires or your own worth. For to go about with royalty, one must act with one's own sense of power. I have given that to you, but it is up to you to use it."
Chapter Eight
Galina had been sitting on the rocks for three days now.
The first day she had been still full of rage. She had screamed at her father over the waves, even knowing he could not hear her. She had screamed at the waves themselves. Her father had cast Elena into these waters, and they had doubtless swallowed her whole by now, thoughtless of what they did. And it seemed to her senseless that they would not part and spit her back on the land, refusing to even wet a hair on her head.
And so she had screamed and cried and screamed and cried until she coughed up blood from a torn throat.
Her father's men had left her water and provisions, and supplies for a fire. She did not eat that night, her belly too sick to stomach even the most basic hard tack, but she drank the water to soothe her throat. And she did make the fire—the nights were cold enough here that without one, you could easily freeze to death in the night. She needed the warmth, even if it could not come from a friendly stove and a familiar body.
And eventually, curled up on a rock cleared of ice, next to the fire, she let herself sleep.
On the second day she explored the small island first, which had seemed to her on the first day irrelevant except for the corner where she might stare at the waves and yell across them to the opposing land she could barely see from here. Now she found it all to be very rocky in truth, crags and spikes of granite and obsidian. There were shrubs here and there but the long winter had killed them all, and every one of them, and every one of the rocks except the few she had cleared for the night, were covered in slush or ice.
It was spring now, and not the country's full, harsh winter, which would have killed Galina on her first night regardless of her feeble fire. Still, she kept the fire well fed, seeing as the chill rubbed hard on her skin and bones. She wore a full fur coat that went almost down to her feet, and layers beneath to keep her warm, but her face was burned by wind and frost, and her hands and feet even in their woolen gloves and thick, cushioned boots, had long gone numb. The fire pained them greatly with its warmth, but without it she might have lost them to frostbite.
For this day, Galina thought about how she might survive on this craggy island after all. She had supplies to keep a fire going and enough food, but she still worried. Though it was spring, it still might snow or rain and the cold could easily come back. She had no shelter and there would be no way to keep a fire going then, or protect her firewood and keep it dry.
On the third day, she remembered that she didn't care much about surviving any more at any rate. It might have been called too much to mourn so over a girl she had barely known, had only just met. But love was rarely logical, and she had lost more than Elena. Some part of her had always believed her father loved her and would ultimately respect her decisions about her own life. Now she had lost this illusion, which had until now helped her to live. With no father and no Elena and no friend here to help her, there were none who loved her, and life seemed very bleak.
Perhaps if she died, she thought viciously, the people would see the cruelty of her father and would not stand for it. But even that was doubtful, for the people of her country were more docile than rebellious, and while they loved all the royal family they respected a patriarch's right more than they revered their princess.
And as the third day reached its evening, as Galina contemplated whether it were better to die here on this island or to live and eventually bend to her father's will, a barrel washed up against the island.
Puzzled, she hauled it up onto the shore, wondering what it might contain: clearly something that floated, at the least. She took up a sharp stone and started hammering on the lid. One might expect the salt water to have softened the barrel, but this was not so, for it had been thoroughly waterproofed. So Galina hammered largely in vain.
And then she heard a voice speak loudly from inside the barrel.
"By the pike's command and my desire, barrel lid, lift yourself from the barrel and let me out."
And Galina had barely dodged back in time when the lid of the barrel came flying off. At once she looked inside the barrel—unfortunately too fast, for she looked down just as Elena stood, and Elena's head hit her in the nose.
She fell backwards gripping at her nose. Elena looked over at her. "Oh my. Did I hurt you, Galina? I'm sorry. Here, though. Come and help me out of this barrel—it's too high for me to climb out. Maybe you should just knock it over; that might be easiest. I'll throw my weight to this side…"
And indeed, they knocked the barrel over and Elena crawled out easily. Standing, she brushed off her skirt, which was dusted in salt.
A man might call it incredible that Elena too had survived the cold of the ocean, but here it may be said that someone blessed by a good spirit as obvious as the pike clearly could not die under such insignificant cause. No, she was marked for finer things, and so it was no coincidence or miracle that she now stood almost completely dry and whole at Galina's side. Galina, of course, did not see it that way.
"Elena! You live!"
And immediately she grabbed Elena and hugged her as tightly as her shivering arms allowed. And in her arms Elena was warmer than the camp fire.
"Indeed," Elena said, when the embrace was finished. "By the pike's intervention and my own luck—and your father's reluctance to kill me by simpler means. Back home we executed men by hanging and not by throwing them in the ocean."
"Elena," Galina scolded. "We may be glad of it. His choice was strange but it seems it has saved your life."
"I am not glad of his anything. Here he has stranded you on a barren island, his own daughter. How could he treat his own daughter that way?" Elena crossed her arms.
Galina sighed. "I do not know him anymore. But Elena, now that you are here, we may escape easily, perhaps in that barrel again. If you will still have me, after all this."
Elena looked away. "I wonder more if you will still have me. I have caused you this mu
ch trouble…"
"I made my own choice, choosing you. And I can't return to my father anymore, so I would rather have you than be alone." And, Galina did not say, it had nearly killed her to think Elena dead. She could not admit it then. It would be some time before she could speak of the full extent of her grief.
"Then I will have you," Elena said. "Of course I will have you." And then she grinned, and her eyes widened. And for a moment it seemed to Galina that she had developed a sort of sea-madness. "But why should we try to escape? No, only stand back, for I have thought matters over in the past couple days and it seems to me that a princess should not run. And this island, which your father deemed your prison—well, it is large enough to be a home. Stand back. Let me see what I can do."
So Galina did.
Elena cracked her knuckles. She didn't proceed to lift anything, however, instead merely speaking in a measured tone. "By the pike's command and my desire, stones, lift yourselves and build us a castle."
Galina gave Elena a look. A castle? The building of a castle was a massively complex project, involving hundreds of workers and taking years to complete. But at the sound of Elena's voice, the rocks on the ground had begun to vibrate and some now levitated in the air, floating towards each other with unmistakable purpose.
Elena tugged on Galina's sleeve. "Come to the shore. We should be out of the way."
"Will those really build a castle?"
"Maybe. The pike told me to dream bigger. Building a castle seems ambitious, right?"
"Far too ambitious," Galina said. Yet behind her, the rocks continued moving with unstoppable purpose.
They arrived at the shoreline, out of the way of the construction. Elena said, "I think it will work. If it doesn't, we can ride away in the barrel. Is that what you really want? I would not think a life on the run is suitable for a princess."
It was not what Galina particularly wanted either. She had never considered life as a fugitive until just now, and the idea of it was bitter. Court was not the place for her, but she did not wish to lose her dignity. She was still an honorable woman and well-bred. It was the king who was at fault, him and the nobles who supported him. She could not bow to his authority.
She nodded. "Very well. We build a castle. And what then?"
"What do you want?"
Galina stared at the center of the island, where indeed the rocks had already formed an impressive foundation. It would be a small castle, but a castle nonetheless. It would be hard to fill it with the furnishings proper to her rank, and harder still to find workers. But with Elena the labor might be easier.
"My father's castle is just across the way." Only a couple days ago she would have called it her own castle but not anymore. "He will be able to see us here easily." Her lips curved into a smile. "I imagine he will be very angry—how could he help it? Elena, can you send him a letter I will write?"
*~*~*
"Dear Father,
"You may have noticed, or your men may have noticed, a palace has been constructed on the island where you abandoned me. Elena, whom you tried to kill, has accomplished this feat with her powers of magic, which are indeed great and at the least far greater than any powers you possess. If she can erect a castle in one day, imagine what she could do as your ally. And, if you please, imagine what she and I could do together as your enemy.
"I do not wish to fight you, though you have committed injury against me. In a month's time, my palace will be fit to accommodate visitors. Come then to see me and my beloved, and we will discuss whether I am still your heiress or whether there must be a split between us. But if you try to attack, know that we will be ready.
"No Longer Yours,
"Princess Galina."
*~*~*
As the final stones came to a rest, Elena ordered the letter, written in charcoal on a piece of the barrel, to fly straight to the king with no smudges or smears. They watched as it started out across the ocean.
"And how are we supposed to fight him if he comes?"
"Rocks. Waves. We'll think of something. But I don't think he will. He's always been fonder of diplomacy—unless he makes this one of his infamous challenges and sends champions out to fight us," Galina said drily. "But I think we can take anyone he sends."
"All right then. A month. We'll have to fix this place up, I guess." Elena sighed. "Should we take the barrel to shore after all?"
"Actually, I was thinking we might call your family here. Marfa and Grusha could probably bring us the supplies we need, and after hearing your stories I've been wanting to meet them."
"They'll ruin everything. They won't stop talking…"
Galina raised a hand. "If you're worried they'll tell me bad things about you, I won't listen. I know you for myself. But your family is part of who you are, and I would love to meet them."
Elena sighed. "Fine."
Galina was surprised by how little she protested. Perhaps she had actually missed her family, despite all her complaints.
"Then I should summon my brothers, too. They'll want to meet my betrothed."
"Hm…I like the sound of that. Tell them to bring plenty of supplies. We can fix this castle up very nicely, I think."
"Well, we'll have the one thing we really need in just a minute."
Galina frowned at Elena. "And what is that?"
Elena gestured behind Galina. And turning, Galina saw a black figure heading toward them across the waves. As it got closer she saw it was Elena's old stove, still in perfect shape and sailing easily over the water.
She smiled fondly. "You couldn't do without it for a day?"
Elena said, "It'll be good for the cold. Though, I hope you'll share a blanket with me tonight inside the castle. We don't have any beds yet, and we really should conserve body heat."
Galina smiled. "Of course."
And as they headed into their new stone castle, she kissed Elena on the cheek.
FIN
About the Author
M. Wiklund lives in Massachusetts but is currently going to college in Kansas. In her free time she loves knitting, sketching and reading. She likes writing fantasy and playing with fairy tales and archetypes. You can find her blogging about reading and writing on tumblr at Melwikwrites.tumblr.com