Mistress of the Solstice (14 page)

I
van remembered. He’d lain near death, before this all
started.

He’d heard voices through the daze of his sickness. He
hadn’t even known if they were real.

“You still have your touch, old
man,” said a raspy voice with a low timbre that made
Ivan’s hair stand on end. The rasp seemed to be there
entirely for the purpose of smothering the force the voice emanated.

For a brief moment it sounded pleased.

“Do you really think he’s the
one?” replied a more ordinary voice.

The rasp turned into a rumble.
“There’s no such thing as
‘the one’. Humans invent these tales to
give purpose to their miserable existence.”

“So, why him?” the other pressed.

There was a pause. “I sense strength in him. That look
in his eyes—”

“But he’s just a
boy,” objected the other. There were more notes in
the voice now. It wasn’t really ordinary, Ivan
realized. It had only seemed ordinary next to the force of its
companion.

“He cannot even fight.”

“There have been fighters in the past. And where did
all the fighting get them?”

“But this one—he’s like a
child.”

“Exactly. Have you looked into his
eyes? I mean, really
looked?
He’s not afraid of anything.”

Again, there was a pause. Then the other voice said,
“And you think it is enough?”

This time the rumble resembled a roar. Ivan had strained to open his
eyes to see the owner of the voice, but he couldn’t
move. He wasn’t even certain he wasn’t
dreaming.

“You humans invent all sorts of hardships to hide your
fear. So, where a regular man would dwell on those non-existent
hardships and falter, a fearless one may walk right through the
obstacles without seeing them.”

There was a longer pause this time. Then, the other voice responded
quietly. “There’s no such thing as a
fearless man.”

“Perhaps not,” the raspy voice
said. “But this one fits.”

“Fits what?”

“Everything. All the petty details you humans
invented. Even the birthmark.”

“Oh, come now, isn’t that a bit of a
stretch?”

“The timing’s right, too. It is the
Rule of Immortals, isn’t it?”

“It has been for the past four hundred years. And it
will be, for ages to come. Kashchey is nearly immortal
himself.”

“Undead.”

“Undead, then. In any case, he isn’t
going anywhere soon. It should give us some time to find someone better
than this boy.”

“I tell you, he’s the right one. I can
feel it. Trust the old creature.”

“But his wounds—”

“Just bring him back, Nikifor. Leave the rest to
me.”

Nikifor. Straining to remember where he had heard the name before, Ivan
had sunk back into his death-like sleep.

Nikifor.
The old man with
white hair and the serene look in his eyes. Ivan had never learned the
meaning of the strange conversation he’d half-heard,
half-dreamed as he lay on death’s doorstep struggling
to come back to the living.

He slowly shook his head, coming back from the world of memory.

Something caught his eye in the last beams of the
setting moon. He bent down and carefully picked a flower out of the
thick grass. It was a common flower, an inflorescence of
purple-and-yellow that shone like a tiny star in the greenery of the
meadow. The purple was actually the leaves, each wrapping a delicate
yellow flower in a lover’s embrace. But to an untrained
eye they looked like two kinds of flowers on one stem. To reflect this
duality, people had given the flower a double name.
Ivan-and-Marya.

“Picking flowers, lad?” Wolf asked.
“I thought we were in a hurry.”

Ivan lowered his eyes. “I—”

“Oh, don’t let me disturb
you!” Wolf growled as he stretched the words.
“It’s still a few hours before dawn.
Plenty of time. Glad we didn’t have to go through any
trouble to get here in the first place.”

Ivan tucked the flower into his shirt. “Is this why
Gleb was so surprised to hear my name?”

“Ivan and Marya are the two most
common names in these parts.
That
is why the
villagers gave the flower such a name. You know it as well as I
do.”

“Yes, but what if—”

“If what?”

Ivan sighed. “Don’t you believe in
destiny?”

There was a sound an untrained ear could mistake for sneezing as the
wolf hastily turned away.

“Did I say something funny?”

“No,” Wolf growled.
“I’m just laughing at myself. After
all these centuries I had to be stupid enough to entrust a serious task
to a silly human boy.”

“You think I’ll fall in love with
her?”

Wolf shrugged. “Everyone else does. Gleb tried to tell
you, not that you really listened, of course.”

“I am not in love!” Ivan protested.
“It would be utterly stupid to fall in love with
someone who kills people in cold blood. Even more stupid to fall in
love with someone you’ve never really
met.”

“Exactly my point.” Wolf nodded.
“Exactly my point.”

Ivan turned toward the looming castle wall. Wolf trotted beside him.
Sometimes he looked just like a dog—a monstrous one whose head
reached almost to a man’s shoulder, but a dog
nonetheless.

“Just remember everything we
learned,” Wolf said. “Try not to
trigger the traps. Once you’re inside, go straight for
the box. Make sure you don’t get distracted with
anything else, you hear me?”

“Mmm,” Ivan said.

“Hey, boy! Are you still with me?”

“I thought if I could just talk to
her—”

Wolf sighed. “You already did, remember? Back on the
plaza? If you forgot, look at your arm. I’m sure it
couldn’t have healed this quickly.”

“But out there I had no time to really say anything!
If I could only reason with her—”

“Yes, right.” Wolf skirted a rowan
branch that hung low over the path.
“She’ll take one look at you, forget
all about her duties, and run off with you to your Twelfth Kingdom.
Quite a reasonable thing to do, considering her
situation.”

Dejected, Ivan walked for a while in silence. “What
her father makes her do is wrong. She must see it
too.”

“I’m sure she
does,” Wolf agreed.

There was another pause.

“There isn’t much risk in
trying,” Ivan finally said.

“No risk at all. She’s a sorceress,
true, but she isn’t generally known for blowing
people’s heads off. She leaves that task to her father.
Who might do just that, if he happens to come to her chambers during
your little conversation—”

“In the middle of the night?”

“Marya and her father have a very close
relationship,” Wolf replied pointedly.

“Well,” Ivan hesitated,
“if worst comes to worst, I could always ask for her
hand in marriage.”

Wolf stared. “Oh, is that what this is all about, boy?
Why ever didn’t you tell me?”

“It’s not that,”
Ivan blushed so deeply that his pale face turned dark in the waning
light. “It’s just that if I do, then,
by the rules, neither she nor Kashchey could hurt
me.”

“Did Gleb tell you this?”

“Yes, when you were out. He said the rule is as strict
as the code of the Immortals. He said Kashchey won’t
harm me if I call upon the rule, especially because he tries so hard to
be known as a real Immortal himself.”

“Your charms must be going to your head, lover boy.
You forget, you’re not a Tzar’s son
anymore. You’re no match for her. Not in this
kingdom.”

“I know,” Ivan said slowly.
“But I don’t think it matters. Anyone
can be a suitor if they fulfill her task.”

“Did Gleb by any chance mention that if you fail at
her task, then, by law of this kingdom you must
die?”

Ivan’s face lost some of its dreamy expression.

“Yes, he did, but I’m only talking
about it as a way to retreat. If the situation becomes
dangerous.”

“In case you haven’t
noticed,” Wolf growled. “Despite
the swarm of suitors that are drawn to this kingdom like flies to
honey, she is still unwed. Any thoughts why? Don’t you
forget this, boy. Marya and her father, Kashchey,
aren’t as easy as old Leshy. They play no
games.”

Ivan eyed him uncertainly.

“Just do what I tell you. Your only true advantage is
surprise. Get in, grab the Needle and run for your life.
Don’t even think of casting an eye on
her.”

They stopped in sight of a large, gnarled oak, its
deformed roots jutting out of the ground, twisting toward them like
enormous fingers. In the waning moonlight, Ivan imagined he could see
the glimmer of the web stretched across the path. But it was only his
imagination. The web couldn’t possibly be visible from
this distance.

“It looks like I can go no
further,” Wolf said. “Only one can
pass. You’re on your own, boy.”

Ivan nodded. He couldn’t fail. Not after everything
they’d gone through.

“Remember everything the old bird told you,
boy,” Wolf said. Then he padded back into the
shelter of the trees.

Ivan carefully approached the large oak. When he was twenty paces away, he crouched and crept forward until he could see the
shimmering silver of the water droplets hanging across the path. They
were so thin that if Ivan hadn’t known to look for
them, he would have walked right into them without noticing.

It all seemed so easy when Raven had told him. He
could still hear the bird’s voice in his head—at
least he did until Wolf shouted at him afterwards for releasing their
prisoner. But Ivan knew he could never focus on his task if he had left
Raven trapped and helpless back on that log. Despite how thin and airy
it was, the Net had rendered him nearly immobile. Powerful magical
objects could be truly frightening.

But now, standing in front of the first trap, he bitterly wished Raven
was here. Or at least that he could go back to ask again.

A magical mist that must be unraveled, if one wished to follow the path
to the castle. It could be unraveled, Raven said, if you found the
right droplet. But touch the wrong one—and the mist would trap you,
rob you of your mind and send you into the swamp.

Ivan swallowed, looking at the dark, glistening water at the side of the
path. It glimmered like a giant eye, winking at him invitingly. Was
this entire kingdom built on swamps?

He strained his eyes to make out the delicate meshwork of silvery beads.
“Imagine a net that holds them in
place,” Raven had said. “An
invisible net, much like the one that traps me now. It goes in a
spiral, from the center outward. You must find the outmost droplet and
follow them in, one at a time.”

Easier said than done.

Ivan lowered his head, trying to find a position from which the glimmer
of the water droplets caught the moonlight. They glistened like
precious jewels, their radiating beauty, magnified by the magic that
powered it.

There. Did he see a dark line, cutting through the magical glimmer?

“It’s imaginary,”
Raven had said. “But you must see it as if it is
real. Once you touch the first droplet, you must not
stop.”

Ivan carefully reached forward toward the lone droplet on the outer rim
of the water circle.

He imagined more than heard a barely perceptible popping sound, and a
sudden chill in his fingertip, like a prickle of a cold needle.
He kept his hand steady as he moved it along the
droplet path, straining to maintain the image of the invisible spiral
in his mind. There. The last droplet.

A sigh rustled through the grass under his feet and rippled the swamp
water at the side of the path. Ivan straightened and exhaled a breath
he was holding. He hadn’t realized how numb his arm
became from the strain of keeping it steady.

He shakily got up to his feet, watching the last bits of the mist
disappear into the swamp. So much for the first trap. That
wasn’t so hard, was it?

At least, he was still alive.

He steadied himself. His hand felt numb, his tingling
fingers slowly coming back to life. Taking a deep breath, he followed the
path further to the castle wall.