The Bonds of Blood (10 page)

They were all uncomfortable for some
time, passing worried glances around the room. It was curious that
Destra would bring such a creature up now. It was no doubt that
many thought the winds outside were coming to them because of the
spirit Baba Yaga, but they were not as accepting of the theory.
After all, Baba Yaga was only a children’s story.

As Destra turned around, they were all
still sharing incredulous looks, wondering who should answer
first.

“No volunteers?” she asked solemnly.
“Very well then,” Destra said, sitting on the desk in the front of
the room. “Baba Yaga is a hag; she is a Chaotic giant of a forest
spirit. She is theorized to live in the Otherworld along with her
sisters, all bearing the same name really. No one is sure if there
are several Baba Yagas or if there is only one and perhaps one of
her varied talents is to appear in multiple places at
once.

“Being a spirit, there is no solid way
to kill her, physically. This also means that regular wyrd will not
work on her. We can only repel her, send her back to where she came
from, which is her house beyond the Black Gate.” Destra looked
around at all of them, making sure she had their full attention.
She did. “Her diet consists of humans, mainly babies. She is
thought to be the leader of the Wild Hunt,” Destra said with a
quick glance outside, “and she travels the night, leading the hunt
for children in a large mortar, a pestle as her oar.”

The Wild Hunt. The words sent a chill
through the room. The Wild Hunt was known as a spectral hunting
party that legend claimed hunted at night for human souls on which
they fed. The party could be repelled by leaving food out for the
dead hunters, which supposedly fed on it and moved on. Yet it was
all myth to the students, for never had they experienced it in
their lives. But rumors insisted of its existence, and some among
the elderly claimed they’d seen it once … though others laughed it
off as senility speaking.

“Destra,” Jovian suddenly interrupted,
“I thought Baba Yaga was a children’s story, you know, to keep us
in line.”

“No, she is very much real,” Destra
said with a sigh. “Baba Yaga is often thought of as a children’s
story like you claim, because the ones who fear the hag most are
children. The reason it became a children’s fable is because in
ancient times children were often sacrificed to her so that she
would leave well enough alone.”

“You mean people would really sacrifice
their children to her?” Joya asked, her face crinkling in disgust.
“How monstrous.”

“Not really, Joya. You have to remember
back in those times people lived off the land more than they do
now. If a wind this strong came for prolonged times, it would
destroy crops, homes, lives. The only way to stop this from
happening, they thought, was to sacrifice babies to the forest
spirit so that she would spare them.” Destra stood. “Of course,
there is no proof that this worked but I am sure there was some
success, or what seemed like success, because the grisly practice
carried on for centuries until people found better ways of
reinforcing their homes with stone and other more stable
materials.”

Destra fell silent, and so did all
within the room, listening to the horrible wailing of the wind
outside the house. All of their thoughts roamed on darker times,
thinking of the babies that died to feed the hag that was thought
to plague the land. Jovian found himself wondering what she really
looked like, and if she truly existed. The description of her was
more than he could imagine, and it was absurd for him to picture
the creature as anything more than a fable.

“That’s enough for today,” Destra said
with finality. “Class is dismissed.”

With dark thoughts, they all lumbered
out of the room with worry etched on their faces.

Joya was not in the least bit thrilled
with the thirty pages she had to read on the diet and habitat of
fauns. Currently she was supplementing her boredom by looking
around the room, analyzing the strange markings on the wall before
her.

It was while Joya was staring at a
strange blot that looked curiously like a large bird that she felt
a twinge in the back of her neck, right in the center of her
birthmark. She gasped a little as warm tongues of energy licked
down her spine.

She looked around the room more intent
now, waiting. Joya was tense, and there was a part of her saying
something was about to happen, but the logical part of her mind
knew she was overreacting. It was nothing new that her birthmark
would feel strange from time to time.

“Honestly,” she rolled her eyes, “it
must be all this talk of dalua and sacrifices that has me on edge.”
Shaking her head, Joya went back to reading her book.

Her mind was drifting only moments
later, and she found herself looking over the room once more. Joya
blew a heavy sigh and glanced up at the ceiling. Something held her
gaze. She studied the strange blots above her for some time, all
the while the noise of the wind outside lulling her into a
semi-trance.

Joya,
a wicked, creaking voice called, and Joya nearly fell out of
her chair in shock.

“What?” she asked, looking to the
book.

You know there is no need
to verbalize your responses to me, right?
the voice asked, amused.

“Yes, I know this, but it makes me feel
saner if I speak aloud,” Joya reasoned.

It may make you feel saner,
but to an onlooker, you appear just the opposite. It is not at all
sane for a woman to carry on a conversation with something no one
else can hear,
the voice
taunted.

Joya found no words of reply, and
instead rubbed her bare arms.

Come now, try it. You
should become strong in using your mind, or it will not work
right.

“My mind works perfectly well, thank
you very much,” Joya said, a little miffed at the voice.

Not for studies, for other
things; now try it.

Joya thought for a moment, and was not
exactly sure how to speak with the voice mentally. “I don’t know
how.”

It is much different than
thinking, and much more like verbalizing, only you do it with you
mind instead of your mouth.

“This feels awful strange to me. Do I
have to speak to you mentally?”

Just try it!
the voice encouraged.

Like this?
Joya asked, straining to send her thoughts out to
the voice.

Yes, much like that, but
focus your thoughts inward, not out. You do not mentally speak to
someone outside of your mind; you speak into your mind. Here, think
of your words retreating back within your head, not out into the
distance.

Joya thought hard, and sweat
beaded up on her forehead as she tried to will the words into her
mind.
Is this better?

It still sounds a little
hollow, but it is good for now. Don’t try this too often so soon;
it will get better with time, but mental work is a lot like
physical work—the less you are used to it, the more you are likely
to injure yourself from overdoing it. Only, unlike pulling a
muscle, when you overwork your brain bad things can
happen.

“Like what?” Joya asked,
curiously.

The least that can happen
is becoming comatose. The worse
…

“Well?” Joya asked, not sure if the
voice meant she would die, that she would be cut off from that part
of her brain, or that her brain would be destroyed.

The former would happen.
Your brain would be destroyed, but only the cognitive part. You
would still be able to function, bodily, but you would be like a
shell, no one would be home.

Joya shivered.

My sentiment exactly. Now,
for the real reason I am here. There is something you should
know.

“What is that?”

It is about the book, as
you have gathered it is not a book of math, and yet at the same
time it is all about math.

Joya groaned softly. Not only was she
confused, but when she thought of math, she became apprehensive
that she would be horrible at whatever was in the book, just as she
was horrible at math.

I cannot tell you what the
book is, exactly, for it is much better that you figure that out
yourself. I dare say you would not believe me if I told
you.

She shook her head. “I do not have a
mind for such twisted theories. Are you sure you have the right
sister? I think the one you are looking for is
Angelica.”

I have the right sister,
Joya Neferis,
the voice said flatly, and
the birthmark at the base of Joya’s neck began to pulse
again.

“Alright, so what about the
book?”

Why don’t you go to it now,
and open the front cover.

Joya stood abruptly and shuffled over
to the bookshelf. She retrieved the book, which felt oddly cold in
her hands, and made her way over to the bed.

“What am I looking for?” she asked,
opening the front cover. A reply was unnecessary, for when she
turned to the first page, a large symbol caught her eye. The figure
looked much like the number eight lying on its side. It was dark, a
darkness so black that it seemed to drink in the light all around
her. Joya stared at the page so intensely that her eyes seemed to
vibrate, and everything else pulsed darker and darker until she
could see nothing but the page and the symbol printed on
it.

The longer she stared at the figure,
the more everything around her seemingly vanished, and a strange
humming filled the air. It was like nothing Joya had ever felt
before, and she was distantly aware that the symbol on the page was
familiar to her. Instinctively she reached behind her and moved her
silky black hair away from her neck. She placed her hand there,
feeling her birthmark strangely warm in contrast to the book’s
frigidness. It pulsed as if it were not a birthmark at all, rather
a series of veins strangely shaped, throbbing with a flow of
blood.

With a quick jerk, Joya removed her
hand from her neck as if she had been stung. Below the marking on
the page were strange, blocky symbols, much like words, written in
a language that Joya did not know and had never before
seen.

As Joya’s eyes drifted from the symbol,
her tunnel vision ended, and everything around her came flooding
back to reality. This, however, did not pry Joya’s eyes from the
page, for she thought she recognized something in the
writing.

“Le—” Joya started, and frowned. She
was starting to get a headache, and in response she massaged her
forehead.

You are trying too hard,
Joya. Just relax; let it come to you
,
the voice soothed. “But what is
it?” Joya asked, closing her eyes.

For me to tell you would
serve no purpose; you must see for yourself.

Sighing, Joya looked at the page again,
and realized something she thought she was daft to not notice
before. As she looked at the page, her mouth fell open. She barely
noticed the strange warmth that spread along her back from the
birthmark at the base of her neck, but at the same time Joya
realized that she knew exactly where she had seen that symbol
before.

Standing, Joya walked to her
full-length mirror resting on clawed feet beside her wardrobe.
Unlacing the back of her dress, she bound her raven black hair up,
and let the back of her gown gape open. She picked the book back up
and looked over her shoulder. Joya had to take a few moments to
situate herself just right so that she could see both the book and
her birthmark, and eventually this task was achieved by the use of
another mirror in which she could look behind herself.

“Dear Goddess,” Joya said, nearly
dropping the book and mirror. However, she found that she could not
have dropped them even if she had wanted too, for it seemed glued
to her hands.

On the back of her neck, just above the
line of her shoulders, Joya saw the strange birthmark that she
shared with Amber. It was almost identical to the image she was
peering at in the book, only the symbol on her neck was more
blurred than the one on the book.

In time it will get
clearer
, the voice informed
Joya.