Deep magic second coll.., p.37
Deep Magic - Second Collection, page 37
part #2 of Deep Magic Collection Series
The princess gave Vanya a disbelieving look. “I will go with him,” she insisted, her eyes fiery.
“You cannot.” The king shook his head. “You’d have to wear the bracelet, and it’s too small for you.”
Vanya blushed. The princess was more than a head taller than he was, and looked like she was significantly stronger as well. By all appearances, the king was right—the bracelet wouldn’t fit her wrist. She frowned again and stalked out of the hall.
The king held out the gemstone. “This was my wife’s final gift to me before her passing. Return it to me when you are finished.”
Vanya swallowed and accepted the gem, clenching it tightly in his fist. As his brothers had often reminded him, keeping track of things was not in his nature.
“Gods bless you on your journey, boy,” the king said. “For my brothers’ sakes.”
“Thank you, Your Majesty.”
Vanya bowed and left the hall, carefully placing the gem in a secure pocket. In the entryway, he found the princess and the butler waiting for him. The princess shoved a pair of waterskins into his hands.
“You will bring me some of the waters when you return.”
“Of . . . of course, Your Highness,” Vanya replied, startled. “Um . . . why?”
“My fool father might think he is invincible, but I know better,” she growled. “He is dying. You will help me bring him back.”
Vanya felt a now-familiar weight settle on his heart, adding to the weights already there. Then he blinked. Of course—she could bring her father back. Anyone could, with the waters. “Your Highness, could I have two more waterskins, please?”
The princess gave him a suspicious look, but sent the butler to retrieve them. Once Vanya had the extra waterskins, she escorted him out to his horse.
“If you can manage this, then I will reward you,” the princess said, though she was glaring at him. “I will give you my hand in marriage.”
Vanya wasn’t sure if he blushed or paled. He thought she might snap him in two by accident if they spent too much time together.
“Um . . . thank you.” He tried not to let the response sound like a question.
“Do not fail me!” she shouted after him as he rode away.
The wolf joined him again as he rode down the slope of the promontory. “Who was she?”
Vanya glanced over his shoulder—the princess still stood at the gate, taller than any of the men standing guard there.
“King Miedni’s daughter,” he said. “She, um . . . promised me her hand in marriage if I succeed.”
“Another? Is this a common reward among humans?”
“I don’t know . . . I’ve never really done anything worth rewarding.”
“Hmm. Is this girl preferable to the other one?”
“I think she might be even worse. I’m lucky she didn’t just beat me unconscious and then go after the water herself.”
“Bah. I will never understand why humans seem to think that women should be weak.”
“I don’t think they should be weak!” Vanya protested. “I just . . . don’t want to marry a giant.”
“I think that you are too picky.” The wolf shook her head.
“I think that you should mind your own business,” Vanya snapped. He bit his lip, afraid that the wolf would lash out at him.
She simply chuckled. “You have an extra pair of waterskins.”
“I asked for them,” Vanya replied. “I realized I can still save my father with the waters.”
“That would be wise.”
“Hopefully, if I can convince my brothers that the water is real, they’ll spare my life.”
* * *
The morning dawned gray and foggy. The icy road led them to a ridge overlooking a wide, deep valley and the black river. The sluggish waters steamed faintly in the winter air, adding to the murky fog, and the muddy riverbanks were devoid of trees, grass, or even snow.
A faint murmur of voices occasionally reached Vanya’s ears as he rode down the slopes toward the riverbank. His horse whinnied and shied away, refusing to move forward.
“Come on,” Vanya said. “We’ve got to keep going.” He kicked his heels into his mount’s sides, but it reared, screaming.
Vanya fought to keep his seat; his brothers probably could have managed it. He was tumbling down the riverbank before he even realized he’d fallen. He scrambled in the mud, trying in vain to slow his fall, and suddenly jerked to a stop a foot short of the black waters. Dazed and dizzy, he looked back to find that the wolf had the corner of his coat in her jaws.
“Thank you,” Vanya said.
The wolf dragged him back from the bank and released his coat. “Do not touch the waters.”
“Why not?” Vanya scrambled to his feet, trying to brush the mud from his clothing. His horse had galloped away. “Why are the waters black?”
“I have heard many stories.” The wolf walked along the bank. “That it was tainted by the blood of Zmei Gorinich when he was slain by Dobrinia, or that it’s dark with spirits being taken to Veles in the underworld.”
Vanya followed. “What do you think?”
“I think you should not touch the waters.”
As they walked, Vanya put on the white bracelet. He soon spotted a narrow white bridge arching over the river, gleaming like snow against the dark waters.
“There it is,” he said.
“Where?”
Vanya led the way to the bridge, but the wolf still couldn’t see it. When Vanya stepped up onto it, she said that he seemed to be floating in air.
“Well . . . King Serebron said that I could ride a mount across,” Vanya said. “I could . . . well, if it’s all right with you, we could . . .”
“We could what?” the wolf growled.
“You know . . . I could, um . . . ride you?”
The wolf glared at him.
Vanya bit his lip. “I don’t think we’ll both get across any other way.”
She looked at the river and cursed quietly. “Once you save that fox, I am going to eat him.” She crouched low for Vanya to climb onto her back, still glaring. “Only across the bridge, understand?”
Vanya nodded and climbed carefully onto her back. It worked—once Vanya was sitting astride the wolf, they could both see the bridge. It was narrow and perfectly arched, with no handrails. Vanya leaned close for a better look and realized that it was constructed of bleached white bones, carved to fit together like a complicated puzzle.
The wolf slipped once on the ascent and nearly fell, catching them with an unsettling scrape of claws upon bone. Once across, she immediately shook Vanya off onto the bank and bared her teeth in his face.
“You’re not to tell anyone of that,” she growled. “Especially the fox.” Vanya nodded.
A tall evergreen forest loomed at the top of the embankment. They found a narrow path that wound through the trees to a large hill topped in a stone-encircled patch of dirt.
The wolf sniffed around, but they didn’t find any paths leading onward. Just as Vanya began to fear that they had lost their way, the wolf’s ears pricked up.
“A horse is approaching,” it said. “Below us. Use the gemstone.”
Vanya put the gem in his mouth. Nothing seemed to happen, but when he lifted his hand he saw only the faintest mist. He reached for the wolf, who faded at his touch like a shadow in the rising sun.
A moment later, a rider appeared from the trees at the far end of the clearing, swathed so heavily in pristine white clothing that Vanya could barely tell she was a woman. Her garments gleamed blindingly in the rising sun. Her horse pranced, unblemished by even the slightest hint of color.
The rider paused to look around, her face hidden by her hood, and then whipped her horse into the trees on the west side of the clearing. Vanya and the wolf hurried to follow—there was a narrow road through the trees, clear of snow and perfectly straight, that they couldn’t see until they were right upon it. The rider was already dwindling into the distance. Vanya blinked, and both she and the road were gone.
“How will we ever follow her?” Vanya groaned, spitting out the gemstone. “She is too fast.”
The wolf snorted. “I have run faster.”
“Really?” Vanya hesitated. “Could you . . .”
“No. Not again. It is demeaning. Not even for the fox’s life.”
“But . . .” Vanya grasped for words. “But it’s not just for the fox anymore. You didn’t see the kings and the princesses, but they’re all depending on us now.”
“The dead are better left dead anyway,” the wolf grumbled, hunching her shoulders and turning away.
“Please.” Vanya walked around to face her again. “It’s not just for the dead. If we don’t find the waters . . . my brothers will find me before I even make it back to the rusalka. I will die, and so will the fox.”
The wolf sat in silence, not meeting Vanya’s eyes. Finally, she sighed. “Fine. But now you will owe me a favor—it will be novel to have someone in my debt for once.”
Vanya grinned. “Thank you.” He sat down beside the wolf to await the next rider.
They rested there until midday, when the wolf’s ears again pricked up. “Now,” she said, crouching down so Vanya could climb onto her back again.
He popped the gemstone into his mouth, and the two of them faded from sight just before the second rider appeared, a man this time. His cloak, his clothing, and his horse were of the most vibrant red that Vanya had ever seen—he was struck by the idea that it was the color that the sun would bleed if cut.
The rider darted past them into the woods. “Hold on tight,” the wolf growled. “I’ll be dead before I see a horse outrun me.”
Vanya barely had time to throw his arms around her neck before they were moving. The wolf careened along the narrow road, and Vanya pressed low to her back to keep from being blown off by the wind.
Looking ahead, he blinked in confusion. There was a fork in the road before them, and yet each branch seemed to go straight—he could see down both at once. The wolf followed the red rider down the left branch without slowing.
All afternoon the wolf ran, following the rider through four more forks in the path. They had left the forest behind and were deep in the mountains when Vanya noticed that the rider was galloping straight at a sheer, ice-streaked cliff that narrowed to a point at its top, as though one half of a mountain had been sheared away by an enormous sword.
The red horse leaped and hit the rock face with a crack that echoed through the mountain passes, then continued straight up the cliff in defiance of gravity. When the rider reached the peak, he vanished in a crimson flash.
The wolf slowed, panting and gasping, and stopped in the shadow of the cliff. Vanya dismounted, bruised and sore from the ride. The wolf had begun to shiver.
“It’s cold?” Vanya asked.
“It is frigid,” she replied, her breath condensing on her snout. “I do not think . . . that these mountains have ever seen summer. Hurry with your task.”
Vanya looked around; the road ended at the cliff face. The slopes on either side were only moderately less sheer than the cliff. “Where do we go?”
“Up.” The wolf pointed her nose at the mountain peak above them. “Follow the rider. There is a cave . . . in the face of the cliff, near the peak.”
Vanya squinted at the mountain. “How do you know?”
“I can see it,” she growled. “Your weak eyes are worthless.”
“You mean I have to climb? All the way up there?”
“Do you expect me to . . . run up a wall?” the wolf growled. “Is it not enough that I carried you this far?”
“I didn’t mean . . .” Vanya trailed off as he looked at the wolf. She was shivering with such violence that her hair stood on end, and her breath came in heaves and gasps. “Are you all right?” he asked, alarmed.
“I am fine.”
“You . . . don’t really seem fine.”
The wolf growled at him. Then her shoulders slumped. “I cannot help you here. I am sorry.”
“No, you shouldn’t be,” Vanya said. He was worried; the wolf was apologizing to him. “I wouldn’t be here without you.”
The wolf grumbled under her breath, but she nodded. “Go. I will wait here.”
Vanya looked up at the cliff and licked his lips. He still didn’t see the cave that the wolf said was there. There was no way he could climb that high. He looked again at the wolf. She had laid down with her head on her paws, still shivering. She glared up at him as though daring him to back down. But the glare held no fire—he could tell she was more exhausted than he’d ever been in his life.
She’d given this journey her all. He couldn’t let her down. He couldn’t let the kings down, or his family. He couldn’t leave the fox to die.
Vanya sighed, squared his shoulders, and began to climb.
The cliff wasn’t as sheer as it had looked from below; it was covered with crannies and narrow ledges where he could stop to catch his breath. When he slipped, there was always a ledge to land on. He only looked down once. That was a mistake; he had to cling to a ledge for a long while before he could convince himself to continue.
The wind buffeted him more the higher he climbed; he learned to choose routes behind outcroppings of rock that provided shelter. For perhaps the first time in his life, he was grateful that he was so much smaller than his brothers—they would have had trouble hiding from the wind or resting on the narrow ledges. Not that they couldn’t have made the climb, of course. But it would have been more difficult for them.
The sun was low on the horizon when he finally pulled himself up into the cave near the peak. He rolled over onto a layer of hard snow that sloped downward into the mountain. He sprawled out, relieved and trembling, until he’d caught his breath. Then he climbed to his feet and descended into the cave.
The passage opened into a forest of icicles and stalagmites, many tall enough to form pillars between the ground and the ceiling. Some reflected the light from outside in bright spears, and others were shrouded in deep shadow. A narrow path, slightly smoother than the rest of the ice, wound through the cavern.
As Vanya stepped between the first of the stalagmites, the hair on the back of his neck stood on end. He glanced around, sure that someone was watching him.
“Hello?” he said quietly. Peering into the shadows for any sign of movement, he rounded a wide stalagmite and found a man standing in his way. Vanya stumbled backward with a yelp, nearly falling, before he realized it was an ice statue.
The statue faced the rear of the cavern with its back to him, bristling with white frost. Wary, Vanya stepped around to look at the statue’s face. Its eyes were crusted around with ice, but beneath it the irises were deep brown and the pupils dead black. He jumped back with a gasp.
It wasn’t a statue; it was a man, frozen in place with an expression of shock and fear.
A faint whisper of movement reached Vanya’s ears. He spun away from the statue, searching the cavern. Another frozen person stood to his left, a stocky woman with an ax raised to strike. As he edged forward, more and more icy unfortunates came into view. Some had fallen, their ankles shattered and feet still frozen to the floor. He stepped carefully around a spindly old man with a long beard, frozen while leaning against a stalagmite, and spotted the opening of a dark tunnel on the far side of the cavern.
A hand suddenly closed around his throat, crushing off his yelp as it lifted him from the ground. He grabbed the hand, kicking his feet, and found himself facing the ice-covered old man again. But unlike the other frozen people, the old man had eyes of solid blue ice. The man grinned at Vanya, revealing a mouth devoid of teeth.
“Interesting,” the man whispered, pressing Vanya against a stalagmite. “You will be the youngest human in my collection.” A roaring cloud of frost burst from the man’s mouth, enveloping Vanya. When the cloud cleared, Vanya’s clothing was covered in a thin layer of white ice. He blinked to clear away the crystals that had formed on his eyelashes.
“What is this?” The creature frowned, looking Vanya up and down. It breathed out another frost cloud; Vanya sneezed. “Freeze!” the old man shouted, squeezing Vanya’s throat.
Vanya couldn’t breathe and couldn’t pull free. What would his brothers do here? The answer came to him as he was beginning to see spots. He let go of the creature’s arm and punched it square in the nose.
It was like hitting a block of ice. The creature flinched away, though its expression was more shocked than pained. It stared at Vanya. Then, with a roar, it threw him across the cavern.
Vanya tumbled to a stop at the feet of the woman with the ax. The creature broke a sword from the fingers of a frozen warrior and charged, roaring. Vanya climbed to his feet and grabbed the woman’s ax, but he could not pull it free.
The old man barreled forward, swinging the sword in a wide arc. Vanya dived to the side. The blow narrowly missed him, shattering through the frozen woman instead.
Vanya ran through the stalagmites. He could hear the old man’s footsteps stalking through the cavern, drawing closer. His oldest brother would have fought the creature. His second brother would have tried to reason with it. All that Vanya could do was run or hide.
Vanya blinked. Yes. Yes, he could hide better than anyone. He dug into his pocket and pulled out the white gemstone. Diving behind a stalagmite, he slipped the gem into his mouth and vanished.
The old man stalked past Vanya’s hiding place and out of sight between the stalagmites. Vanya crawled the opposite direction. The creature was between him and the way out, so his only path was deeper into the mountain.
“Intruder!” the creature bellowed. “Where are you?”
A crash echoed through the cavern. Vanya looked over his shoulder; the old man was shattering frozen statues with the sword, shrieking.
Vanya hurried away. The howls of the creature followed him down the tunnel as the light faded. Before long, he was feeling his way through pitch blackness. Eventually, even the echoes of the creature’s rage fell quiet. Vanya gradually realized that the tunnel was growing warmer—the ice beneath his feet had been rough, but now was growing smooth and slippery. It thinned out enough to crack beneath his weight and eventually melted away altogether, leaving him walking on damp stone.
