Mistress of the Solstice (33 page)

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Authors: Anna Kashina

Tags: #Fantasy

BOOK: Mistress of the Solstice
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I
van was a good swimmer, yet no skill, no strength could possibly work
against the deadly pull he felt. The waters grabbed his body like a rag
and drew him down, down, straight to the weeds on the bottom.

His vision faded as he descended, but he could still see another body
tangled in the weeds down there. A naked woman.

Dead.

“Alyona—” he whispered mutely,
moving his lips against the sandy thickness of the cold water. It was
getting darker. The fingers of the current tangled the weeds around his
struggling legs. His arm brushed the skin of Alyona’s
lifeless hand and sank into the silky green of the weed thicket.

His lungs were burning. Soon, he would have to take a
breath.

One—last—breath

It was useless to fight. He could no longer tell if it
was getting darker because of the deepening night or because his eyes
refused to serve him anymore. He forced his eyes to stay open,
straining to see light up above, at the lake’s
surface.

Marya—

Wolf

I
have—failed—you

There is no—forgiveness—for what I have
done

I didn’t
listen

I failed

Forgive me. Forgive me if you can.

He opened his mouth to take a breath.

And closed it again.

A hollow string of a reed descended from the surface.
It forced itself through his clenched teeth. Then, a voice he
didn’t recognize whispered into his ear.

“Blow out the water. Then, breathe through the
reed.”

He grasped it.

Blow out

Breathe

Air rushed to his burning lungs.

Air.

“Breathe,” the voice said.
“Breathe, Ivan the Fool.”

He did. For a while all he could focus on was the flow
of air—so painfully slow through the thin reed—into his hungry
lungs. He gathered a whole chestful of it and held it in until he felt
he would burst. Then, he let it out, watching the bubbles rise in
silvery trails up to the surface.

For a while his life narrowed to just
breathing—breathe in, breathe out. At first, he gave no thought to
the voice he’d heard so effortlessly as if they two
were standing in the middle of a forest glade. Then, as his breathing
became almost normal, he began to wonder.

He tried to turn his head, but his body was now so tangled in the weeds
he couldn’t move.

He tried to speak. Words came out as a gurgle, filling his mouth with
muddy water.


Who are
you?

He heard laughter. A girlish giggle.

“Don’t try to speak. Just think.
Underwater, your thoughts are loud as bells. I’m not
deaf.”

Who are you?
he thought.

“You don’t remember me?
I’m Oksana, the Wandering Light, remember? You gave me
my nickname less than a fortnight ago. Do you
remember?”

Oksana. The
kikimora from
Leshy’s swamp.

Of course he remembered. Even without the uncanny
laughter, he would never be able to forget the undead child with
glowing tree rot in her hands. Her eyes—he would never forget her
eyes.

How did you find me?

She giggled again.
“I’m glad you remember me, Ivan the
Fool. It’s so sweet of you to think you could never
forget me! I will always remember you too. That’s why I
followed you when I saw you making your way here. These waters connect
to our swamp, you know. When the bodies rot here and the pieces start
falling off, some of them come to us in the swamp and our
animals—they all have such a feast! I wish I could enjoy rotten meat
as much as they do! But I don’t eat those things
anymore…” She chattered away, just like a lonely
child who finally found a playmate. “The animals
would like to come here and get the rotting meat, but they
shouldn’t, you know. The swamp—that’s
Uncle Leshy’s place, but here on the lake, it all
belongs to Uncle Vodyanoy. You know him of course,
don’t you?”

The Water Man. I know
of
him,
he thought wearily.
If Leshy plays riddles that one can
sometimes win, Vodyanoy plays in drowning people. One can never
win
that
game.

She stopped chattering to listen to his thoughts and
then floated into view from behind him—a little girl in a loose white
dress. She still held her glowing piece of wood, unnaturally bright in
the dimness at the bottom of the lake. Ivan briefly wondered how could
wood continue to glow underwater, but it didn’t really
matter. Not in his sorry state, with Oksana his savior and his only
company. He focused on watching her hair instead, falling in waves over
her shoulders—as if she wasn’t underwater but was
standing in the middle of her little island amidst the swamp.

“That’s where you’re
wrong, Ivan the Fool,” she said solemnly.
“Uncle Vodyanoy is very kind. He plays with me. He
brings me toys sometimes. Uncle Leshy never does.”

Of course,
he thought.
My mistake. Sorry.

“You haven’t heard
the best part yet.” She leaned in to Ivan so that
their noses almost touched, her eyes shining with mischief.
“He said, because I’m such a good
playmate, and you’re my friend, he’s
going to let you go. And, if you want, you can take
her
as
well.” She nodded at Alyona’s body,
tangled in the weeds beside him.
“That’s why you’re
here, aren’t you? Even though the animals in the swamp
will be very disappointed. No rotten meat this
time.”

Vodyanoy would do that?
Really?

“Yes!” she giggled again.
“I told you he’s real
nice!”

Yes, he is,
Ivan though
wholeheartedly.
Only, even if he lets me go,
there’s no way I can untangle myself from these
weeds.

“Not by
yourself,” she agreed. “The
rusalkas
will help
you.”

Rusalkas?

He felt cold fingers pull at the weeds around his legs
and turned to see pale shapes moving in the murky waters. Now they
looked like women and then, when they turned, they looked more like
giant scaly pike.
Rusalkas
.
He’d heard about them. Leshy and Vodyanoy, the two
brothers, spawned many curious creatures.

They untangled Alyona’s body while he watched, and then
the underwater current caught it, flipped it over, and gently dragged
it along the bottom.

“You can swim, can’t
you?” Oksana asked.

Yes, I can,
he thought.
If the weeds don’t hold me
again.

“They won’t,” she
promised. “Just swim downstream and come out on shore
over there. You can take her.” She nodded at
Alyona’s body, disappearing into the darkness as the
currents became bolder with it.

I don’t know how to thank you
Oksana,
he thought.
I
-

“You already did,” she said.
“You gave me my nickname. It’s been
all right ever since. I’m not Oksana With No Nickname
anymore. And uncle Leshy doesn’t tease me anymore. Now,
they all know who I am!”

I’ll bring some meat for your
swamp creatures,
he
promised.
A whole cow, if you want.

“No,” she
twitched her nose. “They could never eat a
cow
. But you can throw
in some rabbits over there. Skinned. They’d like
that.”

She turned and moved away in the water. Or, she didn’t
exactly move, but suddenly she was standing several paces away. Her
outline began to fade.

Thank you, Oksana!

“Think nothing of it, Ivan the Fool! Until next
time!”

And then she was gone.

He clenched the lifesaving reed between his teeth and
swam ahead to catch up with Alyona’s body. It had
caught on a boulder and was lying still, curved around the rough stone
surface. He turned it over and hauled it onto his back. The body was
limp and it caught on reeds and underwater boulders as he hauled it
along. But, if nothing else interfered, he would be able to take it up
to the shore, just visible in the gloom ahead.

He grasped a dead arm firmly and kicked toward the shore.

 
Marya

T
he silence grew heavy between us. Raven flew out of the darkness and
landed on a nearby branch.

He never came around for the Solstice Sacrifice. He looked so out of
place in the moonlit glade by the water. Even though I knew of his
nightly forays to this spot, he belonged on his perch in my room, a
comfortable companion in my lonely hours.

He briefly glanced at the dark waters of the pool and looked away as he
settled on the protruding branch. “I
couldn’t miss the prophecy coming
true.”

“You just did,” my father said.
“The boy sacrificed himself to
Kupalo.”

I looked at Wolf, a knot of grayness against the dark forest. He faded
into the background as his yellow eyes shut for an endless moment, but
then they opened again, and more grass withered under his feet.

Then, he pricked his years and stood up, his Primal senses catching
something that eluded the rest of us.

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