Into the Deep Wood

They left the next day, heading through the long canyon on the other side of the caves. The same woman that had brought them to the tribe was now leading them out. They learned that her name was Bai’ka, and she was an apprentice to the High Priestess.

She led by foot, although the rest of them had been mounted.

The canyon was long and devoid of life. Not even a single lizard appeared among the stones rising to the blue skies above. Bai’ka was able to show them a stream wedged between protruding rocks. She had told them that it was only after storms that these streams flowed, as the earth was too rich in clay to absorb any of it here. This was a welcome discovery, as even in the shade, the heat and thirst tired them out very quickly.

The canyon had been a maze, each stone formation looking the same as the next. She seemed to navigate it easily. And when they reached the end by nightfall, Bai’ka bid them farewell.

“An hour north and you will begin to see plants. Four hours, and you will reach clusters of trees leading to the lake.” She told them.

“Will you not stay the night?” Val asked, but the woman only shook her head.

“It is easier to travel in the night.” She said. Then, looking at Marat, she added, “There are sandwalker burrows throughout these parts, hunter. We do not come this way because of that. Tie your horses up in the middle of the camp.”

“Thank you.” He bowed his head to her. She returned the gesture and, without saying another word, turned around and left.

“What are sandwalkers?” Val asked Yaro quietly.

“Hors-e-eater-s.” He replied shortly. The man had been in a foul mood since waking up. He had said his farewells to Anukk’a before the sun rose, although he would not speak of what was said between them.

Ivan took the first watch. After a few hours, he woke Iros for the second. The man got up without complaint, and, dabbing yarrow oil onto his wrists he joined Ivan.

“Aren’t you going to go to sleep?” He asked.

“I don’t think I could if I tried.”

“I don’t blame you.” The High Templar said.

Only a few weeks had passed since he thought that they would be returning to Barzah. He had planned to go south and take a ship out of Aziza back west.

“Iros,” Ivan started, cracking his knuckles nervously. “I will not pretend to know what is going on. But you seem to. I am… conflicted.”

“Hmm?” Iros considered the man. Ivan spoke as if he had been holding something back for some time.

“The All-Father.” He said. “I do not understand how… Marat… how this is all…”

He looked to Iros, his eyes pleading.

“Right. You were raised in Ai-Jabrahn.” Iros sighed. “Do not give it too much thought, pathfinder.”

“I cannot. I was raised in the church. All my life, I have heard of the All-Father. Godchildren. I recited prayers in the morning and at night.” Ivan said. “It is he who banished the darkness. He who protected us from the devils of the Nothing. Now… he is but a man.”

“Do not underestimate what he is,” Iros said, “not every god is the same. They are but fragments of the divine. Born of names given. But they aren't mortal men… mostly.”

He paused, considering just how much he should say.

“Death does not come for Marat willingly. He can die in battle, but not easily. Nor will the men he leads or the armies that follow. But should he not fall by the sword, his name will grant him eternal life. And he is not the only.”

“What do you mean?”

“Korschey had once taken a name for himself. He, too, will not die.”

“Valeria told me something when we were in Volkograd,” Ivan said. “She said that Korschey cannot be killed. That he had tied himself to a Nothing-touched object that was hidden away. It seems to me that the All-Father and the Nothing are tied closely together after all.”

This was new information to Iros, and his face showed it.

“Who knows about this?”

“Valeria. I am not sure who she has told.” He shrugged.

“You did not feel this was important?” Iros was visibly agitated.

“I felt that I am not an authority on such things. I will not speak of things I do not know. She will, if she must. Who would take my word had I said anything? I opened my mouth for a moment, and she was arrested and taken to trial in the desert.” Ivan retorted.

“So, then,” Iros ran a hand across his face, contemplating their situation, “we seek to rid of the Legho. While a threat just as great sits in the Obsidian Palace.”

“I suppose so.”

Unexpectedly, Iros started laughing, trying to keep it quiet to not stir the others.

“Gods above, remember twenty years ago when none of this had even been a thought? I was no more than a templar and was content. The worst that crawled out of the woods was a giant spider. Or one might meet a devil at the crossroads. But this?” He said, “Although, I don’t suppose you remember twenty years ago. You were what? Five?”

“Twelve.”

“Gods, boy.”

“Why do you say the pagan god’s names?” Ivan suddenly asked, as if noticing for the first time. This gave Iros some pause. He could lie.

“The truth of it is,” he said finally, “is that I have lost my faith in the All-Father long ago. I do not deserve to be High Templar. And, had the war not begun, I would have stepped down.”

Ivan had taken this surprisingly well.

“It is because of Marat.” He said.

“No,” Iros shook his head. “It is because of Dimos. We live in an age where three gods walk the earth. This is unheard of. And that could very well be why there is so much death. The balance of power cannot be so skewed. And it will not end until that is restored.”

“Korschey is a god then?”

“As much as Marat.”

A noise abruptly ended their conversation. It was as if a sand dune had suddenly collapsed.

“Wake them.” Iros hissed and grabbed his sword.

Ivan ran to where the other three were sleeping.

“Something is coming.” He shook Yaro first.

The distressed, sharp neigh of a horse cut through the air, and several others rose up around it.

“Fuck!” Marat was on his feet and with sword in hand already running toward the horses.

“S-andcrawler-s…” Yaro pushed out as he stood, leaning on Anushka.

Marat cut the ropes, freeing the horses that were tied up. Immediately, they took off.

There were only four.

They rushed past the camp in a flurry of hooves and heavy bodies. Iros and Ivan took off after Marat, who was already following the drag marks in the sand.

Yaro stayed behind, next to Valeria, who’d pulled closer to him, her eyes darting across every dark shadow of rocks and plants.

“They don’t eat people.” He told her, “But they can s-ure s-ting.”

“Sting?”

“Big ol’ s-egmented tail. Big curved hook at the end. Inject-s pois-on.” He said shortly. In the dark, violent noise rose somewhere beyond where they could see and ceased just as quickly.

The three men came forward from the dark. Ivan and Marat were both splashed with mysterious, deep blue liquid.

“He got the horse,” Marat said grimly. “Stung it before it had a chance to run.”

“I’m not sh-aring with Iro-s,” Yaro announced, unbothered.

“My horse thanks you,” Iros observed.

“Whose was it?” Val said quietly, looking out into the dark.

“Mine,” Marat answered. “We gotta go catch the rest. Might as well set out after that. Should have ridden in the night anyway. The burrows will end when the desert does.”

A grove of trees appeared in the distance, and then another. They were drawing near. From there, it would be a fast ride to the main road.

“Five copper-s s-ay-s sh-e-s there.” Yaro turned to Marat.

“I wouldn’t bet against that, brother.” He shook his head.

“Who?” Val asked. She was riding with Marat, the experience far less pleasant since she had gotten used to her own horse. His long hair had consistently tickled her face, and being so far back threw her around far more than she remembered. It was no wonder she had not liked horses before Aditi came along.

“Rusalka,” Marat answered. This made Ivan’s head snap toward him.

“I killed her.” He said. “In Aziza, on the sea.”

Both Yaro and Marat exchanged looks that made Ivan immediately feel insulted.

“What?” He asked.

“You cannot kill a Rusalka. She's a Sister, a Daughter of the Nothing.” Marat explained. “She is one, but she is many. She is bound, and so the many that live in still waters and seas are bound.”

“There are more…” Ivan muttered. “All-Father’s mercy…”

“Doe-s it count a-s an ex-lover?” Yaro laughed, looking at Marat, who cringed, thinking that the story must have been told on a drunk evening of cards.

“I hope not…” Val said to herself. The grotesque creature still haunted her thoughts now and then. The fact that Marat had… spent time with her was unnerving.

“No one gives her their name if she whispers. No one approaches the water if you see her. We will have to let the horses drink and refill the skins and canisters - but we will not stay long.” Marat announced.

“She was not here last time we were,” Val commented.

“She was not bound last time we were.” He said. “A bear in the wild will be a whole lot less angry than one tortured in captivity.”

The lake was calm and serene. The sounds of birds and gentle waves against the shore were welcome after the harsh, dry deserts. Each one of them felt as if they could breathe deeply here. They let the horses drink and stopped to eat and rest in the grass.

They still held three pieces of the Cloth of Plenty, but by this point, even Iros had gotten sick of what it had to offer. The game meat from the barbarians was a welcome change.

It was on his third bite that Yaro suddenly stilled.

“You owe me five copper-s.” He said.

All paused. Val felt a chill run through her, and she moved slowly toward Marat, unable to help the memories of the last encounter with the water maiden.

“I do not hear her,” Iros said.

“Neither do I.” Marat had been looking out onto the lake. Since his death, he had not heard the whispers. And now that she was so close, the silence was a gift not to be taken lightly.

“Hah.” Yaro snorted. “C-ertainly trying s-ome sh-it. Know-s nothing of Anush-ka.”

It was only Ivan who remained quiet.

Why have you left me, my love?

The words chimed in his head. They were full of sorrow, disappointment, heartbreak.

Do you not hear my call within every drop of wine? Do my cries for you not come to you in every puddle?

He thought of any excuse to leave the others. Any excuse to be by himself, if only for a moment. He felt grateful that there was no still water in the desert.

I see you found that which touches your heart. You are so near her - yet she is so far. She stirs the fire inside you. Still, I see it in your blood, my love.

Ivan willed it to go away, but it was as if he could not pay attention to anything else around him. He saw Yaro’s mouth moving as he told Iros something, but the words were muffled. Behind a curtain.

I see him, too, although he guards his mind from me. Give him to me, my love, and you could have her yet.

“Leave.” He whispered under his breath. Yaro looked to him sharply.

“What did you s-ay?”

“I have to relieve myself.” Ivan stood. Marat’s eyes were on him, brows furrowed, as the man walked quickly to the trees.

“Ah, sh-it.” Yaro sighed. “Gotta tie ‘im up now.”

“We’ll wait in case he truly does need to pee,” Iros said.

“And have him come back to put a s-word through Marat?” Yaro asked.

Val shot him a look, which he fully acknowledged.

“Don’t play dumb, mi-ss.” He waved her away. “You know why the boy i-s here.”

He braced against a tree, feeling his blood rushing and buzzing in his ears.

Do you not recall me under you? How you begged me to be her one last time? I see now that you have tempted yourself more than once since then, my love and watched her from the corner of your eye.

“I will kill you again.” He managed, looking toward the lake. He did not see anything, but there was an undeniable feeling that she had been there.

Your heart seizes every time you know he takes her body for his own. Her moans haunt your dreams, even if a different hand guides them now. He thinks himself above all, but a sword will still kill him as any other man.

He took a few more steps away from where the other four were. Ivan walked until he began to run. He hated this creature. He hated Marat. But, most of all, at that moment, he hated the Witch.

Bring him to the boulders beyond the bend. They stand taller than the rest, catching plants and driftwood among them. Bring him there; I’ll do the rest.

“He’s been gone a while.” Iros was standing, the other men looking out into the trees where Ivan had gone.

“Did he give her his name? In Aziza?” Marat asked, but Iros just shook his head.

“I’m not sure.”

“Gods, Ivan,” Val muttered.

“Split up, find him. We will be on our way as soon as we do.” Marat commanded. “Val, stay here. She is a jealous monster, and she does not forget.”

“It’s Ivan,” She pleaded, “I have to help!”

The look he gave her was a bit off. She saw it in the way his brows twitched just barely down.

“Stay here.” He repeated and turned toward the trees.

Ivan had gone far. She did not stop speaking to him. She told him so much… too much for his heart to bear. He felt the heat of anger rise at the very thought of Marat’s name. She’d done that, he knew. But he could not stop.

He heard the hunter before he saw him. Marat had been moving through the trees, but his boots were not soft-soled enough to stay silent.

Ivan reached up, and snapped a twig, immediately retreating back as the sound had surely gotten Marat’s attention.

He ran toward the water, his mind overheating. Her gleeful whispers turned into just noise beyond.

Collapsing on the ground and propping his elbows on his knees, he buried his face in his hands. He was near the water now. All-Father, but what was he doing?

The steps came fast and slowed as they got near.

“Ivan.” Marat’s voice was reserved, careful. He was feeling him out.

He did not answer, digging his heels into the pebbles and sand.

“She lies, Ivan.” Marat stopped some distance away. “You give in once; there is no going back. She’ll eat you to get what she wants.”

“How do I stop hearing her…” Ivan said quietly, the blood still pounding in his ears.

“You get away. You say no as many times as it takes.” Marat came up beside him, but his hand still hovered over the hunter knife. “Never a yes.”

“I never gave her my name.” Ivan looked up at him. “I thought, if I do not, she cannot do a thing.”

“She doesn’t need a name to drive men to drown. She will sink ships with promises of treasures at the bottom.” Marat sat down by him.

“She told me to bring you to her.” He said, looking at the water. “She did not even want to drag me beneath the waves.”

Marat frowned.

“She is, above all, a jealous creature.” He said after a moment. “She had my name once. It is an affront to lose it for such as she.”

“At one time, she begged for mine.”

“Ivan…” Marat chose his words carefully now. “It is not as it seems. You do not have to be restrained by this. Just stand, let’s leave, and let’s avoid all water until the end of time - whether a lake or a cup of tea.”

He paused.

“Especially cups of tea.”

“I think I should leave,” Ivan said suddenly. “You do not need a pathfinder any longer. She doesn’t need me.”

“I think that Valeria wanted you to come with for a good reason,” Marat said as if that had not been unexpected. “And it is your choice whether you want to go. But you have a place here. A place that is not given easily. By her or me.”

“I wanted to kill you. After you had saved my life, I still wanted to kill you.” Ivan admitted. He realized, since Marat approached, the voice had gone.

“You snapped a twig to get my attention in the trees. I knew you meant to kill me. I came anyway.”

“What of Valeria…”

“I will not speak of it to her.” Marat said, “So what is it? Will you leave?”

Ivan was silent for a moment.

“No.”