Magic of Talisman and Blood (Curse of the Ctyri Book 2) Page 18

  “More like I’ve taken in a thorn in my foot.” Baba Yaga snorted as if the idea of Vasi being her apprentice was preposterous. “Take this girl to a village where the commoners are hungry.” She turned on Vasi, giving her a smile full of sharpened blades. “You wish to save people, feed the villagers by nightfall.”

  “How many of them?” Vasi asked, trying to think of ways to feed a group of people.

  Baba Yaga swept out her gnarled hands. “All of them. The whole village.”

  Vasi shook her head, incredulous with the hopeless task. “That’s actually impossible.”

  “Why do I waste my time? Impossible. Impossible. That’s all I hear from you.” Baba Yaga nodded back to the house. “Nothing I ask of you is impossible if you want it enough.”

  “If I don’t do it by nightfall . . . you’ll never give me the Fire?” Now that Vasi had shown how desperate she was, the witch wielded this threat at every turn.

  “So you said,” Baba Yaga said with a grin.

  Vasi wasn’t going to give up. She stepped toward the stallion and its smirking rider. The djinni Horseman of Pestilence offered Vasi his gloved hand, and she swallowed hard. She’d already accepted the task, so now her only decision would be how to feed an entire village.

  Vasi took his hand.

  In one strong move, Pokor pulled her to sit before him on the saddle. Vasi adjusted her skirt to preserve her modesty but settled with limiting her exposure. Not that he seemed to notice. The white rider’s attention was on Baba Yaga.

  “So it has begun?” he asked, his voice laced with a current of anticipation. “Are you certain you’re ready for this, Baba Yaga?”

  She cackled and then gnashed her teeth, the grating sound of metal on metal worse than her laugh. “Are you ready, Pokor?”

  Vasi felt his chin brush the crown of her head as he faced forward, not answering the witch. His gloved hands came to either side of Vasi as he picked up the reins.

  Vasi looked down and saw Baba Yaga still there, her firelight eyes flickering bright under the shadow of the trees.

  “Go then. The others are growing impatient.” She swatted at the magnificent horse’s rump, and the beast nickered in protest.

  “Until tonight,” the djinni said, bowing to the witch. Without waiting for a reply, he flicked the reins, and the stallion took off at a canter, quickly increasing its speed. The forest blurred around them, just like with Aksel, as the horse galloped, and the Horseman laughed.

  Vasi clung to the pommel of the saddle. She didn’t see anything funny about the situation, but the rider wasn’t risking his life, either. Her stomach felt like it was somewhere around the vicinity of her feet. All morning, she’d been thrown about, and if her day continued with the perpetual upheaval, she’d throw up all over Pokor. That probably wouldn’t make him laugh.

  Hours passed, and the horse slowed. But as Vasi glanced around, she saw the sun was barely higher in the sky than when they’d left. She had dozens of questions burning inside, but Pokor’s silence felt deliberate, and Vasi held her tongue.

  They trundled along a dirt road. The dark clay path was an intricate web of divots and potholes with very little smooth space between them. With the breeze, dust billowed and skipped, swelling out across the barren fields, the crops already harvested down to the last stock.

  “Why save the humans?” the white rider asked, his voice reverberating through her back.

  Shocked, Vasi glanced over her shoulder and stuttered, “Y-you’re talking to me?”

  Vasi blinked, and she could feel his curiosity radiating out in a thin thread of yellow energy. “I’m sorry. It’s just . . .”

  Pokor grinned, as if he knew all the reasons she was flustered and that his strange beauty was both terrible and stunning. “Why would you save the humans? Why bother with the miserable wretches?”

  Vasi looked away, unsure how to respond. Would she need his help? Was he mocking her like Baba Yaga? Vasi considered his question, and more importantly her answer, as they rode. The surroundings changed; the desolate fields made way for dust-covered houses with boarded up windows and storefronts offering no bounty. Her mind blanked as she absorbed the circumstances around her. A shop proclaimed Fresh Bread but held only empty shelves. Soldiers dispersed everywhere about the town, but the citizens all gathered together before an empty stage, many of them gaunt and haggard.

  The Horseman pulled the reins and stopped the horse just behind the crowd. He chuckled, a low sound that made Vasi think of her stomach rumbling with hunger.

  “You can’t think of a single reason, can you?” he asked.

  “Of course I can,” she said, her attention returning to his question. She thought of her parents and continued, “I don’t even know where to start. Humans are kind, loyal, loving . . .” She pointed down to the villagers, a couple holding hands, a mother holding her baby and cooing a lullaby. “There are hundreds of thousands of people worth saving in Beloch.”

  “Really?” he asked, his voice filled with disbelief. “Like those two?” He pointed past her to the side of the stage.

  Vasi craned her neck to see who he was pointing toward, but when her gaze settled, she blinked to try and clear the image. It couldn’t be. Vasi had watched him die. His blood had soaked her hands; if she thought too long, she still felt it, tacky and thick on her fingers.

  Revulsion churned her stomach, and Vasi shuddered as oily disgust washed over her. She’d known—when his blood vanished—something was off. She just didn’t want to believe this was a possibility.

  “Are they real?” she whispered, her voice rasping.

  “They are,” Pokor replied.

  Lord Baine and Marika continued their conversation, his face impassive as she gestured wildly.

  “I need to get away from here . . .” Vasi flinched and spun around on the horse so fast she nearly lost her balance.

  “Careful, little witch,” Pokor said, steadying her between his arms. “If you fall off the horse, they’ll be able to see you.”

  “They can’t see me?” she whispered as she huddled close to the rider. “Truly?”

  “Indeed. And your actions have answered my question; these humans are vile and worthless,” he said. “It’s best to let them destroy themselves.”

  “That man there. I don’t think he’s human at all,” Vasi whispered. “I stabbed him in the neck. How could he be alive?”

  “Mankind has survived his type before,” the Horseman said. “It would be best if you avoid him.” As they trotted farther into the crowd, Pokor said, “Humans are pitiful, and the worst of them always seem to rise to the top.”

  “Being human, I take exception to most of that,” she muttered. Even though she believed in the djinni’s power, Vasi remained curled in on herself. “There are many of us worth saving.”

  Pokor shook his head, his chin brushing over her hair. “If you say so, little witch. You came into the forest to ask Baba Yaga to save your people? ‘Tis a hopeless quest; she’ll never help humans again.”

  “I came into the forest to ask you and your brothers to save humanity, actually. Come to find out you can’t. Baba Yaga is my only hope.”

  His nostrils flared, and a terrifying smile spread across his face. He threw back his head and laughed, but this sound chilled her bones. Not only was he laughing at her, but he was rejoicing in the plight of humanity. “Not in a million centuries would I deign to save a man’s life.”

  “I feel sorry for you then because you’ll never know what it feels like to be loved.” She huffed and then mumbled, “Maybe you’ll change your mind.”

  Vasi turned her attention back to the town and its people. She’d been engrossed enough in their discussion she hadn’t noticed the scene changing.

  Three more familiar people now stood beside the stage: Prince Nikolai, Prince Henryk, and Roza. Seeing the three of them made Vasi’s heart clench. Roza wore a resplendent golden gown that trailed behind her in the dirt. She stood several feet from the brothers, h
er gaze fixed at her feet. Prince Nikolai wore his military uniform, and the gold buttons gleamed from the rays of the rising sun as he climbed the stairs to take the dais. Henryk trailed after, somber in all black. Where the crown prince forced a smile, his brother made no pretense of happiness at the occasion, and he remained several paces back from Nikolai.

  “Where are we?” Vasi asked.

  Pokor stared at her, his brow furrowed. “Strasny. Do you know it?”

  Of course. She nodded and looked over the people of Lord Baine’s fiefdom. Hundreds of Strasny’s undernourished citizens gathered around the stage, and they gave a delayed and unenthusiastic welcome as the crown prince stepped onto the wooden platform.

  “Citizens of Beloch, I bring you good news.” Nikolai’s smile came too late after his words to be believable. “Times are hard in our country. War to the east means food is scarce and gold scarcer still.”

  “Yet there’s enough for that girl to make a dress from it,” the rider mocked in Vasi’s ear.

  “We must look to the future,” Prince Nikolai continued. “Each of us has a duty to perform to secure our future. It is in that spirit of unity I want to introduce your future queen, Lady Roza de Plest.”

  “Not the warmest protestation of love,” the rider said. “I thought you said humans know love?”

  Vasi couldn’t answer. Her insides were tied in knots, constricting all the way up to her throat. What was wrong with her? She’d told Nikolai she hated him, and she’d meant it. But the feeling she refused to name wouldn’t go away.

  Roza took the stage and accepted Nikolai’s outstretched hand. She turned toward the crowd, but Vasi couldn’t help but feel as if Roza wasn’t there at all. Her eyelids blinked, her mouth displayed a fixed smile, but there was no spark of her lively energy and no enthusiasm for the prince by her side.

  “Do you know that woman?” Pokor asked; weighty confusion replaced the previous contempt in his voice.

  “Yes, she’s my sister.”

  “Why does she look as if someone ripped out her heart? Dead, but she’s still walking.”

  Vasi glanced over her shoulder to find Pokor staring as if he’d never seen a woman before.

  When Vasi followed Pokor’s line of vision, Nikolai stepped closer to the edge of the stage, distracting Vasi.

  “To have a future, however, we must fight,” the crown prince called. “Every able-bodied man must fight for our country. We have officers to accept your subscriptions here at the town center all day. We must each fight for Beloch. We all must fight for our future.”

  “You believe that man is worth saving?” The rider pointed to the prince, the Horseman’s moment of empathy clearly gone. “It would be a kindness to make the stage collapse under the insincere puppet. Perhaps then, the starving villagers could make a meal.”

  “He’s doing his father’s bidding,” Vasi grumbled, gripping the edge of the saddle. At least she hoped he was. It shouldn’t bother her that he and Roza were together; hadn’t Vasi thought they deserved each other? Only now she wasn’t so sure.

  For just a second, Vasi felt someone’s concentration on her. She glanced up in time to see a flash of gray eyes as Prince Henryk looked away. She examined the prince though he stared at the front of the stage placidly, giving no indication that he’d seen her. Vasi raised a hand and waved, but the dark-haired prince’s gaze did not waver from his brother.

  “The humans can’t see you,” the Horseman reminded her from behind.

  “I must have imagined it,” mumbled Vasi.

  She turned her attention back to Nikolai and Roza as Nikolai continued on about their bright future. But the prince’s eyes held no joy as he spoke of Roza as their queen. Everything about this situation was wrong.

  “She is very beautiful, but she doesn’t love him,” Pokor said with disdain. “Their alliance will only bring pain . . . for them both.”

  Vasi’s frustration bubbled up, and she finally snapped. “Aren’t you supposed to take me to do this impossible task?”

  “If you’re so eager to start, far be it from me to stop you,” he said, pulling at the reins. He led the horse toward the edge of town. Just beyond the houses, the Horseman reined in once more and nodded to another barren, dusty field. “Here you are.”

  Her chest was tight with caged emotions, and she forced a swallow, pushing them down even more as she stared at the desolate ground.

  24

  Vasi was more than ready to leave Pokor, so she swung her leg over to slide from the horse. But the fall was more than she’d anticipated, and she tumbled forward to her hands and knees. Sun-dried husks and stems broke apart under her fingers, and the fine dirt billowed up into her face. She coughed as the dust filled her mouth, nose, and eyes.

  “Make a feast for these humans you’re so fond of,” the rider said, his lip curling as he spoke in a haughty tone. He trotted around her, kicking up even more dust as he spoke. “And remember, the people can see you now, so keep your eyes to the road. I’ll come for you at dusk.”

  He shook his head and kicked his stallion. The beast raced forward, a cloud billowing in his trail. And then he vanished.

  “Wait, I’ll be arrested . . .” Vasi coughed again as tears spilled from her eyes, cutting lines through the grit on her cheeks. She wasn’t sure if the tears were from the dust, the rider’s words, or Nikolai’s; they could even be from the look on Roza’s face. Hopelessness gripped Vasi, and she blinked back the tears and looked up to the blue sky. How was she supposed to feed the entire village?

  She let out a deep sigh and closed her eyes. She wanted her papa back. She wanted her freedom from Lord Baine forever. She wanted to be happy. Three impossible desires? Then she would do whatever she had to complete however many impossible tasks the witch forced upon her.

  Vasi had helped make dinners from almost nothing before. And last fall, the harvest hadn’t been as good, so Vasi knew a trick or two. She kicked the ground, looking at the dried vegetation. There had been a garden here, so she could find something to start with and build from there. Most often, root vegetables were the ones missed. On her hands and knees, she started digging.

  All of the people were in the town center, and the guards would be busy with the forced conscriptions, but for how long? After several holes revealed nothing, Vasi stood and surveyed the ground. Root vegetables needed hours of sunlight each day to thrive, so perhaps, she could predict where a savvy farmer would plant his crop.

  The sun climbed into the sky, and Vasi continued digging. She’d dig several inches down, then crawl forward and dig some more. Dozens of holes in, Vasi was losing hope when her fingers hit something too soft to be a stone and too hard to be more soil. Quickly, she brushed around the mound to find a dirt-encrusted radish.

  “Yes,” Vasi whispered as she held up the radish.

  Now look into the Lumea as Jeyvan taught you.

  Vasi closed her eyes. In the two days since Baba Yaga locked Vasi in the dark room, she'd been able to recreate the effect twice. Once, she looked into the Lumea surrounding her wash basin at sunset; the ripples of power were in silver and blue. The other time had been just after she awoke, and she watched waves of golden magic roll through the air in the sunlight.

  Closing her eyes, she pictured the radish and then allowed the feeling of confidence to fill her. After a deep breath, she opened her eyes. The entire field flowed with waves of color and energy. A small bird sent streams of blue in the air.

  Concentrate, Vasi, we don't have much time.

  “Sorry.” Vasi turned back to the radish, watching the waves of orange, brown, and red stream around it.

  Hold the radish and say the words, ‘At my will, multiply.’

  “What? You want me to talk to a radish?” Vasi asked in surprise. She pulled the doll out of her pocket and frowned, but the doll remained silent. Vasi slipped the doll back into her apron and held up the radish. She inhaled deeply and said, “At my will, please multiply.”

  The radish squir
med in Vasi’s hand, and letting out an embarrassing squeak of surprise, she dropped it. The Lumea vanished. On the ground, the radish swelled and let off multiple shoots that burrowed into the ground and dropped off the original radish. Vasi started digging and quickly unearthed over a hundred radishes clustered there in the dirt.

  That’s not enough. You need to find more.

  “Ha.” Vasi pointed a shaking hand down at the pile of radishes that she had somehow made multiply. “Can’t we just keep making those multiply?”

  No, but it’ll be easier the next time. Besides, you need more than radishes. Also, try doing it without crossing into the Lumea. Just search for that feeling, and ask it to multiply.

  Nodding as if doing magic and talking dolls were normal, Vasi pushed the dirt into a mound partially hiding the pile of radishes and moved farther down the row. She did as the doll instructed and found the task of multiplying was much easier the next time. It was as if she carved a path with her first spell, and now the magic just slipped through to the plants unimpeded. Three rows over, she found a dozen parsnips. And the next row over, carrots added to her bounty. Onions were next, followed by beets. As soon as she recreated the strange magic, Vasi hid her bounty and moved on. Seven rows from the back fence, she hit gold. Hundreds of potatoes sat abandoned as if the farmer planted the row but forgot it. Vasi used two hands to dig and deliver the magic.

  Sweat dripped down her face and back. her muscles screamed in protest with the labor, but she kept going until thousands of potatoes piled on the ground. When she finished, hiding them was impossible. The mounds of food dotting the field were too conspicuous. It was only a matter of time before the food was discovered, and Vasi needed to make sure it was by someone who would share it with everyone.

  As if her fear of discovery made it happen, a man called, “Hey! You there, what are you doing on the duke’s field? If you’re poaching, he’ll have you hanged.”

  Vasi spun to see a uniformed soldier striding toward her, his young face lined with stress, far more than one his age should bear. Just like her. Perhaps their commonality could work to her benefit.