Into the Deep Wood

The smoke followed them, but they’d made it to the top of the steps before the young white smoke turned thick and dark. The cellar door had fallen shut, and Marat braced against it with his shoulder - and as it lifted, Val thanked the gods that the lock had not snapped shut as well.

“WICKED MISCREANTS!” A shrill scream greeted them as they hurried out of the cellar. Avgusta stood, blocking the door to the outside, her cane discarded, face twisted in rage. “TRESPASSER!”

Marat moved in front of Val as if the shriveled All-Mother would lunge at her.

“We took you in! Fed you! Provided shelter!” She continued shrieking, throwing her hands up in the air. “We should have put you to death the second you had crossed our gate!”

“Stand back, Mother.” He warned her. “We wish only to leave.”

“To leave with fire in your wake!” She was looking at Marat, her eyes transfixed on his. Then, her light, icy stare turned to Val.

“You simple girl! I will ensure you are locked away and chained for your treacherous name-promise. I will make sure that you do not see the light of day until the gods call your name!” She took a sure step toward them, but Marat had already drawn his blade.

“Let us pass.” He said.

“You aren’t going anywhere!” The All-Mother bared her teeth as an animal. “We should have taken you to the river, but she said no! I asked her, what use is an unborn girl to us? What use is her stranger mother? But she’d assured us that she would kill the child in your womb, and the next would be a boy. Assured us!”

Val felt her skin prickle and her stomach drop.

“What did you do…” She moved to get past Marat, but his hand stopped her from proceeding.

“I prayed and fed you black cohosh and pennyroyal,” A smile, vicious and almost inhuman, crossed the old woman’s face, “and she ripped it from you on the night we gave her strength. You deserve nothing less! She should have torn you to shreds from the inside instead!” The words were spoken through clenched teeth, coming out with bits of spit. The old woman’s hands, clenched into fists, were shaking.

“You took her from me…” Val whispered. The hands, the nightmare - she had not dreamt it after all. A haze of pain and twisting…

She’d done it shortly after she found out it was a girl.

Val tried to get past him, but Marat held firm.

“For a more satiating meal.” The old woman smiled, and Val hated that smile at that moment. How many times had she smiled at her? How many times had this woman’s presence brought comfort to her?

“Who is this she,” Marat demanded, raising the blade higher, but the All-Mother advanced another step as if it did not concern her.

“She who speaks, she who hears, she who eats.” Avgusta’s eyes had grown crazed, something rising in them from within. “Even if you tried to leave, you’re hers and you will be hers until you die. You’re tethered to her, you… stupid girl!”

The last of her words sounded as if they came from elsewhere. It was as if an echo rose in her throat, pushing out the old woman’s voice and taking its place.

“You stupid girl making your last stand, you scuttle as a beetle hoping to escape the heavy strike of my hand!” The All-Mother’s jaw fell open, unmoving, yet words came out carried on her breath. “I’ll gorge myself on that which grows inside you now. And I will bite off the hand which swung the sword - and gobble up the girl who burned the forest.”

“Marat…” Val grabbed his sleeve.

“She’s bound elsewhere. Without the push of the sacrifice, I think she is too weak to hurt you.” He said quietly, scanning the old woman’s face.

He did not give Avgusta the chance to speak again, grabbing her and pushing her through the cellar door, closing it with a heavy thump.

Muted growls and scratches sounded.

“Get the lock!” He shouted to Val, who’d stood with hands hanging limp at her sides. As if suddenly awake, she hurried to grab the discarded lock.

In a daze, Val followed Marat as they ran outside. The street was dark, although windows began to light as people stirred from hearing the screams in the big house.

“Shit!”

They hurried down the cobbled street, careful not to misstep in the dark. Suddenly, Val stopped.

“What is that?”

Lights were lining the top of the valley, at the hill where the descent into Chelkalka. They spanned the length of the steep rise, crawling further and further about its edges. Marat stopped next to her, his eyes narrowing.

“Soldiers.” He said, straightening up. “No one can cross the borders in the night. We will get the horse and leave by way of the river.”

Behind them, they heard people talking in voices still thick with sleep. Those who had woken from the shrieks of the All-Mother had come outside. Someone asked what was going on, and a child cried, being carried out of its bed by a parent. More and more of them were stepping into the street, their eyes turning to the horizon - lit up as if the sun had been rising over it.

And then, the lights moved forward.

As if water spilling forth from a basin, they flooded the hill, moving rapidly down and toward the orchards.

A cry went up from the people standing uphill behind Val and Marat.

“They cannot…” Marat’s words trailed off, his eyes frozen on the current of torches headed toward them.

“They’re invading the River Cities…” Val’s words were lost as people rushed to their neighbors' homes, knocking on doors and stirring an alarm.

“Go!” He grabbed her arm and they rushed toward the cottage, gathering as many of their belongings as fit inside their satchels, hunters knives in hand.

The sound of horses outside forced both to press against the wall and away from the view of the windows. These riders did not carry lights; a lookout party ahead of the mass. They’d made it to the city long before the army had revealed itself.

“We must get to the stables; they will seize those first,” Marat told her as they slipped out the doors and to the side of the home.

They hid out of sight, running between homes and rattled people. Two riders approached as they made a run across the cobblestone road. A heartbeat from being discovered, they ducked behind a raised porch, their backs scraping against unevenly chiseled wood. Val’s heart raced, and Marat squeezed her hand - he had meant it to comfort her, but it only told her that he had also been afraid.

The rhythmic clicks of the horse’s hooves grew distant, and again they dashed forward.

The stable was ahead, two men were dismounted and bringing the animals out one by one, trying them together and preparing to take them out of the city.

Marat moved forward, but an unexpected figure stepped out onto the street, the steps silent and deliberate, stopping him in his tracks.

Asha faced them, her expression was stony and cold. She locked eyes with Marat, the corners of her mouth twitching ever so slightly. It only took a heartbeat and she took off down the hill toward the soldiers at the bottom. Marat grabbed for her, but she was already gone.

“She’ll lead them to us!” Val gasped, and saw that Marat’s bow had already been drawn.

His eyes narrowed, and his arm pulled back.

“No!” Val went to grab it, but he moved away from her. “You cannot kill her. We will find another way.”

“If they find out we are here, it’s over.” He said quietly.

“She’s just a girl, Marat,” She begged, “if there is another way, please, I cannot live with myself if this is how we escape. We take her life she might as well have been in that river.”

“Too late, anyway.” He said coldly, lowering his bow. Asha had made it to the soldiers, and her hand sprang up, pointing in their direction.

Marat’s arm raised, and the twang and whistle of the arrow vibrated through the air. One of the two men fell backward against the stable wall. The other ducked behind a horse, loading a crossbow.

“Between the houses, go, forget the horse!”

Val glanced back in desperation as they ran; Aditi left somewhere unknown.

Collapsing stars, they burned so bright,

The winter winds came in the night.

They set aflame all man and child,

A boom, a crack, and flames grew wild.

Each and every met their end

Amidst it all the red sun's brand.