Koschei was bored. He’d been waiting for almost a full day, and there was no sign of “Mr. Tolstoy.” Not that he expected him to actually find the right tree. He just hoped he’d come back and concede defeat, so he could find something more fun to do with him. The hot blood of gargoyles was said to give them a high tolerance for cold temperatures; it would be interesting to find out just how cold. Or see how strong their tough skin was when faced with the opposite extreme of intense heat.
Koschei had won yet another game of chess played against his oldest and most loyal manservant, Igor. The man had some talent, yes, but he was only a hundred and fifty years old, and his opponent had centuries of experience ahead of him. If he did say so himself, Koschei viewed himself as a chess master.
Sometimes he wondered if he could ever persuade Baba Yaga to play with him again. The crone so hated to lose at anything, and hated even more to admit how talented he was, but they had enjoyed a few games together in their lifetime. Maybe if he gave her the sword willingly, she’d be willing to join him for a few rounds…
The Deathless One sipped thoughtfully at his vodka. There was another day and a half yet; he had plenty of time before-
His body jerked violently, spilling vodka all over himself, staining the fur of his robe. Koschei leaped up, spluttering and cleaning himself off. He’d felt something strange in that moment-something he hadn’t felt in a long, long time…
“Sir?” Igor asked. “Are you all right?”
Before Koschei could answer, his arm moved on its own, and he found himself casting a spell. A spell that opened a portal.
Before he could try to close it, a gargoyle-bedraggled, pale, with one wing dragging broken at his side, covered in mud and blood, and carrying a very ugly duck under one arm-stepped through. In one claw he clutched a golden egg.
***
Believe it or not, getting ahold of the soul was the easiest part of my trip. Because yeah, I broke my wing and lost some blood I couldn’t afford to lose fighting a giant rabbit-duck automaton that sprang out of the chest when I opened it, but the solution for that was simple: destroy it before it could destroy me, then remove the egg from its innards.
Oh, sorry, were you actually interested in reading about that part? About the big, dramatic action scene? So you like reading about me getting beat up by some eldritch abomination and having to scramble frantically to a position where I can dig my claws into its belly and rip it open and pull out its wiring, getting myself splattered with oil and grime and being generally crushed and tossed about the whole time? What kind of monster are you?!
Hefting the egg, I said, “Found it.”
Koschei glared at me. “So you did.”
“Now give me the sword, before I smash it.”
With a world-weary sigh, the sorcerer handed it over. Then he asked, “Out of curiosity, how did you find it?”
I nearly said A little bird told me, but I didn’t want him exacting retribution on the innocent creature, so I said, “Just lucky, I guess.”
His eyes strayed to the duck anyway. And he realized, as I did, that it was under a spell of some kind, and his face twisted with a kind of dark hatred. “You!”
Whatever connection he had with it escaped me, but I quickly stepped back and brandished the egg. “You’re not allowed to do anything to hurt this creature, in duck form or whatever its original form is. Or come after me, or my family or friends. Promise you won’t do any of those things, and you can have this back.”
Koschei blinked. Then he said, “Then why bother returning it at all? It’s nothing short of foolish. And you could have all you want and more if you just keep my soul.”
Meaning he’d be my servant, like the Dark One’s dagger.* But I just said, “I don’t think I’m qualified to bear that kind of responsibility.” Then, more firmly, “Deal?”
He sighed. “Deal. I will not do anything to harm you, those you care for, or this-” his lip curled- “vodyanoy.”
So that’s what it is.
“You also need to promise not to entice anything to harm any of us, or act in any way, shape or form that will do so.”
Maybe I should have created a contract.
Looking exasperated, Mr. the Deathless agreed to all my terms. Once I was sure that the bases were covered, I started to place the egg in his hands. But then I hesitated.
“One more thing. What’s Kladenets do?”
He grinned mirthlessly. “It gives the bearer the gift of making very excellent borscht. Nothing else.”
You have got to be kidding me.
“Is that the truth?” I jiggled the egg a bit.
Koschei flinched, but told me, “I swear it on the souls of my ancestors.”
Dramatic, but I decided to believe him. I placed the egg in his arms. And for a split second, I saw a bit of a change in him. The washed-out-ness faded a bit, and I saw something more...human** in him. Then he glared, and opened a new portal, which swept me and the vodyanoy-duck away.
*From Once Upon a Time, a human TV show that was good, but sucked after season 3.
** For lack of a better word
Unfortunately, I didn’t get that far. Probably that had something to do with my being both outnumbered and woozy from blood loss; whatever the reason, I found myself being frog-marched (pun totally intended) into one of the blocked-off-from-tourists rooms in the Kremlin.
It was like entering a totally different place. Like a palace.
The floor was paved with shiny gold tiles, in different shades, in some kind of diamond design. Elegant tapestries depicting events long past covered the walls. Old-fashioned electric lamps shone here and there, making my eyes hurt even with the shaded glasses. And sitting at the other end of the ridiculously long room was Mr. the Deathless, sitting on a gilded throne. He was wearing another suit, still old-fashioned, and a heavy-looking diamond-covered crown.
“You heroes are so stubborn and reckless,” he said with a sigh as I was dragged close. “I was almost done deciding what to do with you.”
I wasn’t going to wait around for you to make up your mind, you dried-up bag of bones! I snarled internally. But since I was still cursed with silence, I could only give him the message by glaring venomously.
“You’re that anxious to steal this sword?” Mr. the Deathless produced Kladenets and waved it around, taunting me with it.
I gave him a look, and with a sigh he removed the spell from my throat, allowing me to croak, “If I thought I could get it from you any other way, I would.”
“Really?” He leaned forward on his throne. “What’s Baba Yaga going to do to your assistant if you don’t get it?”
“That’s none of your business!”*
Koschei gave me a knowing smile which I figured must have taken him centuries to perfect. Whether or not he actually had figured out my reasons was irrelevant; as long as he acted like he did, he had the satisfaction of feeling superior and trying to make me squirm. I knew that trick, however, being very much the connoisseur of it myself, so I kept my face blank.
“This is most entertaining, Mr…?”
He left the phrase hovering, waiting patiently for me to complete it. I finally said, “Tolstoy.”
One bushy eyebrow rose in a skeptical arch, but I didn’t change the pseudonym.
Unless you plan on feeding me phoenix blood again, I’m not volunteering raz”yem.**
Mr. the Deathless finally sighed. “Very well, Mr. Tolstoy. If you insist on using that name. How about we make this interesting?”
Not another one.
“How?”
He stood up, tossing his robes back from his shoulders and twirling the sword again.
“I’ve been waiting for Baba Yaga to entertain me by trying to get this sword back. You appear to have been a godsend, Mr. Tolstoy; being immortal can be so boring sometimes. You might not have noticed, but people of my age like to play games with people like you.” Ignoring my snort, he continued, “So, I will give you this sword freely-if you can find my soul.”
For those of you with more sensitive eyes, I will refrain from writing the string of curses that ran through my mind at this news.
As best I remembered, Koschei’s soul was kept inside a duck that was inside a rabbit inside a giant egg in an obscure tree, or something like that. This was next to impossible.
But I conjured up an image of Calla, of her big brown eyes and her kind spirit and all the hell she’d gone through already, and asked, “How long have you kept me here?”
The old sorcerer looked down at me and said, “Ten years.”
My legs buckled, and I almost didn’t hear his laughter as he said, “Just kidding. Around two days, I believe.”
That means I have about three days left.
“Give me two more days to find it,” I said, hating how pleading I sounded, since it would probably give him an edge over me if he knew I had a time limit.
“You’re not asking for three?”
“Everyone asks for three. I need two.”
Hopefully I can find it before then, but let’s not trust to miracles.
That smirk was back; he probably at least suspected why I was so anxious. I hurriedly added in, “And give me back the pack of Baba Yaga’s things.”
Leaning on the throne, Koschei asked, “Why should I give anything to the thief who invaded my home?”
“Because there are rules to this sort of thing. And I’ll be far more entertaining if I have supplies that I can try to fight with.”
He didn’t look quite convinced, but at least my attitude seemed to amuse him again. “Deal.”
***
Koschei didn’t bother with a contract. He just had some of his henchfrogs give me the pack, and then I was booted out of the Kremlin. That at first made me wonder if maybe the soul was inside the place, but that seemed a little obvious. So, I went to a nearby restaurant, got a bowl of borscht and some bread, and sat outside eating (wolfing, really, since it was my first time eating in days) while I thought about where to look.
In the stories I’d heard, it was on an island somewhere. And was the rabbit inside the duck, or the duck inside the rabbit-?
Eventually I gave up and bought a book that talked about Russian fairy tales from a convenient store. According to it, there were different stories about where the soul actually was (Igor Stravinsky’s “Firebird” being just one example), but the general theme persisted of it being kept inside an egg, in a casket, inside a tree. And in some versions, the egg was inside a duck which was inside a rabbit.***
Leaning back in my chair, I thought about this. Since whoever could get hold of the soul could control Mr. the Deathless, odds were that he would want to keep it close by, just in case some fool would be lucky enough to stumble across it. So, since he seemed to have such a tree fetish when it came to his soul,**** the best place to start looking was the nearby forest.
Better get started.
*Hopefully none of you are surprised by my tendency to mouth off in tight situations by now. If so, then you really haven’t been paying attention if you’ve read my previous books.
**Jack
***Either it had to be the world’s largest rabbit, or the world’s smallest duck. And how would he get the rabbit to swallow the duck either way? Wait, stupid question: magic.
****I idly wondered if he’d liked to climb trees when he was younger, before he pulled out his soul and hid it, and that was why he kept it in one. Assuming that it was actually there.
She smiled triumphantly. “So you’ll do it?”
“Ah, ah, ah…” I held up a claw. “I want to set a few conditions before I agree to this.”
Baba Yaga looked ready to point out that I was in no position to be making conditions, but finally decided that well, what was the harm, and gestured for me to proceed.
“I would like to be given as much information as possible on what would aid me in my quest;* traps or guardians Koschei might have, ways to get in to his place, the actual location of his place, where the sword might be, etc.” I sat down at the table, drumming my claws on it. “I would also like to have any items, magical or otherwise, that can help me retrieve the sword quickly and, if I can, without getting caught. And-” I quickly put in- “I’d like you to promise that while I am gone, and after I return, you will not do anything to harm, persuade, trick or coerce my assistant to stay here, since my entire reason that I might agree to do this is so you will let her go.”
She ran through my demands, looking for any potential loopholes. I kept my face blank so that she wouldn’t realize I was doing the same. Finally, the witch nodded with a grin.
“It appears there are laws that even I have to obey in these sort of situations. You have a deal.” She waved her hand, and a long paper appeared. “Here is the contract.”
Just in case, Calla and I read through the contract. The terms were straightforward enough: I had to go to Koschei the Deathless’ residence and steal the sword Kladenets, bringing it back to Baba Yaga within a week, or else she would assume I was dead and/or had chickened out, and Calla would become a part of her collection.** She would provide me with whatever assistance I needed to reach the place, but once I was inside, she could not directly help me, because the sorcerer’s magic would not permit it. The lines at the end where we were to sign our names had a golden sheen to them that I recognized as part of a spell.
“What’s that?” I asked, pointing to it.
“What? Oh, that.” She smirked at me. “Just a little insurance valve to make the contract binding.”
“Does that mean we have to sign in blood?”
“Why, yes.” She seemed surprised at my having to ask.
I gave Calla a sympathetic glance, since she’s kind of squeamish around blood, and prepared to cut one of my claws. Then, to my surprise, a knife appeared in Calla’s hand, and she was stepping up to where the contract lay.
“Kid, what are you doing?”***
“I should sign too. It was partly my decision.”
Knowing Xen and Lars would probably kill me if they found out, I nodded my head in consent. She had to close her eyes as she stuck herself, but she managed it. Baba Yaga had already sliced open her finger, and after I produced some of my own blood, the three of us allowed our blood to drip onto the lines. As soon as they touched the paper, the drops of red perfectly formed themselves into our signatures. The deal was struck.
*/*/*/*
Soon enough, I was headed west, with a bag of useful items tucked between my wings, and with the sinking feeling that I was in more than a little over my head.
flashback flashback flashback
“Koschei the Deathless is in the Kremlin?!”
“Yes,” said Baba Yaga, giving a sniff of disgust, “He always did like to show off.”
I decided not to point out that the pot was calling the kettle black. Instead I said, “Wow, you want me to invade the Kremlin. It’s like I’m in Mission: Impossible or something.”
She looked confused. “Like what?”
“Don’t worry about it. Where exactly in the Kremlin?”
“I don’t know the definite location; I’ve never been able to get close enough to find out. But I think his headquarters is somewhere in that fancy church.”
“St. Basil’s Cathedral?” Calla supplied.
“Thank you, myshka.” The witch smiled at Calla, and actually pinched her cheek. It was like she was trying to act like a grandmother. But she didn’t have that much experience, obviously; when she released Calla, there were a few bloody scratches on her face. She winced, and pulled out her medical kit to fix them up. Baba Yaga didn’t notice.
“So what can you tell me?” I asked.
“The main part of the building where Koschei lives is the Church of the Intercession; however, he has guardians and spells set up throughout the cathedral. The price for their being strong enough to keep me out, however, is that it will be harder for them to keep out anything that seems small and unimportant. Like you.”
“Gosh, thanks.”
Oblivious to my sarcasm, or just ignoring it, she went on, “His security system begins at the walls inside the Kremlin, and has a few more places dispersed throughout the inside.” She conjured up a map to show me, and began explaining the different creatures and spells I could expect to face. For the sake of keeping you in suspense, I won’t go through them right now.
“...I suspect that the sword-and the rest of his collection-are somewhere inside the cathedral. I recommend starting on the ground floor, and working your way up-it might even be inside one of the domes, knowing him.”
“What’s the sword look like, anyway?”
“Oh, silly of me not to show you earlier.” Baba Yaga then conjured up an image of it, like a hologram, which floated above the map, allowing me to get a good look at it.
It was thin, with a simple golden handle, and its name written in the Cyrillic alphabet along the blade, which was about the length of my leg.
“So you have no idea what it does?” I asked. “For all you know, it could just be enchanted to help you cut up sushi more efficiently or something.”
“Don’t be ridiculous,” she retorted, “Koschei wouldn’t have it if it was for something as trivial as that. It must wield unimaginable power of some kind.”
end of flashback end of flashback end of flashback
Now I was heading for the closest village with a teleportation mirror, wishing that I hadn’t had to leave my cell phone behind. However, the babushka had insisted that Mr. the Deathless could have used it to trace me and or/Baba Yaga. As a result, I’d been forced to call Xen just outside of Izbushka to inform her of the situation, and then leave it behind. Xen was...kind of displeased. But not surprised. And she had to reassure me that she wasn’t mad at me at all, she was mad at Baba Yaga, and she’d ask her mother to come down while I was gone to help out with Phil. I still felt guilty, especially since I’d probably be out of touch with her for a week at most, unless something truly horrible happened, and by thinking that, I knew I was tempting fate again.
Thankfully, the closest monster village was within flying distance, and I was using one of my universal tokens to get teleported inside the Kremlin. I can hear some of you asking, “Couldn’t you just fly there?” Yes, I could, but it would mean spending a bit of extra time and energy that I couldn’t afford to lose, and this way I could actually get past the security system on the walls without arousing suspicion yet. Any other questions while you’re at it?
Anyone?
Okay, you.
The question was, “Where was Calla during this?” The answer is, she was staying in Baba Yaga’s hut, as collateral, until I got back. I didn’t like it any more than you do, but she had promised not to do anything harmful or that would force her to stay with her, and even though the old witch was a sneaky, manipulative creature, she could be trusted to keep a bargain. Even if she would be looking for loopholes the entire time, like Rumpelstiltskin in that one TV show.
* Gad, I was thinking of it as a quest now; what was this world coming to?
** And believe me, it did not rankle at all that she was treating my assistant like property. Really.
*** Even though that was kind of obvious.
