Page 11 of The Bone Doll (The Ruthenian Chronicle #1)

Rusalka

Below Kholm flowed the Snezhana River, its water white with rapids.

According to Viktor, the river flowed southeastward into a lake so grand that it looked like the sea.

Syra would believe that when she saw it.

Her current problem was crossing the river.

Like the tundra’s rivers, the Snezhana overflowed in spring; and its waters had flooded the nearest bridge, sending Syra and Viktor southward to find calmer waters.

Several miles downstream, the rapids eased into calm but deep waters.

“Last time I tried something foolhardy, we got stuck in quicksand,” Viktor said. “We should find a ferry.”

“Where is the nearest one?” The Bone Doll twitched violently in her pocket. Syra shivered but saw nothing, only forest and river. She clutched the doll.

“I know the town of Dorazdel has one,” Viktor said, unaware of any danger. “That’s another three miles. I’m not sure if any enterprising ferryman has established another crossing somewhere between here and there.”

The Bone Doll had gone quiet. Maybe the danger had passed. Still, as they walked, Syra scanned the trees for anything out of the ordinary. But the birch and spruce revealed nothing beyond the occasional brown-colored bird or twittering squirrel.

Eventually convinced that there was nothing there, Syra let her gaze find Viktor.

Last night… She hadn’t realized how nice it would be to kiss him.

She supposed she had already admitted he was attractive, but the actual feel of him – soft lips, lean muscle – was exquisite.

She fingered her glass necklace. If she could kiss him every night from now until she returned to the tundra, that might be decent enough payment for her.

Though Munku would still demand the silver.

Viktor caught her looking and blushed. She smirked. He did look fine with a little red on his cheeks.

“Maybe we should stop,” she said. They didn’t have to kiss at only night, did they?

“I’m trying to keep a good pace.” He met her gaze and then said, “Oh.”

Syra was crossing the distance between them when she heard a giggle. An icy shiver crawled down her spine. She and Viktor turned.

A beautiful woman combed her knee-length, sunshine-colored hair, sitting alongside the river. She smiled invitingly at them as though they were old friends. “Young lovers in spring.”

This time Syra’s cheeks heated. She had thought they were alone.

“Where are you going?” The yellow-haired woman’s voice had an airy, tinkling noise to it – like a harness bell. “I don’t see many travelers on this road.”

“To the ferry at Dorazdel,” Viktor said.

“You need to cross the river?” the woman asked, her eyes growing wide with excitement. “I can help you.”

Syra’s heart thudded. A woman sitting on the riverbank with no one else around? The woman looked so very … normal … but Syra’s stomach curled when she looked too closely at the woman.

Viktor gripped Syra’s hand. “Thank you, but we will take the ferry at Dorazdel.”

“But you are here already.” The woman pointed to the other side. “And it’s not so far to cross.”

“We don’t want to bother–”

“I am trying to help you.” The woman’s face twisted with rage as she surged to her feet. Her nails were so long that they curled back on themselves, cracking at the edges. She stepped forward, her ankles twisting inhumanly beneath her. “Let me help you.”

Syra unsheathed her knife and sliced into the woman’s fingers, before she could think.

Viktor was pulling her backwards, away from the woman – thing – and telling her to run.

The creature’s blonde hair turned green and dripping like kelp, her eyes turning to gaping sockets in her skull.

On all fours like an animal, she charged them.

Syra slashed again as she ran. The woman-creature wrapped her thin fingers around Syra’s ankle.

Syra fell. Her lip splitting, she tasted blood.

Her knife flew from her fingers. She kicked at the woman-creature’s head, but the monster only snarled and started dragging her towards the river.

All the while, the woman-creature cooed, “It’s not so far to cross. Let me help you. It’s not so far to cross.”

Viktor was running back for her. Falling to his knees, he grabbed Syra’s arms and pulled. But the woman-creature was stronger, and Syra slipped from his grasp inch by inch.

When she was only holding on by the tips of her fingers, she remembered the strange red spirit in the forest and how it had retreated from her grandfather’s chant. As fast as she could, she recited the words in Sarnok:

The world is ash, our hearts are stone.

Go! Return to your rightful home.

The Bone Doll pulsed like a second heartbeat against her belly, and Syra felt a bloom of power as she chanted. When she blinked, she saw the constellations behind her eyelids.

And then the moment was gone.

The woman-creature screeched and dropped Syra’s ankle.

Viktor pulled Syra to her feet, and they ran. Away from the river. Into the forest. They stopped only when they couldn’t hear the woman-creature screaming, nor the rushing of the river.

Syra bent forward, her hands on her knees, gasping for air. “What was that?”

“A rusalka,” Viktor said, holding onto a tree for support. “A water spirit that tries to drown people.”

She shuddered. It wasn’t unheard of for Sarnok hunters, taking their umiaks onto the Silver Sea, to be caught in sudden storms and drown.

For a Sarnok, it was the worst way to die – cold, painful suffocation.

And there was no hope of making it to the underworld if you drowned because the sea took your soul instead.

She assumed this rusalka had meant to keep her soul, too.

“Are you all right?” Viktor stepped closer. “Did she hurt your ankle?”

She breathed deeply, trying to calm her racing pulse. “I’m fine.”

“Your incantation, it scared off the rusalka.” He cupped her face. “Can you do that for the leshy?”

“I-I don’t know.” She had never experienced power like she had just wielded. It wasn’t hers, but the Bone Doll’s. And she didn’t understand why it helped her.

Slowly, he let her go, the absence of his touch leaving a deep ache inside her. A curl of his orangebush-colored hair fell in front of his eyes. When she reached up to brush it away, he caught her hand. “You saved us.”

“I wasn’t going to fall prey to that creature.”

“I’m lucky you’re so stubborn,” he said with a twisted smile and then kissed her knuckles. “Now, let’s head south again. We do need to find Dorazdel and that ferry.”

Can’t we stay in the forest? Just a little longer? Syra didn’t voice what she felt. Instead, she nodded and gestured for Viktor to lead the way.