Page 20 of The Bone Doll (The Ruthenian Chronicle #1)

A Bargain Made

Viktor ran until his legs gave out. And then he crawled, following the blue light through thorny underbrush and over twisted roots, until he found the bodies of his father’s armsmen.

Their necks were snapped, their faces purple and blue.

Scrambling past them, he found Syra, her body hanging limply from a liana.

Her eyes and mouth were open, pale blue light pouring from them like waterfalls.

Dark spots floated in Viktor’s vision. He reached forward and found not Syra but a caftan made from soft leaves and coarse bark.

The leshy turned. He was half-man, half-forest with fury carved into his wooden face. “She came to imprison me.”

Viktor’s muscles tightened, telling him to run. But he was too tired. And he would not leave Syra again. “It’s my fault. I brought her here.”

“She agreed.”

Viktor swung his arm backwards towards where the armsmen were. “The guards forced her.”

“They are dead.”

The vine around her throat shifted. Viktor’s vision blurred, his breathing rasped. If Syra died, he’d never forgive himself. “Please! Please, let her go. I lied to her. I didn’t tell her that she was supposed to control you.”

“She would chain me like she chains that sky spirit. But I will not be held.”

“Let her go,” Viktor begged. “Take me instead. I brought her here. I lied because I knew she wouldn’t do it until she was forced. Spare her. And– And– Kill me instead.”

A thick, woody liana wrapped around Viktor’s throat. The leshy cocked his head, his neck creaking like trees in the wind. “Once, long ago, there was another who fought me for a woman’s hand.”

Viktor felt cold suddenly. “Lyoshenka.”

“An arrogant and greedy man.” The forest spirit smiled.

His teeth were made from mushrooms and birch bark.

“To marry the kniazhna, he promised the Grand Prince that he could bring back my head. He was weak and needed a peasant to help him. I let the peasant go. The knight is buried beneath my roots.”

Lyoshenka from the stories had failed. He had wanted a woman better than him. And now he was buried beneath the forest. Maybe Viktor was too much like his heroes.

“I will never have Syra,” Viktor said. “I don’t deserve her: I’m a liar and a coward. I ruin everything I touch. Please, don’t let me ruin her. Let me fix this one thing. Let her go home.”

“I cannot promise her life,” the leshy said. “That belongs to the sky spirit. Even now, it shields her from me.”

Viktor watched the blue streaming from her eyes and mouth. The thing was helping her? Well, better to face the sky spirit later than have Syra die now. “Please, then let her go. You can have me. I am the heir to Zoldrovya. Kill me, and this all ends in a generation.”

The lianas dragged Viktor forward until he was nose-to-nose with the leshy. “I would gladly end your desperate, little life. But your death will not rid the world of your family’s scourge. You must. Take what is yours. Become the Lord of Zoldrovya. And bow to me.”

Anything for Syra. “Okay, okay, yes.”

The vines slackened, releasing Viktor. Then, slowly, they set Syra on the ground. Blue light still spilled from her, and she did not move. The leshy receded backwards, fading into the shadows. “Beware when you return home.”

Viktor didn’t pause to ask why.

He scrambled to Syra and wrapped her in his arms. Though purple and black bruises formed a ring around her neck, she was still breathing. His limbs weak from relief, he hugged her to his chest for a long moment, the sky spirit’s blue light singeing his clothes.

Then, Syra began to spasm.

“Syra,” he said. “Can you hear me? The leshy’s gone.”

She began to speak, but not in a language he had ever heard. Pain etched itself into her features. Her spasms turned into shudders.

“Syra, please, come back.” Viktor held her tighter, trying to stop the shaking. “I’m sorry. For everything. Please, just come back.”

She – no, the sky spirit – started screaming.

She thrashed, elbowing him in the gut and knocking him aside.

Clambering onto her hands and feet, she scampered like a spider.

Her skin turned pale, effervescent blue; and matching blue lightning streaked across the sky.

He scrabbled forward, trying to grab her, hold onto her.

He managed to grab a fistful of her tunic.

And then the world went pitch black. Silent as the grave.

His double appeared, wearing a fine silver crown upon his head.

Was this version of Viktor a boyar now? Or a Prince?

The double was wearing the same caftan – slate gray overlain with dark blue vines – but it fit better and wasn’t singed.

The other-Viktor smiled thinly. “You’re a pathetic coward.

You could not even fight the leshy. You just begged like a dog. ”

“I’d rather beg on my knees than let her die,” Viktor said. “Would you do that for her?”

“You want a pretty little bauble so bad?” his double sneered.

“She’s not a bauble,” he snapped. “She makes me better. She makes me want to be better.”

His hand knocked against something cool and smooth. The Bone Doll. Inert and dark without its spirit. And then, the darkness faded, his double evaporating like a cloud. The forest returned.

Crouched amongst the bramble, the sky spirit – inside Syra’s body – stared at him like a frightened deer. Climbing to his feet, Viktor stepped forward and held out the Bone Doll. “We’ll let you go, I swear. But we need Syra to do it. So you have to let her go.”

The sky spirit, through Syra, spoke again in its foreign tongue. And then, carefully, it lowered itself down to the forest floor and closed its eyes.

The blue leached from Syra, revealing her brown skin, and the lightning faded.

Viktor hurried forward, scooping her into his arms. She was still breathing, still warm.

Viktor buried his face in her shoulder, holding her like a drowning man to a raft.

He knew she hated him. But he needed this moment.

He needed to prove to himself that she was alive and safe.

Finally, he lifted his head. Her eyes were open and watching him. He swallowed. “I know you never wanted to see me again, but…”

Syra cupped his face.

“I saw the Bone Doll’s light and–” His mouth was so dry.

And pressed against her, his body ached for her.

He pushed himself off of her and sat, but he couldn’t make himself move far.

“I’m sorry, Syra. I’m sorry I lied. I’m sorry I didn’t tell you everything.

And I’m sorry I wasn’t strong enough to leave you and never come back.

” He hung his head. “But I couldn’t let you die because of my lies. ”

“I thought I was never going to see my family again,” she rasped.

“Let me take you home.” He put his hand over hers, holding her fingers to his face. “Let me fulfill that promise at least.”

Slowly, she sat. “I thought I was never going to see you again.”

Then she wrapped her arms around his neck, pulling him tight. Sighing against her hair, he embraced her in return and let himself enjoy her touch for as long as she was willing to give it.