Page 24 of The Bone Doll (The Ruthenian Chronicle #1)

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You feel like home, Viktor wanted to tell Syra. That Zoldrovya, that Beluvod, that the road – none of it felt like her. And that a reindeer hide tent on the tundra was surely better than a manor in the birchwood forest – or a townhome in Beluvod – because she was there.

But Syra spoke nothing of a future. And Viktor was grateful enough for these past few weeks that he could not bring himself to ask for more.

Besides, she surely had a full life to return to – and didn’t need to add a Ruthenian man to the mix.

So, he relished their evenings and mornings, which were full of storytelling and lovemaking; and during the daytime, Viktor bartered for supplies to bring back to the Lame Wolves – since the promised silver was not coming.

The clan had moved in the two intervening months, following their reindeer herd, which gave Viktor two more days with Syra. And in that time, Syra collected what she needed to release the sky spirit from the Bone Doll.

From deadwood, shed antlers, and grass twisted into twine, she fashioned a small sled.

In its basket, she collected one of the tunics he had given her, her belt knife, and wolves’ teeth that she cut off her reindeer hide coat.

When she was ready, she lay the Bone Doll atop all the offerings.

For the first time in weeks, its carvings glowed softly.

“Hold my hands,” Syra said.

If Viktor understood correctly, the ritual was strongest with three people and weakest with one.

While four was a sacred number in Ruthenia, three represented the sky, earth, and underworld for the Sarnoks – a world in balance.

Hopefully, two – and one of them a Ruthenian – would work for this ritual.

Syra began the incantation.

The Bone Doll’s light grew brighter and bluer, growing to encompass the entire sled.

Then, the Bone Doll itself cracked, glowing red fissures opening across its surface until it opened like an egg.

A strange creature – like a mix between a deer, an eagle, and a human – lifted from the remnants.

Its hindlimbs landed on the sled’s footboards, its forelimbs on the handrails.

With a whispering sigh, the sled lifted off the ground.

It hovered a few inches above the ground for a long moment.

And then, the sky creature leapt upward, streaking blue and red until it vanished.

The sled crunched as it struck the ground, the wood splitting and the ritual items falling to the dirt.

The sky spirit was free.

Syra kissed him then, and his head spun as he grasped her waist. He would stay here forever, if he had not promised the leshy that he would be the Lord of Zoldrovya. And if Syra would have them. She gave him several sweet, quick pecks and then took his hand, leading him away.

They left the sled and offerings to nature, and eventually, a cluster of mya and a cluster of reindeer appeared on the horizon, alongside a copse of spruce trees.

A reindeer herder spotted them first, but it was Syra’s family – Viktor guessed by their keen resemblance – that greeted them first. Her sister threw her arms around Syra, kissing her repeatedly on both cheeks, while her sister-in-law and nephew waited their turn.

Her brother berated her with a hundred questions.

Syra flushed and grinned widely, answering about her adventures and the whereabouts of the Bone Doll.

And then their mood turned solemn as they spoke of Syra’s mother, who had passed away. Viktor pressed his hand into Syra’s lower back, holding her as best he could.

That was when Syra wiped her eyes and took his arm. “This is Viktor. He took me so far south that all there are are trees. He saved me from the leshy, and then he brought me back home.”

Her brother narrowed his eyes at Viktor.

“I brought supplies.” Viktor met the man’s gaze easily.

He would be gone in a few days, and her brother would never have to worry about him again.

“My father promised silver in exchange for Syra’s help, but my father is dead.

I plan to make good on the promise, but in the meantime, I hope this can–”

The Lame Wolves’ Pathfinder emerged from her tent – and the entire conversation started over again. Syra explained her part, and Viktor negotiated additional time to procure silver for the Lame Wolves.

When all that was done, he and Syra walked through the camp.

“You will stay in my family’s mya tonight.” She took his gloved hand in hers. “We will have fish soup.”

“I saved rowanberries specifically for your family,” he replied. “I hope they like them.”

“It will be a feast.”

“If you will have me,” he said, “I can stay a few days. But then I have to return to Zoldrovya. For the leshy and … I’m sure I can scrounge up enough silver to pay what you’re owed.”

“No one defeated the leshy,” she said softly.

“Still.”

She slowed. “And once you get all this silver, will you come back here?”

“If you would like me to.”

“I would,” she murmured and then kissed him on the cheek.

Viktor wasn’t certain what he felt – sadness, joy, or something else entirely. He didn’t want to leave her, but he owed a debt to the leshy. And Syra had her own family and life here. Without him. But he would come back that one last time, for her.

Syra jerked her chin upwards. Though the sky was still blue, the moon had appeared and alongside it, a red star.

“That is goddess Zorya Vechernaya,” Viktor said of the red star. “She opens the sky gates so that the sun can pass through them at night. When you see her in the morning, she is Zorya Utrennaya, the Red Dawn Maiden, who lets the sun into the sky and leads warriors to victory.”

“No.” Syra smiled. “That is the Lover. He is a man who fell in love with the moon. He climbed up into the sky to be with the moon, but the sky spirits blocked his path, refusing to let him cross to his beloved. They are forever parted, except on days when they both rise while the sun is still in the sky. We believe it’s then that the sun protects them from the sky spirits’ wrath and lets the two lovers meet. ”

“Syra, I…” His heart constricted. I don’t want to be like that. “That’s grim.”

“I see the Lover as patient and steadfast.” She squeezed his hand. “I will be like the Lover, waiting for the moon night after night.”

Viktor swallowed. She thought an eternity of wanting, of yearning was admirable? For him, it was certain agony. An agony, he knew he must endure.

“But when you return again,” Syra said, “I want you to consider staying here. Staying with me.”

His eyes stung, and he blinked hard. “The leshy–”

“Does not need you all the time,” she said. “Stay with me here when you can and … maybe I will go with you to Zoldrovya some seasons.”

“Is that what you want?” he choked.

She turned to him, her eyes shining with tears. “Yes.”

THE END