Chapter 18 Coward
Chapter eighteen
Coward
We are in the Hall of Fires—Chors, Jaga, Nyja, and I. It’s a proper war council with the four of us together, and I’ve conjured us a table to celebrate the occasion. Jaga is sullen but bright-eyed. Chors seems bored, his eyes staring into distance as he fingers the healed skin on his throat.
Nyja is impatient and thinks I’m wasting her time.
“The rarog and a few upierzycas?” she asks after I fill her in on the attack. “That’s not too serious since you were there to handle it.”
What the fuck am I doing here? she asks me with her eyes.
I arch my eyebrow and point with my chin at Jaga. “Love, would you show Nyja? She’s our main strategist, so she must know what kind of asset you are.”
Jaga’s lips twist in a bitter smile, but she lowers her shields and lets the shimmery, red fabric of her soul spread out. Nyja’s jaw drops as she stares at the spectacle with awe and fear. She quickly hides her reaction and snaps her mouth shut.
“That’s… Unfortunate.”
Chors frowns, his eyes focusing. “How so? She’s powerful.”
Nyja’s lips flatten as she levels Jaga with a hard look. “I’m sure you’re powerful. But your soul is unbound. It has no shape, no structure. You must know what it means, Weles.”
I purse my lips. “She’ll never die. I took care of it.”
Jaga tucks her soul back in, looking from me to Nyja with sober, assessing eyes. “You mean to say I will not have an afterlife when I die. I suspected as much. Thank you for the confirmation.”
“You won’t die,” I repeat. “I won’t let you.”
She shrugs as if it doesn’t matter one way or another. “And yet, you remade me so you alone can end me. Someday soon, you’ll dangle my life in front of me like a carrot. Do this, Jaga, or I’ll have to kill you.”
“I won’t,” I growl, my hands tightening around the edge of the table. “I love you!”
Her smile is bitter and scornful, but she has no time to reply, because Nyja stands up, slamming both hands on the table.
“You can kill her? Why haven’t you told me? I thought only Perun might be able after your unholy dabbling!”
I suppress a wince, belatedly realizing she’s right. I never told her—nor Chors, who watches me with wide eyes, aghast.
“I didn’t know,” he whispers, turning to Jaga. “If I had known… I would have acted differently.”
“What the fuck is that supposed to mean?” I ask through gritted teeth. “It was reasonable at the time! She preferred to die rather than be mine. Still does. I have to protect myself, too, and…”
“Oh, spare me,” Nyja snaps. Her eyes are cold and calculating as they turn to Jaga. “This changes things. Come on, make your choice. Either give him your soul or let’s end this here and now. I’ve sacrificed too much for this cause to rely on a fickle girl like you.”
“What?” Fury burns in my gut as I shoot up to my feet, facing Nyja. “I am not going to kill her! Why would you even consider this?”
Nyja shakes her head, her white mane flying around her face.
“You don’t get it! The prophecy is just a possibility that you keep alive through your choices.
As long as she lives, she decides the outcome of this war.
And you’re letting her! A woman with no loyalty, no spine.
You turned her into a goddess, and she makes you dance around her like a fool! ”
We both turn to Jaga as I consider Nyja’s words. There’s a pocket of resentment in my chest that swells, feeding on her judgment.
“Do you honestly believe he’ll be a better ruler than Perun?” Jaga asks quietly, not sounding cowed at all. “Let’s hear it, Nyja. What do you think will happen if Weles wins?”
It takes my friend a moment to collect herself, forcing a deep breath down her throat. I stare at the table, where Chors’ hand rests on top of Jaga’s. When I give him a sharp look, he meets my gaze head on, defiant and angry.
I won’t let you kill her.
My shoulders drop under the weight of sudden weariness. I sit down, looking at Chors steadily to communicate my promise.
I won’t.
Unless I have no other choice. I keep this thought private, because Jaga hates me enough as it is.
“Why haven’t you asked him?” Nyja glares at Jaga with open hostility. “Weren’t you curious before?”
Jaga snorts. Unlike Nyja, she seems utterly relaxed. “I did. He lied and danced around the topic, making sure not to tell me anything important. So I’m asking you. Give me one good reason, and I’ll consider it.”
I freeze, clenching my fists in my lap. She will consider it—if she thinks I’m fit to rule? Is it that simple? Or is she torturing me again—giving me false hope to watch me squirm?
“Can’t you see the reasons on your own? He’s Weles. I know you had some ups and downs with Woland, but he’s different. Weles created most of this world. He’s the only one who deserves to rule it.”
“Weles is broken,” Jaga says dismissively. “I see you’re blinded by the past, but I’m not. I only know him as he is now, and he’s a pathetic, lying coward who hides behind a mortal woman because he doesn’t believe he’ll ever win on his own.”
A heavy silence swathes the table, marred only by the crackling of fire in the nearest crystal cauldron. I look at Jaga. Her hair is like a red inferno, bathed in the firelight. She watches me with a mocking smirk, challenging me to defy her.
Chors avoids my eyes, and Nyja stares daggers at Jaga, but she doesn’t defend me.
“You’re right, of course.” I break the silence with a shrug. I can’t lie to her, anyway. “Nyja believes I’ll regain my former spirit if Perun is gone. She misses the old Weles. Don’t you, Bird Lady?”
Her breath catches in her throat. I haven’t used her nickname in centuries, but this is what I called her when we chased each other through the woods, played with creation, or fucked in moonlit meadows, knowing Chors was watching.
“You just need a win, that’s all,” she says stiffly, swallowing whatever emotion I so unthinkingly caused.
“Oh, I need to win, but it won’t fix me. Woland is here to stay, for one. I’ll never be the same man I was back then.”
I turn to Jaga, who’s no longer smirking.
When she asked about my goals before, months ago in the rebel base, I was angry and disappointed after the failed attack.
I went into that fight convinced that either Jaga would cave seeing her friends on the battlefield, or Nienad’s plan would finally work. It was a double disappointment.
Today, I am ready to be honest.
“I know what I want to achieve. I’ll bring mortals to their former glory, remove ancestral souls, let the bieses in Slawa live freely without the tolls.
I’ll set their souls free, too, letting them roam the world at will to be reborn when they choose or not at all.
Perun binds them to the Great Oak, only allowing a soul to leave after it’s served him long years. ”
Jaga watches me sharply, tapping her nails on the tabletop. By my side, Nyja sits ramrod straight, her jaw clenched. Chors still holds Jaga’s hand, his eyes bright and alert, reflecting the fire.
My poppy girl heaves a long sigh, looking unconvinced, even pitying.
“I see. These are noble goals and I’d support them, but I don’t believe you will achieve even one.
I’ve watched you fail over and over for the past year.
You failed with me, with your rebellion, and even your rot project was a failure.
I’ll be blunt. Here is what I want for myself: to live and be free.
You can’t give me that, whether as Weles or Woland.
You haven’t given freedom even to yourself. ”
I should be angry with her. Woland would be.
But I can’t help but rejoice that she’s finally back, and so much more formidable than before.
It’s one thing to possess magical power, but Jaga claims and accepts it, acting accordingly.
Like a goddess. Better, because she’s not jaded by centuries of existence.
“I am so fucking proud of you.” The truth slips out, so easy when my tongue is lubricated with her spells.
Her eyes widen, and she looks away, furious and flustered.
“Why are you still here if you don’t believe in him?” Nyja asks.
Jaga laughs, the sound abrupt and humorless. “I don’t want to be buried alive.”
She pulls her hand from under Chors’, her fingers flexing like she’s fed up with his touch. Nyja scoffs.
“Your presence puts all of Nawie at risk. What will you do about it?”
“She’s my guest,” I growl, sending Nyja a quelling look. “I won’t let her leave even if she wants to.”
Nyja’s nostrils flare with an angry inhale, and the nearest fire burns brighter, as if fed by her air. “I rule by your side, whether you like it or not, and I will have a say. Protection has a price, poppy girl. What will you offer us to make it worth the risk?”
“I’ll fight on your side,” Jaga says with confidence, as if she’s given this some thought. “Is that good enough?”
Nyja settles back, slightly appeased. “We’ll see.
You do know how my prophecies work, don’t you?
As long as you have a soul, your fate is inescapable.
Some tried to flee it through death, only to be reborn to the same destiny.
Your case is different. You will either die forever or be claimed.
You won’t be free, girl. The fates never meant it for you. ”
“The fates meant for me to die as a girl,” Jaga hisses through clenched teeth. “I’ll take my chances.”
Nyja shakes her head in clear scorn, then turns to me. “I’m happy with this arrangement—if you meet my condition.”
“Allies?”
She nods. “Allies. You see it, don’t you? We can’t do it alone. You admitted as much. You’re weak, Weles. How will you protect her, hm?”
I tap my fingers on the table, watching Jaga even as she steadfastly avoids my gaze. Nyja is right, but it doesn’t change the fact I’d rather spend a month on Jaga’s torture wheel than beg for help.
“There’s no one we can trust.” I say this looking at Jaga. It’s completely truthful.
Nyja rolls her eyes.
“No one’s asking you to trust them. Use them, Weles. Once upon a time, you were great at that. Pushing people where you needed them with only a bit of power or a flattering word.”
I sigh, looking up at the glittering obsidian ceiling. I might as well kill two birds with one stone, appeasing Nyja and making Jaga jealous. “Jutrzenka?”
Chors sits up, hiding his hands under the table. “It will be difficult to reach her.”
I look at my son with a frown. “How so? Strzybog can talk to her. I know he’s lousy, but Nyja keeps him faithful. He won’t fuck up.”
“Jutrzenka isn’t very powerful,” he counters, avoiding my gaze.
“Who, then? Dola won’t come if her sisters aren’t included, and I don’t trust them. Oh, I know! Do you want me to find Swietowit, dig him out of his grave, and dust him off? He’ll probably be madder than a tangle of worms after all those centuries he spent in their company. A fine ally!”
Nyja slams her fist into the table. I laugh, and it only makes her more incensed. “This isn’t a joke! Perun’s almost defeated us, and we only survived thanks to a freak accident. We won’t be that lucky the next time around.”
“Am I the freak accident?” Jaga asks Chors in an undertone, and he huffs with amusement.
“We should go,” he whispers, leaning closer to her until his lips almost brush her ear. My teasing mood instantly sours. “When Mom and Dad fight, all souls go into hiding.”
“Mom and Dad.” She snickers, turning to him, and their noses almost collide.
Oh, fuck this.
“No allies,” I growl, my voice sounding just like Woland’s.
Jaga’s head jerks up, and she takes me in with wide eyes, as if to make sure I haven’t transformed. I give her a wide, mirthless grin, and her mouth twists in disdain so deep, it would be hate in another light.
“Like I said,” she enunciates clearly, a challenge burning in her eyes. “You are a conceited coward, too proud to ask for help, too inane to win on your own.” She turns to Chors. “Why don’t you claim me? You at least have courage.”
Red mist covers my vision, and I clench my fists to keep myself from reacting. Chors laughs uncomfortably, shaking his head. “I don’t know how to rule, nor do I want to. Nyja is a better bet.”
Jaga gives my goddess a long, assessing look, then scoffs under her breath. “I’d rather not.”
“Likewise,” Nyja hisses. “I’d rather handle slugs for all eternity than touch your hideous soul.”
For the briefest moment, hurt flashes across Jaga’s face. It stirs my anger hotter. I fucking hate seeing her hurt, but I hate myself more for being the one who hurt her, the one who couldn’t protect her.
Jaga is right, about everything. I am a coward.
“I will not go from door to door pleading for help like a beggar,” I say, holding my voice in rigid control. “But I’ll get you what you want, Nyja. You have my word, and I won’t break it. As for you, my witch, I will show you I get things done.”
Even as I say it, the old, familiar helplessness fills my gut and heart. For a moment, I am back in my chains, my magic bound, Perun’s whispers slithering in my ears.
You’ll never be free. You’re weak, brother. The weakest of all. Try to fight me. Try to free yourself. You can’t, see? You can’t even speak when I won’t let you. Pathetic. Runt of the litter, you are. If we’d had a mother, she would have thrown you out.
It doesn’t matter that I got out of his chains in the end. I hadn’t freed myself through my own magic and skills. It was a woman who saved me. Maybe that’s why I keep hiding behind Jaga’s skirts.
It makes sense for a woman to be my salvation again. It’s also ironic, because this woman will only respect me if I stand on my own, the way I used to centuries ago. Before my brother broke me.
It’s time to face the fear.
Jaga eyes me with contempt, clearly unconvinced. It would be nice to have her support. That was what I expected love to be—having this one person who’d be on my side no matter what. But she isn’t, and I can’t help loving her despite it.
“You’ll see, poppy girl. I’ll do great things and prove that I deserve you. You have my word.”