Chapter 26 Dawn
Chapter twenty-six
Dawn
We emerge on the island to a glorious, sunny morning. It’s a bright summer day, clear-skied and crystal-aired. A golden brightness surrounds Jutrzenka like a halo.
Jaga freezes when she sees her, her eyes narrowing with instant dislike. My heart soars. She can pretend all she wants, but I can tell she is jealous, since she’s heard enough hints about my intimate past with the goddess of dawn.
“You’re the daughter of Mokosz,” Jaga says in a low, growly voice.
I wince. Ah. So maybe she has another reason to hate her.
Jutrzenka smiles dreamily, stepping from foot to foot with somnambulic slowness.
Her hair is golden and smooth like the surface of a lake, running down her back to her thighs.
She wears a thin, golden shift, something a bride might put on for her wedding night, and her cheeks are rosy, lips full and pink like the sky at sunrise.
She’s beautiful without a doubt—until I look in her eyes and remember why I’ve been so reluctant to make her my ally.
Jutrzenka is mad in the gentle, strange way of children.
It’s a madness of innocence and youth, the result of being forbidden to grow up.
Mortal beliefs shape us all, and mortals have decided the goddess of dawn must be just like the freshest time of day: forever young, innocent, ripe with possibility.
She wears an open, beatific smile, and even though her features are similar to those of Mokosz, her expression mars the resemblance. Mokosz is shameless and worldly, and even her best pretense at girl-like innocence looks artificial and poised.
Jutrzenka is completely genuine in her utter inexperience with the world, people, and herself.
Centuries ago, she decided that I must be the one who’ll steal her innocence and teach her everything she doesn’t know. I refused then, creeped out by her childlike behavior, and she’s been pining ever since.
“My mother put such pretty flowers in your hair, but you ripped them all out and made her sad,” she tells Jaga, and something glimmers in her eyes, something mean and incongruent with her gentle air.
Jaga’s fists clench as she takes an impulsive step closer, ire burning in her eyes.
“Her brain is addled,” I tell her. “She can’t help it, so please, don’t attack her or make a scene.”
I grin when Jaga pivots to me, baring her teeth in a snarl. “Make a scene? I’ll do what I damn well please!”
“I apologize for my wording.” I don’t make an effort to look apologetic at all, even though I am sincerely sorry for making her angry. “Jutrzenka is an innocent. In some ways, she is more childlike than most children. Think of the dawn and how mortals see it, and you’ll understand.”
She takes a deep breath, presses her lips together in an approximation of a smile, and turns back to Jutrzenka.
“I hate your mother,” Jaga says, eyeing the goddess warily. “I will make her hurt one day for what she did to me. Is this going to be a problem between you and me?”
Jutrzenka smiles sweetly, turning around until her shimmery shift flares out, revealing soft thighs, her skin fresh and pink.
“I will have him,” she trills happily, pointing at me. “I will seduce him and make him mine. Is this going to be a problem between you and me?”
Jaga shoots me a vicious look and turns on her heel, stopping when she faces the view.
Long grasses sway in the breeze among a few gnarled trees, and ahead, Mogila looms, its peak disappearing in a dense cloud of fog even on such a sunny day.
I brought her here through my shadows, and I don’t think she knows how to go back underground.
“Ask me nicely and I’ll give you a dignified exit, Your Awkwardness.”
“Fuck you.”
She snaps her fingers, and a doorway made of flames appears in front of her, sizzling. The edges burn, but within the tall rectangle I glimpse the glimmering jewels of the Hall of Fires. It’s a proper portal, and Jaga made it with a snap of her fingers.
She is, without a doubt, more powerful than me. I shiver with yearning so strong, it hurts like a stab. I don’t even want her to be mine anymore. I just need her to make me hers.
Jaga exhales sharply, bracing her shoulders, and she looks so much like a goddess, her leather clothes predatory and bold, the fire framing her with an aura of righteous wrath. She hesitates, not stepping through yet.
I sense a shakiness through our bond, a kind of anxious awe, before she clenches her fists and goes through. The fire flares brighter, then shrinks toward the center, until both it and the doorway are gone.
“Impressive.”
Jaga doesn’t reply, and I turn to Jutrzenka, pulling at my goatee with discomfort. I have eradicated most of my nervous ticks and tells over the centuries, but she creeps me out in ways that are hard to pin down.
When our eyes meet, her entire face brightens with a sweet, radiant smile.
I clench my hand behind my back to stop fiddling with my hair.
The smile is wrong. It reaches her eyes, but there is something ancient in them, something that belies her innocence and sweetness.
I shudder, wondering, not for the first time, if her mad, girlish behavior is just a carefully cultivated pretense.
“I will not be seduced,” I tell her firmly. “We are allies, joined to fight together, and after the war is over, we will go our separate ways. Do you understand?”
She tilts her head to the side, watching me carefully before she smiles again.
“I understand you believe that. I am inexperienced, Weles, but I already know many things from my mother. They will please you. And what I do not know, you will teach me. Like a good father.”
“I am not your father. Dadzbog is,” I grit out, shuddering at the thought of her speaking this way in bed. Father. Definitely not my kink.
“I wouldn’t mind it if you were.”
Fuck, I should have listened to Chors and excluded her, but it’s too late. My options are limited, anyway, and it looks like Strzybog won’t join us.
“Not happening. Come with me. Now that you’re here, we can sit down for a proper council.”
I offer her my arm, and she wraps both hands around it, clinging to me with an enraptured expression. I plaster a cool, polite smile on my face and pull us into the shadows, taking her right to the Hall of Fires. She’s been my guest before. Well, captive. Small difference.
As soon as we arrive, I make to step back, but Jutrzenka releases a high-pitched, obstinate sound and clings to me harder.
I glance at Nyja, who nods grimly, then at Chors.
He looks at the goddess of dawn with a strange expression, something like dread, or maybe disgust. He’s weak and sickly with the new moon a few days away, and I worry about him.
When I glance at Jaga, I catch her already watching him with a frown.
“Could you sit by Chors?” I ask her, knowing she’s the only person apart from me who’ll give him comfort.
Her eyes widen in surprise, then she nods, moving to his side.
“Here.”
I lead Jutrzenka to the enormous oval table I made from obsidian and gold to impress my allies. I pull back a chair for her, and she’s compelled to release me and sit. I manage to move out of her reach before she grasps me again, and she pouts with disappointment.
Nyja takes Rod by the elbow, leading him toward Jutrzenka without a word, and they both flank her.
Chors holds on to Jaga’s hand and leads her to the same side of the table, with Jaga sitting next to Rod, and Chors on her other side.
I give him a sharp look, but his eyes are turned firmly ahead, his grip on Jaga’s hand white-knuckled.
What is going on?
The King of Bees is the last to sit, and it’s strange to watch, because he doesn’t have joints and muscles like us. His body scatters from its standing position, then reassembles on the chair, buzzing all the time.
The rodzanicas sit together on his side of the table, the triplet sisters nearly identical with only their ribbons setting them apart. Dola wears red, Niedola blue, and Odola yellow.
I stand at the head of the table, taking them in. The sight of my allies gathered here doesn’t inspire much confidence, and I still don’t feel like I can win—not without Jaga’s soul in my hand. But there’s nothing for it. I must try to make her believe in me, and this is what she wants.
To see me fight a losing battle.
“We’re doomed,” I say with perfect seriousness, trailing my gaze over their faces.
“Perun must already know you have joined me since you have left Wyraj, your tasks, and your domains. He’s probably plotting revenge for disobedience and treachery.
Maybe in a few days, maybe in a week, he will crush Nawie with thunder and fury, and we will be lost.”
Jutrzenka trills, and Nyja watches me with her teeth bared in anger, certain I’m about to fuck up this alliance. But Jaga’s eyes glitter with curiosity, and Chors huffs with amusement, looking at the smooth, black surface of the table in front of him.
“That is what he thinks,” I say softly, stepping back from the table as I make the map of Nawie, Slawa, and Wyraj appear on top, a miniature of our world.
“Perun has been undefeated for centuries, and it’s possible that his pride is justified.
Maybe we will fall as soon as he blows on us.
But I wouldn’t have brought you here if I agreed with him.
I think we’re going to fight and make him very surprised when we defy his expectations. ”
“Because you have a secret weapon that will defeat him,” Niedola says in a dull, reedy voice, pointing at Jaga. “Only, how, exactly? What is she? Is it true? You promise us a victory, but all I hear are empty words. Words do not win wars.”
“Some do,” I mutter, because Perun won with words and beliefs, once upon a time.
“Apparently, whoever claims my soul will win,” Jaga says, looking boldly into Niedola’s eyes. “Which rodzanica are you? The one of misfortune or changing fates?”
“Misfortune. Has he claimed your soul?”
Jaga braces both fists on the table, letting go of Chors’ hand. “He has not, and he won’t. So if he brought you here with false promises, that is unfortunate, but not my fault. I am a guest in Nawie and chose to fight on your side, because I despise Perun.”
“No one made us promises,” Odola murmurs softly, her voice colorless, expression neutral. “What are you?”
“A freak,” Jaga says with a bitter twist of her lips.
Both me and Chors speak in unison. “A goddess.”
Jutrzenka leans in to watch Jaga around Rod. I only see the back of her head, but Jaga’s gaze flicks up to mine.
“She’s unsettling.”
“She’s creepy as fuck and I regret bringing her here,” I reply.
“A freak or a goddess, or maybe both?” Rod asks seriously, tapping his fingers on the table. “Are there refreshments, Father? I’d rather enjoy my time of freedom since it looks like it will be brief.”
“Not a freak,” I say, shooting Jaga a warning look as I knock on the table to call for wine. “A young goddess with yet untested power. But I never promised you a secret weapon. All I said was that I will fight, and it’s true.”
“We will fight,” Nyja confirms, standing up.
“I have an army of nawkas who are well trained and eager to be tested on the battlefield. As you know, Perun’s gods command various bieses.
We will not have to concern ourselves with those since my nawkas will deal with them.
We, as the most powerful, will fight gods. ”
“What if Perun comes? Who will fight him?” the King of Bees asks in his susurrating voice.
“We’ll retreat.” Nyja’s answer is so much calmer than mine would have been. Running from my brother is an endless source of shame.
“But I have a few reliable sources that confirm Perun is busy doing something in the mortal world. It’s hidden, whatever it is.
We tried to find out, but mortals don’t know anything, and he left no traces.
We’ll keep looking. In the meantime, the goal is to weaken his allies and deplete his resources. ”
“So we’ll be slaughtering mortals?” Jutrzenka asks with an excited giggle.
I snort. “Ah, because Perun’s power is fueled by mortal belief?
Well, let’s see. Over four hundred new mortals are born every day.
Reasonably, we might kill a few hundred a day if we try very hard.
However, Perun will definitely send large forces to stop us, slowing us down, and more importantly, we will weaken ourselves, as well.
Most mortals who believe in Perun pray to Jutrzenka every morning, do they not? ”
She shrugs with a small titter. “Of course, silly me. But you are so wise and experienced. I can’t wait to hear your ideas, wonderful Weles.”
“Chors looks nauseous. What happened between him and her?” Jaga asks, worry tracing through her thoughts.
“I don’t know. We’ll talk to him after.”
“Actually, I don’t have many ideas,” I say, put out because Jutrzenka inadvertently made me look bad. “My hope was that we could figure out together how to…”
I break off when two tiny, black birds materialize by Nyja’s side. In an eyeblink, both turn into young soldiers, a brown-haired girl and a bald young man.
“We are under attack!” the man announces breathlessly, his eyes large with fear. At least twenty poludnicas led by Dadzbog—and Swarog!”
I smile grimly. Perun’s revenge comes sooner than expected, and it will be vicious. At least if we win this battle, my alliance will be well and truly tested, loyalty bonds forged for good.
And if we lose, we won’t have wasted much time fighting, at least.
“Let’s go, then,” I say grimly. “And send them all home with at least a few bruises.”