5. ITALIA/RUTHENIA 15th Century #9
“I want you,” the Romani witch sighed, a single drop of moisture falling from his left eye.
It was a tear of joy. “I need you, and I have waited so long.” That they were entirely out in the open, in public view, meant nothing to him.
He cared only about living in the moment, for he knew how quickly his moments with Aeneas could be snatched from him.
But that same realization that they were in the middle of the lane, in front of his house where his father sat inside brooding, caused an unwelcome feeling of apprehension in Damek.
Pulling away in frustration, he exclaimed, “Forgive me, I—I do not know what came over me—why I did that! I—have to go.”
With that, Damek turned back towards the forest, leaving the village behind. As he hurriedly walked away, he buried his head in his hands, confusion overwhelming him.
What is happening to me? I need all my wits about me, now more than ever! It felt to Damek almost like he had been bewitched, but he knew no one in his village possessed greater magic than he. A puzzle to solve later after I return with Dawyd safe in my arms.
“Wait!” the Romani witch called out, his voice slicing through the air as he sprinted after Damek.
“I spoke with your sister, Stetsia!” In just a few strides, the Romani witch closed the distance between himself and the flustered young Hutsul.
“This is why I know who you are, Damek. Stetsia revealed the tragic fate of your mother and brother. I am here to offer my assistance in the search for them.”
“No!” Damek shouted, his voice echoing with an intensity that surprised even him. As soon as the words left his mouth, though, regret washed over him. He realized the venom in his tone was unwarranted; it was misdirected anger.
“I mean, I do not require your help, stranger. I need no one’s help.
My people, drinking and making merry, all while my brother remains lost in the woods, scared and believing we have forgotten him and left him to die.
And when so many possess the power to help, they—well, anyway, I do not wish to be churlish toward your offer of aid, stranger, but please leave me alone.
As I said, I do not have time for foolishness, and there is nothing you can do. Not against what may be in there.”
The Romani witch realized that he would need to do something wondrous to show Damek that not only was he in earnest when saying he wished to help but also more than capable of confronting any danger in the forest they might face, including, he hoped, the Cannibal Hag.
However, according to Abriana’s vision, now was not the time for them to confront Baba Yaga; that event was still months away.
“Wait but a moment, and you will see how capable I am,” the Romani witch grinned.
Upon seeing a great tree lying on its side at the edge of the forest, struck by lightning during a great storm and now blocking their path, forcing them to either crawl over it or move around it, the Romani witch knew precisely how he would prove his worth.
He recited no spell nor chanted any incantation; instead, the Romani witch called upon his special internal magic to move objects, small and large. And although the felled tree was massive, he felt confident he could affect it.
Harnessing the strength of his mind, spirit, and aura, the Romani witch stretched his arms out, palms up and flat.
As he concentrated intensely on his singular desire—lifting the tree—he channelled his willpower through his body, directing it down his arms and extending it through his hands.
To his delight, as he raised his arms, the tree responded.
It thrust upward from the earth as if drawn by an invisible, undeniable force.
Damek stared in astonishment, his eyes wide with disbelief. “How are you doing this?”
Beginning to feel the strain of levitating the massive object, the Romani witch dramatically flung the tree deep into the forest. It collided with a sturdier tree, firmly rooted in the ground, and snapped in half. The two pieces fell to the ground with a heavy thud.
“How?” Damek asked again, just as bewildered as before.
“I am a witch of the Roma. Blessed by Hecate herself. My witchcraft is ancient. My inner magic is very strong. Stronger than your Zagovory, and I mean no offence when I say this. It is simply the truth of my formidable abilities.
“Now you see, Damek, I can help you if you are willing to trust me. I want nothing more than to use my gifts and my knowledge in the search for your brother. And to protect you.”
“Why? Why do you want this? Who am I to you? Why would you risk your life for a stranger? You are not Hutsul. You are not even from this country, let alone this region. This makes no sense. You owe me no goodwill.”
I owe you everything, beloved. You are my everything.
“For now, let it be enough that I wish to help for my own reasons, Damek. I do not fear what lives in the woods, though I am not so foolish as to think we do not have to be careful or keep our guard up. A boy is missing. That is enough. Back in Italia, I have brothers, and I would risk my life over and over again for them. And I have.”
This time, the words spoken about Pietro’s life did not upset the Romani witch; he did not chastise himself, for he did not register that what he said was anything outside his own experiences, his life.
“Fine, if you wish to follow,” Damek relented, though it was less of a reluctance and more of a happy acceptance. He wanted to stay near the Romani witch. He even believed, though it sounded crazy in his mind, that his heart wanted to remain beside him forever.
Wasting no more time, the two mystics walked into the forest, side by side, in search of Dawyd. And the Romani witch promised Damek that he would go for as long and travel as far as was needed, darkness and danger be damned.
And Damek’s heart beat even faster for the handsome stranger upon hearing this.
As the hours of searching stretched into the deepest and darkest corners of the Temnyi Lis forest, days slipped by like water through fingers.
After several days of searching and finding no trace of Dawyd, the witches returned to Damek’s village for supplies.
They planned to continue their search, resting when necessary, but were aware that the farther they ventured into the woods, the less practical it would be to return to the village for rest and sustenance.
Before heading back to the forest, they packed two satchels of food to take with them and several small waterskins, which they could easily attach to their belts; the forest floor would serve as their bed.
And as they searched, immersing themselves in each other’s company, their bond deepened, drawing them ever closer with each shared moment.
Their mutual desire and passion were restrained only by the seriousness of their mission.
Although both of them soon longed to become intimate and explore each other’s bodies, Damek held himself back from any pleasure until his brother was found.
He would not entertain that kind of selfishness, regardless of his urges.
Regrettably, what began as a desperate pursuit with a hopeful outcome turned into weeks of relentless wandering with no sign of Dawyd.
Or the Cannibal Hag’s hut.
Weeks turned into months. It became an endless cycle of days spent searching through the shadowy underbrush and barren caves.
Each hour was marked by the same pain of absence that Damek had felt since he discovered his brother was missing.
The Romani witch eventually resigned himself to the haunting truth: they would never find Dawyd.
All the food and drink brought with them from Damek’s cottage had long since vanished.
They were now living entirely off the forest’s bounty, foraging for plants and berries and hunting small game, cooking over a small fire at night, and refilling their waterskins whenever they crossed a cool stream.
The forest had come to feel like an endless labyrinth of despair and loss. Though it felt like a betrayal to Damek, the Romani witch had come to accept that if Baba Yaga took the boy, she would not allow either of them to be found.
Even their magic had proven ineffective; Baba Yaga had concealed her presence too well for any tracking spells to succeed.
Both witches had attempted to locate Dawyd using mystic divination with no success.
The sight beyond sight of both Damek and the Romani witch was blocked by a darkness they could not penetrate.
Frustrated by the failure of his magic, the Romani witch finally asked Damek if he could shapeshift as the lore of Zagovory proclaimed. Could he become an animal with heightened senses, a creature natural to the land and independent of magic? This would be a way to circumvent mystical barriers.
With a deep groan, Damek clarified that some myths about his people’s powers were just that: myths. They did not possess such fantastical abilities. Their magic was too subtle for such grandiose feats.
The Hutsul then asked the Romani witch why he did not have a spell for transformation in his arsenal of magic.
The Romani witch reluctantly confessed that he did possess such a spell, one of ancient Greek origin.
It would transform a human into a beast, but it required more than just ingredients like belladonna, henbane, and mandrake.
It was the magic of Circe, daughter of the sun god Helios and the nymph Perse, who resided on the island of Aeaea.
The spell required a blood sacrifice that he was unwilling to make, even for Damek.
Tears filled the Romani witch’s eyes as he apologized, explaining that he never wanted to disappoint him. However, this spell was simply not a possibility. Enacting it would claim a part of his humanity, perhaps even a piece of his eternal soul.
With a deep, thoughtful nod, Damek assured his companion that he understood and would never mention it again.