Chapter 15
GOD PREFERS A TRINITY OR MAYBE A TROIKA
Stacia and Zakhar were jostled awake by the strange sisters. “Come quickly. You must arise. If you mean to rescue your man, you’ll have to hurry, else you’ll be too late.”
“What?” Stacia said, rubbing her bleary eyes. She felt like she’d just fallen asleep. “I thought you said we had time.”
“We thought so as well, but it seems the vodnik like your man so much”—they glanced at one another—“at least in his current form, that they no longer wish to trade. They want to use him in their games, and they’ve already left for the snowcapped mountains of Bogatyr.”
“Once he’s entered, he must fight for his life, for only those who are crowned at the end and drink from the gold and silver horns of the aurochs will live to tell the tale.”
“We are sorry, but we didn’t know he had gifts of his own. If we had, we would have warned you.”
“Perhaps we should give them our gifts now, Sister. For they have a long journey ahead of them.”
“You are right. We must hurry.”
“But you don’t understand,” Stacia said. “Iriko is blind. Yes. He’s strong. He’s in his tiger form, but he cannot see. He relies on my eyes.”
“We do understand,” said the sister called Stribog. “You are bonded, here.” She touched the place on her own chest covering her heart. “Is this not so?” she asked.
“I-I suppose so. In a way,” Stacia replied with a confused shrug, looking at Zakhar for help.
He explained, “Iriko, Stacia, and her sister, Veru, make up what we call the Transcendent Troika. Do you know what this is?”
“Ah!” All the sisters nodded knowingly.
The one called Daz said, “This is the Holy Trinity.”
Zakhar squeaked and chuckled, slightly uncomfortable. “Oh no. I’m afraid you ladies misunderstood me, or mayhaps I misspoke. The Trinity and the Troika are two different things. One is a godhead, as in the Father, the Son, and the Holy Ghost.”
“Perhaps I am indeed confused,” Daz said. “I thought you were speaking of power.”
“Oh, but I am,” Zakhar said, nodding sincerely.
“Ah, then there is no misunderstanding after all, for we are as well.”
“But . . . but how?” Zakhar asked. “What I am speaking of belongs to the heavens above and to the church.”
The women laughed. “Now I think it is you who are confused, good priest,” Daz said. “For the power you and I speak of, indeed the very power from which we draw our own strength, cannot belong to something so mundane as a building constructed by men.”
“Indeed,” echoed another sister. “Even as something as expansive and as beautiful as the heavens above couldn’t possibly contain the Source of all things.”
“I’m sorry, ladies,” Zakhar said. “The, um . . . the Source?”
“That is right. Have you ever wondered why there are always three?” Moksha asked.
“Do you mean three tigers?” Stacia asked.
“Yes,” said Stribog.
“And, no,” said her sister Daz.
“If it is the Trinity you speak of, then I know from my studies that they serve as a witness of one another. Particularly the Holy Ghost,” Zakhar suggested. “When it comes to law, there must always be at least two to witness a truth.”
“That is right,” the youngest sister, Veles, interjected. “Witnesses serve as supporters of truth. As we also exist to support one another.”
“As in ancient days, we unite for a purpose greater than ourselves,” Yaryl said. “The Troika is the same.”
“A triangle is strong. Three is always stronger than two. You can build a great city on the back of three,” said Stribog.
“Or seven,” said Daz. “Seven is also good.”
“Or twelve,” mused Zakhar.
“Yes. But three are always required.”
“But why three?” asked Stacia.
Daz picked up a stool and showed her the legs. “It cannot stand without three. Nothing in this world or any other can. Each leg symbolizes our purpose.”
Veles touched the first, saying, “We have a duty to take care of our world and all the life and resources available upon it. Seeing all of them as gifts given by the Source to be used responsibly and carefully. Life is a precious thing. No life should be ended without much consideration.”
“The second leg is about community, home, family, relationships, nurture, growth, and many more such things that are somewhat difficult to define,” said Stribog. “Choice, opportunity, and certain freedoms must be enacted for civilizations to develop and for people to thrive and be happy.”
“And this one?” Zakhar said, pointing to the last leg.
“This last one is about work,” said Moksha. “Without industry and effort, civilizations collapse.”
“The balance seems tricky,” Stacia said.
“Oh, it is,” replied Stribog. “Too much of one, and another weakens. All must be given an equal amount of attention. Just as all legs of a stool must be measured and cut the same, else the stool will be off-balance.”
“But the point here,” said Daz, “is to remember that we are not the Source. We serve it. We draw upon its power, yes. But all of us lend our strength to the same cause in the end.”
“But . . . but I still don’t understand. What is the cause?” asked Zakhar.
“You of all people must know the answer to that question, don’t you?” said Stribog.
“I . . .” Zakhar stood there open-mouthed.
How could he tell these goddesses of old he was coming to doubt his purpose in life for the very first time.
That he was concerned that he’d joined the priesthood for the wrong reasons.
That he feared coming on this journey might mean the loss not only of his core beliefs but of his place in the hereafter.
The path he stood on now was not only uncertain, it was dark.
He felt blinder than Iriko, and unlike the tiger, he’d been left without a guide.
“Perhaps he will find the answer on his journey,” Sima added kindly.
“Yes, perhaps,” Moksha said. “Come, let us present our gifts and send them on their way. They must hurry if they wish to save their friend from the Games.”
Veles was the first. She pressed a coin into Stacia’s hand. “As I am the goddess over the waters, toss this coin into any cup of water you drink from or bathe in, and the waters will heal you from injury.”
Peruna gave them a metal cup and moved her hand across the top.
Blue flames erupted from within, glowing hotter than anything Stacia had ever felt.
When she passed her hand over it again, the flames disappeared.
“This is a burning cresset. You can use it to start fires or warm yourselves. If you pour out the flames, they will flow like hot pitch, encompassing whatever they touch. You must always remember to turn it off before stowing the cup.”
Next was Yaryl, who gave them her pet ermine and a bag filled with very rare red gold. Zakhar took to the ermine immediately. The furry white animal climbed into his coat and curled up in one of his large pockets and went to sleep.
Moksha gave them a bag of barley and another of rye, both of which would always remain full, no matter how much of it they used.
Then the last three sisters combined their abilities into one great gift. “Come and see,” said Daz.
Stacia and Zakhar followed the sisters outside, where they found a great swollen dirizhabl’ of some kind with a small wooden vessel attached to it with a series of ropes and pulleys.
“What is it?” asked Stacia.
“Your mode of transportation,” said Stribog. “I call it a Rackapelterly Aeroflation. Climb inside the structure. I’ll teach you how to control it with my ability to manipulate the wind, jump far distances, and travel on lightning.”
“Don’t forget harnessing the storms and using my birds,” said Sima, just as a large network rose before the balloon.
The air in front was now filled with hundreds of winged creatures all screeching and cawing and tweeting.
Each one was leashed to the structure via a harness so small it could barely be seen, but it was somehow effective enough that none of them twisted around one another or became trapped or stuck.
“How? How are you doing that?” Stacia asked, darting around to the front to see the miraculous setup.
“Simple,” said Sima. “I asked them. They have control over the harnesses. If it gets twisted or uncomfortable, they simply unlink it with their minds. When they’re ready to pull again, they link back in, and it reattaches.
It’s constantly in flux, but because there are so many, someone’s always pulling. ”
“That’s amazing!”
“It is, isn’t it?” Sima grinned. “Now, you take good care of my babies, and they’ll take you where you want to go. Bogatyr Mountain, my sweet things. You’re headed to the Novgorod Games. Make sure to stay warm in that freezing weather.”
Sima bumped into Stribog, and while they argued over who could board the transport first, Daz shook her head and smiled.
“And where are you in this thing?” Stacia asked.
“Isn’t it obvious?” Daz asked.
When Stacia just frowned and shook her head, Daz laughed and ballooned her cheeks, then made a shape with her hands over a rounded belly. “I’m the goddess of motherhood. Remember?”
“Oh, you’re responsible for the . . .” Stacia pointed out the great rounded shape above them floating in the air. “Does that mean we should expect something else in a few months’ time?”
Daz shrugged. “Not necessarily. But you never know. Do you?” She leaned closer.
“I’ve also smuggled aboard a bagful of sunshine.
When you need a break from the storms and lightning, just toss one overboard.
You won’t get anywhere for a few hours, but at least you’ll have a nice sunny day.
With Zima around, it will still be cold. But the sun helps.”
“I understand. Spasibo,” Stacia said.
“Pozhaluysta. Speaking of which, I’d better fetch her so you all can get going. And here.” She pressed another bag into her hands.
“What’s this?” asked Stacia. “You’ve already given us too much.”
“It’s nothing. Just three extra biscuits. I have a feeling you’ll need them. Remember: Once the Games begin, your friend must see them through to the conclusion.”