Chapter 24 #2
Before he could stop her, Stacia took the staff and bent it over her knee, trying her best to snap it in two. If anything, it was harder than before. “Whatever it is,” she said, “it’s not ice.”
Zakhar touched the fur on the cloak, then the jewels on the sleeve. “This belonged to Father Frost?” he asked.
“Yes.”
“And he just . . . gave it to you?”
“Yes. No. He asked for food. I told him he could have a biscuit.”
“Then this is your gift,” said Zima. “It’s magic. It fixes things.”
“I-I suppose it does,” Stacia said.
“I should like to draw it,” Zakhar said. “Perhaps if we have time.”
“Maybe later. Right now we need to get to that mountain.”
“Yes. You’re right. Such things can wait until later.”
* * *
They quickly ate and broke camp, then they called for the birds and were underway.
By the late afternoon, they could tell they were headed to the right place.
The air was filled with the cries of cheers and the clash of battle.
Even from a distance they could see several trails up the mountainside, each filled with travelers.
As they approached, the sky also appeared to be peppered with flocks of various huge birds or winged contraptions.
One such bird broke away from its pattern of circling the mountaintops and headed toward them.
As it got closer, they realized it wasn’t a bird at all but a dragon!
Zakhar didn’t know what to do. He asked if they should turn around or run, but Stacia said to hold their course. Soon they saw the dragon had a rider.
“It’s a bogatyr!” cried Stacia.
“But don’t they usually fight and slay dragons?” asked Zakhar.
“Perhaps not in the dreamworld.”
The bogatyr pulled up alongside them and introduced himself. “Privet!” he called out. “I am Dobrynya Gorynych. Are you here to compete or to observe?” he asked.
“Observe,” Zakhar said. “Definitely observe.”
“Otlichno. Then if you will kindly show me your invitations.”
Zakhar began patting his pockets as if that would produce anything.
Meanwhile, Stacia could see the bogatyr’s smug expression, his grip on his spear tightening, and the fresh columns of steam coming from the nostrils of the dragon as it angled its head in their direction. She knew the man meant to destroy them.
“What my master means to say,” Stacia intervened, “is that I am competing, and he is observing.”
Zima began pulling on Stacia’s cloak, shaking her little head in fear. Stacia shushed her and held her hand tightly.
“Ah, I see,” said the dragon rider, buckling his spear at his side. “If that is the case, then you must follow me, and we’ll get you registered and assigned barracks. After that, your master and his . . . daughter”—he nodded toward Zima—“will be free to wander the stands as he sees fit.”
They followed the dragon-riding bogatyr, and the trio were soon immersed in a cacophony of noise and splendor the likes of which none of them had ever experienced before.
In the hollow of the mountains, a great coliseum with multiple arenas had been created, some of which overlapped.
One of the battle areas was a series of small islands or tree structures surrounded by water.
Stacia spied another dragon fighting in one arena against a flying lion. Cheers erupted when fire blazed from the mouth of the lion, and something like molten metal poured out of the dragon.
“Tsarevna,” Zakhar said. “I don’t think—”
“You can’t go!” Zima protested. “You’ll get hurt!”
“We have to help Iriko,” Stacia said quietly, not wanting to cause Zima to panic. “Remember: He’s fighting beasts like that. If we can find him, maybe we can free him before he gets himself killed.” She bent down to Zima. “We have to save the tiger, Zima. Please understand.”
“But remember what the sisters said: After he’s entered, he has to fight until the end. The only ones who live are the winners.”
“I guess we’ll have to make sure Iriko and I are the winners, then.”
Zakhar shook his head. “I refuse to allow you to enter. How could I call myself a man of God and send someone to their death?”
The bogatyr flew to their side again. “This is where you part. Say your farewells.”
Stacia quickly hugged Zakhar, who only awkwardly returned the embrace, telling himself it was simply a friendly farewell, and possibly one to a brave woman he would never again set eyes upon.
He quickly spoke last rites, just in case, offering an official blessing over her bent head while she said her goodbyes to Zima, who cried huge tears causing clouds to gather overhead.
They had drawn up to a large barracks at the top of the coliseum.
A huge man strode up to them along the thin plank that jutted out over the side of a cliff.
One step to the left or right meant a fall that would bring certain death.
Peering over the edge, Stacia could see there were many so-called warriors who had seemingly decided to take that route rather than enter into the Novgorod Games.
She breathed a sigh of relief not seeing a broken tiger body among the rocks.
He waved away the bogatyr, who rode off with a flick of his dragon’s tail. Then the huge man thrust a form into Zakhar’s hands.
“What’s this?” he asked.
“Waiver of rights to your warrior. When she dies, depending on how well she fights, you’ll be compensated for her death. If she goes over the plank, you get nothing. Collect your earnings at the end of the Games. Go to the owners’ booth. Claim number is at the bottom.”
Zakhar read through the rules quickly. “It says here she can bring her own weapons?”
“That’s right. We won’t issue any. Least not until the end.”
“And she can keep her clothing?”
The man grinned and looked Stacia up and down. “Unless you want her to fight naked. She probably won’t last as long, but we might go easier on her for entertainment’s sake. Put her in the warmer arenas.”
“No. No. She’ll wear her clothing.”
The man looked disappointed.
“And you’ll feed her?”
“Yeah, yeah. She’ll dine like a princess. Now, is she coming or what?”
Zakhar signed the form with a flourish and handed it back, along with a small piece of red gold. “See to it she is fed well and housed well and more of this will come to you later,” Zakhar said.
The man’s eyes lit at the sight of the rare gold. “Whatever you say, moy gospodin.” He gave a slight bow, then said, “Come on, girl.”
Stacia knew Zakhar had made a mistake. That man was not one who would take a bribe. Oh, he’d take your money for certain, but he’d also take your life. He was just as likely to throw her into a dungeon to make a point. But there was nothing she could do about it now.
“You must be careful,” she said. “Watch your back. You’re all Zima has.”
“I’ll watch out for him,” Zima said.
Stacia couldn’t help but laugh. “Good. Take care of each other. Watch out for pickpockets.”
“You just worry about finding Iriko and winning.”
Stacia nodded.
Zakhar helped her put on Father Frost’s cloak, handed her the repaired staff, then slipped the burning cresset into one of the pockets and the coin that could heal in the other one. Then he gave her the bag of rye. “In case they don’t feed you,” he said.
Just as she threw one leg out onto the plank, Belizna, the white ermine, hopped off Zakhar’s neck, ran up her leg, and climbed into the pocket of her coat.
She glanced at Zakhar, who nodded earnestly.
With that, Stacia quickly followed the large man toward the barracks, and when she glanced back, she saw the balloon that had brought them to the mountain flying to the opposite side of the coliseum.
“Where will they be staying?” she asked her warden.
“Where all the paridels stay,” he replied. “In the gambling section.”
They entered the barracks, and Stacia saw not rooms but cages.
The few women she noticed were hard and filthy.
One huge bear of a man lunged for her, stretching out his hands to grasp her coat.
When he couldn’t reach her, his fingernails grew, and he bucked and scrabbled, trying to scratch her as they wove around him.
“Get back, you great lumping beast!” her guide said.
He lifted a small rod attached to his belt and flicked it sharply.
It expanded before her eyes, and though the man retracted his nails and whimpered, trying to back away, the guide still touched the caged man on the chest with his device, giving him a powerful enough shock to blow him back against the wall and knock him out completely.
“I appreciate your stepping in,” Stacia said diplomatically, “though it did seem he was cowed enough by your presence to back off even without your needing to take action.”
“That’s right,” the man said. “I like everyone to know I mean business, lest they get any ideas.”
“Yes. It’s quite obvious you have a nose for business.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
“I mean it cannot be just anyone who could be trusted to supervise the greatest champions of the realm. The one who put you in charge must have known you are much more than just a strong arm. A person running games like this has to be wily, clever, smarter than everyone else who crosses his path. Take my master, for example. He tried to bribe you, and I could see it on your face—you’re not the sort of man who dallies in whipsawing.
You’d know that accepting bribes from various parties, whether dangerous-looking or not, is just as likely to cut the floor from under you as it is to benefit you in any way. ”
“What are you getting at, girl?”
“I’m simply saying I can tell you’re a smart man, and a smart man might be interested in something more than money.”
He laughed outright. “Yeah. That’s right. If it’s yourself you’re offering, the other gals have already tried that. You are cleaner than most, I’ll give you that, but there’s no sense in offering what I could easily take, is there?”
“True enough, my friend, true enough. But it’s not myself I’m offering.”
The man frowned, then rolled his eyes like he’d heard every offer under the sun. He placed a meaty paw on Stacia’s chest and shoved her aside, then opened an empty cell. “Here’s your palace, Princess. Dinner will be served to Her Majesty in an hour.”
“Don’t you want to hear my offer?”
“Lady,” he said as he slammed her cell door shut and locked it, “I’ve heard it all. Nothing you could say would surprise me.”
“This one will.”
He sighed. “Fine. Seeing as how I got a nice piece of rare gold in my pocket, and knowing how you’re going to die tomorrow anyway, I’ll indulge you.
Who is it you’re offering up for me to have a nice long visit with?
Is it your mother? Your sister? Your best friend?
A cousin maybe? Believe me—I’ve heard it all. ”
Stacia placed her hands on the bars and smiled. “No, it’s nothing like that. I’m offering you a visit with a very charming fellow. One who might answer a question you’ve dreaded the answer to for quite a long time.”
Her jailer snorted. “I hate to tell you, but I don’t go in for that sort of thing. I’m disappointed. You weren’t even original.”
As he turned away, she called out, “I think you misunderstand. I’m not speaking of a man, exactly. I’m talking about Death himself.”
He stopped. “Death?”
“That’s right. I . . . well, we, have the power to summon him. If we do call him to visit a certain person, he will tell you the means and date of your own demise.”
Turning back to Stacia, he folded his arms across his chest. “Really?” After staring at her for several seconds, a grin lit his face.
“You know, you did surprise me after all. I can truthfully tell you I’ve never heard that one before.
Death? So what will he do? Summon a boat and usher me down the River Styx? Give me a vision of the future?”
“Something like that.”
He rubbed his lip. “You know, it would almost be worth my exhalation to try to smuggle you out of here just to see what kind of game you’re playing.”
Stacia backed up. “Oh no. I don’t want to be smuggled out.”
“You don’t?”
“No.”
“Ne veshay mne lapshu na ushi, woman. You fill my ears with pasta.”
“Nyet! I’m not lying. I want to stay. I’m looking for someone.”
“Ah ha ha. Now I understand. You seek your springat stripling. Your attractive young man. Your beans are in flower. It makes you stupid and sick with love.”
“What? No! No beans are flowering here. You don’t understand. You—”
He waggled his finger. “Poor little zaychik. Little bunny chasing her wolf. What a stupid little bunny you are.”
Stacia hit the bars with her palm. “I’m not looking for a wolf, and I’m not stupid or lovesick. I came because—because he needs me. He can’t see without me. He’s blind.”
Turning around, Stacia slid down the bars to the cold concrete floor.
The man didn’t leave. In fact, he crouched down next to her.
“Look, I’m sorry if your man was brought in.
It happens. But there’s nothing I can do once a contract is signed.
I can try to find him, make sure his death is quick.
Yours too. There’s nothing else I can do for you.
Just tell me what to look for; give me a description.
There are more than three hundred combatants. ”
A teardrop plopped onto Stacia’s cheek. She swiped it away.
“What color is his hair? Is he tall? Short? Medium build? Just try and give me something.”
“He’s a tiger,” Stacia said softly.
“He’s what? I couldn’t hear you. Say it again.”
“I said,” Stacia repeated, speaking louder this time, “he’s a tiger.”
“A tiger? Huh. Well. You are full of surprises.”
He stood and rubbed his jaw with his palm. Stacia remained sitting on the cold floor, feeling defeated. She listened to the scraping sound of his whiskers against his hand.
“At least that narrows it down a bit,” he said. “We’ve only got four of them. One of those is bound to be him. Not that it will matter much. They’re all meant to be pitted against each other in the morning. Fierce beasts, those. Beaten all who’ve come their way.”
Stacia quickly got to her feet, determination on her face. She reached through the bars and grabbed the man’s tunic, refusing to let go even as he stumbled and grabbed the weapon at his waist.
Just as he commanded her to let go before she got the shock of her life, Stacia said, “You’ve got to get me into that match.”