Chapter 38
The Escape
All the commotion must have woken up the Firebird, for a bright, ringing call came from the cage. It sounded almost like a struck bell but had the tone of a hawk’s cry. The note hung in the air and then transitioned into a lower one, clear and resonant.
“The Firebird!” Baba Yaga exclaimed, reaching for the cage. “This bird will make me the most powerful witch in Zorya.”
With a swift motion, she ripped the canvas sheet off. As Baba Yaga did so, she must have twisted the golden rooster, for the cage popped open and the Firebird flew out, flapping its wings. It circled the hut, then settled in the middle of the table and let out a loud caw.
The bird was glowing orange, almost red, and looking at it burned my eyes.
“Get it back into its cage,” Baba Yaga exclaimed, moving erratically, trying to catch the bird, but to no avail.
Each time she approached the creature, the bird emanated such heat that Baba Yaga pulled her hands back.
“Back in the cage, you go back into the cage!” she yelled, but that only agitated the Firebird further.
“Shoo, shoo!” Baba Yaga insisted. “Shoo!” She stuck out her right hand to grab the magical creature. The Firebird pecked Baba Yaga right in the middle of her palm, leaving a deep scorch mark.
“I’m gonna get you!” Baba Yaga yelped in pain, stuffing her wounded hand into her mouth. Then, without much hesitation, the hag reached for the bird once more, now with her other hand. The Firebird opened its beak, let out a terrifying cry, and scorched Baba Yaga’s left hand.
“You beast!” Baba Yaga howled in pain as she backed away from the table.
“What have you brought me? And what is this cage?” The witch turned to me, then pushed the cage off the table in disgust. It landed on the floor with a clatter, the tiny rooster spinning.
My heart sank at the realization that if Baba Yaga ever found out the cage had been a gift from the Mistress, I would be in even more trouble.
“Babushka, I’m sorry, let me try to help with the Firebird,” I offered tentatively, rising to pick up the cage.
I carefully positioned it back on the table, but away from the magical creature, which had stopped flapping its wings and was perched on the edge of the table, its beady eyes fixed straight ahead.
Baba Yaga, groaning, examined her hands.
“I’ve gotta get these treated right away.” She scuttled to the darkest corner of the hut and pulled off herbs that had been drying on a string attached to the wall. “This will do, and calendula,” she mumbled to herself, seemingly paying no attention to me or the bird.
“I’ll take care of the bird, don’t worry, babushka,” I said, edging closer to the Firebird.
I had no gloves, nothing that would protect me from the creature’s heat.
I cursed myself for my lack of foresight.
Why hadn’t I prepared better? The last time I’d trapped it, I had Lisa, Harry, and Grayson helping, and now I was all alone.
Grayson, I thought again. Had he made it to Zorya?
Hands shaking, I reached for the Firebird, expecting it to peck my hand, but instead, it started singing. It was a strange, guttural sound, but it was a song, and I knew what it meant. The bird was communicating directly with me and I could understand it.
“Don’t leave me here,” the Firebird was saying. “I’m magical and I can’t stay here. Take me away from here, Ivan, and I will stay with you until you no longer need me.”
My jaw dropped as I stared at the bird.
“Don’t be afraid,” the bird sang. “Baba Yaga can’t understand me.”
I didn’t move.
“Pretend as if I’m about to scorch you,” the bird told me. “Pretend you’re fighting me, like I’m attacking you, but fast. Then, take me away from here.”
“Will she let me go?” The thought flashed through my mind, and I could tell the bird could understand me, for it responded to my question.
“With me, you’re stronger than her. Take one of my feathers and make a wish to leave here,” the Firebird instructed me. “Then, run faster than the wind.”
I stood still, staring at the beautiful creature.
“Scared, are you?” Baba Yaga screeched, and her voice spurred me into action.
The bird could be trying to trick me, but I needed to get out of Baba Yaga’s hut and couldn’t come up with a better solution.
There was no time to waste. I heard the clanking of a pot. Baba Yaga swore as she stirred a potion to treat her wounded hands.
“Get in,” I shouted at the Firebird, reaching to grab it. As told, I plucked one of its feathers, then, without hesitation, made a wish to get out of Baba Yaga’s hut with the bird.
The next moment, the Firebird was back in its cage. It was as if my body wasn’t my own. Everything moved at lightning speed. I flipped the tiny rooster into its locked position, grabbed the cage, and bolted for the door.
No one ever made it out of Baba Yaga’s hut alive, not unless she let them. But I did.
The next moment, I was out. I didn’t look back as I ran away from the hut on chicken legs, swinging the cage with the Firebird.
The sprawling oak tree appeared in front of me, but I wasn’t afraid. I stood, willing it to move out of my way, and it did. And, once that happened, I knew I was safe.
After that, things were easy. I kept running and quickly found myself in the familiar stretch of the forest, where I knew every tree.
I was approaching home. My heart leaped. I would soon see Papa and my two brothers.
Moments later, I came to the clearing where I’d taken the horses to pasture. It had been two months since I’d left them there, and I wondered whether they had made it back to the stables safely, for the first time remembering all the responsibilities I’d abandoned since I’d been in Virginia.
Panting, I placed the cage with the Firebird on the ground and caught my breath.
The sun was just rising on the horizon, its colors bright orange and red.
It was oddly similar to the colors of the sky the day I’d found the Firebird’s feather.
I lifted the canvas sheet and checked on the Firebird.
It was curled in the cage, its eyes closed, sleeping peacefully, and I covered the cage back up.
Snow was still on the ground, patchy in places, and I rubbed my hands, noticing that the metal on the handle of the cage was covered with a thin layer of ice. This didn’t feel like May weather. It was as if I’d returned to the very day when I’d left Zorya, but I brushed the idea aside.
I picked up the cage and continued walking back to my village, whistling a tune.
The first person I saw was Dasha, our plump, ruddy-cheeked neighbor. Dasha was carrying a shoulder yoke, with two large buckets filled with water balancing on each side.
“Hey there, good morning, Ivan the Dimwit,” she greeted me. “Looks like I beat you to the well this morning.”
“Good morning, Dasha,” I responded, placing the cage on the ground. I expected her to ask where I’d been. But she didn’t look surprised to see me. It was as if I hadn’t been gone for two months.
She lifted the yoke off her shoulders and placed the buckets on the ground, approaching me.
“You’re looking fresh this morning. What a good-looking lad you are.” She reached to pinch my cheek. Before I could react, Dasha continued speaking, pointing at the cage. “What is it you got under that cover?”
“Just something I’m bringing back with me,” I noted casually. “It’s a cage with a bird in it.”
“Bringing back from where? Is that a falcon? Are you starting a falcon-hunting business? Is that what’s going on?”
“Oh, no, not at all,” I chuckled. “It’s a different kind of bird.”
“Really?” Dasha put her hands on her hips. “Come on, let me take a look.”
I was about to pull back the canvas sheet and reveal the creature, but then I remembered how peacefully the Firebird was sleeping and decided against it.
“It’s asleep. I’ll show you later,” I told Dasha.
“Oh, all right.” The neighbor smiled at me good-naturedly. I helped her adjust the yoke on her shoulders before picking up the cage.
“Have a great day, Dasha,” I told her as I continued walking to my izba.
How did Papa fare without me? I opened the front door, bringing the cage inside.
The hut looked very tidy and cozy, just as I’d left it.
The pechka looked to be freshly heated, and I was glad of it.
A freshly boiled samovar stood on the table.
Ilya and Peter must have been taking good care of Papa, I thought.
As I placed the cage with the Firebird on the table, I heard a loud snore.
“Ivan, so loud. I’m trying to sleep, you dimwit.” It was Peter.
Peter and Ilya weren’t the most sentimental, but I’d been gone for two months. I needed to reassure my family.
I cleared my throat.
“I’m back,” I said tentatively.
“Dimwit, didn’t you hear? I’m trying to sleep,” Peter groaned.
“Be quiet, dimwit, it’s still early.” This was Ilya, his voice slightly muffled by the blanket he liked to keep wrapped around his head.
I sighed as I pulled the canvas sheet off the cage. A soft, warm glow illuminated our hut. The Firebird opened its eyes and cawed.
“He just doesn’t care, does he,” Peter yelped. “What’s going on? Dimwit!”
“I’m gonna come down and show him how to obey his brothers,” Ilya roared.
“What’s all the commotion?” I heard Papa’s deep voice coming from the stove. Papa always slept on the warm pechka, in the coziest spot. “Ivan, what are you doing home so early? Did you take the horses to the pasture? Did the wolf get to them?”
“Papa, I brought us something,” I said, pointing at the cage, where the Firebird sat, its tail spread wide, the beautiful feathers glowing.
“Is that what I think it is?”
“It’s the Firebird,” I said proudly.
“The Firebird?” Papa nearly leaped down from the pechka and gaped at the creature. “Ivan, but you will be the most powerful man in Zorya. But how did you manage?”
“I went to a faraway land, and that’s where I captured the Firebird.”
Papa rubbed his eyes in confusion.
“No, no, Ivan, you weren’t gone at all. You’ve been home the whole time. Look, you even heated the stove and boiled the samovar this morning, like you always do.”
“What?” I blinked fast as the realization sank in. “You mean you hadn’t noticed that I was gone?”
“No, Ivan.”
I remembered then what Martha had mentioned: “Village life in Zorya sits in ordinary time. When you go back, your father will think you just stepped outside. Your brothers won’t have noticed a thing.”
It had been part of a lengthy explanation, and back then I didn’t think what Martha had said was entirely accurate. But now, I was certain: Time in Virginia moved faster than it did in Zorya. Much faster. While in Virginia, two months had passed, but only an hour had gone by in Zorya.
I tried to estimate how much time had gone by for Lisa since I’d left Virginia. Was it several months? Weeks?
If that were the case, I needed to get back to Lisa right away, before time slipped away, separating us beyond just the portal.
Before I could open my mouth to come up with an excuse, so I could slip outside, I heard the Firebird say,
“Play along, Ivan. This is just the beginning.”
The End
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