Red Winter

40

Koschei was not dead.

He was in pain. He was losing his lifeblood onto the floor of his own home, but he was not dead.

‘Where is my wife?’ I mumbled as I struggled to my feet, fighting the dizziness. I felt drunk, as if I had lost control of my muscles. Nothing worked the way it should. ‘Where are my sons?’

He ignored me, head down, searching around him for a weapon. He turned on the spot, looking for the pistol he had dropped.

A part of me wanted to go to Anna. I wanted to comfort her and make her feel secure. I wanted to hold her and thank her for my life, but I knew that the only way for her to be safe was to eliminate the threat to her. I had to reach Ryzhkov before he could arm himself again. He had information I needed. I had to make him tell me.

‘Where are they?’ I took a stumbling step toward him, putting my hands out, reaching for anything to hold on to. ‘Where did you take them?’

I was slow, but some of my strength was coming back. My neck was throbbing and my face aching. Pain fired up my back, exploding from the base of my spine with every step, but I had something to drive me on, something to numb the pain for me.

I had Koschei. Right in front of me.

As I took another step, he looked up at me and stared. His face was white, the spots of Tanya’s blood standing out against his skin. He was hunched, both hands crossed over his stomach, but there was nothing he could do to stop his slow death. Anna’s bullet had cut into him just above the belt, and while his blood emptied from him, so his ruptured insides were poisoning him. His life was ebbing away.

‘It’s over now,’ I said. ‘Just tell me where they are.’

‘No,’ he managed. ‘It’s not over yet.’ He looked down at the knife in my hand, then scanned the floor one last time before raising his eyes to meet mine. He knew I was recovering now, regaining my strength, but there was a defiance in him, a refusal to accept his situation. He was Koschei. The Deathless One. He could not be killed.

But nor could he kill. Without a weapon he was defenceless against me and there were few options left for him. He could try to arm himself before I managed to cross the room and get round the table. He could wait for me to come to him, to force the information I needed from him. Or he could run. The bullet had weakened him, but he was a strong man. If he could make it to the darkness of the field or forest, he might have a chance.

And that is what he did.

He turned and fled.

He was faster than I had expected, quick on his feet for a man who had been shot, and by the time I had taken another faltering step, he was out of the door.

‘No.’ I felt my desperation grow now. ‘No.’ I was determined that he shouldn’t escape. He knew where my sons were. He knew what had happened to Marianna. I needed to know. I couldn’t let him get away.

No sooner than I had taken another step, I heard a terrible screeching, like something from a child’s nightmare. I half turned, cringing, to see that the old woman had broken from her husband’s grip and was coming at me, wailing like a demon, arms outstretched, gnarled fingers hooked into claws. She let out a terrible shrieking that made me want to reel in horror, and I had a flash of the image that I’d conjured in the forest – of the rusalka coming at me, hungry for vengeance.

I put out my hand, bracing myself to meet her.

She hit me as hard as she could, her chest colliding with my outstretched hand, striking me with more strength than I had anticipated. Weak as I was, she pushed me back against the table, which squealed as it scraped across the floor.

Then she was raking and clawing and screaming, her rotten nails scratching my cheeks, ripping into my skin, trying to find my eyes as she wailed like a vengeful nightmare.

Leaning back, supported by the table, I raised my arms to protect myself and lifted one leg, planting my foot against her pelvis and shoving. I didn’t have much strength in me, but she was light and I kicked her away hard enough to knock her off her feet, not stopping to see what happened to her. I had controlled her and that was enough. I was single-minded now.

Koschei was escaping.

Bent at the waist and leaving a trail of red spots in the snow, Ryzhkov had reached the barn and had lifted the latch. The door was now swinging open. He had seen the horses when he came up from the nearby farm, and that was what he wanted. That was how he intended to escape.

‘Where are they?’ I shouted, but the words were muffled, as if my mouth were stuffed with cotton.

Ryzhkov didn’t stop. He didn’t even register that he had heard me.

‘Where are they?’

As I blundered into the yard, Ryzhkov pulled the barn door wide and began to make his way inside, but already the horses were agitated by the commotion inside the izba. Now they smelled the blood and death on Ryzhkov and it sent them into turmoil, desperate to escape.

Tanya’s horse came out first, brushing past him as it trotted into the yard, snorting and swishing its tail. Its ears were back flat and it tossed its head as it searched for safety.

The second to burst into the yard was Lyudmila’s, close on the heels of the first horse, the pair of them feeding off each other’s fear, becoming more and more agitated. They came together, careering into one another, Tanya’s horse colliding with the cart, hooves skidding and kicking up the powdery snow before the pair of them turned and galloped towards the fence. They followed the line of it towards the far end of the yard, rearing back in panic as a black shape streaked past them, low to the ground.

Tuzik’s legs were a blur as he darted across the snow, snarling, launching himself at Ryzhkov, snapping for his throat. Ryzhkov put up his arm in defence and Tuzik’s teeth clamped onto it, working through the sleeve of the coat as the dog braced his feet on the ground and tried to pull Ryzhkov down.

The two of them turned in an unnatural and freakish dance as they writhed together, and I moved as quickly as I could, shouting at Tuzik, trying to make him stop. I needed Ryzhkov alive. I couldn’t let him die, not yet, and I was afraid that if Tuzik brought him to the ground, he would tear out his throat.

I was halfway across the yard, shouting, watching the struggle, when Kashtan emerged from the barn. She was almost in a frenzy, overwhelmed by the blood and commotion, and her exit was blocked by the snarling, screaming mess of man and dog that amplified her distress. Unable to escape, she showed the whites of her eyes and bared her teeth, reared and stamped her feet in a display of aggression, but when it had no effect, she made a break for safety.

As she barged past, Ryzhkov reached out for her reins, perhaps hoping she would save him from Tuzik’s jaws, but it served only to unbalance him, dragging him off his feet. As Kashtan made it past him, she bucked her rear quarters, lashing out with her hind legs.

Tuzik yelped, legs flailing as he was knocked into the barn, but the impact was far worse for Ryzhkov. There was a sickening crunch as one of Kashtan’s hooves made contact with the commander’s skull. His head jerked back, his body arched, and he crashed onto the snow, where he lay twitching for a moment before becoming still.

Kashtan trotted to the far end of the yard, huddling with the other two horses by the fence, and Tuzik scrambled to his feet, dazed but ready to fight again. I staggered across to where Ryzhkov lay, reaching him before Tuzik could get there.

‘No.’ I pointed at the dog, then fell to my knees beside Ryzhkov.

‘Where are they?’ I said, grabbing the front of his coat to pull his head from the ground. ‘Where are they?’

Ryzhkov’s left eye was smashed and bleeding where Kashtan’s hoof had struck him, and the skin round it was split and bleeding. His right eye was open, but it seemed to have a life of its own, rolling up first, then down and looking about as if trying to find something to focus on.

‘Don’t you die on me.’ I shook him hard. ‘Don’t die on me. Not now. Not after all this.’

‘What happened?’ he asked.

‘Where are they?’ I said. ‘Where is my family? Where did you send them?’

‘Nikolai Levitsky? Is that you?’

‘Where is my family?’ I said, pulling him up further so that my nose was almost touching his. ‘Where are they?’

Koschei said nothing more. His good eye rolled up, and his body relaxed.

‘No. You can’t die.’ I shook him hard. Over and over. ‘You can’t die. You have to tell me where they are.’

But Koschei the Deathless was already gone.