The Shining Falcon

Chapter XXXV Old Magic

Maria stirred gingerly under the protective mound of sacking, trying to stretch stiff muscles without letting the driver know his wagon was carrying a secret passenger. Not, she thought dryly, that he could have heard her over the monotonous creak, creak, crack of the uneven wooden wheels. But gradually she became aware of a new noise, counterpoint to the wheels' groaning, a rhythmic sort of rumbling… Thunder? If so, the storm was speeding towards them, because the sound was rapidly growing louder-No, not thunder, but the sound of cantering horses. Maria groaned. Things had been going so well—the driver had even taken the forest road towards Kirtesk. But now…

Maybe, she told herself hopefully, the riders had nothing to do with her. Warily, she peeked out, and quickly stifled a gasp. Those were her father's men, and with them, riders in livery—royal soldiers! Father must have gotten the prince to help him. And he must have figured out that she was trying to get to Kirtesk. This was the only road, so surely the soldiers would just keep patrolling it until they found her. And that meant they'd be searching the wagon again.

What if she abandoned the road altogether? Maria hesitated, thinking of all those versts of forest. It was one thing for Finist to fly lightly over them. But for all the time her family had spent on that farm, she was the first to admit how little she knew about actual wilderness survival.

Here came the soldiers, back again. There's no hope for it, Maria thought desperately, and dove into the forest.

At first all she sensed was silence, immense and alive. But slowly her ears adjusted to the feint stirrings of leaves, the rustlings of small creatures in the thick underbrush. Maria took a wary step forward, trying to judge direction through the heavy canopy of leaves.

A strange, intense warmth at her throat startled her: Something's burned me! But it wasn't really painful, not really hot—

And it was coming from the silver chain. Finist's gift.

Quickly she pulled it free of the neckline of her blouse, staring at it. Surely it should be glowing! But it looked the same as it had always looked, the finely wrought links glinting faintly in the dim forest light. Puzzled, she took a second, tentative step, back the way she had come.

Nothing happened.

Let's try this again.

Maria turned back to where she'd begun—and that was it! As long as she faced this way, the silver chain radiated warmth.

Magic? she wondered, then laughed at herself. Naturally, magic! She'd already had one experience of mind-to‑mind linking, thanks to this chain. And, though she'd been too dazed to take much notice of it at the time, Finist had mentioned he'd accidentally spilled a drop or two of his blood into the molten metal. And blood, according to the old tales, was strong with the Power of Life. Now, even though the prince wasn't here, Maria guessed that the forest's magic, Old Magic, had stimulated the Power of silver and blood a new. The necklace did still seem to be attuned to Finist.

Maria grinned in sudden delighted relief. If she was correct, all she need do was follow the chain. No matter how dense the forest might become, this wonderful, magical chain would guide her right to Kirtesk—and to Finist.

The leshy frowned. He had felt the presence of the human riders, of course he had. But they had stayed on the road, that uneasy compromise between Human and Forest. They hadn't trespassed, and therefore didn't concern him. Yet there was someone, some fool of a city-bred intruder! The being moved silently forward, tracking, then stopped, hidden by dappled shadow, to watch.

He remembered this one, this young female human… the girl from the farm. The girl who'd saved his son! But now there was a difference to her… The leshy hissed in displeasure. Now she bore the unmistakable taint of City about her.

Yet I am still in her debt, the leshy admitted reluctantly. Just as much as I was with Brother Leshy. Debts must be paid. Aie, but I have sworn not to let city-folk pass!

It was a dilemma. He stood for a time, more still than anything of mere human flesh and blood, and pondered.

Aie, but these humans are such boring things!

With a whoop and a laugh, the leshy swarmed up a tree, startling a squirrel, tickling its nose, then froze again, thinking of that itch of a debt. He leaped lightly down to the forest floor with a sigh, and all the leaves about him stirred.

Vows are magic, not safely broken. So the forest shall not welcome her; no, it shall not.

He would let it do what it would do. And if, in the doing, the human was harmed or slain—that was the way of things.

Yet… the debt… I will not aid her until and unless she thinks to call upon me. The being paused, considering, then gave a foxlike bark of a laugh. Yes. It is the way it must be.

The human promptly forgotten, the leshy turned away and vanished into the forest's depths.

Well, what did you expect? Maria chided herself. A gentle stroll in the country?

For what had seemed like days, she'd been struggling through summer woodland that seemed grimly determined to stop her, thrusting out roots to trip her, branches to snag clothing and flesh. The ground beneath the deceptively smooth carpet of old leaves had proven so treacherous that she'd had to pick her way, thankful for her sturdy shoes, lest she do something as disastrous as twist or break an ankle.

«I don't remember the forest about the farm ever being as tangled as this, or as rugged!»

Still, the pull of the silver chain was leading her on. Maria stopped to wipe stray strands of hair back from her overheated face, then grimly continued. Akh, the fallen log she'd thought secure had rolled under her feet and sent her sprawling! Scratched and aching, Maria lay still for a moment, catching her breath, feeling the life-force of the forest all around her, powerful, indifferent…

No, not indifferent. It knew she was here, and it didn't care for the knowledge—

Oh, nonsense! She was beginning to think like Vasilissa.

Maria scrambled to her feet, trying in vain to wipe bits of twigs and leaves from her skirt, then started forward once more—only to stop short as she realized she'd been about to walk right into a gnarled giant of a tree. Shaking her head, she started around it, only to find her way blocked by a thorny thicket. After a vain attempt to find a safe way through the dangerous thing, she backed away-only to find herself backing right into the gnarled tree once more. She moved hastily aside, then froze, listening with all her might. Was it illusion—or the faintest, most inhuman sound of mocking laughter?

The wind, Maria decided after an anxious moment. It must have been the wind in branches. The boyarevna drew a deep breath, telling herself to go on. She had to find some safe, dry place to camp before nightfall, and night wouldn't be long in arriving. Though she guessed it must be late afternoon, the forest was already growing dark.

Maria shivered, anticipating the chill that would soon rise from the cooling earth. A fire, now—a nice, warm, cheerful campfire…

The forest seemed to flinch about her, almost as though it had caught her thought. Branches lashed at her as though the wind had caught them—but there was no wind. Gasping, Maria fought her way forward again, away from the old tree and the barricade of thorns—only to find her way blocked this time by two larches grown close together.

They weren't here like this a moment ago, I could almost swear it!

And the air had grown so still, so heavy, almost menacing. No, impossible. This was a forest, only a forest, not some demonic being!

Maria heard the softest slither behind her, and turned to see the impossible.

The branches of the thicket were stirring and spreading themselves, moving with slow, dreadful purpose, blocking the path she had just taken.

Heart racing wildly, Maria spun about again, suddenly terrified that the two larches might be working some darkness behind her back. But there they stood, innocent of any trace of that obscene, impossible motion, two solid, stolid young trees. And now she realized mat there was space between them, just enough space to let her squeeze through, were she careful. This was hardly the time to worry about it! Hastily, Maria began to worm her way through…

And the two larches began, creaking, to move together, closing the gap between them, very plainly sentient, very plainly intent on crushing the life from her.

In a burst of sudden, desperate inspiration, Maria struggled against the ever‑increasing pressure till she could reach the neckline of her blouse and whip out the magic‑drenched silver chain. The larches froze, then seemed to flinch away, just enough to let her force her frantic way through to safety. But as soon as she'd passed, the motion resumed, and the two trees crashed together with such terrifying force that Maria nearly screamed.

Something grabbed at her skirt. She looked wildly over her shoulder, to find that the hem had been caught between the trees. Fighting down hysterical sobs, Maria tugged fiercely until it tore and she was free. But not safe: the forest was all around her, hostile…

Pure, primitive rage burned away her fear.

«Dammit, I've done you no harm. Enough!»

It wasn't working. The forest wasn't interested in any-thing she might say. But Maria remembered one other

«Leshy!» she shouted. «Leshy of the forest, I call upon you! Honor your debt!»

The forest grew very still, a mighty sentient beast holding its breath. And a voice, strange and cold and never human, said out of nowhere:

«I am here. What would you?»

Maria let out a shaken gasp. «Safe passage," she said, trying to keep her voice level. «Safe passage through your realm.»

«Indeed? You ask for no small thing, human-girl.»

«I saved your son's life, leshy! Surely that was no small thing, either!»

The trees about her stirred restlessly, and Maria tensed, wondering if she'd gone too far. Then she heard the faintest of rustling sounds, and realized to her amazement that the leshy was laughing.

«Ah, the nerve of these human-folk! The sheer, foolish, ignorant nerve!»

«That's as it may be," Maria replied sharply. «But will you honor your debt?»

«Why, I must. Stand as you are, human-girl, stand still.»

Something stirred in the darkness, something reached out a branch or a hand to her brow. She gasped and bit her lip as a burning like ice seared her forehead. But as soon as it had come, the pain was gone, and Maria reached up a tentative hand to touch her forehead. No harm seemed to have been done…

«Now you are marked," came the leshy's cool wind-whisper of a voice. ' 'Though it is nothing mortal eyes can see. Now the trees shall not crush you, the paths not disappear before your feet.»

Why did she feel he was mocking her? What was the leshy deliberately not telling her? She pondered a moment before speaking.

«That's well and good, leshy, and I do thank you. But what about those beings that might be living in the forest? Does the protection extend as far as — "

A hiss, sharp and angry and alien, made her flinch. Then the leshy spat out, «No more, human-girl! I have granted you enough! Go through the forest as you dare, but tarry no longer within man you must. Our debt is paid!»

With a wild laugh and rustling of leaves, he was gone. But Maria was almost sure someone else was watching her.

«Who's there?»

«Don't be afraid, mortal‑child," came a soft voice.

Maria blinked. «You're the leshy's wife, the lisunka!»

The being chuckled. «Indeed. Don't let my husband frighten you, human-girl. He brags and blusters, but forgets that I am as much the forest as he. Child, you did us the greatest of good when you saved my son. Now I, in turn, shall aid you.»

Maria felt a small, smooth object being forced into her hand. She peered down at it in the darkness. «A wooden egg?»

«Guard it well. Draw it out only when you are in despair and darkest peril.»

«But what is it? What does it do?»

«Guard it well!» the lisunka repeated. And then she too was gone, and Maria was alone in the night.