Free Mistress of the Solstice by Anna Kashina Page B

voice emanated.
    For a brief moment it sounded pleased.
    “Do you really think he’s the
one?” replied a more ordinary voice.
    The rasp turned into a rumble.
“There’s no such thing as
‘the one’. Humans invent these tales to
give purpose to their miserable existence.”
    “So, why him?” the other pressed.
    There was a pause. “I sense strength in him. That look
in his eyes—”
    “But he’s just a
boy,” objected the other. There were more notes in
the voice now. It wasn’t really ordinary, Ivan
realized. It had only seemed ordinary next to the force of its
companion.
    “He cannot even fight.”
    “There have been fighters in the past. And where did
all the fighting get them?”
    “But this one—he’s like a
child.”
    “Exactly. Have you looked into his
eyes? I mean, really looked? He’s not afraid of anything.”
    Again, there was a pause. Then the other voice said,
“And you think it is enough?”
    This time the rumble resembled a roar. Ivan had strained to open his
eyes to see the owner of the voice, but he couldn’t
move. He wasn’t even certain he wasn’t
dreaming.
    “You humans invent all sorts of hardships to hide your
fear. So, where a regular man would dwell on those non-existent
hardships and falter, a fearless one may walk right through the
obstacles without seeing them.”
    There was a longer pause this time. Then, the other voice responded
quietly. “There’s no such thing as a
fearless man.”
    “Perhaps not,” the raspy voice
said. “But this one fits.”
    “Fits what?”
    “Everything. All the petty details you humans
invented. Even the birthmark.”
    “Oh, come now, isn’t that a bit of a
stretch?”
    “The timing’s right, too. It is the
Rule of Immortals, isn’t it?”
    “It has been for the past four hundred years. And it
will be, for ages to come. Kashchey is nearly immortal
himself.”
    “Undead.”
    “Undead, then. In any case, he isn’t
going anywhere soon. It should give us some time to find someone better
than this boy.”
    “I tell you, he’s the right one. I can
feel it. Trust the old creature.”
    “But his wounds—”
    “Just bring him back, Nikifor. Leave the rest to
me.”
    Nikifor. Straining to remember where he had heard the name before, Ivan
had sunk back into his death-like sleep.

    Nikifor. The old man with
white hair and the serene look in his eyes. Ivan had never learned the
meaning of the strange conversation he’d half-heard,
half-dreamed as he lay on death’s doorstep struggling
to come back to the living.
    He slowly shook his head, coming back from the world of memory.
    Something caught his eye in the last beams of the
setting moon. He bent down and carefully picked a flower out of the
thick grass. It was a common flower, an inflorescence of
purple-and-yellow that shone like a tiny star in the greenery of the
meadow. The purple was actually the leaves, each wrapping a delicate
yellow flower in a lover’s embrace. But to an untrained
eye they looked like two kinds of flowers on one stem. To reflect this
duality, people had given the flower a double name. Ivan-and-Marya.
    “Picking flowers, lad?” Wolf asked.
“I thought we were in a hurry.”
    Ivan lowered his eyes. “I—”
    “Oh, don’t let me disturb
you!” Wolf growled as he stretched the words.
“It’s still a few hours before dawn.
Plenty of time. Glad we didn’t have to go through any
trouble to get here in the first place.”
    Ivan tucked the flower into his shirt. “Is this why
Gleb was so surprised to hear my name?”
    “Ivan and Marya are the two most
common names in these parts. That is why the
villagers gave the flower such a name. You know it as well as I
do.”
    “Yes, but what if—”
    “If what?”
    Ivan sighed. “Don’t you believe in
destiny?”
    There was a sound an untrained ear could mistake for sneezing as the
wolf hastily turned away.
    “Did I say something funny?”
    “No,” Wolf growled.
“I’m just laughing at myself. After
all