The Pond – Part 8

Izolda needed time to think, and plan. She needed to explore the witch’s cave. What she needed most was time to herself to adjust to these new-found powers that she could barely keep contained. Instead, from the moment she was within sight of the village she was being fussed over by her mother and several aunts. Maybe she’d done a little too good a job of changing her appearance to something more disheveled.

While the men made much of Matyei, who seemed somewhat bewildered by his newfound status as favored son, the women tended to Izolda. She was excused from her evening chores, the dirt washed from her face and arms by Olga herself, then she was wrapped in a blanket and given a place by the fire, a thick clay mug of herbal tea cradled in her hands.

“Do you hurt anywhere?” her mother asked, gently brushing the detritus from her hair.

Izolda shook her head, no.

“You are fortunate she only set a distancing spell on you,” Polina told her. “It could have been so much worse.”

“She was not likely to have been in any danger,” Anya said with a sniff.

The others, including Izolda, looked at her.

“It is well known that the Rusalka care only for men’s souls, not women’s.”

“Perhaps, perhaps not,” Polina retorted. “Bu the creature could have just as easily decided to kill her instead of banishing her.”

Izolda focused her attention on the mug in her hands and said nothing, but she couldn’t hold back a wince as her mother pulled at a knot in her hair.

“Still,” Olga said evenly, setting the comb aside. “It is not an experience to be taken lightly. Facing a Rusalka is enough to make even a grown man shake in his boots.”

The others murmured in agreement.

“I would not have thought he had it in him,” Izolda’s grandmother murmured.

“Who, mother?” Olga asked.

“The boy.”

They all looked over to where Andrei was telling everyone within earshot of how skilled his son was, and at such a tender age. Izolda had to bite the inside of her lip to keep from laughing at the perplexed expression on Matyei’s face.

“I would never have believed he could face a Rusalka and live.” Grandmother pointed her walking stick towards Izolda. “You witnessed the battle. He did banish it, did he not?”

Izolda thought quickly. “The creature banished me to the woods,” she said in a shaky voice. “But I know these woods well and it did not take me long to make my way back to the river. I did not see all that transpired, but I saw Matyei cast some kind of spell and the Rusalka turned to smoke.”

Her grandmother nodded in satisfaction.

“I, for one, would like to know what spell he used,” Anya said.

Olga agreed. “I can scarce believe he learned such from Andrei, but it will do no good to ask. Men guard their spells like jealous lovers.”

Izolda finished her tea and did not even have to feign weariness as she excused herself and made her way up to the corner of the loft where she slept.

But sleep was a long time coming. Her mind would not quiet. Thanks to the addition of Varnya’s power, hers now eclipsed even that of her father. What was she to do with all of it though? Certainly not live out her life as her mother had, hiding her true nature. What good was power if you could not use it?

Izolda did not know how, but she knew her future lay beyond the village of Likhvin. She had so many questions. Tomorrow she would go to the cave and begin her search for answers there. But she would have to be careful, very careful. The men would be easily fooled, but the other women would not.