The Pond – Part 9

It had been several days and Izolda had yet to find the chance to slip away to return to the cave. For some reason, Olga seemed determined to keep her close to the village. Izolda would catch her watching her, an odd look in her eye. Was she suspicious about what really happened at the river?

And the few times she managed to escape Olga’s watchful eye, Matyei would follow her. She couldn’t take the chance of him finding out about the cave, he’d tattle to their father, so she’d steer clear of it. He was still the talk of the village, what more did he want? Finally, she confronted him.

“What do you want? Why do you keep following me?”

He seemed a little taken aback by her hostility. “I-I-nothing. But we never talk anymore or spend time together. Have I done something wrong?”

There was none of the softening in her like he’d expected. “No, there is nothing wrong. We are growing older and have different interests. Sometimes I need to be alone to think.”

“You never used to,” he said sullenly.

She did, but time to herself was easier to come by back then.

“You have our father’s regard now, is that not what you wished for?”

“I-I-I am not certain I am worthy of it,” he said. “I still cannot remember clearly what happened. And I don’t seem to be any more powerful in magic than I was before.”

“I have told everyone everything I saw,” Izolda said stiffly. Everyone who, if they knew the truth, would have been appalled instead of elated. “I witnessed only you vanquishing the Rusalka, not the means by which you did it.”

“Still, there is something tickling at the back of my mind. You have always had more magic than I, are you sure—”

“No!” Izolda held up a hand to stop his speech. “You are mistaken. I only appeared to have stronger magic because you were still learning. I am only a woman, and everyone knows a woman’s magic is weak.”

Matyei was like a hound with a bone, however. “But I don’t understand why I was able to banish the-the-creature and still cannot work any of the higher magics.”

Izolda shrugged. “Perhaps you over-reached with what magic you had and it needs to replenish itself. Or maybe,” she added snidely, “You burnt it out with that one spell.”

“What has happened to you, ‘Zolda?”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“You never used to be so mean.” He turned and finally left her alone.

She stared after him with a frown. Cultivating a closeness with him had seemed like a good idea at the time – especially since she’d hoped it would lead to her being able to learn magic through him. But now . . . if Matyei was able to see the changes in her, then so would others. She would need to be more careful.

Wasting no more of her precious time on it, carefully made her way to the cave, stopping every once in awhile to make sure she wasn’t being followed. Izolda breathed a sigh of relief when she stepped through her wards. There was no sign that anyone else had breached them, nor that anyone else had been near here.

This did not surprise her. She would have felt it if her wards had been breached, the spell would have lashed back to her. And the cave was not easy to find in the first place, unless you knew it was there. The entrance was narrow, more like a split in the rock, and leafy shrubs on either side partially obscured it.

There was a lantern hidden near the base of one of the shrubs and Izolda pulled it out and lit it, taking it with her as she entered the cave. Following the narrow passage, she came first to the main chamber, where she learned what magic Varnya was willing to share.

It was messy. There were clothes and rags piled up in the corner, rocks and sticks with leaves and pinecones scattered everywhere, and there was a stale smell to it. Two rickety chairs and a table sat to one side.

Further back was the area the witch had used as her sleeping area. Izolda’s lips tightened. She had never been this far back except for when she had come to break the comb. It was in even worse condition than the rest of the cave and there was a lingering undertone of rot to it.

Setting the lantern up on the shelf where the comb had been, she rolled up her sleeves. She had a lot of work ahead of her.