The Pond - Part 21

It was fortunate that Nikolai was a born leader, because Izolda had ambitions where her husband was concerned. And though Nikolai was eager to start a family, she wished for comfort and security before she would allow that. Still, life was good to them.

At her urging they travelled west, claiming a large tract of forested land. In the years that followed, the name of Nikolai Antonovich became synonymous with luck and profit. Everything he touched seemed to turn to gold. He bought more and more land, Izolda having advised him that land was a security to their future.

Within five years of marrying Izolda, Nikolai had built a sawmill and a small community sprang up around it. Families settled nearby. Naturally, they looked to him as the leader.

“You are my good luck charm,” he told Izolda.

She smiled indulgently. If only he knew that luck had nothing to do with it. It was consulting the bones for guidance, and the judicious use of her magic. A suggestion here, a nudge there – they actually worked well together. She seldom had to use her magic on her husband. Clearly, they were meant to be.

As the wife of the headman she had her own share of responsibility. The women of the community often came to her for advice and a few recognized her as a ved’ma, a witch. Soon they were coming to her for other things as well, cures and potions and simple magics. Of course they had no idea of her true power. No one did. But they respected her nonetheless.

Nikolai built his wife a house, set back in a pretty piece of land surrounded by an old growth, mixed forest. There was a pond set back in the trees, that was perfect for cooling off in on hot summer days. Izolda was content, for the first time in her life.

When she became pregnant, Nikolai was overjoyed. He lavished her with gifts, not that she didn’t already have everything she needed. He hired a woman to help with the cooking and cleaning. He had delicacies brought in for her to dine on. And when their first born child was a boy, the whole village celebrated with them.

For Izolda, it was one of the happiest times of her life. The pregnancy was an easy one, as was the delivery. The baby was perfect, strong and healthy. But the night Mikhail was born, she began having nightmares.

At first they were formless, a sense of impending darkness that had her waking filled with dread. Gradually she began to see shapes – trees, the pond, a figure standing at the water’s edge. And always the same feeling of impending doom.

The bones, when she consulted them, told her nothing. The potion she drank to help her sleep did not prevent them. She was at her wit’s end when the dreams stopped as suddenly as they’d started.

But though the nightmares ended, she still could not shake the feeling of doom.