The Pond - Part 32

Izolda’s mother had often warned her about the consequences of using the dark magic, the price that would have to be paid. This was why the women of their family eschewed the darkness and clung to the light. Though she had nodded in agreement at the time, in her mind Izolda had scoffed at such warnings.

The price for the dark magic she and Varnya performed seemed inconsequential – releasing the essence of special herbs they gathered through fire, the spilling of their own blood, taking the life of an animal – when it gave them such power.

But Varnya had remained hidden, lest others become aware of what she was doing, the source of her magic. And it had darkened her soul. Izolda had been more careful in her dealings in the dark arts, but now, here was proof she had not been careful enough.

“Rusalka!” The name was both a judgement and a curse. “How can this be?”

“Ask yourself,” the creature told her.

Initial shock over, Izolda struggled to her feet again. “My circle compels you to remain; my potion compels you to speak the truth. Why have you taken this form?”

“Because it is my own.”

“No. The one whose form this is was left far from here.”

“And yet, here I am. The manner of my death has allowed me to become what I am.”

“That is impossible. A true rusalka is tied to the water where she died. You did not die in this place.”

“I would not be the first to win their freedom through an application of power.” The girlish voice was all the more disturbing coming from the skeletal, weed covered creature. “Did you not once vanquish a rusalka who had the ability to move from place to place?”

Izolda showed no surprise that the creature knew this. “Varnya was not a true rusalka. She merely took on the appearance of one when it suited her. How are you able to relocate?”

“Power. Much power.”

“Whose power? You had none of your own when you died, nor would a true rusalka have the kind of power you have shown.”

“Mine is not the only soul you have taken. I am not the only one who wishes vengeance.”

There was a clap of thunder, and Izolda’s circle was broken. The creature vanished beneath the water and Izolda was left trembling with impotent rage.

She returned to her home, a little numb with the knowledge of what she was facing. Going straight to her workroom, she sat in the rocking chair and began to rock. She had much thinking to do.


In the morning, she emerged from her workroom to start breakfast for Dmitri and Nicolai. With Marta gone she would be doing the household duties on her own. At least until they could find someone to replace her.

Father and son waited until she filled a plate of her own and sat down before they started eating. No one seemed to have much to say. No one seemed to have much of an appetite either. Finally, Izolda excused Dmitri from the table, to go to his room.

As soon as he was gone, she turned to Nikolai. “We should leave. This place is cursed.”

“Leave? And go where?” Nikolai frowned.

“We could go to the city, where your brother is. We could—”

“No.” His tone was implacable.

“But—”

“This is our home. We will stay, no matter what.”

With that, Nikolai rose from the table. Calling to Dmitri, the pair left for the mill. Izolda’s fists clenched. He may believe the conversation was over, but he was wrong.