Winter's Child - Part 16

We had seen many different species develop, but you were the first bearing a resemblance to our own. When you first began to stand upon two legs, we took a great interest in your beginnings. Had we known what you would become, perhaps we would have done things differently.

It was we who gifted the first cave man with fire. A whim, just to see what he would do with it. We remained apart, watching, guiding when we deemed it necessary. Such crude creatures you began as. But really, has evolution changed you for the better?

It seemed like only a few years – a few hundred, a few thousand? What are years to a race as long lived as we? We grew bored with watching you stumble about. You were no longer entertaining and we moved on to other things. When next we noticed you, you’d already spread across the face of the earth.

Civilizations rose and fell with alarming swiftness. Your barbarism was appalling. You preyed not only on other species but each other as well. Your population was ever expanding, and there were some who were concerned. But the world was large. We foolishly believed there would be room for all.

We were not a prolific race, we had only a handful of colonies scattered across the globe. Our tolerance for the heat of the sun was beginning to wane, and those of us living in this region took to the high mountains, coming down only when the cold would support us. There were still many who believed co-existence was possible.

Peaceful by nature we were ill-prepared to meet the violence of your dealings with us. In a few short centuries we had gone from gods to creatures to be hated and feared. And what you feared you destroyed.

Some, among us, could not let go of the belief we could be friends. You were so much like us. They tried to make peace, to make you believe we meant no harm, that we had much to share. They were the first to die.

In the end we did the only thing left to us, we fought back.

* ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ *

His new friend was quite nice, Joey later decided.

“I think Grandpa would have liked you,” he told her. “You’re not at all scary. I think he got his stories wrong.”

The creature didn’t answer, but he no longer minded.

“I really wish you could talk,” he continued. “I want to ask you about being a winter’s child. Like, what’s it like to be in the cold all the time? And does it hurt when you have to be in the sunlight?”

The creature cocked her head to one side but didn’t seem to understand what he was saying.

“That’s okay,” Joey said. “But I bet you could tell stories even better than Grandpa.”

She didn’t seem to know where he lived, any more than he did, but that was okay with Joey, as long as they were together. He had no idea she was leading him further into the woods, not closer to home. In his mind, there was no reason not to trust her. Never mind Grandpa’s warnings about how winter’s children always led people astray to freeze to death in the snow.

Having her for company made Joey forget how cold it was. He was having way too much fun for that. Snow began to fall again but they laughed, running and jumping through the swirls. Joey fell over backwards trying to catch a snow flake on his tongue and while he lay there he made a snow angel. She looked at him curiously before laying down and copying him, making an angel of her own.

There seemed to be no end of the things his friend could do. She held out her hand to let snow collect, then swirled it around to make a tiny snow whirlwind. She showed him how to build castles, just like the ones he built of sand in the summer, but there would be no tide to wash these away.

When they came to the small clearing with the pond, she reached up and broke an icicle off a maple tree branch and gave it to him to suck on. It was just like candy. Then they took a running start and slid across the pond, landing with a puff of snow at the other side.

Neither of them seemed to notice how the light was fading. Nor did they notice the way the fresh snow blanketed their tracks. Joey’s friend breathed on a clear patch of ice and showed him pictures in the frost. Joey laughed with delight.

She stood up, giving herself a shake that sent the snow swirling. Joey’s eyes were getting heavy but he watched as she broke off some of the reeds sticking up out of the ice on the pond. Then she dug a cosy nest out of the snow for him. Joey curled up, dowsily listening to the lullaby she played on the reeds. It made him forget how cold he was; soon he was fast asleep.

* ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ *

Missed an installment? Catch up here:
Introduction, Part 1, Part 2, Part 3, Part 4, Part 5,  Part 6, Part 7, Part 8, Part 9, Part 10, Part 11,  Part 12 Part 13, Part 14, Part 15

Winter's Child - Part 6

The question, had his father’s death been his fault, continued to haunt James in the days following the funeral. Margaret tried, at first, to offer him comfort, but he would not be comforted. Even Joey’s enthusiasm about starting school failed to raise his spirits.

There was a part of James that blamed Margaret. She’d been the one so adamant about moving Joseph to the nursing home. Like the old man at the funeral said, Joseph had been born on the mountain. He’d always hated having to make the trip to town for any reason and would put it off as long as possible. His room in the nursing home had overlooked a garden, and while it was pretty enough, it was not the view of his mountain.

Of course there was another part of him that knew he was being unreasonable. The bulk of care for Joseph had fallen on Margaret’s shoulders. It hadn’t been fair – she’d already given up a lot to stay home with Joey, and then the stress of having to deal with Joseph on top of that . . .

No, he couldn’t blame Margaret, it was all on him. Maybe there was a part of him that had wanted his father out of the house too. Lord knew his presence had caused a lot of friction. It wasn’t just the care he needed, it was his influence over Joey. And he had very strong opinions on just about everything.

Pulling his attention back to the lecture he was working on, he checked his watch and cursed under his breath. Time to go pick Joey up from school. As agreed, once Joey started school, Margaret went back to working in the office instead of from home. Of course having Joseph stay with them had pushed that back a few weeks. They were fortunate she had a job where she could work from home.

And they were also fortunate to have several friends with teenagers they could call on for babysitting when the need arose. Like today, for instance. Margaret had a late afternoon meeting, and James had a lecture. He had just enough time to pick up Joey and the babysitter and drop them off at home before he had to be back.

“Hey, buddy,” he said, as Joey came running to him from the school yard. “How was school today?”

“Good! I can write my name!”

“That’s great,” James told him, hustling him towards the car. “You’ll have to show me later.”

“I can show you now,” Joey told him. He paused and started to remove his back pack.

“Sorry bud, it’ll have to be later. We have to hurry to pick up Christine.”

“Chrissy, yay!” Joey said, racing towards the car. Chrissy was his favorite babysitter.

He strapped Joey into his car seat and then fought the after school traffic across town to the high school where Christine was waiting for them.

“Hi, Mr. Preston. Hi, Joey,” Christine said as she slid into the car.

“Chrissy! I can write my name!”

“That’s cool, Joey. You’ll have to show me when we get home.”

James dropped them off, with the promise that someone would be home by eight. Then it was back to the university and into the lecture hall with ten minutes to spare. James pushed the guilt feelings over his father to the back of his mind and focused on his job.

Later, when the lecture was over and the students gone, the guilt returned. He’d moved on from feeling guilty over putting his father in the nursing home, to feeling guilty over the fact he and his father had lost the closeness they once had. He should have tried harder, made more of an effort. But he hadn’t even shed a tear for the old man.

“You don’t need to worry about giving me a ride home,” Christine told him when he finally arrived home. “My boyfriend, Brandon, can pick me up. We have a study date anyway.”

“Boyfriend, eh?” James teased. “What does your father think of that?”

Christine rolled her eyes. “He’s done everything but run a back ground check. But mom knows his mom so it’s all good.”

“Listen, I know it’s short notice, but are you free Saturday night? I promised Margaret I’d take her to dinner, and maybe a movie.”

“Date night, eh?” Christine asked with a grin. “I’d love to look after Joey – he’s dead easy to look after. And Brandon’s working anyway.”

“Great!” James heard a car and glanced out the window as an ancient Toyota Corolla pulled up to the house. It was a mottled blue and rust colour, and seemed to be held together with chewing gum and prayers. “I think your boyfriend’s here.”

“Bye, Joey,” Christine called. She pulled on her jacket. “See you Saturday night, Mr. Preston.”

James shook his head and went into the living room. Joey had paper and crayons scattered around him and he was busy working away at a picture on the coffee table.

“C’mon, Joey. Time for bed.”

“Just one more minute?” Joey pleaded. “I’m almost done.”

James moved closer. “What are you drawing?”

“It’s one of winter’s children. Do you think Grandpa will like it?”

Winter’s Child – Part 3

James was packing up his briefcase in preparation for leaving when the phone on his desk began to ring. He stared at it, debating about whether to pick it up or not. It was already well past time he was supposed to leave, but maybe Janice wanted him to pick something up on the way home. Giving a sigh, he answered it.

“James Preston,” he said crisply.

“Mr. Preston, this is Our Lady of Mercy Hospital calling. I need to inform you that your father was admitted just a short time ago – you were listed as his emergency contact.”

“Emergency?” James sat up straight in his chair. “What kind of emergency? Is he going to be all right?”

“Your father has had a fall and suffered several injuries. We need you—”

“I’ll be right there,” James said, and hung up on her.

Throwing the rest of his things into his briefcase, he left his office at a fast clip, ignoring anyone who tried to stop him for a chat. As he sped across town to the hospital, he wondered how bad it was. He should have waited to get more details from the nurse.

His father wasn’t getting any younger, and the cabin he where he lived, the same one James had grown up in, was pretty isolated. James worried about him living all alone out there – worried that something like this would happen. How long had his father been laying injured before he was found? If it had been winter, instead of fall, Joseph might have died of exposure before anyone knew he was hurt.

Finally, James reached the hospital and hurried inside. He was directed from one desk to another, and finally handed a clipboard with several forms.

“Please take a seat fill these out,” the nurse told him.

“What about my father? How badly is he hurt, can I see him?”

“The doctor will be right out to speak to you. Meanwhile, please fill out these forms.”

“Look, just tell me—”

“Mr. Preston?”

James turned to face the tall, thin woman dressed in plain blue scrubs.

“I’m Doctor Maynard. Why don’t we have a seat over here?” She steered him towards the waiting area.

“How’s my father?”

“Your father is a lucky man. Apparently, he slipped off his front porch, and was found by a delivery man. He’s suffered several abrasions, a slight blow to the head, and a fracture to his hip.”

“You call that lucky?”

She looked at him soberly. “I was told his home is somewhat isolated. If the courier service hadn’t been scheduled to make a delivery today, who knows how long it might have been before he was found.”

“You’re right, of course,” James said. “Can I see him?”

“He’s down in x-ray right now. The x-rays will tell us how bad the hip is, whether it can be repaired or will need to be replaced.”

The doctor touched his arm in sympathy. “Mr. Preston, in either case your father’s recovery will take weeks, probably months. And he is not going to be able to go back home to do it. You’ll need to start thinking now about an extended care facility or nursing home for him.”

“Could he stay with us?”

She hesitated. “After his initial recovery and time spent in our rehab facility we can do an assessment. To be perfectly honest, he’s going to need a lot of care. You might want to give it careful consideration and speak with his occupational therapist before deciding on anything.”

James nodded. “Can I see him before he goes into surgery?”

Again, the doctor hesitated. “You can, but bear in mind he’s under sedation. He may say things he doesn’t really mean.”

Things like ranting about how even though the leaves were still on the trees it was one of winter’s children that pushed him down his steps. James waited patiently in the waiting room until an orderly took him to where his father was waiting for surgery.

James felt a chill as he looked down at his father. He had always seemed bigger than life, now he seemed old and frail, and so small laying on the gurney. For all their differences, he really did love his father.

Joseph’s eyes opened. Blearily, he looked at James. “Guess I’ve gone and done it this time,” he said in a rasping whisper.

“You’re going to be fine,” James told him. “They said it’s a fracture, not a break, and they can stick you together again with some screws.”

“Should have fixed that step when I had the chance. Had a box of my books coming and I didn’t want to miss it. You make sure to take them inside for me, would you? There’s rain coming.”

“I thought you only predicted snow,” James teased.

Joseph’s laugh was more of a bark. “Just make sure those books are safe boy.”

“I will,” James promised, as a pair of orderlies wheeled his father away.

He sighed. Winter’s children. Even now there was no getting away from them. Having been assured that, barring complication, the surgery would take at least two hours, James left the hospital to go rescue his father’s precious books.

The Pond - Part 26

The deaths of the three youths hit the community hard. They had been well-liked with bright futures ahead of them. Many looked to Nikolai for blame, for it was he who tested the ice just two days before.

“I tell you, the ice was solid. Ask Yuri or Stefan – they accompanied me. Our families were going to be on the ice as well. We would not take any risks with our own blood.”

But neither Yuri nor Stefan could remember if they’d actually tested the center of the pond, where the ice broke. The edges, yes, but it had been very cold that day and they’d been in a hurry to return to the warmth of their homes.

Izolda felt a chill go through her that had nothing to do with the temperature outside. Something wasn’t right, she could feel it. The first chance she had, she wrapped her heavy, woolen shawl around herself and went to the pond.

“I do not know who or what you are, but I will find out, mark my words.”

In response, the ice in the middle of the pond cracked with a sound like a rifle shot, startling her. Izolda’s lips tightened in anger as a woman’s laughter drifted over her like an errant breeze.

“Do not underestimate me,” she said. “I have power you can only dream of. And I will use everything at my disposal to end you.”

A spiderweb of cracks appeared in the center of pond, spreading outwards. Izolda stood her ground as a column of water speared upwards. It spun furiously and took the vague shape of a woman.

“You will not prevail,” the entity whispered. “I will see you and all you love in your graves.”

“Who are you!” Izolda shouted.

“You know who I am,” the voice whispered.

The column of water collapsed, the wave flowing towards the edge where Izolda stood. She refused to be intimidated and did not move, but she was more shaken than she would have been willing to admit to anyone.

“We need to put a fence around the pond,” Izolda said to Nikolai that night.

“A fence? Around the pond? What nonsense is filling your head,” Nikolai said.

“It is too dangerous, I do not wish to see anyone else hurt.”

“Bah, you make too much of a few accidents. If you must worry, worry for our business.”

“Our business? What is happening with our business?” Izolda asked, a little alarmed.

Nikolai sighed. “The river has never fully recovered from the drought. The water level is lower and it does not flow as fast. We are losing business to the steam powered mills.”

Izolda thought for a moment. “What can we do about this?”

“There is nothing be done,” Nikolai said with a shrug. “At first we thought perhaps someone had built a dam to control the flow, but we have traced the river to its source and there is nothing to account for the lower level. If there is a dam, it is invisible.”

Something unseen, Izolda thought. Like a water spirit in a pond.

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.

The Pond – Part 7

It was some time later when Izolda awoke in the witch’s cave. There was no confusion or disorientation, instead she was filled with the knowledge of what had happened and the consequences of what she’d done.

Varnya’s power was hers. She could feel it crackling beneath the surface, ready to be called upon should she need it. There was also the knowledge that the witch had come here seeking out those of power to replenish her own. The spell Izolda had memorized was simple - sacrifice one of power to gain that power for your own.

This is what happened to the young men from the village of Bakal, Varnya had lured them to the river to drain their magic – that’s what truly killed them. But the magic of Bakal was not as strong as the magic of Likhvin, Izolda’s village, which is why Varnya befriended Izolda, to gain access to more powerful prey.

Izolda had always known Varnya was not teaching her out of the goodness of her heart, that she had an ulterior motive. Now she knew that the witch had fully intended to drain her dry of her magic. One last gulp of power before moving on.

There would be many questions. The ripple from the transfer of power would have been felt in the village. Izolda needed to come up with plausible answers. She could deal with the contents of the cave later. For now she set her own wards at the entrance, far superior to Varnya’s, and headed back to the river.

Matyei was lying half in, half out of the river. As Izolda checked to make sure he was still alive, a plan began to form. With a single thought her appearance became more disheveled. Taking hold of Matyei by the shoulders, she began to drag him the rest of the way out of the river. When her father and several others from the village reached them, Matyei was just regaining his senses.

“What has happened here?” Andrei demanded, an accusing glare directed at Izolda as though it were all her fault.

“Oh, father!” she wailed, arms clutched around herself, rocking back and forth as she crouched on the ground beside her brother. “Matyei is a hero! He vanquished the Ruslka!”

“What nonsense is this? What have you done to him?” He gripped Izolda by the arm, pulling her to her feet. With a motion of his other hand directed two of his other sons to help their brother.

Izolda sniffled. “We came to the river to fish, Matyei and I. There was a woman,” she choked back a sob. “A strange woman. She looked at us with glowing red eyes and we were frozen in place. Then suddenly I was surrounded by woods.”

She shuddered. “I knew something bad was happening. I made my way back to the river in time to see Matyei break free of the Rusalka’s power and vanquish her.”

Andrei’s grip loosened and Izolda sank back to the ground. “Is this true?” he demanded of Matyei, who’d been helped to his feet by his brothers.

“I—I—” he glanced helplessly at Izolda. “We came to fish, yes. And the woman came to us suddenly. I did not see what happened to Izolda – the woman cast a spell on me. I—I—remember standing in the river . . .” He shivered. “My memory is foggy. I thought I was going to die, but she turned to smoke.”

Andrei’s face showed a mixture of emotions, finally settling on pride. He clasped Matyei in his arms. “Behold my son, vanquisher of evil!”

Izolda waited until the men started back to the village before climbing to her feet. She gave a sniff, wiping the false tears away. Her grandmother was right, she decided as she trailed after them.

All men are fools.

The Pond – Part 6

“No! I will not do it!”

Varnya raised a brow. “When we began, you agreed to do whatever I asked of you.”

“Yes, but—”

“You have come too far to become the coward now. You crave power as much as I.”

Izolda was silent. She was thirteen now, her brother Matyei was ten and had completed his lessons in magic. Or rather, Andrei had decided his precious seventh son had grown as much as he was going to in magic. His disappointment was palpable.

Matyei and Izolda were no longer as close as they once were. Matyei was well aware his father found him lacking, and that Izolda would have made a better son than him. But though he could not help his resentment of her, he still kept the secret of her magic to himself. For now, at least.

“This is no small thing you ask of me,” Izolda said finally. “I must think on it.”

“Of course,” Varnya said.

Izolda left the witch’s cave, but she did not go home. Instead, she went to her favorite rock by the river to sit and think. And she had much to think about.

She had been studying with Varnya for three years now, and though she’d learned a great deal she knew that Varnya was holding back. The spells she was learning were minor. When she questioned Varnya about the greater spells she was told she was not ready. It was too soon. Was this really the case? Or was Varnya worried about the student outstripping the teacher?

They were supposed to be working together, yet Izolda was the one taking all the risks. She was the one to gather personal items to lay a curse, a lock of hair to create a hex. And yet Varnya hoarded the actual spells, telling her she wasn’t yet ready for the responsibility.

Izolda stood. Varnya was right about one thing. She craved power. She knew what she had to do.

Two days later she returned to Varnya’s cave.

“Tell me what I must do.”

Varnya gave a small smile of satisfaction, secure in the knowledge the girl was her devout follower.

“All you need do is lure your little brother to the river and wait. I’ll take care of everything else and his power will be mine.”

“Don’t you mean ours?”

“Of course,” Varnya said smoothly. “We will share it equally.”

It was easy enough to draw Matyei away from home without anyone seeing them. It helped ease her conscience that he was being particularly vexing.

“I never knew that father liked fish so much. Are you sure if I catch him some fish he’ll forgive me for my mistake with the garden?”

“Anyone could get that spell wrong, reversing instead of enhancing the beet crop.”

“You wouldn’t.”

Izolda sighed. “I noticed there are some large fish that like to collect in the river near the black rocks. All you need to do is catch them.”

They reached the river and Izolda watched dispassionately as Matyei cast his line. She felt Varnya’s approach and a shiver of anticipation went up her spine. The witch gave her a pointed look and Izolda stepped back from her brother. Before Matyei realized what was happening, Varnya raised her hand in a clawing motion and froze him where he stood.

“So young, such potential,” Varnya hissed. “You need to take a step now.”

Matyei had no choice but to obey. He stepped into the water. Neither of them noticed that Izolda had vanished.

“Witch!” Matyei forced the word past his lips.

“Why yes,” Varnya said with a wide, toothy smile. “You and I are going to have some fun before I drain you dry.”

* ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ *

Izolda ran down the path as fast as her feet would carry her. It was not that she cared overmuch for her brother’s life, but she needed him to keep Varnya distracted. She reached the cave and was stopped by Varnya’s wards. Fortunately, like everyone else, the witch underestimated her.

She laid her left palm on the solid air of the ward and muttered a spell. The ward dissolved under her hand. Wasting no time, if Varnya was smart she would have attuned herself to her wards and know they were breeched, she went to the very back of the cave where Varnya kept her personal things.

The witch was not much of a housekeeper. Quickly, quickly, she rooted through the piles of books and papers, clothes and blankets. Nothing. Glancing around, she saw a small metal box on a wooden shelf beside several stoppered bottles. That had to be it!

Even as she reached for it she could feel Varnya approaching, and she was in a rage. Izolda fumbled with the box – it was locked. Frantically she searched her mind for the right spell, finding it just as Varnya reached the chamber.

“What are you doing?” Varnya screeched. She was in her true form – her tangled hair had a greenish cast to it. Her thin, grey skinned form was clad in dripping rags.

“It was always going to end with one of us dead,” Izolda said. She took the comb made of fish bone in her hand and snapped it in half.

Varnya screeched, a long, wailing sound, and turned to smoke. Izolda recited the spell she found in the cave two days ago, the one Varnya had intended to use on Matyei. The power slammed into her, and she knew no more.

The Pond - Part Two

The names for Andrei Vasiliev’s six sons were chosen with great care and ceremony. Names had power, and Andrei left nothing to chance when it came to increasing his family’s power. He told no one the name he’d chosen for his seventh son, not wishing its power diminished by having it feminized for a girl-child.

He made it clear he wanted little to do with his daughter and refused to bestow a name on her. It fell to Olga to do so and she named the child Izolda, which meant fighting the ice battle. A fitting name, as the girl was born in winter and through no fault of her own her life would be a battle.

Izolda was a quiet baby, often overlooked in her basket by the fire. Olga would often peer down at the basket only to find Izolda gazing back with her. There was such intelligence in those clear grey eyes, dark as a stormy night, that Olga would not have been surprised if the baby opened her mouth and talked.

Andrei did not trouble to ask about his daughter, as he had his sons. He wished to hear no stories of her progress, made no inquiries as to her health. Olga’s lips would tighten whenever his gaze skipped over the baby as though she didn’t exist, but she said nothing.

When Izolda was three years of age, Olga finally gave Andrei his seventh son. There was much debate as to whether a seventh son must come from an unbroken line, but in the end the men, Andrei and his brothers and uncles, decided that females, being less powerful, did not affect the line of power and that a seventh son was a seventh son. He was named Matvei, gift of God, and if the auguries preceding his birth were not altogether favorable, neither were they unfavorable.

Izolda grew to be a strong and robust child. She learned to walk and talk early, although she said little. The aunts and grannies around the fire enjoyed her company, although they all agreed she was far too solemn. She sat in her corner and listened to their gossip and stories, sitting so still they often forgot she was there. Above all else, she seemed especially interested in their kitchen magics.

When she was four she worked her first charm, a simple kitchen spell to help the bread to rise. The grannies looked on with amazement, Olga with pride. When Izolda looked up at her mother, Olga smiled.

“You did well, my daughter,” she said. “Now, take this basket and gather some beets from the garden.”

Silently, Izolda did as she was told. When she was gone, the women began to speak excitedly.

“Never have I seen such power in one so young.”

“She will one day be greater than us all.”

“You must take care that Andrei does not discover what she is capable of,” Andrei’s mother, the matriarch of the family, said.

“I do not understand,” said Olga.

“All men are fools,” the dame continued. “They believe it is only the sons who can wield great power. Male or female, it matters not. A seventh child is a seventh child, and Izolda is the seventh, keeper of the magic. Andrei must never know.”

The other grannies began to mutter amongst themselves, but they were all in agreement. Izolda’s power must remain hidden, for the good of all.

When they moved on to other topics of conversation, Izolda slipped out the door. This had been the true first magic she learned, the ability to hold so still as to become invisible. It was a lesson that would serve her well throughout her life.

The Cave – The End

To quickly recap: Friends Eve and Sara were rock climbing and stumbled across a large cave with primitive drawings on its walls. A rock slide traps them inside. Having little choice, they go deeper into the cave, hoping to find another exit. The cave system seems to be a mixture of natural and man-made and the further into it they go, the stranger Eve starts acting. Just as Sara thinks they’re getting close to a way out, Eve shoves her off of a ledge into a chasm. Now they must each find their way. But there's something else going on as well . . . and the battle is on between good and evil.

Sara had only taken a few steps down the passage when she experienced a sensation of vertigo. Touching the wall for support, she waited for it to pass.

“Whoa! What was that?”

There was no answer, but she didn’t really expect there to be one. Feeling steadier, she continued onwards. A few more steps brought her to the end of the tunnel where she stopped again, this time in shock. She was back at the beginning, in the chamber where the cave paintings were.

She stumbled a few steps forward in disbelief, then turned to look back the way she’d come. Somehow, she wasn’t surprised to see a blank wall behind her.

Hurry . . .

Sure, now the spirits talked to her. Sara shook off her resentment, filing her questions away for later. She had a job to do, and with any luck it would result in escape from this nightmare. Approaching the paintings, she studied them carefully, looking for clues.

Though crudely rendered, they weren’t the primitive examples of early man that she and Eve had first thought.

“It’s more symbolic,” she murmured. “Yes, here. And here.” She ran her hand over the rough rock. “It’s telling the story the guardians told me.”

Feeling like she was on the verge of something important, she went over the entire wall from start to finish.

Reaching the end of the last painting, Sara frowned. Something was missing. The story wasn’t complete. The answer she was hoping for wasn’t here. With a dispirited sigh, she stepped back from the paintings. Maybe the answer she was looking for was in one of the murals.

“Wait, wait,” Sara said aloud. “I just remembered something.”

She hurried to the back of the cave where the passage to the chamber with the mosaics was, but this time she took the right-hand passage. A few feet along she came to what she was looking for.

“Do you know what this says?” she asked the spirits, running her hand over the writing that had been left on the wall.

The spiral is the . . .

“The spiral is the what?” Sara asked impatiently.

That is all. The message is unfinished.

“Damnit! Okay, can you tell me who wrote it? Was it your leader, Maali?”

Yes . . .

“The spiral is the what?” Sara repeated, frustrated.

We do not know . . .

Unfinished paintings, unfinished messages, this just kept getting better and better. She could only hope that the answer lay with the murals. Filled with trepidation, she retraced her way back to the middle passage, and then on to the cave with the mosaics.

Eve was so focused on what she was doing she didn’t even notice Sara entering the mosaic chamber. Or maybe, Sara thought, Eve was just ignoring her. Well, two could play that game. Ignoring Eve repairing the abstract mural, Sara concentrated on the other one.

Like the paintings, it seemed to portray the story of the battle between good and evil, and the guardians trapping themselves in the cave system with the evil entity. At least she thought that’s what the cluster of black stones represented.

The bottom left corner wasn’t quite finished. Sara peered closer at it. Or was it? It showed work being done on both murals. There was the spiral, only it was different. She glanced upwards and almost gasped as she saw a spiral hidden within the mural. But there was a stone missing.

Keystone . . .

This voice was different from the other guardians.

“Who—Maali? Is that you?” Could the spirit of the guardian leader have survived? Sara almost snorted at herself. It would be no stranger than any of this.

Turn the key in the lock . . .

“I don’t—” Sara frowned, and then looked closer at what the figure in the mural was holding. “Of course,” she murmured.

With a glance at Eve to make sure she was still occupied, Sara began digging through the loose dirt at the base of the mural. She uncovered many stones, but none was the right one. Of course it couldn’t be that easy, she thought.

Slowly, trying not to draw attention to herself, she crossed over to the wall with the abstract mural. Eve’s head whipped around.

“Stay away!”

Sara held up her hands in a placating gesture. “I only want to look. Maybe you’d like some help with what you’re doing?”

“I will kill you if you touch my mural.”

“I swear,” Sara said. “No touching.”

Eve went back to what she was doing. It looked like she was almost finished. Sara moved as close as she dared and scanned the dirt at the base of this mural. She almost gave up, but then Eve shifted her position. Her foot scuffed the dirt and uncovered something that glinted in the light.

Sara held her breath, but Eve didn’t seem to notice what was right under her feet.

“Keystone, keystone, now I need a keystone,” Eve chanted in a sing-song voice. She turned to the pack a few feet away.

The second Eve moved away, Sara darted towards the keystone. Scooping it up, she ran back to her mural.

“No!” Eve shrieked. She tackled Sara from behind and they hit the ground hard. The stone flew from Sara’s hand.

Crawling over Sara, Eve reached for the stone. Sara rolled, taking her with her. Eve was like a wild thing – punching and clawing and biting. She managed a lucky punch to the side of Sara’s head and as Sara lay there, half-stunned, Eve grabbed up the keystone and scrambled towards the abstract mural.

Sara gained her feet, glancing around for a weapon of some kind. Grabbing up the pack still half filled with stones, she swung it with all her might, hitting Eve in the head just as she was about to fit the keystone into the center of her spiral.

Eve dropped, still clutching the stone. Sara pried it out of her hand and raced back to the spiral in the other mural.

“Here goes nothing,” she said, and fit the stone into the space in the center of the spiral. Nothing happened. Eve stirred behind her.

Turn the key . . .

“Of course!” Sara turned the stone. There was a peal, like a bell, and a brilliant flash of light.

* ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ *

Eve was the first to stir. She yawned and rubbed at her eyes, then checked her watch. “Holy crap! Hey, Sara. Wake up.”

“Ow! Did you just kick me?”

“We were only supposed to take a break, looks like we fell asleep.”

Sara struggled awake. She’d been slumped down beside a boulder. “We fell asleep?” she asked.

Eve laughed. “We sure did. It’s almost suppertime, we’d better start back before they send the forest rangers after us.”

Sara stretched, then froze as the memory of what they’d been through came flooding back. She glanced at Eve, who was standing now, stretching, perfectly normal. She glanced towards where the fissure had been in the rock, but there was no sign of it. It had felt so real, she couldn’t believe it had all been a dream.

As she started to get to her feet she realized she was holding something in her hand. She unclenched her fingers – it was the keystone.

Thank you . . .

The words were lost in the whisper of the wind.

* ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ *

Missed an installment? Catch up here: Part One, Part Two, Part Three, Part Four, Part Five, Part Six, Part Seven, Part Eight,  Part Nine, Part Ten, Part Eleven, Part Twelve, Part Thirteen, Part Fourteen, Part Fifteen, Part Sixteen, Part Seventeen, Part Eighteen, Part Nineteen

The Cave – Part Sixteen

To quickly recap: Friends Eve and Sara were rock climbing and stumbled across a large cave with primitive drawings on its walls. A rock slide traps them inside. Having little choice, they go deeper into the cave, hoping to find another exit. The cave system seems to be a mixture of natural and man-made and the further into it they go, the stranger Eve starts acting. Just as Sara thinks they’re getting close to a way out, Eve shoves her off of a ledge into a chasm. Now they must each find their way. But there's something else going on as well . . .

Now Sara knew for certain she was dreaming. The woman had long dark hair, and a coppery glow to her skin that suggested aboriginal origins, despite the fact she was dressed in white.

“There’s always been rumors of spirits in these hills, that’s what gave this area its name,” she said. “But I’ve never heard them referred to as guardian spirits.”

“Nonetheless—” the woman began.

“So how did you end up here, and what exactly are you guarding against?”

“Long ago there was great evil in this land—”

“What kind of great evil?” Sara interrupted.

“It has no name. A great battle was fought and we were able to weaken it enough that we were able to trap it in this cavern.”

“You trapped it in here,” Sara said repeated. “But you became trapped as well.”

“Even so,” the woman nodded.

“So you died getting rid of this great evil, and now you haunt the hills?”

“Not exactly, no.”

There was a shimmer in the air beside her as a man took corporeal form. He, too, was of aboriginal descent, and his white clothing appeared to be buckskin.

“For five hundred years we kept the evil contained,” he said, continuing the narrative. “But then the earth moved and a crack appeared.”

“The crack Eve and I came through?”

“Yes.”

“Another battle was fought,” the woman continued. “Many lives were lost.”

“Wait,” Sara interrupted again. “You said lives were lost. You mean after five hundred years you were still alive?”

“After a fashion,” the man said. “Maali, our leader, created a great seal so the evil could not pass to the outside.”

“The mosaic,” Sara guessed. “The normal one, not the abstract.”

“You’re very perceptive,” the woman told her. “It took all of her power, all of her essence to complete it.”

“Not complete,” the man corrected. “But complete enough to trap the evil within.”

Sara thought this over for a moment. “And the other one, the other mosaic? Where did it come from?”

“I think you know,” the man said quietly.

“The evil one you spoke of,” Sara said. It made a weird kind of sense. That was probably why she got such a bad feeling any time she was near the abstract.

“Yes,” the woman said. “The great evil also put much of itself and its energy into the malignant mural. It’s meant to break the seal.”

“But it was unable to complete it,” the man added.

“Okay, so that means the evil is still trapped, right?”

“For now. But it has gained the ability to draw in servants from the outside to continue working in its stead. Should it be completed, the evil will gain the power it needs to break the great seal and once more be loose in the world outside.”

“Servants, you say. From the outside? You mean like Eve and I. We were drawn here by this evil?”

The two spirits looked at each other.

“Not exactly,” the woman said. “Your companion was drawn by the evil; you were drawn by us.”

“Why?” Sara asked bluntly.

“Just as evil has its champion, so too must good.”

“That’s just plain nuts,” Sara said. “You expect me to believe that Eve and I are champions for good and evil? This is the stupidest dream I’ve every had. You guys do what you like. I’m going to lay back down here and then I’m going to wake up.”

The voices of the spirits continued, but Sara did her best to ignore them.

“Perhaps we were wrong in the choosing,” the woman said.

“No, she is the champion. She made all the right choices, passed all the tests.”

“How can we expect her to complete the seal when even we do not know how this is to be done?”

“We must have faith, sister. She will find the way, and complete the seal before her companion completes the means to break it.”

Sara struggled awake. To her great surprise, she found herself out of the water and in a cave very similar to the one she dreamed of. Her light, no longer tied to her, sat on the sand, glowing softly. She levered herself upwards and only then noticed the wooden plate filled with bread, cheese, and fruit beside her, as well as a stoppered bottle. Her leg, that she had visions of losing once she made it back to civilization, had a cloth bandage covering it, and the swelling was gone.

“This isn’t possible,” she said aloud. “It was just a dream.”

Sitting cross-legged on the thin pallet, she nibbled on a piece of the bread while she thought it through. A battle between good and evil, with her and Eve as champions. It seemed utterly ridiculous, and yet . . . here she was.

* ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ *

Missed an installment? Catch up here: Part One, Part Two, Part Three, Part Four, Part Five, Part Six, Part Seven, Part Eight,  Part Nine, Part Ten, Part Eleven, Part Twelve, Part Thirteen, Part Fourteen, Part Fifteen

The Cave – Part Fifteen

To quickly recap: Friends Eve and Sara were rock climbing and stumbled across a large cave with primitive drawings on its walls. A rock slide traps them inside. Having little choice, they go deeper into the cave, hoping to find another exit. The cave system seems to be a mixture of natural and man-made and the further into it they go, the stranger Eve starts acting. Just as Sara thinks they’re getting close to a way out, Eve shoves her off of a ledge into a chasm. Now they must each find their way. But there's something else going on as well . . .

Sara realized her mistake the moment she hit the water. It was colder than she expected, much colder, like a spring runoff despite the fact it was mid-summer when they entered the cave. And the current was stronger than she expected too. How had she not realized how strong it would be?

Her swimming skills were average at best. Even had she been at full strength, she doubted this would have been a good idea. Total darkness surrounded her. Her light had either stopped working or was gone. Somehow the darkness made it worse. Fear sank it’s claws in her.

She could feel her strength flagging. The rushing water was a roar surrounding her. She was being tossed around like flotsam, being borne along at the river’s whim. This was not the way it was supposed to be.

Maybe it wasn’t too late. If she could make it to the side, either side, maybe she could pull herself back up on the ledge. Even the ledge in the dark would be better than this. But it was too late. She’d made a colossal mistake and she did not have the strength left to fix it.

It was getting harder to keep her head above water. How far had she traveled? How much further did she have to go? The terrible knowledge that she might not make it filled her.

Sara decided to make one more try for the ledge. Even if she made it to the wrong side she could grab onto the rock and catch her breath. With the last of her strength she tried to move to the side. The attempt caused her to spin in the water, scraping her against the rocks. Losing her struggle to stay conscious, the current swept her away.

* ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ *

Voices. Sara was sure she heard voices. It had to be her imagination. She was drowning, or maybe she’d already drowned. Her eyes wouldn’t open, but she didn’t want to see anyway. Maybe she was oxygen deprived and her mind was gone. She slipped into unconsciousness again.

“You waited too long. We should have helped sooner.”

“I followed the rules. We guide only until she reaches the sanctuary.”

“You forget human lives are frail. She almost died – she might still die.”

“If we do not abide by the rules, we’re no better than the Other.”

“The Other. Even now the one the Other has influenced is closing in on the goal.”

“You must have faith, brother.”

When Sara next awoke, she was no longer in the river. How had she gotten out? Had the water drained away? She was still only on the cusp of consciousness and her thoughts were muddled.

“Drink,” a soothing voice told her.

Gentle hands helped her raise her head and a cup was held to her lips. Sara’s eyes didn’t seem to be working properly, she could only see vague shapes.

“Who—?”

“It will help with the pain.”

Suddenly she became aware of the aches and pains all over her body. It felt like she’d been pummeled to within an inch of her life. Sara drank from the cup.

“Now sleep,” the voice told her.

Sara slept.

Her dreams were chaotic, filled with images she didn’t understand. She relived the hike she and Eve had taken. They hadn’t planned on going to Spirit Hills, but they’d come to a fork in the trail and took the wrong one. Why hadn’t they turned back?

Once again she saw the cave with the primitive drawings. There was something about those paintings, something they’d missed. They might have held a warning, or maybe a message. Were they even authentic? Kids could have done them as a joke.

And what about the mosaics? She’d been in such a hurry to get Eve away from the abstract that she’d all but ignored the other one. Maybe it was important too.

Sara dreamed she was awake. She was warm and dry, and feeling no ill effects from her swim. Sitting up, she found herself in a new cave, one with pale rock for its walls. She was laying on a pallet on the sandy floor. There was food and drink on a wooden tray beside her.

She felt no surprise when the image of a woman shimmered into view.

“I know you,” Sara said in her dream. “You saved me from the river. Who are you?”

The woman smiled, her face ageless. “I am one of the Guardian Spirits of the Hill.”

* ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ *

Missed an installment? Catch up here: Part One, Part Two, Part Three, Part Four, Part Five, Part Six, Part Seven, Part Eight,  Part Nine, Part Ten, Part Eleven, Part Twelve, Part Thirteen, Part Fourteen

The Cave – Part Fourteen

To quickly recap: Friends Eve and Sara were rock climbing and stumbled across a large cave with primitive drawings on its walls. A rock slide traps them inside. Having little choice, they go deeper into the cave, hoping to find another exit. The cave system seems to be a mixture of natural and man-made and the further into it they go, the stranger Eve starts acting. Just as Sara thinks they’re getting close to a way out, Eve shoves her off of a ledge into a chasm. Now they must each find their way. But there's something else going on as well . . .

Eve figured the stones making up the mosaic must have some sort of luminescent quality. There was a study she’d read a few years ago, about a rock that naturally glowed in the dark. What was it called? Hackmanite, that’s what the mural must be made of.

But it wasn’t complete. Eve realized this even as she stared at it. As magnificent as it was, there were stones missing, pieces of the pattern that were blank. The missing stones could have just happened over time, but the blank spots were a travesty.

How anyone could have started this masterpiece and then just abandon it before it was finished was beyond her. Why start it at all if you weren’t going to complete it? The only excuse would be if they died while working on it.

Eve glanced around at the floor of the cave but couldn’t discern anything to indicate anyone had been here before. Strange, you’d think there would be some signs. It was a mystery that had no ready solution, unless the other mosaic held a clue.

Reluctantly, she turned to look at the other mural, but shuddered and quickly turned away again. There was something about it that put her off, made her uneasy. It was like it was trying to send her a message she didn’t want to hear.

She turned back to the abstract mosaic. There was a spiral at its heart. She followed it with her eyes, down and around, spinning, sinking. She felt her consciousness opening up, drifting free. Yes, this was how is should be.

Suddenly, there was a gap in the pattern. With a gasp Eve was thrown out of her trance.

“No!”

She almost wept with disappointment. The need to finish the spiral was overwhelming, she’d been almost there. Once she made it to the center . . .

finish . . .

Eve was filled with the desire to work on the mosaic. If only she had the means.

finish . . .

Without realizing what she was doing, Eve got to her feet. “I have to finish it,” she said. “There has to be a way.”

Stepping closer to the mural, she reached out a hesitant hand. Did she dare? It took two attempts, reaching out, pulling back, before she actually made contact with the stone. A shock went up her arm.

“It’s alive,” she whispered. Then shook her head at her own foolishness. Of course it couldn’t be alive, it was rock. But it felt warm under her hand. Gently she traced the pattern in front of her. Rough, then smooth; cool, then warm. Her fingers dipped into an indentation and she frowned.

Loath to break contact with the mural, Eve looked at the ground for the missing stone. It had to be close by. Unless someone got in here and pried it off. But why would someone do that?

thief . . .

She peered closer at the wall. Yes, she could see faint scratch marks, as though someone had used a knife or something to prise it out.

Pulling back slightly, she saw that there were several missing stones, and the ones closest to her had faint scratch marks too.

unworthy . . .

A rage not her own filled her. This was intolerable! How dare someone come in here and damage something so beautiful, so, so . . .

sacred . . .

Sacred. Yes, sacred. That’s the word she was looking for. She needed to restore it, and then she’d complete it. She wouldn’t rest until she did.

yessss . . .

Reluctantly, she let her hand fall away and took a step back. The need, no, the compulsion to finish was all consuming.

Stones, she needed stones. Like the ones in her pack, she suddenly realized. Turning, she went over to her pack and upended it, coloured stones spilling over her feet. Choosing to what, in her mind, was just the right one, she took it over to the mural. Now, if she could just figure out how to make it stick.

believe . . .

Eve pressed the smooth stone into the indentation and pressed gently. There was a lick of blue light, but when she let go, the stone stayed in place.

Her eyes filled with a mad glee.

* ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ *

Missed an installment? Catch up here: Part One, Part Two, Part Three, Part Four, Part Five, Part Six, Part Seven, Part Eight,  Part Nine, Part Ten, Part Eleven, Part Twelve, Part Thirteen

The Cave – Part Nine

To quickly recap: Friends Eve and Sara were rock climbing and stumbled across a large cave with primitive drawings on its walls. A rock slide traps them inside. Having little choice, they go deeper into the cave, hoping to find another exit. The cave system seems to be a mixture of natural and man-made and the further into it they go, the stranger Eve starts acting. Just as Sara thinks they’re getting close to a way out, Eve shoves her off of a ledge into a chasm. Now they must each find their way.

Sara moved doggedly forward, focusing on putting one foot after another. Her pains seemed to fade away, or maybe they just paled in comparison to the ache in her leg, which seemed to increase with every step she took.

The walls of the chasm on either side of the riverbed receded and narrowed in turn. Sara couldn’t help but wonder what it had been like when there’d been water flowing through it. How deep had it been? Had there been fish in it?

Fish. Man, she could really go for a nice piece of fish, maybe served on a bed of rice with a nice side salad. It felt like it had been days since she and Eve had finished off the jerky.

There was a part of her that couldn’t help but wonder how Eve was doing, where she was. Was she as hungry as Sara?

It didn’t take a genius to realize that whatever was affecting Eve had something to do with the mosaic. It wouldn’t surprise her if Eve returned to it after she finished filling her pack with stones. She’d been wanting to return ever since Sara had pulled her away. But for what purpose?

Sara shuddered at the thought of trying to traverse that narrow ledge with a heavy pack of rocks. If that’s what Eve was doing, then despite what Eve had done to her, she wished her luck.

She shuddered again for a different reason now. The air around her was beginning to grow chilly. She must be moving deeper into the earth. The hope she was drawing closer to a way out was starting to dwindle.

Her throat was parched. She paused a moment to wipe the perspiration from her forehead and take a breather. She was feeling a little dizzy, probably from lack of food and water. Leaning heavily on her staff, she forced herself to move onwards. She didn’t dare stop for too long for fear of not being able to continue.

She stumbled as the ground dipped suddenly. The tight grip she had on the staff was the only thing that kept her from doing a face plant. As it was, she ended up on her knees, the fresh pain in her leg wrenching a cry from her.

Sinking the rest of the way down, Sara caught her breath and then checked out the fresh damage to her leg. Setting the light on the ground beside her, she carefully pulled back the rent in her pants. Her breath came out in a hiss. The scrape was puffy and oozing a pus-like fluid. God help her, she had nothing to treat an infection. She needed to keep going, and levered herself back up to her feet.

The pain in her leg was a continuous, throbbing ache. To take her mind off of it, Sara started thinking about what she was going to do when she was free of this place. Not if, when.

Eating was the first thing that came to mind, followed by a shower to wash the sweat and grime off, followed by a nice long soak in a hot bath. Then she’d sleep for a week. She was so tired.

A dark shape loomed up in front of her and she raised her light for a better look. It looked like part of the wall beyond the riverbed had broken off, sliding to the bottom of the cavern. With a frown, Sara held the light higher and moved closer.

It might be possible to climb up to the ledge that still ran along the side. The question was, would she be better off up there or down here?

Before she could make up her mind, there was a rumbling noise and the ground undulated under her feet. Earthquake!

Dirt and rock rained down on her. She set the lantern between her feet to protect it and raised her arms above her head to protect it as best she could. It only lasted a moment, but seemed a lot longer. Sara was glad she hadn’t been up on the ledge – she doubted she could survive another fall.

“What next?” she muttered.

She waited a couple of minutes to make sure there were no aftershocks, then picked up her lantern and carefully skirted the rock fall. Something glinted in the light and she stooped for a better look. Was that … it was! Water!

There was a trickle of water beneath the rubble of the riverbed. Ignoring the surge of pain in her leg, she knelt down and brushed away the detritus, revealing the thin stream.

Fumbling off her pack, she grabbed one of her empty water bottles and held it so the water flowed into it. Unable to wait, she brought the half-full bottle to her lips and drank deeply. Water had never tasted so good. When she was done, she put it in the stream again, this time filling it.

It never occurred to her to wonder where the water came from.

* ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ *

Missed an installment? Catch up here: Part One, Part Two, Part Three, Part Four, Part Five, Part Six, Part Seven, Part Eight

The Cave – Part Eight

To quickly recap: Friends Eve and Sara were rock climbing and stumbled across a large cave with primitive drawings on its walls. A rock slide traps them inside. Having little choice, they go deeper into the cave, hoping to find another exit. The cave system seems to be a mixture of natural and man-made and the further into it they go, the stranger Eve starts acting. Just as Sara thinks they’re getting close to a way out, Eve shoves her off of a ledge into a chasm.

Sara clawed her way back to consciousness. First came the pain – she hurt all over. Awareness came more slowly. What happened? Where was she?

Bit by bit, it started coming back to her – rock climbing with Eve, finding the cave, becoming trapped inside . . . The last thing she remembered was standing on the edge of a second chasm, feeling the cool breeze on her face. She’d called back to Eve . . .

Eve!

Sara jerked, attempting to bolt upright but a shaft of pain had her crying out and falling back. Her breath was ragged. She remembered more clearly what had happened. Eve pushed her off the ledge! It wasn’t an accident, it was a deliberate act of aggression.

She’d known something strange was going on with Eve, but never would she have believed she’d turn on her so violently.

She tried sitting up again, this time taking it slowly, and succeeded with a minimal amount of pain. Her breathing became more steady as she took stock of herself.

The worst of her pain seemed to come from her leg. Thank God her light hadn’t broken in the fall. She raised it slightly for a better look. Her pants were torn and there was dried blood on her leg from a long scrape, but she didn’t think it was broken. She tried to move it and her breath came out in a hiss of pain. It might be sprained. This was going to be a serious problem.

And what about Eve? Was she going to be an even bigger problem?

There was no question but that something strange was happening to Eve. Not only strange, but dangerous. And it had nothing to do with being trapped underground. She needed to get away from here, before Eve decided to come finish her off. Raising the light again, she determined that she’d landed in an old, dried out riverbed. At least that’s what she thought it was.

The banks sloped inwards, and the ground was hard earth and rock. She was probably covered in bruises from landing on it. Here and there was also patchy layers of decayed leaves and sticks, which must have protected her from getting hurt worse than she was.

As much as the urge to get away filled her, it was apparent she wasn’t going to be able to get very far unaided. Checking out the sticks on either side of her, she found a likely looking walking stick just within reach. Just stretching enough to grasp it had her whimpering. By the time she managed to get to her feet with its help there were tears running down her face.

Sara clung to the stick and swiped the tears away with her free hand. The breeze she’d felt earlier had vanished. She had no idea how long she’d been laying there. No idea which side of the walls towering above her she’d fallen from. Which way should she go?

She moved away from the center of the riverbed. Though the walls of the chasm itself were only a few feet away, she had no idea how high it was. Even if she hadn’t been hurt, it probably wouldn’t be a good idea to try and climb back up. She couldn’t afford a more serious injury if she slipped and fell, and she had no idea where Eve was. Had she continued on? Gone back? Was she even now waiting above, watching?

Part of Sara wanted to call out to Eve, but a bigger part of her somehow knew that would be a very bad idea. That left only one option – follow the riverbed. She hobbled a little closer to the center again and studied the debris. Maybe if she could figure out which way the river had run, she could follow it to its source.

After several minutes, she gave it up as a lost cause. Either the river had dried up too long ago to leave a sign of a flow, or it wasn’t a riverbed at all. But she couldn’t just stand here, leg throbbing. She had to pick a direction.

In the end, she closed her eyes and opened herself up to the possibilities, letting her instincts be her guide. It had helped her thus far in choosing her way. After turning in a slow circle, she stopped, feeling a faint tug in one direction. Opening her eyes again, she gripped her staff firmly and started off.

With any luck, and she felt she was due some, her path would lead her to water. And if it didn’t, well, in a couple of days it wouldn’t matter, she couldn’t survive more than a couple of days without water, especially not in the shape she was in.

There was a part of Sara that wished Eve was with her. The old Eve, not whatever Eve she’d been turning into. They’d gotten into this together, they should finish this together.

Doubts began to crowd her thoughts. Why was she even following this riverbed? She was hurt, she was alone, and she was probably going to die here. This was folly. She should just sit down and give up.

Sara actually paused in her tracks before coming to her senses. No. She had to keep going. She had to believe the path she was following would lead to water. Maybe even a way out.

High above, the watcher breathed a sigh of relief as Sara continued forward.

* ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ *

Missed an installment? Catch up here: Part One, Part Two, Part Three, Part Four, Part Five, Part Six, Part Seven,

The Cave – Part Six

To quickly recap: Friends Eve and Sara were rock climbing and stumbled across a fissure in the rocks. They checked inside and discovered a large cave with primitive drawings on its walls. As they venture deeper inside there’s a tremor, causing a cave in that traps them inside.

Having little choice, they go further into the cave, hoping to find another way out. They come to another chamber, this one with mosaics embedded in the walls, and then find themselves following a ledge alongside a chasm. With little food and water remaining, things aren’t looking good for the pair.

Sara hadn’t felt thirsty before, but now that she knew their water supply was almost gone, she felt a raging thirst.

The two women were exhausted, and stretched out as best they could to try and get some sleep. This time, however, they left the light on, but turned it down as low as they could make it without turning it off.

Sara slept fitfully, awareness of their lack of water, the desperateness of their situation, keeping her from relaxing fully. But at some point she must have dropped off for a bit because she woke with a start to find herself alone in the chamber.

“Eve?” she called, scrambling to her feet. “Eve? Where are you?”

Her heart was pounding, and she took deep breaths to keep from panicking. The situation was enough without adding panic to it.

“Eve?” she called again. Where could she have gone? It didn’t seem likely she’d have gone back, but why would she go forward alone?

“Eve, where are you?”

Sara turned up the brightness of her light and played it over the arched opening they’d entered through, and then in the opposite direction to the opening beyond.

“Eve? Talk to me?”

What if she’d gone forward and gotten hurt? Or worse, gone back and fallen off the ledge?

“Eve!” Sara called out, a little more sharply than she intended.

“Oh, stop your caterwauling,” Eve said, emerging from the dark tunnel ahead. “I’m right here.”

Sara wanted to chide her for her thoughtlessness, but bit back the angry words. “You had me worried,” she said instead.

“For crying out loud, I was only gone a minute or two. I was checking ahead a bit.”

“Did you find anything?”

“Not really,” Eve said with a shrug. “If you’re done with your hissy fit, we should get going.”

She turned and led the way into the passage. Sara stared at her back, filled with misgivings. Something was happening to Eve and it wasn’t anything good. It had started in the cave with the mosaics. Something more than just being mesmerized by the mural. What Sara couldn’t figure out was why she wasn’t affected.

No, that wasn’t true. It had affected her too. She’d felt the pull of it but instead of filling her with awe, it had filled her with fear. Deep down in her bones she felt it was evil. She thought Eve would get better the further she was from it, but that didn’t turn out to be the case. And now she had a new concern.

“Hey, Eve. Can we stop for a minute? My sock has slid right down into my boot.”

“No,” Eve said, not even pausing.

“C’mon Eve, I don’t want to get a blister.”

“Not my problem. You wanna stop, you stop. I’m not waiting.”

Cursing under her breath, Sara stopped and switched on her own light so she could see. She couldn’t risk a blister, especially if it became infected.

“You couldn’t pick something mundane, like a walk in the park, could you?” she muttered as she unlaced her boot. “No, you had to go hiking at Spirit Rock.”

She fixed her sock and retied her boot as quickly as possible, then half-jogged down the passage to catch up with Eve.

It took her several minutes, fear rising in her with every step, before she caught up with Eve, who was standing in a more natural looking cave that had several exits.

“Great,” Sara said, slightly out of breath. “More choices.”

“Life is full of choices,” Eve murmured.

Sara felt a shiver go up her spine. “Tell me, Eve,” she said.

Eve looked at her without interest.

“If I hadn’t caught up with you before you decided which way to go, would you have waited for me?”

“I guess we’ll never know,” Eve said with a thin smile. “You seem to like making decisions, which way should we go?”

Ignoring her misgivings, Sara stepped closer to the openings. She was positive she could feel a faint current of air from one of them.

“This one,” she said.

The current of air became stronger as they continued on, but Sara didn’t say anything about it. She didn’t want to get her hopes up, nor did she want to set Eve off. She stumbled, the footing becoming rougher. “Look,” she said, casting her light downwards. “The floor is littered with crystals like the ones in the mosaic.”

Eve was already on her knees, gathering up as many as she could, stuffing them in her pack. “Mine,” she muttered. “All mine.”

“You’re just going to weigh yourself down,” Sara said. The stones made her feel uneasy though she couldn’t have said why.

Eve looked up at her, a strange light in her eyes. “Mine.”

“Fine,” Sara said, backing away a bit. “Look, there’s an opening just ahead. I’m going to check it out.”

Eve made no reply. Shaking her head, Sara stepped through the opening and found herself on another ledge. But this time she didn’t get the same sense of space, and there was definitely a cool breeze.

“Hey, Eve. I think we’re close to a way out. Why don’t you leave those rocks – we can always come back for them.”

Suddenly, there was a tremendous shove from behind her. Sara didn’t even have a chance to scream as she fell.

“Oops. What a shame,” Eve said with a snicker.

The Cave – Part Five

To quickly recap: Friends Eve and Sara were rock climbing and stumbled across a fissure in the rocks. They checked inside and discovered a large cave with primitive drawings on its walls. As they venture deeper inside there’s a tremor, causing a cave in that traps them inside.

Having little choice, they go further into the cave, hoping to find another way out. They come to another chamber, this one with mosaics embedded in the walls, and then find themselves following a ledge alongside a chasm. But something has stopped Sara in her tracks.

“What is it now?” Eve asked, voice filled with resignation.

“I’m not sure. There’s a … gap.”

“A gap? How big a gap?”

“I—I’m not sure.” Sara played her light over the ledge-like path they were on, and then followed along to the gap, trying to see beyond. “It looks like it’s only a couple of feet. I think we can step across, but it might be easier if we were facing the wall.”

“I’d feel a lot better if we know why there’s a gap,” Eve said as they cautiously turned around. “It’s unique to the path, at least I hope it is. But did the stone just crumble away, or did someone break it deliberately?”

“I kind of hope someone broke it deliberately.”

“I was being facetious,” Eve said. “Why would someone break a chunk out of the path?”

“I don’t know, maybe they were being chased and were trying to slow their pursuer down.”

“I think it doesn’t really matter. The real concern is, are we going to talk it to death or are we going to suck it up and cross over?”

Sara didn’t make a sound, but taking a deep breath stepped across the gap. To her great relief, the ledge was solid under her feet on the other side.

She moved a little further along and then shone her light back to guide Eve.

“Is it just my imagination or is the ledge wider on this side?” Eve asked, joining Sara.

“I think you’re right,” Sara said.

After another few minutes, the ledge was wide enough they no longer had to sidle along, and shortly after that it became wide enough that they were no longer hugging the edge of the chasm.

“How many miles do you think we’ve walked so far?” Sara asked suddenly.

“I can’t begin to imagine.”

There was a whisper of movement and Sara stopped so suddenly that Eve almost ran into her.

“Did you feel that?”

“Feel what?” Eve asked, irritably. She was getting a little sick of Sara hearing things and feeling things and deciding which way to go. She still felt the pull of the mosaic and regretted not turning back when they had the chance.

“There! You can’t deny feeling that. It’s a breeze, a cool breeze. It must mean we’re close to a way out!” Sara said excitedly.

“It could just be the air being stirred up by a really big bat,” Eve said waspishly.

“What’s going on? Why are you being like this? Don’t you want to get out of here?”

“Let’s keep going,” Eve said, ignoring her questions.

Sara didn’t know what was going on with Eve, but considering the chasm edge they were following, she figured it was best not to argue with her or upset her. But she also couldn’t understand why she wasn’t more excited about the possibility they were getting close to an exit.

To her great disappointment, she didn’t feel the breeze again and she worried that the exit was on the other side of the chasm. They continued on in silence. The ledge began to widen and at the same time gently slope downwards.

Twice they paused for a protein bar, washed down by sips of water, but they didn’t dare rest with the abyss so close.

Their feet were dragging when the ledge ended abruptly in a large, arched opening.

“Okay, this arch definitely isn’t natural,” Sara said.

“No shit, Sherlock.”

Sara rounded on Eve. “What is your problem?”

Eve scrubbed a hand over her face. “I’m sorry. I don’t know what it is – being trapped in this place, the oppressive darkness. Maybe I’m just tired.”

Sara played her light around the chamber beyond the arch. It was more like an alcove than a cave, but it was big enough for the two of them to stretch out in.

“We’re both tired. Why don’t we rest here? We can have a bite to eat and maybe get some sleep.”

“Sounds good.”

Eve shrugged off her pack and sat on the ground, Sara joining her. A moment later, Sara made a sound of frustration.

“What is it?”

“I can’t get my pack open. This clasp won’t co-operate.”

“Here, let me try,” Eve said.

Sara passed the pack over and after fiddling with it for a moment Eve was able to get it open.

“Thanks.”

Sara rooted inside it until she found the jerky. They made themselves as comfortable as possible on the ground, passing the bag back and forth until it was gone.

“We probably shouldn’t have done that,” Sara said with a sigh. “We should have saved some for later.”

“It wouldn’t have done us much good without water to wash it down,” Eve said. “We can last a lot longer without food than we can without water.”

Filled with misgivings, Sara checked her water bottles. One was empty, and the other only had a teeny amount in the bottom. They really needed to find a way out of here!