13. Thirteen

Ryurikov’s anger smouldered deep in the pits of his chest as he watched Awimak vanish through the door without opening it. He cast Vasili a final look, certain the demon was right, that he was making a mistake. Unfortunately, he owed the brute. For more than just saving his life, and nursing him back to health, apparently. Ryurikov frowned. He scarcely remembered any of that.

Rolling his shoulders against any lingering feelings, he nocked an arrow and waited for the signal.

Screams of terror bounced against the door from the other side. He yanked it open and ran out to witness Awimak ram a claw into the chest of an enforcer. He slung them aside, a wide arc of blood raining down around his great form.

It was dark, most of the Candescent must have fled, save for two wearing that same gaudy yellow and crimson distinctive to the enforcers. With their attention on the demon, Ryurikov sent his arrows at the remaining humans further down the shadowy road, hitting one in the temple, the other between the eyes, and the third in the throat.

He darted to Awimak, shooting another arrow to thwart one incoming—from one of the Candescent. It splintered and dropped limply to the ground.

THANK YOU. Awimak dashed forward and snatched the nearest lantern head up to slam them into a tree. Glass shattered, the metal crushed, and they collapsed into a lifeless heap.

“My pleasure.” Ryurikov aimed at the remaining Candescent, who wisely hesitated with nowhere to run or hide. “The competition, is it still going?”

“Ye–Yes.” They lowered their bow and took a step back, pebbles crunching under metal clogs.

“Excellent.”

Ryurikov’s arrow cut through the air, piercing glass and the deep orange flame within. It sputtered, then went out, the Candescent’s body falling to the ground with a loud thunk. He approached the scrap metal, helping himself to the rest of their arrows, slipping them into his quiver.

Whistling behind him. Ryurikov spun in a whirl of his midnight cloak. Narrowly avoided being hit, an arrow piercing ground just by his foot. Awimak appeared beside him and placed a large claw on Ryurikov’s shoulder.

In a wink they were somewhere else—or maybe still in Enlumine’s Wish. The trees were there and their quaint houses within. Yet everything appeared more ghostly, shadows tinged with yellow, as if they were back beneath the forest. Sounds became clearer, even distant ones. He heard conversations, hundreds of them at once, yet none overlapped, every word as clear as the twitter of a robin.

“Where are we?” he queried while Awimak moved him out of the way of another incoming arrow. It seemed to be moving more slowly, as though pulled back by the drag of a heavy wind.

And then with equal swiftness, they were back in the real Enlumine’s Wish, the slowed arrow speeding up and missing them by several paces.

“Fascinating.” Ryurikov took aim at the archer who had been hiding behind a thick tree.

They ducked away with a startled yelp, everything else gone silent. Ryurikov waited. When a glimmer of their sweaty forehead appeared, he shot them down, steel effortlessly boring into bone. The thud of the archer’s body followed.

“Dear Awimak,” said Ryurikov, “would you mind if we crashed the competition? I feel I would have won that, and I’d like my prize.”

FURTHER ENTERTAINMENT, YES.

With a running start, Ryurikov scaled the goliath’s side. He secured his left leg around the front of one horn and steadied the right knee on a powerful shoulder, his thighs astride Awimak’s head. A massive claw wrapped around his shin in response. He thought Awimak might fling him off and braced himself, but there came only a gentle, nigh comforting squeeze before Awimak sprinted forward.

Ryurikov had ridden many horses as a sport, even untamed stallions. This was nothing like riding a horse. It was smooth and eerie as they slipped in and out of the bizarre, shadowy version of the town.

They emerged onto the range, and he left nothing to chance, shooting anything that moved. His arrows lingered in the air as if frozen, until he and Awimak winked back out of the shadows, the arrows downing unsuspecting contestants, the overseer, stray enforcers. Ryurikov took a second to relish in Theo’s shock at the sudden appearance of such a colossal demon galloping at them.

“Fuck you, Shitty Theo!” he shouted over the heavy thuds across packed earth.

He hit Theo in the top of their head, the twhack audible even over the clangour of the audience scrambling fleeing the grandstands.

Ryurikov scanned the seats for Worse Theo, spotting them vaulting over the short wall to reach Shitty Theo, now down on their metal ass—alive still. His focus shifted to Awimak, who grabbed the floating lantern off its tree-like stand, along with the pouch of coin. He tossed it up. Ryurikov snatched it out of the air, just as more yellow and crimson flooded the range, chain mail rattling, swords glinting in the ever dwindling light.

“Let’s get out of here,” he said, patting Awimak’s skull. “But I want that silver bow!”

Hissed whistles from every direction forced Awimak to weave. Ryurikov grabbed hold of his horn and tipped himself sideways, twisting out of the swing of blood-starved blades. He reached far enough to hurt, snatching the bow right out of Shitty Theo’s hands. He slung it over Awimak’s horn and put a turn in his hips to dispatch two enforcers firing longbows behind them. There was something exceptionally satisfying about the clang of his arrows hitting their lanterns, about watching their fires extinguish in a glittery puff of smoke.

Trees flitted by, only umbrageous blurs. They had to be journeying between worlds when running past others didn’t alert them. All the same, Ryurikov ducked when they reached boughs trained to form an arch, its welcome sign grazing the top of his hood.

The canopy above gradually opened, revealing lilac skies. Awimak slowed, muscular chest heaving and breath more sepulchral than a midnight wind.

Ryurikov glanced behind them. They weren’t being chased, and were far enough for him to walk on his own. Readying to dismount, his hand connected with something below Awimak’s horn.

He did a double take, fondling the small, soft protrusion. Pushing away glossy strands of the dark mane, two furry ears revealed themselves to him. Ram’s ears. He grinned in utter delight.

“You have ears!”

WHAT OF IT?Awimak sounded a touch defensive.

Ryurikov chuckled, swinging his leg over the horn to dismount, his landing nigh soundless. He rapped his knuckles against the demon’s bark-armoured forearm. “They’re precious.”

A snort was the response. As tempting as it was to tease, he focused on their prize, bobbing in the air between them as they walked side by side. In the bedimmed sky and the lantern’s ghostly glow, its metal showcased iridescence-like mist catching sunlight in a gamut of colours.

“Mind handing me the bow?” Ryurikov asked, a rumbling noise of satisfaction vibrating his chest when Awimak silently unhooked it from his horn and handed it over. He closed his fingers around the silver bow, giving the silk string a few tugs. “I’ve never wielded a silver bow. It’s surprisingly flexible. Reckon we can kill a dragon with this?”

He knew little about dragons.

YOU REFER TO WHAT THE REEVE CLAIMED.

“Yes, that,” Ryurikov said. “Knowing Valka, she probably made it her pet, but…just in case. Don’t suppose you know anything about it?”

A strange noise left Awimak. It took Ryurikov a moment to realise it was a contemplative hum.

I KNOW OF THE DRAGONS THAT EXIST. THERE ARE MANY.His deer-like skull turned toward him, and Ryurikov allowed himself to appreciate the intricate carvings within the bone. IT MAY BE A WILD GOOSE CHASE.

“Well then, it’s a good thing I’m hungry enough to catch fowl.” Famished, in fact. “I should eat something before we kill Jezibaba.”

ARE YOU CERTAIN?

“Can’t murder on an empty stomach.”

Awimak huffed. ARE YOU CERTAIN YOU WISH TO KILL THE WITCH? THE CONSEQUENCES MAY NOT BE WHAT YOU EXPECT.

Ryurikov rolled his head to flex his stiff neck. “They never are, my friend.”

As if in answer to a prayer he hadn’t considered, a man dragging a tumbrel emerged from the shadows that had befallen the forest path. He looked worse for wear, the hems of his white robes stained, sandal-clad feet slipping over pebbles and dirt. The man looked up, and since there was no scream of terror, Ryurikov assumed he couldn’t see Awimak.

“Evening,” he said, rounding the tumbrel to peer at its contents. “By chance, is that food you’re peddling?”

“Ah, yes,” panted the balding man, easing his hold on the cart to wipe a sleeve over his damp forehead. “I am spreading the word of Miathos with food and drink.”

“The snowmoth girl,” Ryurikov murmured, edging closer to the tumbrel and slinging both his bows onto his back.

“Saint!”

Ryurikov quirked an eyebrow. “Sure, but seeing as moths ate her alive at the tender age of nine, I rather think she was an unfortunate girl above anything else.”

The monk spluttered, face practically glowing red, while Ryurikov snaked a hand toward the goods. Then he stopped himself. He cast a quick look around, expecting to see the Quinary lurking behind trees, ready to scold him or break his fingers. There was no sign of them, but he was sure they were watching, regardless.

“Can I offer you some coin for food and drink?”

That appeared to mollify. “Ah, no thank you. I’m not supposed to accept—but I can’t afford to do all these things without—but, I cannot—”

“Just take some coin.” Ryurikov flicked two crones, aiming for the monk’s shiny head and somewhat disappointed he caught them. “I’ll help myself. Fair?”

“Yes–fa-fair.”

He rummaged through sacks, pulling out a sizeable chunk of smoked meat, a loaf of bread, and wrapped an arm around a rundlet. At Awimak’s inquisitive gaze, he shrugged. “I’m thirsty.”

Still gaping at the two gold, profile-shaped coins in his open palm, the monk spluttered, “I–Take more! All that you want!”

“This’ll do,” said Ryurikov. “If I were you, I wouldn’t go into Enlumine’s Wish right now. I hear there’s a demon running around.”

The man’s expression became horrified. “Then I must go there, at once! Save those poor souls!”

And he was off, hoisting the tumbrel back up with strained grunts.

Ryurikov absentmindedly released the rundlet when Awimak pulled it out from under his arm. “He puts a lot of faith in a dead kid.”

A FAITH WELL PLACED IF IT ALLOWS HIM TO BE brAVE.

The look Ryurikov gave him was one of incredulity. “Or he could find his spine on his own.”

Veering off path into the forest closely followed by the lantern, he ignored the way Awimak watched him while he devoured half the bread and motioned for the drink. He pried out the stopper and tipped it to his lips, taking large gulps of what turned out to be wine. An odd, savoury wine. Not especially refreshing, but it would have to do.

Ryurikov gulped several mouthfuls and released a bellowing burp, handing the rundlet back. “Help yourself.”

YOU ARE MOST ENCHANTING,said Awimak.

The jibe made him smirk. “My apologies, did that offend your adorable little ears?”

Once far enough into the forest, Ryurikov lowered behind the thick roots of an old tree and leaned back against its mossy trunk. Using his teeth, he nipped off the gloves, laid them across a thigh, and picked at the smoked beef.

ARE YOU WELL?

He straightened up his slouching shoulders, but didn’t raise his eyes. “I’m fine. Vasili has always been a bit much.”

I WOULD CONSIDER THAT MORE THAN A BIT MUCH.

Ryurikov’s gaze flicked up. Awimak stood before him and if he didn’t know any better, he would have thought him to be standing guard.

“At age seven, he was sworn to be my Keeper the day I was born. It was his duty to be by my side at every turn, to protect me no matter the cost. I guess he took the title too literally.” When Awimak said nothing, Ryurikov shrugged. “I always took him for granted, even ridiculed him behind his back, and I’m sure he knew about it.” He toyed with the smoked meat, hunger waning. “Still, no matter what my dad did to me, Vasili was always there to help me up.” Ryurikov scoffed with a roll of his eyes. “Once, he even put everything on the line for me by standing up to my father—his king—when dad’s lessons went too far.”

He grimaced at the foul taste in his mouth, little to do with the mix of savoury drink and smoky beef. The sick, wet sounds of a whip tearing skin from bone echoed in the outskirts of his mind.

Awimak’s hooves kicked up tree-wilt as he stepped closer. THAT DOES NOT ENTITLE HIM TO YOU.

“You don’t have to tell me. I told him several times I wasn’t interested. Thought he’d get over it, eventually.” He shrugged again. “Suppose he never did.”

With a sigh, Ryurikov kicked out a leg. “In any case, Vasili doesn’t concern me. Jezibaba has tried to kill me for the last time.”

WHAT WILL YOU DO?

He nodded at Awimak. “The broom. What will happen if I break it?”

Awimak moved closer, lowering to sit right beside him. The roots curled around them were like a crescent, there was plenty of space, yet that powerful leg was so close to Ryurikov’s, its terrene chill drifted through his breeches. That strange something was back in his stomach, stirring restlessly.

HER POWER IS TIED TO IT IN SOME FORM, said Awimak eventually.

Yes, he’d gathered that. “Will we kill her if I break it?”

I DO NOT KNOW.Awimak’s leg shifted, and their thighs touched. THE ENCHANTRESS IS POWERFUL. IT MAY BE WISER TO LEAVE IT ALONE, PRETEND YOU SUSPECT NOTHING.

It was becoming increasingly difficult to concentrate when Ryurikov’s heart decided now was a great time to misbehave, flailing worse than a disobedient broodmare. He tensed his jaw and dug his fingers into the slab of meat.

“I’m not afraid of the hag.”

Awimak chuffed. YOUR SPINE IS TIED DIRECTLY TO YOUR OBSTINACY.

“There are worse traits to have.”

Obstinate and courageous, at least one of those he considered true. Gritting his teeth against the peculiar flitting in his stomach, Ryurikov discarded the food to the ground. When he faced Awimak, those sun-like eyes were already set on him. A claw moved forward, large enough to crush his head, nails sharp enough to drive into a man’s chest and kill him. As the demon reached for his face, pushed the hood down, and fingers ghosted across his cheek, it was gentle. Considerate of his bruising, tender.

I CANNOT HEAL.The wraith-like snarl seemed softer.

Ryurikov dragged his tongue over his lower lip, and those burning eyes flared, tracking the movement with precision. It spiked his heart rate into chaos. “It’s–It’s fine.”

His own fingers touched something soft. It occurred to Ryurikov he’d just settled his hand on Awimak’s knee. The dark fur so silky, he couldn’t help but run his touch through it. His throat clicked with a sharp swallow.

“Awimak.”

YES, RYURIKOV?

Whatever he had wanted to say fled his mind so abruptly it left him speechless. He floundered for far too long, and he shook his head, away from Awimak’s tender claw. Ryurikov got to his feet, replacing his gloves without looking at the demon.

“I’m going to kill me a witch now.”