2. Two

The shout he awoke with vanished into the dark. Ryurikov gazed up at a starry night sky, heard the trees whisper in a zephyr, the owls hoot in the distance, and the wolves howl for his flesh.

Oh good, he was still in the forest, still on his back, pain barbing every inch of him.

Ryurikov groaned, aware that the only thing he could do was lie there until something came to put him out of his misery. Based on the faint footfalls, the crunching of twigs and leaves that pricked his ears, he wouldn’t have to wait long.

“Can you go for my neck first?” he croaked at the sky, voice claggy with blood. The trees overhead waved, stars twinkling beyond them, and he narrowed his eyes. They were mocking him. “I’d rather not be eaten alive.”

There came chanting whispers then, so soft he couldn’t make out what they said. Not that he needed to concern himself with that when his vision was obstructed by a silhouette, and it was massive. Tall, powerful shoulders and large, thick horns that could very well be considered boughs on their own, curling around a head veiled by shadows. Ryurikov knew what this was all the same, he’d heard its terrifying roar earlier, and smelled the stench of enforcer blood on it. It stank the same as all other blood, but it seemed a plausible suspicion.

Awimak, the Demon of the Unbroken Wilds, stood over him, as tall as a sorcerer’s tower, staring down at his broken body with blazing eyes. And the only thing Ryurikov’s pain-addled mind could come up with was to wonder why he had to wake long enough to meet what would devour him. He tried to move, but succeeded only in twitching his fingers.

Moonlight illuminated Awimak’s outline as it turned its head when the volume of susurrant chants increased. Then there were branch-like white horns, and dark faces belonging to bulbous, translucent shapes, and eyes twinkling like the stars above. They too peered down, encircling him, drawing ever closer until all he saw was their shadowy faces, the bright glints of their eyes.

“Stealing is immoral,”one of them whispered, right into his ear. Ryurikov tried to jerk his head away. He still couldn’t move.

“I don’t steal,“ he rasped.

“Lying, too, is immoral,”another whispered.

“Al-Alright, guilty. Guilty on both counts.”

“So is murder.”

Ryurikov tensed his jaw. “Guilty on three counts, then.”

“Adultery.”

“Good grief,” Ryurikov ground out, “are you in a position to judge when you’re going to eat me alive? Just get on with it!”

An overlapping chorus of whispered anger met his impatience. Awimak moved, vanishing from sight just as a string of clouds obscured the moon. The pallid spirits paid Awimak no mind as they extended slender arms and scattered sticks over Ryurikov with long, thin fingers. He feared it might be kindling.

They didn’t stop, haphazardly piling more atop him, burying him with dead leaves and shrubbery. So much, it weighed on him.

Ryurikov gagged on blood swamping his throat, his vision blurry as his mind drifted in and out of consciousness. There were no gods he believed in, but he prayed for sleep, regardless.

Ryurikov squinted against the light filtering through the canopy of trees. He swore under his breath and sat upright, twigs and leaf-litter tumbling down around him. It looked like he was in a grounded nest, a giant human bird with tattered clothing and… Healed bones.

“Well, fuck.”

So the little bastard spirits healed him. They had even tended to his leg, now free of the arrow. Awimak hadn’t killed him, either. Ryurikov wondered why. They sure seemed adamant about throwing judgements about. With a scoff, he wiped forest dross off himself and stumbled to his feet. He was stiff, but that was a hell of a lot better than a broken back.

A glance up at the sky told him it was afternoon. A more thorough look at his surroundings declared he was lost. Ryurikov moved over brush and old, broken trees laden with moss, hoping to find tracks of the witch’s hut. Birds above were chipper, he heard the distant burbling of a brook, but there were no traces of Jezibaba. And it had taken him months to uncover her. Fuck.

He did find what was left of the enforcers, their remains scattered across the forest a short distance from where he walked.

With a grimace, Ryurikov toed the mangled bodies, but they were stripped of their weapons. Unfortunate, when he was out of arrows, had lost his bow and sword, was now down to a dagger and miles away from settlements. Worse situations to be in, he supposed. He could be someone’s meal right now, for a start.

He made his way to the brook, where he dropped to his knees and guzzled, the cool water rinsing tarrying drowsiness from his mind. Lush green encircled his gently rippling reflection.

Ryurikov rarely looked at himself, and it wasn’t the scarred half of his face that bothered him. Rather, it was the ghostly spheres for eyes that irked. A parting gift from a disgruntled lover, who told him that if he was going to be soulless and unfeeling, his eyes ought to reflect that. Ironic, coming from a prince of darkness.

He slapped the water and replaced his dark scarf and hood to hide. It was then he caught sight of the white silhouettes some distance away, watching him. In daylight, they looked more like concentrated flurries of snow, their faces and wide eyes owl-like.

“What now?” he demanded, pushing to his feet.

“Immoral,”they whispered. There were five of them, all peeking from behind trees. “Owe us a favour, now.”

“I didn’t ask you to heal me.”

All the same, Ryurikov hopped over the brook and approached them. Many considered him uncouth, but he liked to think he wasn’t entirely without manners. He stopped nearby and glared down at them. These peculiar spirits were short, reaching up to his thighs. His abdomen, if he counted the horns.

“We can return your bones to the way we found them,”they whispered in unison. Ryurikov tried, and failed, to suppress the shudder that jerked down his spine.

“I’d rather you didn’t,” he said, moving as they did to keep a comfortable distance between them.

“Then owe us.”

“What do you want?”

“Redemption.”

“I’m all out of prayers and forgiveness, but I’m sure there’s a chapel in the nearest town if—”

“For you,” they hissed, clearly annoyed.

“I don’t need redemption.”

“We beg to differ. Liar, thief, murderer, adulterer.”

Ryurikov glowered at their glinting eyes. “I’ll have you know I wasn’t aware she was married.”

“Liar.”

He sighed. “Fine, so I had a vague idea.” He wouldn’t justify himself to these beings, even if they spared him from a potentially slow and painful death. “What is it I can do for you?”

“Take,”one hissed.

“Give,”another whispered.

Ryurikov held out his hands in confusion.

“Take from the undeserving.”That whisper came from behind him, and he spun to glare at the one that had snuck ’round.

“Give to the worthy.”

He flattened his lips. “And if I don’t?”

“Crack, snap,”sibilated the one in front of him, their spindly fingers mimicking the breaking of what he presumed would be his leg.

Ryurikov sighed in frustration. “This is a terrible way to do business, you know, but fine.” He spun on his heel and stalked back to cross the brook. “Fine!”

“Wrong way.”

When he turned, all five spirits pointed west. He shook his head once, and continued to walk in the same direction he had been, just until he was out of sight, at which point he veered to the left.