Ruslan frowned. He had tumbled out onto a rocky hillside and knew at once something was wrong. He wasn't near the hill with the willow tree where they rested anymore. In fact, he didn't even seem to be in the marshes at all for that matter. How did he get here? Where were the others?
Ruslan turned around and around, calling out to Cassandra. The air tasted foul, and it made him cough. It still had a hint of the metallic sulfur that had nearly choked him. And the sky, now he noticed, looked the wrong color. It had the purplish tint you sometimes got before a storm, except no storm was approaching — there was n
There was something about the grey creatures that sent Ruslan into a frenzy of revulsion. He fought like a demon himself. He punched and kicked furiously. The demons were nearly naked so he could see their repulsive, dark grey, hairless scrawny bodies, and their spindly limbs. When they touched him, his skin crawled.Individually, they were smaller than he was, but there were dozens of others who were human-size swarming across the rubble to help. He knew immediately that they were theDrekavac, the screamers, the mythical demons Owlyn had warned them about
Ruslan had the impression of an open trapdoor with stone steps leading down, but his mind was no longer working. He felt as if it had been pushed into a tight, dark corner of his skull and locked there like a small, furry animal in a cage. He could still see through his eyes, still hear through his ears, but everything was at a long distance as if he was looking through the wrong end of a telescope.Nothing was important anymore, not where he was going. His thoughts crawled through treacle and were blurred around the edges, slipping and sliding away from him every time he tried to use them. If he concentrated reall
When the falling momentum stopped, they landed on hard ground. Through the opalescent light of the moon and the absence of mist above, Cassandra could see it now. The thing that had dragged her down. It was shaped vaguely like a very tall man, and its long grey arms and legs were covered with matted hair and mud. A terrible stench arose from it. Its feet were clawed like a bird's, but the knobbly fingers which had locked with such strength on her ankle ended in long twisted nails. Then the moonlight shone on its face, and she screamed again, for ithadno face, only an open, gaping wound of a mouth, with pendulous wattles of skin hanging below.
"Leave the boy with me," said the sorcerer-king. The demons retreated from the hall and closed the bronze doors behind them. The other sorcerers kept watching by the walls. When the Czar walked towards him, Ruslan looked back nervously. For a long moment, the Czar stood looking down at him without saying a word. His eyes seemed to penetrate his soul. Ruslan tried not to stare back."You must be wondering why you're brought here, young lad." His words were courteous, his manner charming, but it was clear that he had no good int
Owlyn brought back the herbs. Cassandra grounded them into a paste and applied it to the sorceress's wound. The Czarevna was less restless now and her breathing had evened out before she fell asleep again."Now what are we going to do?" Cassandra whispered softly in despair, her worried eyes kept staring at Vasilisa's pale face. The owllooked at her with a gentle surprise.
Tiredness forced Cassandra to lie down. It was a big boat. Besides her, Vasilisa had fallen into slumber again. Cassandra looked up at the moon, which was as thin as a fingernail. Then, painfully, feeling the boat rock beneath her, she propped herself on one elbow and sat up. The mist was still there, hanging low and ragged over the surface of the water. But the marsh itself had changed."We are almost there, my lady," said Nayris.
"Oh, how I miss coming to the sun-drench island of Spain." Florence took a lungful of fresh air. She stepped out of the private jet that had landed at the Canary Island's international airport. The second person to follow was Clare. It was her first time on a private jet. She was still getting used to the special treatments that came with her status, but she was trying to be mindful and kept close to Florence.The whole flight was a smooth and easy journey, and Violet spent the entirety of it quietly working away on her laptop. If she wasn't typing, she was speaking on the phone. The Duchess dove straight to her wo
In a remote town far away from Krasnoyarsk City, a white horned owl perched on the branch of an ancient oak tree, waiting. The bird was too large for its kind. Almost the size of a two-year-old toddler.Speckled sunbeam framed its body after the large bird had swooped down to the ice-covered earth beneath, gilding its white feathered wings and striking an occasional gleam from its sharp yellow eyes.
"Oh, how I miss coming to the sun-drench island of Spain." Florence took a lungful of fresh air. She stepped out of the private jet that had landed at the Canary Island's international airport. The second person to follow was Clare. It was her first time on a private jet. She was still getting used to the special treatments that came with her status, but she was trying to be mindful and kept close to Florence.The whole flight was a smooth and easy journey, and Violet spent the entirety of it quietly working away on her laptop. If she wasn't typing, she was speaking on the phone. The Duchess dove straight to her wo
Tiredness forced Cassandra to lie down. It was a big boat. Besides her, Vasilisa had fallen into slumber again. Cassandra looked up at the moon, which was as thin as a fingernail. Then, painfully, feeling the boat rock beneath her, she propped herself on one elbow and sat up. The mist was still there, hanging low and ragged over the surface of the water. But the marsh itself had changed."We are almost there, my lady," said Nayris.
Owlyn brought back the herbs. Cassandra grounded them into a paste and applied it to the sorceress's wound. The Czarevna was less restless now and her breathing had evened out before she fell asleep again."Now what are we going to do?" Cassandra whispered softly in despair, her worried eyes kept staring at Vasilisa's pale face. The owllooked at her with a gentle surprise.
"Leave the boy with me," said the sorcerer-king. The demons retreated from the hall and closed the bronze doors behind them. The other sorcerers kept watching by the walls. When the Czar walked towards him, Ruslan looked back nervously. For a long moment, the Czar stood looking down at him without saying a word. His eyes seemed to penetrate his soul. Ruslan tried not to stare back."You must be wondering why you're brought here, young lad." His words were courteous, his manner charming, but it was clear that he had no good int
When the falling momentum stopped, they landed on hard ground. Through the opalescent light of the moon and the absence of mist above, Cassandra could see it now. The thing that had dragged her down. It was shaped vaguely like a very tall man, and its long grey arms and legs were covered with matted hair and mud. A terrible stench arose from it. Its feet were clawed like a bird's, but the knobbly fingers which had locked with such strength on her ankle ended in long twisted nails. Then the moonlight shone on its face, and she screamed again, for ithadno face, only an open, gaping wound of a mouth, with pendulous wattles of skin hanging below.
Ruslan had the impression of an open trapdoor with stone steps leading down, but his mind was no longer working. He felt as if it had been pushed into a tight, dark corner of his skull and locked there like a small, furry animal in a cage. He could still see through his eyes, still hear through his ears, but everything was at a long distance as if he was looking through the wrong end of a telescope.Nothing was important anymore, not where he was going. His thoughts crawled through treacle and were blurred around the edges, slipping and sliding away from him every time he tried to use them. If he concentrated reall
There was something about the grey creatures that sent Ruslan into a frenzy of revulsion. He fought like a demon himself. He punched and kicked furiously. The demons were nearly naked so he could see their repulsive, dark grey, hairless scrawny bodies, and their spindly limbs. When they touched him, his skin crawled.Individually, they were smaller than he was, but there were dozens of others who were human-size swarming across the rubble to help. He knew immediately that they were theDrekavac, the screamers, the mythical demons Owlyn had warned them about
Ruslan frowned. He had tumbled out onto a rocky hillside and knew at once something was wrong. He wasn't near the hill with the willow tree where they rested anymore. In fact, he didn't even seem to be in the marshes at all for that matter. How did he get here? Where were the others?Ruslan turned around and around, calling out to Cassandra. The air tasted foul, and it made him cough. It still had a hint of the metallic sulfur that had nearly choked him. And the sky, now he noticed, looked the wrong color. It had the purplish tint you sometimes got before a storm, except no storm was approaching — there was n
Never once did Cassandra think of her mother as anything but a perfectly ordinary woman. Of course, she only had vague memories of her. How her melodious voice sounded, how nice she smelled, and how warm she was to Cassandra when she was a child. Aunt Klementina told her that once when they were going to attend a wedding party, Cassandra's mother told her not to dance. Aunt Klementina hadn't been so fond of her mother for some reason and no doubt she went and danced her legs off. And she broke her hip that night.But that was