by Adrian Hayes

Stars had trailed off long ago; the deep inkiness of night faded into cosmic periwinkle. Svelte, moss covered pine trunks. Rotted, fallen trees in jutted unison caused agile movements as Liø and Biėl kept course.
The young warlocks had been traveling in shifts for days. Liø slept the first half of the night, while Biėl kept watch. They traded off, so Biėl snored against a suitcase. Vėktøv soared above them, keeping watch for oncoming danger. It’d been weeks since they’d seen a witch hunter. Yet they remained vigilant, lest one came plowing through the woods in search of them.
The wheels of the cart moved smoothly; blades of grass imbued with life rolled them along. Liø barely had to do anything. He hadn’t admitted it to Biėl; there’d be claims it wasn’t fair. Most of their life was unfair. Liø didn’t see any point in thinking a turnaround was in store. The two of them needed sensibility if they were to get out of this godforsaken country. He was tired of sleeping in old barns on bales of hay. He made a solemn promise to never again let the taste of nettle soup run across his taste buds.
Biėl, thankfully, continued to rest soundly. Liø tried to let his sleep last. Each night his brother awakened him with soul shattering screeches. Ïr was to blame for those. She plagued his dreams, which began to take its toll during the day. Deep circles formed under Biėl’s eyes; his tawny skin dulled. Liø concocted an elixir to help him keep the terrors at bay and took the second shift.
Dawn crept across the horizon, bleaching the sky with pinks and oranges. Peaks and hills illuminated before him. Liø watched a robin hop along the edge of its nest, beak bobbing as it mended. These were woods he knew well, land he’d played on during the long days of summer hills they’d rolled down countless times. How different they seemed under the guise of exodus.
“Kra.” Vėktøv glided in a circle, leading the way.
Ahead of them a field of wildflowers with yellow buds spawned across
a dale. A wooden cottage with no doors or windows sat abandoned. Vigorously, Liø had the plants escort the wagon to the threshold. As they got closer, he saw the top of the roof was caved in the middle, as if some giant squashed it; ragged planks covered its siding.
Inside the home, the natural elements had gotten the best of the furnishings. That mattered not to Liø who’d give anything for the comfort of his mattress which was now charred to bits by the helicopter that crashed into his house. Heedfully, he slid a suitcase from beneath Biėl’s legs, propping it beside the base of a moth-eaten sofa. He made a rudimentary bed by spreading out a few packed shirts.
In a few waves of his hands, he found furniture to block the entrances. They didn’t need any daytime surprises. When it felt secure, Liø lay down. Vėktøv kept guard, perched at the hole in the ceiling.
Dawn came quicker than anticipated. Crisped herring awoke Liø’s famished stomach. Biėl had cooked the herring in its can. Most meals were eaten in the same container they arrived in, and table manners were secondary to the boy’s survival.
“Did we happen to pass a stream? We may need to get more water soon,” Biėl said, reaching for a plant with white tips; he ground it over the fish.
“I didn’t see a stream or hear one, but I bet Vėktøv can help us find water. We can go look while you finish breakfast.” Liø stretched his stiff neck.
“Don’t bother. Vėktøv can search while we eat. Better for the two of us to stick together,” Biėl said.
Vėktøv picked at his decayed right side, and he extruded a fattened beetle, which he promptly devoured. As a zombie bird, he normally wasn’t hungry, but in his frequent wakenings, his hunger had grown.
“Find water,” Biėl ordered. “Then come straight back.”
Vėktøv had been midswallow and gave a side eye.
“Sorry. Please find the water, then come straight back.”
Seeming to approve, the bird spread his wings and, within a few flaps, exited the hole in the ceiling.
The fish was served on a bed of dandelion leaves, colored with bits of violet. The boys ate the scanty portions slowly, savoring every bite.
It wasn’t long before Vėktøv returned, hopping on the leg of an upturned table.
“Seems he’s found water.” Biėl said, storing the remaining scraps
in a jar.
***
The three of them took to the woods behind the house’s clearing which was more arid than the marshes and bogs they’d traversed through. With no trail, they weaved along weathered trunks until a sandy bank appeared along the stream.
Armed with jars, they balanced along the smooth rocks. While bending down, Liø stared into the water. His tawny skin and dollop nose were a perfect reflection, even the top of his curls could be seen. Biėl passed, creating his own double image.
Liø filled another empty jar as a little girl with blonde hair stared back at him. He pointed across the stream; his lips trembled, rendering him barely able to speak. “Did you see her?” he asked.
“See what?” Biėl looked around.
“There was a girl there.” Liø’s voice turned shrill. “She was at the other bank, looking at me while I grabbed water.”
“There’s yet to be someone around us. If a girl was that close to you, wouldn’t we have heard her?” Biėl proposed. “What about Vėktøv? If something was amiss, he’d be the first to tell us.”
Perched along the edge of the stream near them, Vėktøv cocked his head at Liø questionably. “Kra?” He then flew towards the woods, scanning the area, before he returned, unfruitful of anything to report.
“See? Nothing. I’m sure it was just a trick of the light.” Biėl assured him. “Grab your jars and let’s head back. We’ve got to boil these.”

***
They spent the afternoon boiling water, collecting kindle, and gathering wild greens. When finished, Biėl collapsed in a heap, on one of the suitcases.
After a quick dinner, the boys sat around the fire, delighting themselves
with terrifying tales until night came upon them. Biėl would take the first shift to stand watch.
The stars were completely visible in this part of the world. Liø found
himself staring at them before his slumber. A shadow moved across the skylight. From the motion, Liø could tell it was humanoid in form. Not wanting to look for Biėl or Vėktøv, he lay motionless; eyes forced closed. Beneath slitted lids, he peered at nothing. When his fear subsided, Liø attempted to drift off again. He dreaded not getting rest before his shift.
A breeze of warm air swept across his face. He leaned into its comfort before a befouled odor emerged. Within moments, the stench grew unbearable. Liø’s eyes shot open.
He saw her stretched face and open jaw that drooped to the chest; skin appeared where eyes had been. From the mouth came whiffs of that horrendous odor—rot mixed with fish, along with the salty stench of an unwashed body. Liø screamed, and so did the woman. Her wail increased in volume until Liø thought his ears would bleed.
A force kept his limbs from moving. “Help, Biėl!” Liø convulsed violently.
Within moments his brother was there. “Liø! Liø… wake up.” Biėl shook him, but Liø wouldn’t respond.
The hag above him had a hold on his very being. “She’s got me! Biėl, you have to get her off.” Liø squirmed. Water doused his face, he sputtered upward. “Where is she?” Liø searched. Through soaked eyelids he saw Biėl. “Did she go through the roof?”
Vėktøv stared down at the two of them from an opening in the ceiling.
Biėl asked. “Where is who, brother?”
“The Woman. She pinned me to the ground, and her breath…” Liø’s nostrils creased as though still filled with that horrid scent.
“Liø, there is no one here,” Biėl said.
“Yes, there was, Biėl. We have to search!”
Liø frantically went about the cabin when he saw his brother’s eyes in the dim of the firelight.
“It was a dream brother, nothing more. Perhaps Ïr has bewitched you as well. We don’t know the full extent of them yet.” Biėl patted Liø’s shoulder.
“Now, it is my turn to drift off, and your turn to stand guard.” Biėl lay in his spot; his weary eyes closed. “I’m certain Vėktøv will help you keep watch.”
***
After some time, when he was confident Biėl would not wake, Liø grabbed more kindling until every crevice of the cabin was alit. He kept lookout, using Vėktøv. He feared he'd see something the raven had missed.
Dawn rushed across the valley. When Liø knew for certain day
had risen, and that the fire he'd built wouldn't consume them all, he went to sleep.
***
Breakfast consisted of nuts and berries, the latter of which caused frequent visits to multiple latrines. When certain digestive issues weren’t of the utmost, the boys began their self-tutelage. They flung open the notebooks, kept since toddling, where they committed to memory the spells they’d invented.
“Yach dirn,” Liø recited before a pillar of fire spiraled, engulfing a
fallen tree. “Ai gon,” he commanded before the flames ceased.
“Itorig—no warmth.” A wave of his hand left shards of ice.
“Giorti.” Liø made a sweeping motion, then closed his hand. At this,
the ice melted. Biėl attempted to invigorate Vėktøv, but the raven sat like a statue.
“Still nothing huh?” Liø asked him.
“Yea, still nothing.”
Liø made a gesture with his hand, and Vėktøv flapped his wings.
“It’ll come back Bi, don’t worry. For now, we’ll use our strengths.”
“Another one of Ïr’s gifts.” Biėl kicked a rotted log. “I’m glad that forest burnt down. One small comfort to know, they can only do so much.” A long sigh. “Let’s start foraging before dusk. Maybe we can find something better than nettles.”
Relief swept over Liø as he considered not having nettles for the umpteenth time. They found mushrooms on a tree and Biėl found wild garlic. The two of them ate a feast of wild mushroom and garlic stew, paired with a side of roasted chestnuts—courtesy of Vėktøv.
“I believe we should take our leave of this place soon, lest we be surrounded once more. This time, we’re alone. We haven’t troops to march for us.”
The fire flickered across Biėl’s face. “This was the first time we rested in almost three weeks. Who knows where we are. We haven’t gone near a village since Hÿlā, and we can’t stay in the wilderness. They’ll find us eventually. Tomorrow, we take our leave and find out which direction leads to Īmėrykän—America.”
“Now that we’ve gotten time under our belts, perhaps the roads may be safer. We’ll have to sweet talk folks, won’t we? To get money?” Liø pinned his arms across his stomach and bit his lip.
“We’ll do what we must, just as always, in order to get by. More discretion will be needed, of course. We can’t leave breadcrumbs like we did last time,” said Biėl.
“We were careful enough. It’s those hunters we got tangled with. The village didn’t get out of hand until they came,” Liø said.
“Those days are long gone—at least for the moment. When we get to Īmėrykän, there’ll be no more sleeping outside unless we want to.” Biėl looked up. Rich purple chased away the pink of twilight; stars began to dot the sky.
“Have you been troubled in your sleep?” Liø asked.
“No. Not since before we got here. A small blessing to be thankful for,” Biėl said. The rings under his eyes had shrunk.
“Have you?” Biėl asked.
“If you’re talking about the other night, I think it was sort of a dream.”
Liø hadn’t given the incident much thought.
“You mean, it was a nightmare,” Biėl said.
“I guess so.”
“Hopefully, there’s no more left. I’m sure Ïr used up what they can.”
Biėl chuckled.
“Yea.” Liø looked to the side.
“Where do you think we are?”
“We left the Ümbra going straight through the clearing. Maybe we’re
near the Ītħř Mountains.”
“You might be right on that, brother. I’d almost forgotten about them. Aren’t those the mountains the dwarves mined?”
“That’s what the old stories say. The dwarves are the ones who carved the tunnel to the other side. Don’t you remember? Trolls drove them out.”
“If you recall the story so well, why don’t you regale Vėktøv and I?” Biėl asked.
“That’s exactly what I’ll do.” Liø propped up on a crumbled cushion.
They fell asleep during the building of the tunnel and the war of the trolls. Liø wasn’t sure what stirred him between the dream and the wake, and on the rarest of occasions, he saw Biėl for once sound asleep on the other side of the campfire.
Click-click. Click-click. Swift and short taps across a slotted fence. In pace, it increased along the side of the cabin. The noise became a thud, thumping across the roof. Liø was certain it would be at the hole of the ceiling, but nothing emerged above.
All at once the pounding came; voices overlapped, crying in agony.
“Ēiä erto kömtna. Vünehał näsňa wølomė. She is coming. Let us in.” The words multiplied until they were no longer intelligible.
Sounds crawled from their throats, distorted screeches like the howls of a rabbit.
Liø trembled at the thought of what made the children seek shelter.
“Bam!” A loud pound at the door.
The frame gave way; splintered wood sprayed wildly. Liø held up
his hand to uphold the door, but he was powerless. Chills shot up his spine. He turned to wake Biėl and found himself inside a kitchen.
At the stove, he saw a woman, hunched and haggard. Beside her, an enormous mortar and pestle. On a counter, she pounded a substance that squelched as it was mashed. She picked up a severed hand from the basket. With a cleaver, she chopped the digits off, brushing them into the bowl like fresh carrots. With a sharp crunch, the hand was split, then diced into bits.
“Break the bones to bake the bread…” she hummed merrily.
She reached inside, spreading the contents across her skin. She rubbed her withered neck and saggy jowls. Fingers ran through wiry hair. She spread bits of bone and flesh atop the reddened paste. The scent of fresh iron was repugnant. Liø held his hand over his nose, never blocking view of the woman.
The dizzying aroma near the fireplace caused him to tumble. When he looked up, she was gone, but the little blonde girl was face to face with him, blue eyes wide with wonder.
“Can we play?” she asked.
Liø’s skull suddenly buzzed with images of children running from a creature through rows of barren trees. The background then faded into obscurity.
“I know the best games to play.” Behind the girl, children in tattered clothes clustered together. “They aren’t fun anymore; they have learned how the game ends.”
Tilting her head, the girl revealed whetted teeth, then launched at Liø, and bit his arm. The children around her held him down. He screamed in writhing pain as a chant emerged from the others.
“Baba Yaga
Baba Yaga
In her ancient hut
Baba Yaga
Baba Yaga
Rips out your guts
Baba Yaga
Baba Yaga
Takes off your head
Baba Yaga
Baba Yaga
Break bones
To bake the bread
Baba Yaga
Baba Yaga
Once she is through
Baba Yaga
Baba Yaga
Eats YOU stew”
One child’s face came into view. Their skin had been scalded, the left
eye was gone, and the remaining eye stared into Liø’s soul. The next child was missing part of their scalp. Another was severed from the waist down; entrails swept as they went around in a circle.
“No. Enough!” Liø woke up. The slow light of the fire glimmered.
***
Morning came and the brothers went about their rituals. A quick breakfast of chestnuts from the night before. Once they were full, they set off.
By noon, they made it back to where they had been before.
“It feels like we’ve been walking in circles,” Biėl complained.
In the misdirection, they hadn’t been able to locate the clearing with the cabin again. The boys made a quick camp that night, with Vėktøv keeping a watchful eye. The next morning, they ventured off again, in hopes of getting through the forest.
“What do you think of yesterday?” Liø asked Biėl.
“You mean the directions? It isn’t like Vėktøv to lead us astray.”
Biėl’s face was bewildered.
“Perhaps today will be better,” Liø said.
“Perhaps,” Biėl agreed.
Proving no different than the day before, the boys found themselves
turned aimlessly. In desperation, they camped once again. Provisions were low; they ate very little. “Are we lost?” Liø asked Biėl.
“We’re something. I don’t know if it’s lost, but we’re not found.” Biėl drew across the ground.
“Moreover, there’s no one really looking for us. Not anyone we’d care to look for us, at least,” Liø remarked.
“Kra.” Vėktøv landed on Biėl’s shoulder.
Liø strolled around the fire. Upon the ground was a large square with three dots and a few lines inside of it. Directly beside it, another square with the same structure, only the lines went opposite ways.
“What is that?” Liø asked.
“A map,” Biėl answered.
***
Vėktøv had been gone for longer than they anticipated—so long that they’d begun to worry. They didn’t call his name for fear of someone lurking, and they wouldn’t move for fear of losing him. Lines formed on Liø’s forehead when he looked up and didn’t see the bird soaring.
“He’s never taken this long,” Liø told Biėl.
“He will come back. He always does,” Biėl said.
“Perhaps he found something to eat. We’ve never had him awake for
so long.” This was true. The last few weeks, Vėktøv had been active, seemingly unbothered, never asking for scraps when the boys had finished their meals. The thought never occurred to either of them that he might feel hunger. He never digested the beetles eaten from his side.
“There’s no sense in staring up at the sky until he comes back. We should practice our spells. We already missed yesterday,” Biėl said.
When Liø didn’t move, he felt his brother grip his forearm.
“Come on, Li. He’ll be safe. I promise.”
Twilight arose on the horizon. The fire had just begun to blaze when
they heard him.
“Kra!” Vėktøv called through the canopy, frantically hopping along
the hearth when he reached them.
“It seems he’s found something,” Biėl said.
“It’s too late now to go searching through the woods with night so
close,” Liø said to the raven.
Vėktøv fluttered above Liø, picking his hair.
“What is the matter with you? Stop it.” Liø swatted at him.
Vėktøv dodged his hands and snatched a grimoire between his beaks. Off he went; the boys gave chase.
“Vėktøv, come down. We aren’t mad at you,” Liø said as he blinked
to transport across the forest.
“Be a good bird and give our notebook back,” Biėl said
“Vėktøv!” Liø called.
Dark heavy clouds gathered above them. In this part of the forest, they could not see the canopy. Rain sprinkled in slow drops about them. From the sky, nothing could be deciphered.
“That damned raven will be the death of us,” Biėl said.
Lightning flashed across the sky, followed by thunder. Worry filled Liø’s head. If they hadn’t found him and a storm came... He shuddered at the thought of Vėktøv blown away by storm winds. Successive strikes flashed, making the forest bright as mid-day.
“I see him!” Liø raced through the trunks of the trees.
Biėl could barely keep pace. “Did you snag him?” he said, catching up to his brother.
“No. I lost him again.”
Kraak! Thunder rumbled. The sky illuminated, divulging a small
black spot above.
***
Deeper into the forest, the boys ventured until they came to a thick part of the woods; the trees still bare above them. Hours had been spent chasing their flying familiar. The boys could feel him slightly, like a game of hot and cold. The rain picked up, although the two did not mind.
Ka-ka boom! A violent sky eruption gave a glimpse of Vėktøv
perched along a fence. “There he is!” Liø cried, rushing to him.
“Wait, please,” Biel cried.
At the fence, Liø snuck up on Vėktøv.
“Dus.” A wave of his hand turned Vėktøv stiff as a garden statue. The
notebook fell from his beak. “You’re not flying off this time. Sorry, old friend. We need you on your best behavior.”
Biėl drew near. “Did he take off?”
“No, I’ve got him. I just had to put him to sleep for a bit.” Liø opened
the suitcase, placing Vėktøv in gently. “When he wakes up, hopefully he’ll feel better.”
Liø turned, anticipating Biėl’s response, but only the wagon and
luggage were there. Liø grabbed the handle and took off to find him. Beyond the lines of the fence, he saw his brother. Something was in his palm.
“Biėl, what are you doing?”
Biėl held a plump, red strawberry. “Look at this, brother. Have you
seen a more delicious-looking fruit?” He salivated as he spoke.
“We can’t be here. There’s a light on in the house. We’ve got to go.” Liø urged his brother.
“I’ve already eaten a few. Let’s get what we can from the garden.” Biėl grabbed more strawberries as the rain poured.
“We have to find somewhere safe,” Liø said, heading to the fence line.
Kr-kracck boom! Thunder exploded and a bolt of lightning made the
trees fully visible.
Liø saw her beside the tree—the blonde girl. She seemed dry, although
everything around her was soaked. Her cerulean eyes and serrated teeth were discernible from a distance. She let out a voracious howl, then charged on all fours. Another bolt of lightning and the vision was gone; rain poured in its stead.
As they came upon the cabins, there were lanterns that lit at once,
illuminating the fence posts around the shack. Lightning struck a tree not far from them. Biėl kept his head down, hands feverishly picking at the strawberries.
“There’s enough to make sure we don’t go hungry for a few weeks.” He wore a maddened smile, waltzing to the wagon. He tossed in the horde of berries.
Lighting cracked the sky, illuminating a hut behind them—an ominous and foreboding structure.
“I don’t care, Biėl. We can’t stay out here in a storm like this—even being witches.” Liø was terrified by the girl. He wanted to get as far away from the hut as they could.
“What are you doing out here?” a voice called from a corner of the yard before a yellowed light appeared in the air. It was accompanied by a figure. She wore a hood over her face, and they couldn’t make out her features.
“You’ll catch your death of cold, the two of you will. Come here so I can see you better.” As if by some force, Biėl trotted obediently.
“Liø, come on.” Biėl signaled.
Hesitation clung to Liø’s feet, steeling him to the ground. How in the
hell was there a hut in the middle of the woods? And why was Biėl
going along like a wanton puppy?
Looking to the gate, Liø had every inkling to blink himself and Biėl back to the forest.
“I don’t bite. I promise,” the woman said. “I only want to help you stay out of the storm. You’ll be able to leave as you please when the rain clears.” Her voice seemed like a song of kindness.
“Liø, don’t be rude,” Biėl said.
“Why, look at you. You’re just babes. No—that won’t do, not at all. Get inside this instant, we’ll get you all warmed up.” The woman held the lantern over the trail.
“What are your names? I think I heard yours was Liø?” The woman nodded left where Liø held the wagon close to him.
“And what’s yours?” She brightened when she asked Biėl. Something Liø found odd.
“My name is Biėl. You were right about Liø. I don’t know why he’s suddenly shy.” Biėl shot his brother a look, which Liø disregarded.
“Nice to meet you both. My name is Inånna.” The lamp brightened the woman’s velvet brown face; a sinister smile coiled at her lips.
(This excerpt of Adrian's full story will be in our upcoming Iridescence anthology. Pre-order today. )

Adrian Hayes enjoys writing horror, fantasy, and adventure. His hobbies include cycling, video games, gardening, and photography. He has worked with the journalism team for Kinsman Quarterly and has future writing goals to publish his first manuscript, finish his second novel, and begin work on his own series.
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