The Shining Falcon

But then they'd attacked, beating at him with their clubs, and there wasn't room for swordplay in those close quarters, there wasn't even room to simply draw the blade. He could only try to ward off the blows as best he could, and pray they wouldn't think to use their daggers as well, A club connected with his arm with agonizing force, a second smashed against his side, a third grazed his head, and in the dodging, he lost his balance and fell, thinking, Oh, God, now they've got me, they'll beat me to death! But somehow he managed to scrabble free, panic overwhelming pain, tearing his way through the underbrush on hands and knees, not even feeling the thorns ripping his flesh, till at last he could struggle to his feet and run quite literally for his life.

He'd been running ever since, clutching his wounded arm to his wounded side, running through the ever‑darkening forest, falling, scrambling up, falling again, sure he could hear the robbers right behind him. Or was it only robbers? Was it the guards, the royal guards from Stargorod? No; it was all impossible! Could any mortal have kept up with him all this way?

—And Alexei found himself staring into two wild, cruel, inhuman eyes. He screamed aloud in a terror sharper than any he had ever felt. «No!»

Somehow he managed to find his feet again and stagger on, blindly, lungs aching with the strain— And a hand, an inhuman hand, brushed his cheek. With a gasp, Alexei swerved aside, hearing laughter behind him — «Ahh!»

Strong fingers pinched his arm, and now the laughter was all around him, cold, mocking laughter that filled him with renewed panic. He found one last burst of speed with in him, but then something—someone—was tripping him, and he was falling down a steep, rocky slope, coming to rest at the bottom in a crumpled, sobbing heap. «No, oh God, no! Leave me alone!» Weakling. You are no son of mine. «Father… ?» Alexei shook his head in frantic denial. «This can't be! You're dead!»

But the cold voice continued, Little whining boy blaming your mother for her peasant blood, blaming me for taking her, blaming everyone and everything but yourself. Yet the voice no longer belonged to his father. Alexei gave a little moan of horror as he recognized the rough sound of the men with whom he'd gambled away his inheritance. Big-talker. Full a' no-good promises. Never your fault when it all goes wrong. No, course not, always someone else's fault.

Alexei heard himself whimper as he tried to find a way to hide from those sneering voices, but they were all around him. And now Danilo's voice had joined them, saying:

Traitor. Foolish, empty, pitiful traitor. «Leave me alone! Just—just leave m-me alone!» The voices drowned him out. The voices dragged out his secret dreams of glory, mocking them, showing him what a small, sorry, ridiculous creature he was. And the laughter, the cold, pitiless laughter was all around him, there in the darkness, and there was no place to run, no place to hide, nothing but torment-All at once it had gone quite beyond endurance; all at once there was nothing for Alexei to do but simply surrender. Lying submissively where he'd fallen, letting the voices beat at him till they'd faded into the darkness, he quite calmly gave himself over to whatever fate awaited him. After all the terror, it was almost a relief not to even try to fight back, to just let go, to feel fear and pain and sanity slip away from him. Now that the voices and the laughter were gone, he could see that the darkness was quite beautiful, the beautiful darkness all around him. And when the forest spoke to him, he wasn't at all amazed. When it asked him, «Do you fear me?«he nodded, smiling cajolingly. «Yes, oh, yes.»

«And have you learned? Do you respect me now?»

«Yes, oh, yes!» repeated Alexei. All at once it struck him as funny, everything struck him as funny, the fact that he'd gone from boyar to bandit chief to nothing, no one at all, it struck him as wildly, wildly funny. And there in the darkness, the beautiful darkness, with who knew what unseen devils looking on, Alexei put his head back and laughed and laughed and laughed.

Chapter XXIX

Demons

The crow, bearing a small vial in its claws, squirmed and struggled its way through the missing slat in the locked shutters barring the window, let the vial fall, and smoothly transformed back into golden Ljuba, a bit breathless, but smiling a small, contented smile.

Did the old fool really think he could keep her captive?