Page 44 of I Will Always Find You
Back at the river, alerted to Baba Yaga’s presence by the mystical warning sigils he had been carving into trees whilesearching for Dawyd, the Romani witch raced out of the water. As he quickly dressed, he repeatedly called out for Damek. To his horror, he was met with silence; his beloved was nowhere to be found.
The Romani witch grabbed one of his pouches upon his belt, which had a small glass vial within. This was his potion forsight beyond sight, containing ingredients of mugwort, vervain, lavender, rosemary, and the dust of a crushed amethyst. It was nearly depleted, but he had no more need to search for Dawyd; the last of the concoction would be used to locate Damek.
Drinking the foul-tasting elixir, the Romani Witch soon saw an image of Baba Yaga clutching his unconscious love. The vision took him on a journey through the woods, deeper and deeper, until he saw a clearing. There, in the middle of the pasture, was the Cannibal Hag’s hut.
As he was about to be taken past the monstrous bone gate into the very lair of the beast herself, Baba Yaga turned and looked right at him—into his mind’s eye. She snickered and dispelled the vision with a brush of her hand.
The Romani witch then heard a most sinister and shrill voice inside his head.
“Come for him, witch—if you dare.”
Fueled by the intense hatred and rage burning inside him, the Romani witch responded in kind: venomously.
“I dare, bitch.”
The Romani witch quickly checked to see that all his magical items and weapons were securely attached to his person, and when he was confident they were, he positioned himself in a running stance.
“Celeritas! Veloces haec crura facito!”
Like the wind, the Romani witch took off through the woods in the direction his vision had shown him. When the path was obstructed by fallen trees or thick bramble bushes, he leapt intothe air or smashed through them. Nothing would slow him or block his way.
When he finally saw the clearing in the near distance and then the top of Baba Yaga’s hut, he withdrew the power from the spell and slowed his running to a more natural human pace. When he was at the edge of the treeline, mere footsteps from the clearing, the Romani witch stopped altogether, caught his breath, and stared in shock at the ghastly monstrosity before him.
So it is true—a house upon chicken legs! This is an abomination of magic! A foul mockery of Hecate and Terra’s gifts of witchcraft and nature.
The Romani witch knew he must thoroughly prepare for battle before entering the beast’s diabolical lair. To thwart Abriana’s vision, which foretold his defeat, he had to ensure that his most potent magic was ready and accessible. He needed to carefully consider all possibilities.
From this point on, great-grandmo—no, Abriana!The Romani witch shook his head; he needed to be clear and free from mixed-up thoughts.Through your teachings, Abriana, and my ancient power, my actions shall alter your vision. It must!
Meanwhile, inside Baba Yaga’s hut, Damek lay on the floor, battered, bruised, and bleeding, having suffered defeat at the hands of Baba Yaga, just as Abriana had foreseen.
After regaining consciousness from the head injury which rendered him senseless, the brave Hutsul had quickly become aware of his circumstances, and that he was inside the den of the beast. She had left him propped up against a wall, tossed aside like a child’s forgotten ragdoll.
He had tried to use the power of Zagovory to free himself from the clutches of the monster that abducted him. He stood courageously, invoking the Great Spirit. He cast a charm spellto put the dark witch to sleep; sadly, Damek’s attack had proven utterly ineffective.
His people’s folk magic was never meant for battle; it was protective, healing, and sympathetic, a collection of incantations and charms. A powerful force of passion, but weak compared to Baba Yaga’s dark sorcery.
The core belief behind Zagovory was that spoken words, especially when combined with specific rituals or invocations, could directly influence reality. Only it was meant to happen over time, through ceremony and patience. It was never meant to combat immortals.
Damek was still grappling with the basics of fire control, a far cry from mastering the art of shattering mountains.
Baba Yaga, knowing her latest captive was awake from the moment his eyes opened, had turned and laughed at him. The confrontation between Damek and the Cannibal Hag was over nearly before it began, the victor never truly in doubt in the mind of either combatant.
Still, despite insurmountable odds, Damek was proud that he had been fearless enough to try. Trying in the face of all hopelessness was something he learned from the Romani witch, and he held on to it now for strength and comfort as he waited for either his beloved to save him—or his own death.
Despite believing in his lover’s bravery and power with all his heart, Damek secretly feared that no mortal witch could defeat such a monster.
Suddenly, without any warning, taking Damek out of his troubled thoughts and capturing his full attention, the sturdy wooden door to Baba Yaga’s hut flew off its metal hinges, blown inward by a large object that had crashed into it with tremendous force.
That object was the bone gate.
“I am here, my love.”
Thick plumes of smoke rushed through the open entrance, filling the strange house, a space infinitely larger inside than it looked to be from the outside. Within the smoke, concealed by its density and darkness, walked the Romani witch, who could see and breathe through the stuffy obfuscation just fine.
Baba Yaga was momentarily shocked into stillness; only her eyes moved as she followed the living smoke swirling around her abode. She was impressed that another’s magic was mighty enough to work within her place of power. Amused but not awed.
“Beloved, get out!” Damek shouted, spitting out blood. He was surprised to discover that he was completely unaffected by the smoke and could speak and breathe within it, although he could not see. “Run! Save yourself! Please, I am begging you, go now!”
