Irina is teaching me not to succumb to fear, to act, no matter what. And I try to heed her now.
“A… nnna… ppput… yourrr… arms… a… rrround my… nnneck.”
I help her onto my back and try to set off towards the temple again. But my legs don’t cooperate, my knees begin to buckle and pain shoots right through me. Anna does what she’s told, for once, and clutches my neck, almost suffocating me.
I manage about five feet but my breath is heavy and wheezing. I’m freezing, my numb fingers can hardly keep Anna in place… but I see Irina rushing towards us and tears start running down my cheeks before I can stop them. My sobs turn to wails, even louder than Anna’s, as I fall into the soft snow and let Irina run the rest of the distance.
5
Yarat. The capital of Araken.
So many years have passed and the landscapes have changed. My memories help me to orientate myself a little and I realize that we are traveling northwards. I see some new villages that have sprung up, a few roads have widened and the outlines of the woods are different to how they used to be. Some places I used to know are just nowhere to be seen. We are moving along this unfamiliar road and I recognize a couple of places, while all the rest are completely new to me. But I’m happy to learn that Araken still exists and Yarat has remained its capital. Even though, when I was alive, I only visited it twice. The first time, all Maras were asked to attend the new king’s coronation and the second time we came to rid the woods from evil.
We, Maras, do not belong to any kingdoms and do not serve any kings. The woods adjoining our temple are considered Maras’ territory and are situated right on the border between two kingdoms: Araken and Serat. An ocean washes the western borders of the countries and on the east a mountain range creates another natural border. No one crosses the mountains and no one comes from the mountains. Maybe the world ends there or just people.
Maras do not take sides or have favorites; we help those who need it. Whether the people of Serat have needed us, or the citizens of Araken, we rush to their aid. But I’m glad it was the Prince of Araken who raised me from the dead. If it had been the heir of Serat, I would have broken his neck before he even breathed a word.
“Your Highness,” I address the prince after a few hours of our monotonous journey, “if you don’t mind me asking, why are you so interested in Maras?”
“Where should I start?” the prince drags out with a smile; he’s probably flattered that I spoke to him first. “My mother died when I was young, just five years after my little sister was born. The king, I mean my father, was not particularly interested in my upbringing and I spent too much time with nurses and my siblings, my little sister and my elder brother Nikolay. My brother loved reading to us and his favorite tales were those of Maras and Moroks.”
“A questionable choice of bedtime stories,” I put in.
“True. That’s what any adult would have thought. But we had a choice between you and goblins.”
“What’s wrong with goblins?” I ask, nonplussed.
“Well, they are awful monsters, for one.”
“They do look weird because of the skulls instead of faces, but they are pretty harmless.” I object.
“You call those thugs harmless?!” Daniel looks at me like I’ve gone mad. “I’ve heard they can be up to ten feet tall; their horns look like tree limbs and their eyes are blood-red.”
“Well, the blood-red eyes are nonsense,” I shrug. “More often than not, they don’t have any, just a bare, animal skull where the face should be.”
“Even better! Empty eye-sockets definitely look more harmless than red eyes,” the prince snorts.
I can’t help but giggle and the sound is strange and unfamiliar. I seem to have forgotten how to laugh and the giggling is strained and a far cry from that beautiful resounding laugh I used to have.
But he’s right. I am used to goblins and knowing that they are just wood spirits protecting animals and plants, I take no notice of their eerie appearance. For common people, they must look sinister.
“Well, I guess they might look a bit fearsome,” I cave.
“A bit?” the prince calls back and his lips break into a smile when he hears me laugh again. “As we’ve agreed on the monstrosity of goblins, I shall continue my story.”
I nod waiting for him to speak.
“My sister didn’t mind either way as all tales were horror stories to her. But as you might have guessed, I am not a fan of huge wood… spirits. So, I chose the tales about you. What can be more fascinating than beautiful girls who bring merciful death?”
“Outlandish princesses?”
Daniel waves my taunt away and continues with the story.
“I wasn’t wrong. I listened, enraptured, to every story. I was totally fascinated by them! I asked my brother to tell me the same stories again and again and I never got tired of them. Brother had not expected such a reaction though, otherwise he might have kept the stories to himself. The most popular one, apparently, was where Mara Silvia defeated two demons on her own to protect a group of innocent children.”
Silvia. I’ve heard the story, too, even though it happened long before I was born. Everyone’s heard it. Demons are huge monsters and you’re lucky if you can beat one, but two…
“To be honest,” Daniel goes on, “the stories that I loved the most were the ones about you and your sisters. I truly admired the last Maras and your bravery in the face of what happened to your sister Anna.”
My cheerfulness is gone like it was never there. That’s what my sister’s name does to me.
“There’s nothing to admire, Your Highness,” I say drily, “there is nothing romantic about death.”
“Well, it may be small consolation, but then I believe you would agree that walking the earth again is quite an improvement on lying in it.”
I turn my head a little to catch a glimpse of Morok, who’s following us at a respectful distance. He’s sitting very straight on his black steed and looks straight ahead. He doesn’t fidget or look around. He positively looks like a statue.
I lean sideways, a bit closer to Daniel so that my voice doesn’t carry.
“Your Highness, how come a Shadow’s servant is helping the Crown?”
“It is said that Moroks appear where and when they are needed, so it is useless to seek them out,” the prince answers mysteriously. “After Maras were gone, common people had it particularly bad and they hoped that Moroks would step in to do Maras’ job. But they just vanished. Some people say they left because of you, but no one knows the real reason.” Now Daniel leans towards me. “You can’t really ask them, can you. Moroks are not really big on conversation.”
I try to stifle a giggle and just nod in agreement.
“Some say that Moroks are people too and they need to pay for their food. And who can pay more than the king himself?”
“Morok is working for you for gold?” The idea seems ridiculous at first, but come to think of it, I can remember occasional stories about Moroks running errands for the Crown and not out of the goodness of their hearts. Maras see taking gold for their work as unbecoming. We’ve never asked for pay, people used to make offerings of their own volition.
“They are sometimes called hired shadows now,” Daniel’s voice is no more than a whisper. “Some people say that times have