Sarwat Chadda - Dark Goddess

Women were starting to gather around a huge rock. Old, young, something in between, they stalked through the trees, covered in paint, covered in tattoos, covered in beads and skins and power. They were of all nations and races. Fair Scandinavians and dark Africans. Black-haired Mongolians and browned-skinned women from the Indian subcontinent and the East. But they had abandoned their past lives when they’d become part of the Polenitsy, part of a more ancient, primeval identity. Their long locks blew wildly in the wind. One crouched above them on a branch, feathers and small bells hanging from her golden-brown hair.

The women came close, silently watching the small group’s progression toward the rock. Billi felt giddy, drunk. She held tightly on to Ivan, shaking her head to stop the silent calling that rose from the women, the Polenitsy. It wasn’t audible; she could only feel it in her deepest heart.

One of us.

Deep down inside her, the Beast Within snapped at its chains, the links weakening. The clothes on her back were pulling her down. She wanted to tear them all off and go running and hunting and feasting with her sisters.

One of us.

Sisters? Billi stopped herself. No. She wasn’t anything like them. They were monsters. The Beast Within was trying to trick her.

They parted as they came within a few feet of the house-sized black rock. Frost-covered moss and ivy shimmered on its surface. Billi spotted faded patterns and worn-out engravings under the ivy, but they were too weathered to make out. The Polenitsy retreated into the forest, but Billi knew they weren’t far. She could join them whenever she wanted.

“Below,” ordered Olga.

At the base of the rock was an opening, a hole leading into the earth. It was almost invisible under the deep shadow of the boulder. Olga led the way, followed by Vasilisa. Svetlana pushed Billi, who spun and shoved the red-haired girl back.

Svetlana crouched, her loose hair framing her face. She had deep red lips and was as tall as Billi, but more muscular. However, her powerful physique only made her more feminine, not less. Her features were strong and dominated by her green eyes, set above high, hard cheekbones.

Billi gritted her teeth and hissed. She wanted nothing more than to rip that mocking smile off Svetlana’s face. Ivan grabbed her wrist, pulling her back.

“We’ll pick our moment,” he said. Svetlana snorted with derision. But Ivan didn’t let go until Billi had acknowledged him. Then he released her as she turned back toward the hole and slid down.

The passageway was too low to stand in, and the rocks it was made of were uneven and undulating, probably shaped by an ancient underground stream. The narrow channel was lit by candles that sat in small, chiseled-out alcoves. Above them was a gallery of artwork from pre-history. There were massive bulls with huge arched horns, and charcoal-outlined mammoths strolling across the ancient stone. Small, potbellied horses galloped over the rock, full of vivid detail and motion.

The animals were lavishly colored with rich shades of ocher-reds and yellows. The outlines followed the shape of the walls so they seemed almost ready to break out of the rock and take living form. Matchstick hunters darted back and forth, throwing their puny spears and darts. The animals had been drawn and painted with great love and beauty, but the humans were featureless and pathetic.

Feet scuffled overhead, and Billi realized that the passage had opened up. More Polenitsy moved along natural ledges higher up on the walls, watching Billi and her party. All women, despite the men in the camp. They were marked by symbols, bones, and decorations that were prehistoric and simply beautiful. Polished stones hung off twine necklaces, and small carved animals dangled from their braided locks.

“Babushka,” called Olga. She raised her hand, and all movement ceased.

Water chimed ahead, echoing in the large space.

Billi caught her breath. The air trembled as though the Earth itself were sighing. Ivan came next to her. His face was open with wonder as he gazed at the ancient artwork surrounding them. He touched the head of one of the bulls, tracing the curve of its horn with his fingertips.

Olga entered, and they followed. Billi gasped at the size of the innermost chamber. The entire Temple Church could have fit in here without touching the top or sides. The roof formed a high dome, and around the widest part ran a deep ledge decorated by huge crystalline formations that glowed deep ocher. Thirty-foot-long stalactites dripped water into sparkling pools.

Olga led them down the ledge to the largest pool, and they stopped at its edge. Thick columns of the same glowing crystal formed a forest of stone where the Polenitsy lurked. The walls were decorated with paintings and carvings of flying reptiles, man-beasts, huge monsters with wings and claws and humans with the heads of animals. The walls were marked with grooves where the wolves had sharpened their claws.

“Babushka,” repeated Olga.

Something moved through the crystal labyrinth. Clack clack clack went a staff of bone. Bare feet with leathery soles shuffled along the stone. The Polenitsy hissed and went to their knees.

Red shoved Ivan down onto his knees, and he stifled a cry. Billi knelt unbidden; it just seemed right. She was in the presence of the goddess. Only Vasilisa and Olga remained standing.

Invisible waves of energy rippled across the vast chamber, and each one shook Billi to the core. She put her hands into the water, but fought to keep her head up. The weight of the goddess’s presence was overwhelming.

This was why man feared the dark. From the earliest times he’d known that something wild lurked just outside the flickering flames of his cave, with the beasts and the monsters. The Dark Goddess.

She shuffled into the faint candlelight, and the shadows deepened around her. She walked hunchbacked, but even so was thirteen feet tall. Rags covered her skeletal frame-animal skins and ancient furs. Insects scuttled in her floor-length white hair, which formed a veil over her face. Only the eyes peered out. Black, shiny, ancient. Her nails-long, curved daggers-clicked against her bone staff.

“ Come, MY little OnE.”

Vasilisa hesitated and glanced back at Billi. But Billi couldn’t help her. Vasilisa crossed the pool to take the withered hand of the ancient witch.

Baba Yaga drew Vasilisa into her arms and laughed. It sounded like the crackling of dry sticks on a fire, or of river water battering against rocks and cliffs. It rose, and now it was a bonfire, piled high and blazing.

BILLI ENTWINED HER FINGERS WITH IVAN’S, HOLDING tightly to stop herself from shaking. Baba Yaga shuffled through the pool and peered at them.

“WhO Are you , DAughterrr?” she asked. There were ten thousand voices on her tongue. With Billi’s acute hearing she could differentiate some. Men, women, children. Some were nearly articulate, while others screamed incoherently. All Baba Yaga’s victims. No wonder Vasilisa was terrified, standing in the clutches of the witch.

“Billi.” Her own voice cracked with fear. She cleared her throat and tried again, pushing some courage into her lungs. It wasn’t easy. “Billi SanGreal.”

“A wolf-killer,” added Svetlana.

Baba Yaga’s breath rolled like an icy wind over Billi’s face. Her talonlike nails click click clicked, and Billi was painfully aware of how any one of them could rip clean through her chest and out the other side. Ivan rose and took a step forward. His face was a mask of fear, but he stared at the Dark Goddess, determined and defiant.

“She did it to save me,” he said.

Baba Yaga’s attention snapped toward him, and she stroked his throat with her cold nails.