Orson Card - Enchantment

Instead, Bear took it between his lips. Then a bit of his tongue came out, tasting the comer of it.

"Delicious," said Bear.

He sucked the paper into his mouth, chewed it slowly, and swallowed.

Now I'll never deliver the message, Ivan thought.

Then Bear stood up so suddenly he hit his head on the ceiling of the plane. He roared, and roared again. And again. And again.

Why didn't he speak?

Bear began slashing the upholstery of the chairs. He rampaged through first class, then back into business class, seemingly oblivious now to Ivan, who followed him, fascinated and appalled by what seemed to be rage. Yet through it all, though Bear roared again and again, he said not a word.

And then, suddenly, he turned toward Ivan and clambered deftly over the seat backs and in a moment he had Ivan pressed to the floor in the aisle, looming over him. He opened his mouth and lowered it toward Ivan's head.

Katerina, if only you survive, it's all been worth it. It was not teeth that touched him. Only a huge tongue lapping his cheek, almost pulling half his face up with it. And another lick.

He's saying thank you. He's thanking me because... because... the note wasn't a message at all. It was the spell of unbinding. It was the spell that set Bear free of Baba Yaga. That's why he wasn't speaking—he had lost her gifts as well as her chains.

"You're free, aren't you," Ivan said.

Bear roared triumphantly in response, then overleapt him on the floor and began pawing at the airplane door.

Ivan got up, wiping the bear slobber from his cheeks, and made his way to the door. The spell on it was gone. He opened it, but before it was even a quarter of the way up, Bear shimmied out through the opening and landed on the ground, rolling in the meadow.

The door opened the rest of the way. Ivan could see a campfire, then another. Dozens of them in the meadow.

Whose? Baba Yaga's army? Ivan had seen them run away.

Ivan lowered himself from the airplane and dropped to the ground. Just in time—the moment he got to his feet, he heard a rush of air and a clap of thunder, and the 747 was gone.

He walked across the meadow to the fires. As soon as people saw him, they began coming up to him, touching him, greeting him. We saw you go into the big white house with her. We thought you were dead. How did you get away? Is she still there? Where did it go?

"No, she's not there. She's back at her fortress now, and Katerina's there, and we have to go and finish the job, we have to rescue Katerina."

Now that Ivan had said it, it was the obvious thing to do, no time to waste. They searched for their weapons, picked them up.

"The day's work isn't done here yet," Ivan said, speaking louder and louder. "Not while Katerina is in the witch's fortress! We drove away the witch's army! Now let's have done with her ourselves! Her power is broken, Bear is free, her spells are coming apart—now is the time to strike!"

Then he realized that one of the bloodstained faces that was peering at him was King Matfei, holding Sergei in his arms.

"Look what he did for me," Matfei said. "It was the crippled one who saved my life!"

Ivan looked with grief on the body of his friend. "Oh, God, no. Sergei."

"He isn't dead," said King Matfei. "But he's dying."

"Then that's all the more reason for us to hurry to the fortress and bring back Katerina. She'll know how to heal him, if it can be done at all. Where's Father Lukas?"

"Dead," said King Matfei.

And then, in unison, because they both realized it at once, Ivan said, "You're talking!" and King Matfei said, "I can talk!"

That was the final proof, for any doubters, that when Bear was set free, all the spells the witch had created by his power were undone. King Matfei had his tongue. And therefore there was hope that somewhere in that stronghold, Katerina was alive.

They ran along the road, unhindered by any enemy. They all ran, casting away armor, clothing, bucklers, clinging only to their swords and bows and spears and axes. Yet for all their strength in battle, none of them came close to keeping up with Ivan. He approached the gate of the stronghold before any of the others were in sight.

Baba Yaga was in the midst of the spell that would doubtless kill the pilot in some gruesome way, when she was interrupted by a surprising sound. The thud of metal on wood. And then the clinking of metal on metal.

The links were falling from the chains that bound the prisoners, tumbling into piles on the floor.

The captives began rising to their feet, rubbing their wrists, watching warily. But before they could say much of anything, or take even a few steps, they began disappearing with a loud popping sound—the cracking of air rushing in to take the place of the person who had disappeared. Within a few moments, with a crackle like a string of firecrackers going off, the entire complement of passengers was gone.

Katerina looked at Baba Yaga and smiled. "Bear is dead," she said.

"Don't be an idiot," said Baba Yaga. "He's immortal. No, he's not dead."

"Then somehow Ivan set him free."

Above them, the great timbers of the house began to groan. In the distance, Katerina heard the sound of a beam cracking.

"Even the house is sustained by magic, isn't it?" asked Katerina. "By his power."

Was that fear on Baba Yaga's face?

"In fact, everything you've done for years depended on having him as your slave, didn't it? And so now all your vicious little works will be undone."

Baba Yaga raised her hands slowly. "Gloating is a great joy, isn't it?" she said. "To have your enemy in your power—there's nothing sweeter, is there?"

Her words stung Katerina to the heart. She had been gloating. In that, at least, she was no different from Baba Yaga. It was an unbearable thought.

"But you gloated just a little bit too soon," said Baba Yaga. "For I was a witch before I ever fell in love with Bear. And I was powerful enough on my own to capture him and use him as I wished."

"A dreadful power," said Katerina, suddenly humble again. "But haven't you learned anything today?"

"If I think of it before you're dead, I'll mention it," said Baba Yaga. "There'll be nothing refined about your death, I fear. A simple, ordinary one."

Katerina felt a pulsing of one of the amulets she wore.

Baba Yaga cursed. "Where did that woman learn these things?"

"I believe she said her teacher's name was Baba Tila."

"Never heard of her," said Baba Yaga. She walked to the fire, took out a longish piece of wood, about two inches thick, and came back toward Katerina. She raised the wood over her shoulder and swung it like a battleaxe at the princess.

The wood shattered and fell in shards and splinters to the floor.

Baba Yaga cursed again. She stood staring at Katerina. as if measuring her, searching her, probing her. And then, to Katerina's horror, she felt the strings that held the charms around her neck come loose. Baba Yaga lunged for her, tore the talismans away. Katerina clung to the last few of them, but by brute strength—no doubt augmented by magic—Baba Yaga got them all and tossed them in the fire.

"Now let's have at it," said Baba Yaga. "You without your helper, me without mine. Witch to witch."

Baba Yaga made a motion in the air.

Katerina tried desperately to interpret it, but then realized that it was futile, Baba Yaga wouldn't reveal herself so easily. Whatever it was, Katerina needed protection. No, deflection. She cast a Turn-Away, expecting it only to deflect the witch's spell a little, to weaken it. Instead, when Baba Yaga cast the spell, nothing happened to Katerina at all.

"What?" said Baba Yaga. "Nothing?"

She tried again, a different spell, and again Katerina cast a Turn-Away. This time, though, the Turn-Away was so powerful that it turned the spell back on Baba Yaga herself. The old witch bent double in pain and screamed in agony, then dropped writhing on the floor.