Tymber Dalton - Fire and Ice

Lina spotted the sly smile she tried to hide behind her mug.

“You won’t answer me, will you?” Lina asked.

“Answer what, Goddess? You have the answers you seek. To that question, at least.”

Lina tried to hold her simmering temper in check. “If you won’t give me the answers I do want and need, then what can you tell me?”

Baba Yaga set her mug down on the counter and cupped it between her hands. Lina felt something in the very air of the cabin shift. A sense of deep grief washed over her. Before her eyes, Baba Yaga transformed into her maiden form, appearing close to Lina’s own age.

This woman looked deeply saddened, world-weary, and worn. Without even thinking about it, Lina reached out and touched her hand. A nearly overwhelming wave of sadness threatened to swamp Lina.

Baba Yaga closed her eyes. “There are many entwined threads in this tapestry, Goddess,” she softly said. “They start so very long ago in the past. How much have you willingly recalled in your memories?”

When Lina mated with Jan and Rick, memories of her past lives had flooded back into her brain. Memories Zack, as her Watcher, had consciously held throughout all their lives together. Lina still chose not to actively pursue those memories in her own brain.

Lina sniffled as her own eyes watered. “I remember a lot, but there’s a lot more I haven’t even tried to remember. It hurts too much.” She really didn’t want to think about her previous lives with Zack. While she knew there were lots of happy memories with him, it also meant recalling the sad. People she had known and loved.

Their children…

Baba Yaga sadly sighed. “Let us start at the beginning, then, child.” She gently squeezed Lina’s hand before disengaging herself. She stood and motioned to Lina with her coffee mug. “The sofa will be more comfortable. We’ll be here a while.”

Then

Two as one, halves of a whole.

Two different minds, one mingled soul.

Love in every life, in every heart, forever,

Until finding of twin love does sever.

Death impermanent, after battle won

With love renewed under future sun.

The lovers three will sisters call

At Goddess’ lead at risk of all.

Etched in stone by sacred well

Her powers scribed in triad spell.

Dark Gods in vain bring forth the fight

Only to fall to Lovers’ might.

Pride and ego and power sought

By Dark Gods for evil purpose comes to naught.

The lovers three will vanquish all

Although two, then one, certainly fall.

Last to sleep, the Watcher lay,

To rejoin his love soon another day.

Life and life and life again,

The two as one always begin.

When two return and Dark Gods wake

With evil intent and lives to take

The two shall find her, in prophecy new

And Watcher again shall step from view.

Until then in every life

Watcher faithful shall claim his wife

After thirty-five years have come and gone

And together, two once more joined as one

Will have their joy, Goddess unaware

That Watcher alone their past keeps care.

—Ancient Slavic Prophecy

The woman held her baby close to her breast as her husband helped her climb the treacherous stone steps. Nine days’ journey on foot had brought them here.

To their destiny. To their son’s destiny.

To, hopefully, their people’s destiny. This was what their Seer had told them. They could not in good conscience refuse the journey.

Thick stands of fragrant pine trees shielded their view of what lay ahead. When they finally crested the valley wall, they found themselves in a clearing. The cottage, primitive, small, and dingy, sat in the middle as they’d been told. Foul grey smoke billowed from the chimney. As they walked toward the white fence surrounding the yard, they realized with chilling fear that the pickets were human bones. Bleached human skulls lit from within by an eerie supernatural flame topped the fence every so often.

The cottage’s rough-hewn wooden door opened, and an old crone tottered out. She wore a black robe of coarse material. The smile on her face sent tendrils of fear through the wife’s heart.

“Ah, good. You arrived on time,” the crone said, smiling. Unfortunately, the gesture didn’t impart any joy or good humor to her features. “That is very good. Is this the little one?”

The wife nodded.

The crone met them at the gate and held out her arms. “Let me see him.”

When the woman hesitated, the crone cackled. “I swear to you I will not eat him. I wish to see if he is as special as I believe him to be.”

After her husband nodded to her, she carefully handed their son over.

The crone softly mumbled something in a strange language to the baby. The baby smiled and reached for one of her fingers.

“Very good. He is the one.” She looked at the couple. “You understand the destiny of your line?”

The couple nodded.

“Excellent. I need to borrow him for a few minutes. I promise you, he will not be harmed. Wait here.” The crone carried the baby inside her house and shut the door behind her. She closed her eyes and transformed into her matron form, appearing to be a beautiful middle-aged woman. Then she disappeared, reappearing inside a room in a castle.

A nursemaid sat dozing in a shaft of sunlight by the open window while dust motes danced on the beams. The woman smiled at the baby boy in her arms as she walked over to the ornately hand-carved cradle in the other corner of the room.

Inside the cradle lay a beautiful, chubby, red-haired baby girl. The girl smiled when she spotted the woman holding the baby boy.

The woman lifted her finger to her lips and smiled. “Hush, little one,” she whispered. “Do not wake your nurse.”

From a pocket in her gown, she withdrew a silver dagger and carefully laid the baby boy in the cradle next to the baby girl. She traced a finger over the girl’s left palm in an intricate pattern as she muttered under her breath. She repeated it with the boy’s right palm then used the dagger to duplicate the pattern in their flesh that her finger had just traced.

Both babies watched her, but because of the spell, neither felt the blade’s bite.

She pressed their palms together and held them in place. “Together forever, little ones,” she whispered. “Eternity. You’ll love each other in every life, in every heart. Forever. Goddess Zaria and your Watcher. You have many prophecies to fulfill together, starting with this life.”

When she parted their hands, the little girl looked like she wanted to sniffle when she realized she was losing her new friend.

“Shh, Zaria, do not fret. You will get him back soon enough. He is your very special friend and he always will be.” She pulled a small stoppered vial of charmed water from another pocket. Using a clean, white linen rag, she wiped their hands free of blood. Only a faint line remained behind on their palms, proof of their joining.

She picked up the baby boy. “Come now, Zachary. Let us return you to your mother before she worries herself to death.”

She returned to her cottage, shifted into her crone form once again, and walked outside to the parents where she handed the baby boy to his relieved mother. “Bring him back here in five years. Meanwhile, go to the flagyer stronghold in Abruzzia. Ask for Donatello Capricci, their leader. Do you know how to get there?”