Дмитрий Мансуров - Invasion

“It’s their problems… We have to hurry! Do you hear the princes raging and calling me bad words?”

Maria nodded and sighed sadly.

“Should I tell them to come back in a month?” Kashchey wondered.

“No. Don’t.”

“Tell me, do you still wish to marry one of these brutes? Okay. After all, it’s not me who has to spend their whole life with them. Don’t forget, I’m dead to everyone! Or will be soon.”

Maria nodded.

“All righty! I wish you all the best and a long happy life! If you’re lucky, you won’t see me again. But…” Kashchey lowered his voice and added in a whisper, “If you or your future family suddenly have a problem, don’t forget about my secret assistance. Because in this case, I’m always alive. And now let’s go to the exit quickly. I don’t want the princes to break my door.”

At the gates, Kashchey stopped. Then he started beating at them with his hands, yelling at the princes to let him out to come out to fight to death. Stunned princes froze for a while. Kashchey’s unexpected requirement strained their brains hard.

Kashchey turned to Maria, who was tied to the chair.

“Goodbye,” he said. Maria would have answered but the gag in her mouth prevented her from doing so. So she just looked angrily at her kidnapper. Kashchey sighed. “Sorry, I can’t stand hearing the heavy words of goodbye. So let’s part in silence. Yeah?”

And without waiting for another glare, he opened the gates and went out into the street. The gates opened with a heart-rending screech, closed, opened and closed again, then again and again. Kashchey watched mischievously as princes cringed with disgust. He copied the system of creakiness from Yaga, having visited her house once.

“Here comes your mortal enemy!” he announced, making the gates creak one last time. “On behalf of Princess Maria, let me thank you for not being afraid of me and for going to a war against the greatest villain of our time, that is, me again. This solemn speech dedicated to your arrival is over now. Let’s proceed to the second part. Which one of you will fight me first?”

The princes looked at each other.

“The gates will open after my death!” Kashchey explained. “Or rather, after yours. In any case, it is not necessary to beat at them with your feet and batons. I know your habits. You just want to kick some doors out with a wild roar. So I’ll repeat once more. The gates will open on their own! Are you ready, princes? I understand that seeing the world’s biggest villain two steps away is a truly impressive sight, but the princess may take offense at you for the delay.”

“And you dare to scold us?” Yaroslav was indignant. “Which of us has kidnapped her?”

“I kidnapped her for a couple of months while one of you will take her forever! So which of us is the bigger kidnapper?”

“I’m not going to kidnap her. I’m going to marry her!” Yaroslav shouted angrily.

“You will take her away from the palace and from the kingdom,” Kashchey remarked. “So it’s the same thing. I demand a ransom for her, which none of you have thought to bring, while you plan on taking a huge dowry. By the way, why didn’t you bring the ransom?”

“You talk too much,” Artem said with displeasure. “It won’t work, stop it!”

“As you wish!” Kashchey hit the prince with his fist. The fist whizzed over Yaroslav’s head and Yaroslav ducked quickly, so in the end, the blow knocked the helmet off Artem’s head. Yaroslav raised his sword, the one with eight sharp arrowheads. The first blow of Kashchey’s weapon cut Yaroslav’s sword into small strips. The Prince stared at the stump of his sword, which had served him faithfully for many years, and then threw it at Kashchey. Kashchey sent the stump flying away with the answering blow of his sword-whip.

Yaroslav retreated.

“You won’t defeat me just as easily!” he said. “I also have some tricks up my sleeve.”

He turned his left hand by forty-five degrees, stretched it out, and two swords came out of the chain mail, one falling into his right hand, the other into his left one.

“Bravo!” Kashchey praised and waved his sword-whip. Yaroslav crossed his swords, stopped the whip and tensed. Then he forcefully pushed them forward, slicing the sword-whip like scissors would. Kashchey pulled the sword-whip back and pushed the prince away. Yaroslav fell to the ground, and Artem rushed to attack Kashchey with a sword in his hand.

“Can’t fight me alone?” Kashchey scowled. “You’re not playing rounders here!”

“Well, I want to kill you, too!” Artem said. Kashchey attacked and Artem pushed his sword sideways. The sword-whip got stuck in it. The prince threw his weapon to the side, pulled out a knife and stabbed Kashchey. Flinching, Kashchey struck the prince with such force that Artem flew a dozen of meters away. Kashchey pulled the knife out and looked at the rising Yaroslav.

“Farewell, prince! I’ll be seeing you in your nightmares,” Kashchey said and collapsed. “Every night,” he added. “Oh!”

He twitched to make it believable, foamed from the mouth and quietened. The princes looked at each other.

“That’s it?” Artem asked in surprise. Kashchey nearly blurted out, ‘What else do you want? A victory concert?’ But he restrained himself in time. To be on the safe side, he let out a little more foam. The soap he kept hidden in his mouth had a pleasant strawberry smell but a truly disgusting taste. Sadly, spitting it out ahead of time had been almost impossible.

Now only the finishing touch was needed. Kashchey’s heart stopped beating. A remote detonator tuned to the frequency of his heartbeat worked, and the dynamite and fireworks he had prepared beforehand exploded, creating a true lighting show. A cloud of dust, sand, and multi-colored sparks shot up in the air. Yaroslav and Artem barely had time to cover themselves with cloaks as sand and leaves fell right on their heads.

When everything went quiet, Yaroslav crawled out from under the coat and helped his brother get up. Looking around in amazement, they went to the gates. This time, they opened easily and silently. The princes entered the castle.

When the happy company departed from the castle and moved away by a sufficient distance, a small bump emerged from the ground covered with an even layer of dust. Kashchey’s head appeared on the surface. He pushed his hand out and dragged Artem’s helmet into the light. Kashchey eyed it in a puzzled way and threw the discovery far behind. Then he got up, dusted himself off, and took the sticky leaf off his clean coat. Holding it closer to his eyes, he let it go. The leaf fell gently, and Kashchey reached into his pocket again. Pulling out the musical keyboard, he began to play a funeral march.

The crow sat on his shoulder.

“You were a great villain, Kashchey. Peace to your ashes and peace to your soul,” she said in a tragic voice. “And now, time to start the funeral dinner!”

“Cawww!” the crow added.

“Don’t get carried away,” Kashchey warned. “You might overeat in your joy, and we have a lot of things to…”

The crow croaked reproachfully.

“Okay, I was joking,” Kashchey said. And then they entered the castle.

Kashchey the Immortal: Invasion by Dmitry Mansurov

Translated by Joshua Schiefelbein

Published by ArcInset OU

Sepapaja 6, Tallinn, Estonia, 15551

www.ArcInset.com

© 2019 ArcInset

All rights reserved. No portion of this book may be reproduced in any form without permission from the publisher, except as permitted by U.S. copyright law. This e-book is licensed for your personal enjoyment only, and may not be resold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each recipient. If you’re reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for you, then please return to Amazon.com and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author and company.