Page 74 of Tiger's Trek
“That’s fine with me,” Eldar said. “I don’t fancy ending up the sluga for my praded.”
“You will if you want to live, boy.”
“He’ll do as you ask,” Nik said, warning Eldar with raised eyebrows.
Eldar set down a card. “Let’s just see how it plays out, shall we? I’m sure I can beat him.”
Nikolai knew it didn’t matter. He’d win no matter what. He was using the magic cards given to him by Pasha. He didn’t think he could lose if he tried. In fact, when he attempted losing, it backfired. Eldar played even worse cards than he did before.
“You’ve got to be kidding me, Eldar,” Nik said when he won attack after attack. “What kind of chepukha hand were you dealt? Or are you just that bad of a player?”
“Hey, you’re the one with the gift. The one who never loses. Remember?”
Eldar and Nik played furiously until, finally, they neared the end. Both of them only had a few remaining cards. Nik attacked, then Eldar. Then it was down to one card apiece. It was Eldar’s turn. Whatever card he held would decide both of their fates. He smiled widely. He had a high trump card left—the Queen of Clubs. There were only two cards that could beat it. He leaned forward, his hands clutching the table so hard his fingertips turned white. Nik sucked in a breath and played one of the two—the King of Clubs. It was a draw. It was the best Nik could do without stomping him.
“What—what happens now?” Eldar asked in a shaky voice. “Do we play another round?” he suggested hopefully.
The knife that had dropped away from his throat lifted again, first pointing at him, then turning to point at Nik.
“Well,” the ghost said. “Since we’ve decided to bury the children, I suppose it will go much faster with two. I’ve waited this long. I suppose I can bide my time for just a tad bit longer. Come along. Let’s get this over with.”
They all rose from the table, careful to step around Andrey’s chilling body, and headed outside. Nik obtained shovels from the shed, and they began digging underneath the old tree. Once they had moved enough earth to hold all the little bodies, and Andrey’s, they began moving everyone to their new resting place.
The job took most of the night.
By the time they were finished, Nik was dead on his feet and nearly ready to crawl into the hole right next to Andrey’s body. Instead, Nik picked up his shovel and scooped dirt on top of him. He was about to turn and ask Eldar if he thought they might be able to catch a few hours of rest when he was hit over the back of the head. The world spun. One minute he was looking down at Andrey’s dead body, half covered with dirt, the next, he was lying on top of it, looking up at the leaves of the tree. Then he closed his eyes and could see no more.
* * *
Nik’s dreams were mercifully dull. He slept deeply and long and only woke when he was jostled smartly on the arm.
“Wake up. Wake up! Surely I didn’t cuff you that hard!”
To his horror, Nik found he was slow of speech, drooling, had blurry vision, and was indeed sleeping next to the very dead, very cold, and now putrid-smelling Andrey. Flailing his arms and legs in a vain attempt to extricate himself from the shallow grave, Nik managed to flop over like a dead fish, which only served to put his drooling lips on top of the dead Andrey’s, causing him to finally gag and vomit a bit into the dead man’s mouth, which upon seeing it, made him vomit even more.
At least it served to rouse him fully from his stupor, and he stumbled from the dirt at last and thrashed his way to a standing position. “What? What did you do to me?” he managed to ask as he tried to straighten his clothing, brush dirt from it, and wipe vomit away from his person all at the same time.
“I figured if I knocked you senseless, the ghost would let both of us live. Turns out, I was wrong.”
“Wrong? What do you mean?”
Eldar sank down to his knees. “You should run. Run while you can.”
He fell, turning to his side, and that’s when Nik saw the knife plunged into his back and the other stab wounds that leaked blood down his shirt. Reaching down, Nikolai pulled out the knife and rolled Eldar over, only to see his eyes had already turned glassy. He was gone.
“Why did you do that?” Nik asked. “Why did you kill your only kin?”
“I told you. I don’t want to remember. Keeping him alive is just a reminder of the past.” The leaves on the tree began to quiver. “Now, do as I say. Bring me the tin and the key. Stand here under the tree and open it. Then read me the contents of the spell. Be quick about it, boy!”
His leg still slightly twisted, Nik limped back into the house and found the box and the key he’d put back inside the nesting dolls. Taking them outside, he paused at the door and said, “If there’s anything I can do to stop him, Mama, then make it known to me.”
Clouds had gathered, and cold sleet began falling, leaving icy rivulets trailing down the sides of the house and the trunk of the tree. He stood beneath a heavy branch and lifted the box to the sky. “It’s here!” he shouted. “I’m opening it now!”
“Help me, Mama,” he murmured.
Inserting the small key in the tiny lock, he turned it, and the top of the box popped open. Inside the box, he found a rolled scroll of paper wrapped around a stick. Again he felt a shock of cold, fetid breath on the back of his neck. “Read it to me,” Yuri mumbled in the storm. “Read what gift shall be mine.”
Careful to keep the paper away from the rain and sleet, Nik unrolled it and began to read.
