The Decameron 2.0

Day 5.3 Revenge - ZORYA AND THE RED OF DAWN LynnS13

SMOLENSK, RUSSIA

This is a tale of the first days, when witches believed the word of gods and dreamt of the divine. The goddess of midnight organized a trial, releasing chaos onto the world and offering the mantle of the moon as a prize to one able to bring back order. She did this out of boredom, in need to see herself rid of enemies, thinking no mortal might rise up to the task. Ježibaba, a young, powerful sorceress bent on becoming a goddess, answered the call and unleashed bloodshed upon the lands of Rus, like none had seen...

The witch was covered in blood. It pooled between the mounds of her breasts, beneath the plates of her armor, finding a way down her thighs. Carmine kissed the alabaster of her skin, soothing old wounds. She had been damaged and killed in return. Now the reward was so close, the woman relished on it.

Ježibaba crouched near the bank of the Dniéper river. It was night time, which meant the black rider that protected her from the first star until before daybreak stood beside her. The rider, though wounded and thirsty would not move or drink until her mistress had cleansed herself and claimed her crown.

It had been a gory conflict, with heavy casualties among mortals and lesser deities. The witch didn't care for enemies. Yet, the wails of the fallen never left her. They were a responsibility, a promise to deliver. She had given them her word that they were to rise again the moment of her apotheosis.

Cleansed in the flowing waters, Ježibaba claimed her boon.

She waited for the last vestiges of her mortal life to burn, but nothing happened. The moon and its mantle was not placed at her feet. If anything, the night grew colder, darker. The sound of laughter carried in the wind was the only thing to warn the witch of the presence of a goddess.

"Ježibaba, you have succeeded. I'm impressed!" It was Zorya of midnight, flanked by her trusty hound, an enormous beast of velvety blue pelt. The deity looked upon the witch and the woman could not tell if her eyes as dark as ink and her smile, sharp as a blade entailed a blessing or a curse. As soon as she spoke, Ježibaba found mockery stabbed deeper than benedictions or tribulations. "On a second thought, I gather that it's not wise to grant witches too much power. Look around you... the last one standing on a killing ground. What would you do, if I were to grant you a pathway through the stars?"

"What are you implying?" Frustration mounted on the young one. "After all this strife, I didn't earn my place?" The soft green of her eyes dimmed with the dawn of understanding. "You... just wanted a pawn. The tip of a spear, an arrow head. You used me to dispose of your enemies while keeping a clean slate before the gods."

"Ah! She reasons..." Zorya had a face that reflected wisdom of ages and a peaceful disposition. But her true nature, revealed in the sharpness of her tongue, cut deeply. "It's true. I had many enemies. I don't know what it is about the dark, that draws men and spirits to try to possess it. Now I have only but one, and not worthy to call an equal." The goddess' dark eyes danced, imagining all possibilities. "You can take your plea to the gods and they will see nothing but the blood you have shed and believe not a word over my story. Or...you can bow and place your name at my disposal and your riders at my command. Now that I think about it, is not even an option. Yield! And be glad to be at my service."

The witch of Rus had her pride, but the treacherous goddess struck her heart with such might that it left no other option but submission. She took her time to reach Zorya. As Ježibaba walked towards the goddess, she lifted the wind, allowing for trees to wail frantically, echoing the pain of her defeat. Yet when she touched knee to ground, everything was encompassed by silence and not even the night birds screeched. The goddess smiled satisfied; it didn't bother her that the witch made a spectacle of her submission.