The Shining Falcon

Quickly she pulled the chain over her head and held it up, silver glinting bravely even in the darkness, and the Something, darker still than the night, flinched. But it stood its ground. And that cold mockery radiated from it, beating at her mind till Maria ached to simply turn and flee. But blind flight would surely be the death of her.

Maria straightened, listening intently. Now that the forest had fallen s6 still, she could hear other sounds, and one of them… Water? Free, rushing water? All the old tales said that creatures of evil couldn't cross rushing water! Maybe the tales were right, maybe they were wrong, but right now, they were the only hope she could find. Gathering up her skirts, Maria ran towards the sound of water with all her might. The moon was rising, the cold silver rays beginning to pierce through the forest, casting a ghostly light, just enough to let her see where she was going.

Then the earth was crumbling beneath her feet, and Maria threw herself backwards, just in time to keep from tumbling down the slight embankment into the water:

No mere stream, this, but a lake, fed at one end by a narrow ribbon of a waterfall, a lake silent and beautiful and eerie in the chill night, a flat mirror of silver shadowed here and there by grey or indigo or black shadows, its boundaries hidden by mist.

Beauty wasn't going to stop her pursuer. Maria glanced wildly back—and a cold, slim, inhumanly strong hand closed about her wrist, pulling her backwards, towards the lake. Desperate, Maria lashed out with the silver chain as best she could, feeling the magical metal whip across cool flesh. There was a wild hiss of pain, then she was free, scrambling about on the damp, slippery earth to face her attacker.

A woman!

She was naked in the moonlight, standing half out of the lake waters, one hand languorously brushing back long curtains of hair as fair as her pale, pale skin. She was too slim, too long of arm and leg for true humanity, from the sharp, triangular face, broad at forehead, narrow at chin, to the sleek, supple muscling beneath that smooth skin. Her eyes were green and wild and empty as emerald flame as she stared at Maria and gave a soft, throaty laugh.

Maria asked in shaken wonder, «Rusalka?»

«Rusalki," corrected the woman-thing. «See, here are my sisters.»

They were all around her, the strange creatures, slim and lovely and deadly as any predator. And predators they were, these women who had drowned by chance or design and been reborn to this parody of life, hating humanity, feeding off it when someone fell into their grasp.

As I have done! thought Maria in horror. That great, dark thing was illusion, their illusion, to drive me here to them.

«Pretty maid," one of the rusalki was crooning. «Brave, pretty thing. We shall not make you suffer, no, not like the others. We shall drown you swiftly, and feed. And who knows? Perhaps your spirit will join us, and play in these waters forever.»

«Thank you, no," said Maria wryly. «This is a lovely lake, and I—I'm sure you're very happy in it. But I'd really rather not join you.»

«No? You have no choice, pretty maid!»

They were closing their circle about her. In another moment, she would be forced into the water—

«Wait!» cried Maria in desperation. «You—you see, I do have a choice!»

They stared at her with those fierce, disconcertingly empty eyes, waiting with inhuman patience, and Maria racked her brain frantically. What did the old tales have to say about rusalki? That they were deadly, yes, that they were cruel and alien as cats… What else? Someone must have found a way to escape them!

«Riddles!» Maria cried, and the green eyes blinked. «I challenge you to a riddling contest!»

«So-o!» one of the rusalki crowed. «And do you dare, little human?»

«I dare!» Relieved to see the deadly ring draw back, Maria continued hastily, «It's to be a contest in the old style, three riddles for one of you, three for me!»

The rusalka who had first spoken gave her soft laugh. «I shall be your opponent, pretty maid. And if you cannot answer one of my riddles, mine shall be the hand to draw you underwater.»

«Fair enough. But if you can't answer one of my riddles, then I go free, and you have no further hold on me! Agreed?»

The rusalka smiled thinly. «Oh, agreed.»

«Do you swear it?» Maria persisted, not liking what she saw on that thin, fair face. «Swear by… by whatever you hold sacred.»

The lake-woman chuckled at that. «Oh, brave little human! Few are the things such as we hold sacred! But I will swear, by the moon and the lake and the living forest. Will that do for you, pretty maid?»

«It, uh, yes. It will.»

Maria hesitated, licking suddenly dry lips. «You—you're the challenged party, so you have the right to choose the first riddle.»

«Do I, indeed? Silver living, silver dead, upon me are others fed.»