I am asleep, and a Nocnica sits on my chest. Desperately, Iwa willed herself awake. She could almost see the nightmare spirit, crafted from shadow, as it sat on her chest, sucking out her life to leave nothing more than an empty husk. I have to wake before it kills me.
But the great blackness of the nightmare closed in on her. Invisible currents tore at her again as the roar swirled and, from deep in the recesses, the Nocnica crept forward. Iwa could smell it, the peaty stench choking her, filling her throat. A cold, clammy wetness wrapped over her ankle once again and crawled across her skin.
She had to get away. Helplessly she twisted but the thing held firm, the stench overpowering, rising as if to blot out all thought, all reason from her until she was nothing but a hollow vessel. It has come to suck out my soul whilst I sleep. She was sure of it. Frantically she tried to force herself to wake, but the dream was all around her and there was nothing she could do, no thought or prayer to help her now.
She had to get away. Dimly she was aware of the totem that hung about her neck – it was a miracle that the strap hadn’t broken. Great Karnobog, guide your child, she prayed silently, safely along the forest paths, to the river and the summer camp. Around her neck the totem squeezed, the carved bone soft against her skin. There was something else as well, a strange sensation as if, deep within the carving, something had awoken. She felt the totem hum with a gentle warmth. But the currents snatched at her, her limbs twisting helplessly as she fought to find that tiny patch of blue.
Dimly in the great void she sensed the light, a warm current carried through the great blackness. If only she could reach it. Somehow she had to, but there was only the howl of the firmament and the thick choking laughter.
Chapter Ten
There was nothing but the canopy of night. Countless stars wove through the ebony, illuminated by a cold crescent moon. At least that seemed familiar. Iwa’s body ached, and her head throbbed as if a swarm of wasps had been let loose inside her.
She sank against the cold ground and drew a deep breath to try and calm the throbbing. If only she could figure out where she was. Hardly moving, she gazed up at the stars but they seemed wrong somehow. The patterns were vaguely familiar but they were all disjointed, as if the wind had shaken them, and she couldn’t make out the hunter’s star or any of the other constellations.
At least the buzzing had subsided. The air came cold, frosted on the breeze as the pain eased. This was all wrong, where was Zorya Vechernyaya? The sky should have burned bright with the evening star. Desperately, she scanned the night sky but there was nothing where her star should have been, only a cold empty blackness. Where was Jarel and the bear pit? It should have been daylight, surely she couldn’t have been unconscious all this time?
Cautiously Iwa reached behind her head, half expecting to feel blood matted in her hair where the fall had knocked her out, but there was nothing. Am I still dreaming? But a sharp pain in her side told her that she wasn’t. Above her the stars glowed with an unnatural incandescence that settled softly on the air. Even the moon seemed different as its reflection rippled pale silver across the waters which hardly stirred in the breeze.
In the darkness there was a sound. She tensed, hardly daring to peer round. At least the earth felt solid, pressing reassuringly against her body. She’d managed to find a blanket but had no idea how. There was an unnatural stillness about this place, a stagnant stench, though, in the pale moonlight, the waters seemed clear with no trace of algae or decay about them. No birds called in the night, no animals disturbed the bracken. But for all the strangeness, this place felt right.
There it was again, the sound, thin like the scrape of bone. In the darkness something slithered. She sensed it, a dim presence by the water’s edge. Was it the Nocnica, the shadow spirit come to suck out her soul if she fell asleep again? Not that she could be sure that she wasn’t dreaming, but, for all its strangeness, this place didn’t feel like a dream. The rock behind her head was too hard for one thing.
Slowly she drew the blanket around her and made ready should the Nocnica try to claim her dreams once more. It was out there, she was sure of it, a vague presence that prowled the water’s edge.
By now the moon had risen higher, its cold light picking over the broken teeth of rocks and the cold, hard edges of stone. Only then did Iwa began to realise what had troubled her. She was not lying on the earth, but on solid stone. That wouldn’t have been strange except that this rock was unnaturally smooth, as if Chernobog – or some other god – had reached down and flattened the ground with the palm of his hand. The rocks rose above her as if she was in a cave, but there was no roof, and their sides were smooth as a well-scraped hide; only the tops were blackened and ragged.
In a corner lay a heap of stones. At least they looked rough, gnarled and broken like stones should, but there was something wrong about those too. She couldn’t quite say what, but a prick of fear etched along her neck and she lay perfectly still, her eyes fixed on the boulders. One
