The Snaring of Bashtchelik Chapter 5

The magnificent monstrosity hummed to himself as he knelt near the back of the cave. He rubbed the oddly thick mixture from his crow’s feet. His humming shook the walls, and the trees without swayed gently. He began to sing, very low and soft, so soft that the cave and forest stood still and undisturbed.

A section of the cave's wall as tall and wide as his arm gathered itself up into the form of a marten the size of a young bear. In its jaws it held tightly, but not fiercely, a wriggling bright red fox. Bashtchelik continued to sing until the fox hung sleeping. He eased the limp fox from the stone marten's jaws and pried the fox's mouth open.

There, at the back of its throat, was a glowing, fiery ball. Bashtchelik smiled tenderly, returned the fox to safekeeping, and flung the marten back to its place. He watched the wall, as if expecting it to resume its true form at any moment. He knew, however, that the marten would not spring out at him. Suddenly, his grim face grew grimmer.

"Where are thou, Chessa?" Bashtchelik roared, leaping to his feet.

He bounded swiftly through his home, crouching with his arms outstretched. He swung the door open with such great force that it tumbled down the mountainside. He ignored the staircase; instead, the giant leapt from his doorstep into the forest below. He winced not as his feet landed on the ground that quivered beneath him.

Bashtchelik paused a moment to sniff the air. His hair bristled as he smelled smoke and the obnoxiously persistent prince. He ran, breathing terrifyingly heavy with each stride. The trees huddled together, boughs quaking at the wrath of Bashtchelik.

~~~

The prince sat slouching by the fire. His skin was gooseflesh.

"Sister?" He whispered.

A figure swiftly approached him through the trees. The prince stood, unsheathing his sword. His eyes lit up when he recognized the runner. Her hair was tangled, her feet bare, her dress torn, but she was indeed the princess who had deceived Bashtchelik.

"Sister Divna! Have you the hair and skin?" He said excitedly.

"Yes, I do, but quickly! I was not far from here when the monster called out for me. He has realized the deception," she stuttered.

From a pouch on her belt, she drew out a long strand of hair, and a small but thick fleck of yellowish-brown skin. They felt the tremors of Bashtchelik's steps. 'He is too near for our good,' their eyes said as they met. The prince took the hair and threw it into the flames.

A roar of anger, and possibly pain, reverberated in the forest. They looked to where Chessa-Divna had run from and saw the trembling stature of Bashtchelik. His skin had peeled off, revealing a tender one beneath. Bashtchelik leapt toward them, his eyes gleaming angrily.

The prince held the piece of skin over the fire. Bashtchelik stood still. He watched him with wide eyes.

"Please, do not burn it!" Bashtchelik cried.

The prince's fingers tightened their grip as he gazed into the bulging eyes of Bashtchelik.

"Thou have met my father and mother, have thou not? They told thee about my magic, did he not? I can grant thee a second life, and perhaps also a third, but only if thou do not burn the skin."

The prince turned his gaze to the fire. It licked the air, a snake tasting the air for a morsel.

"Ah, thou think it is but folly! An invention to secure my own life! Trust me, it will benefit thee more than I. I cannot give myself more lives—I would not stand a chance against thee. It would be wiser for me if I killed thee now," Bashtchelik said unaffectedly.

The prince moved to pocket the skin. A life or two—why yes, it was a better bargain for him than the beast. Bashtchelik stood, his legs flexing in preparation.

"Don't be a fool!" Chessa-Divna cried, quickly prying the beast’s skin from inside her brother's hand. She flung it into the fire.

Bashtchelik screamed like five score foxes, dropping to the ground. The prince and princess covered their ears until the deafening screech ended.

They opened their eyes, turning them to the still form of Bashtchelik. His body was smaller, and his skin was wrinkled as earth's face and dry as dust. They walked tentatively toward Bashtchelik, stories of monsters rising stronger after supposed defeat seeping into every step. He moved not but for the gentle rising of his back with each breath. The prince prodded him with the blunt side of his sword.

"Can you stand, or at least crawl?" the prince asked.

"I thank thee, yes," Bashtchelik snarled weakly into the dirt.

The son of a Rusalka and the Lesovik had been conquered. He was escorted by the prince, princess, and a company of soldiers to a hidden room in a hallway that contained many wonders. The prince ordered Bashtchelik to be chained with all the metals of the earth and deprived of food and drink.

The giant knelt, arrogant spine bowed in the secure room, starving, parched—yet with pride of a thousand lions in his grim face, and a vestige of strength in his proud eyes. The prince remembered the Lesovik's instructions and prohibited anyone visiting the smooth-tongued monster. The prince eventually became king, and for her bravery Chessa-Divna married the king of her choice, and the Lesovik prowled about his haunts with his animals. Unknown to anyone, a stone marten released its burden of a fox when a monster's spells lost their power. The fox roamed the land, unharmed and ignorant of the lengths that Bashtchelik had gone to for its safety—and the safety of his heart.