Veles

The bone cracked between Dragomir’s teeth, and a sharp fragment sliced into his gums. Blood dripped onto the meat in his hand.

“Scary.” The robed man rose to his feet.

At the neighboring stall, a merchant froze mid-count. A copper coin slipped through his fingers, clinked across the cobblestones, and came to rest between their feet. Neither he nor his customer dared reach for it.

“Get lost.”

Dragomir turned away, letting his gaze settle on the weathered black stones of the wall. He took another bite as though the man beside him no longer existed.

“You Slavs are fascinating. The solution to your problems is right there and yet you refuse to take it, all because of some false sense of pride.”

“You are the last thing to talk about pride.”

A woman lowered her basket. “Is it really him?”

“I’m not sure.”

“But those gloves…”

The man touched one of his enormous golden earrings, then the other, as though checking that both were still in place.

Before Dragomir noticed the movement, warm breath brushed against his ear.

“You know what I want. You’re the last one alive. Five years, and not one soul has valued courage above survival.”

“Too bad,” Dragomir shoved him aside without looking, the way one might brush away a drunk who had wandered too close. “The rules of the world have been rewritten.”

“Exactly, Drago.” Color crept into the man's cheeks. His pupils narrowed and for a split second, his yellow eyes glowed. “Nobody is willing anymore. But you can change it, you know.”

Dragomir wiped away the blood mixed with grease from the corner of his mouth. Then he stood up and smeared it across the man’s cheek. “I’ve seen it before. No, thank you.”

“Sooner or later, you’ll-“

An arrow punched through his skull.

Blood sprayed across Dragomir’s face.

Before the body could hit the ground, it unraveled into thin air.

An instant later, the arrow struck the cobblestones with a sharp metallic clatter and spun once before lying still.

The people around froze.

“Hey!” A familiar voice echoed from above. “That man was dangerous!”

Neither the merchants nor the townspeople screamed. No one ran.

Instead, one by one, the townspeople fell to their knees, prayers spilling from trembling lips.

Dragomir looked up, squinting into the setting sun. A lone silhouette perched atop a stone roof, its outline glowing against the evening sky.

The bow in his hands left no room for doubt.

Zduhach.

He jumped.

The landing should have shattered both his legs.

Instead, he absorbed the impact with a single knee and looked up as if nothing had happened. “Are you hurt?”

“That’s my line. How are you even standing after a jump like that?”

“My mother was a weaver!” Zduhach grinned.

Dragomir paused but then let any thoughts related to Zduhach's reply go. “You’re that boy from the cemetery.”

“Hey! I’m not a boy, I told you already!” He frowned. “What was your name again? Debilmir?”

“It’s Dragomir.”

“Yeah, yeah, whatever. You didn’t hit me like a guy who likes to chat. So what did Veles want with you, anyway?”

“That doesn’t concern you.” Then it struck him. “Wait. You… remember me?”

“Yeah, why wouldn’t I?” Zduhach scratched his head. “You’re so weird. I hoped to never see you again and here you are-“

Dragomir lunged at him and slammed him against a brick wall. “I’ve never seen you in this town before. Who- no... What are you?”

The quiver slipped from Zduhach's shoulder. Arrows scattered over the cobblestones, rattling in every direction.

“Me? I’m Zduhach! And you don’t have to be so violent! I just saved you from the God of Trade you ungrateful brat!”

Dragomir stared at him for a long moment.

Five years.

Five years since anyone had spoken to him like they remembered yesterday.

He had almost forgotten what it felt like.

His grip loosened. He stepped back.

“Aww, not again…!” Zduhach crouched, gathered the scattered arrows, and slipped them back into his quiver. Then he counted each one before letting out a satisfied nod.

“I have questions.”

“Yes, I forgive you for treating me like a brute.”

Dragomir sighed.

The archer looked around. Only then did he realize the two of them were the only ones not praying. “Why aren’t you dropping to your knees like everybody else?”

“I could ask you the same.”

Zduhach snorted. “The gods can lick my ass!”

A blinding bolt of lightning struck the nearby stall right after his declaration.

The air filled with the smell of burning wood.

“Looks like your questions will have to wait!” Zduhach drew an arrow, nocked it, and scanned the surroundings. “He’s coming.”

No one moved. Even the crackling flames sounded unnaturally loud.

Zduhach waited.

Dragomir sat back down and stripped the last bit of meat from the rib.

Then the storm broke.

Thunder cracked overhead.

Another answered from somewhere beyond the rooftops.

A basket of apples burst apart, fruit scattering across the square.

Fish floated belly-up as lightning ripped through a water tank.

A dog barked wildly at the burning vegetable stall.

The townspeople prayed louder and louder with each sound of thunder.

But it didn't help. Each prayer seemed only to fuel the storm.

An elderly man leaned on his walking stick, apologizing between breaths that his back would not let him kneel.

A thunderclap split the square. And his clothes caught fire. “Forgive me…! Forgive me, my lord…!”

Zduhach didn’t know which way to move. “Everyone!” he shouted. “Stop praying! It’s already too late! Find shelter!”

But the merchants and customers refused to move.

One mother swept her son into her arms and raised him toward the heavens like an offering. “Please, spare us!”

Children screamed.

Adults begged.

“Help me get them somewhere inside!” Zduhach took an elderly woman’s hand and tried to pull her to her feet.

Another bolt of lightning struck.

Her limb tore free from her body.

The woman shrieked as she collapsed, but a second bolt struck her skull before she hit the ground. The stench of burned flesh filled the marketplace.

Dragomir’s grip around the bone tightened.

Zduhach realized he was still holding the severed hand as his grin vanished. He stared at it a few seconds too long before he tossed it away. “Come on, Debilmir, cooperate!”

“Why bother?” A scorched potato rolled from the burning stall and stopped at Dragomir's foot. “There is nothing we can do against them.”

“Well said...” The booming voice rolled across the marketplace. “...young bohatier.”

Chapter 4: END