Vasily had taken the best horse, that much was clear at a glance. As for Stepan and Ivanyek, Igor assumed theirs were better too. The horse he rode was old, barely moving; every so often, it would just stop and start grazing. It wouldn’t budge until Igor gave it a sharp nudge, which only made Vasily and Stepan turn back and wait for him. Ivanyek, always the impatient one, would ride ahead, forcing them to catch up.

  Though they hadn't traveled far, it felt like an eternity to Igor. The group was mostly silent, and Igor’s mind was filled with thoughts of the Vanders they had left behind, especially little Bozhana. He rode at the rear, watching as Vasily occasionally raised a hand to signal when they should stop or slow down. Ivanyek and Stepan kept their eyes on him, ready to follow any orders he gave. Igor tried to do the same despite the struggles with his horse. It was only the second time he had ever ridden one, and the first hadn’t gone well. He was nervous, though he tried to hide it. Slowly, he was getting used to it.

  They didn’t take the main road through Chernoval, where merchants, peasants, and soldiers leading diplomats or dignitaries often traveled. Nor did they take the secondary roads that peasants sometimes used to avoid bandits or thieves. Instead, Vasily led them along a rough, seemingly abandoned path. It was no trouble for the others, but Igor’s horse stumbled with almost every step. Yet the old horse, indifferent to his rider's plight, plodded on as if it hadn’t nearly thrown him off just moments before.

  On one side of the path, the grass was short, and the main road could be seen in the distance. Though only a glimpse was visible, there seemed to be movement. Whenever someone approached from that direction, they would stop and wait to see what the stranger would do. They never took the initiative, not wanting to draw attention. Most travelers would simply nod and pass by. Some, frightened, would leave the road and head into the fields, while others tried to exchange words with them, but Vasily would tell them to move along, and they, awed by his decisiveness, would obey.

  “It looks so empty out here. I’ve never been outside the kingdom.”

  “Never?” Vasily seemed surprised. “You’ve spent your whole life in one place?”

  Igor nodded. “My mother and father worked for the local lords and landowners, and when I grew up, I helped them. That’s what I did until recently.”

  “Brothers or sisters?” Vasily asked.

  “No, I’m an only child,” Igor replied, continuing, “And one day, they just threw me out because they couldn’t afford to feed me anymore. My father said I was old enough to fend for myself.”

  “He was right,” Ivanyek chimed in. “Mine died early, but they kicked me out when I was nine.”

  “At nine?”

  “I was old enough to fend for myself,” Ivanyek echoed the words, and the others laughed. The horses moved on slowly.

  “I don’t hold it against them,” Igor said, wanting to share more. “And it didn’t happen suddenly. They hinted at it for a while, especially my father, but I was comfortable. I helped them, and I always knew there’d be bread on the table.”

  “And in the end, they just left you on the street?”

  “My father talked to Visnya about taking me on as an apprentice. When the blacksmith agreed, my father came home and told me it was time to make my own way and that I could visit him once a week. My mother cried all night.”

  “I get it, but I don’t. I don’t have any kids,” Vasily stopped his horse under the shade of a tree, a small grove behind it. “At least, none that I know of,” he added, gauging their reactions. “But if I had a kid like you, I’d never let him go. I’d take him under my wing and teach him to be just like me.”

  “A criminal?”

  Vasily pulled on the reins and brought his horse close to Igor.

  “Repeat that.”

  “I’m sorry,” Igor’s throat went dry. “I didn’t mean it that way.”

  “Get off the horse.”

  Igor dismounted as quickly as he could. Vasily grabbed the reins of his horse and turned it to face him, still sitting on his own. Stepan and Ivanyek stood behind him, as expected.

  “Is there a problem, Vasily?” Stepan asked.

  “This one called us criminals,” Vasily pointed a finger at Igor. “Are we criminals, brothers?”

  “I’m no criminal,” Ivanyek answered almost immediately. “What about you, Stepan?”

  Stepan shook his head.

  “Well, little one?” Vasily loomed over him, the sun shining behind his head. “Who do you think you’re riding with? What do you take us for?”

  “You talked about killing… about stealing. You even robbed me at the tavern.”

  He shouldn’t have said the last part. It wasn’t exactly true, and he knew it.

  “If I recall, you agreed to play the game our way. And yes, we’ve killed and stolen… but never without reason and never from those who have less than us. We’re not monks, and we don’t worship gods, whoever they are. We try to be righteous, but above all, we’re just. Everything we’ve taken has gone mostly to drinking and women. If that’s a sin, then judge us. But we’ve never taken from a man who has less than us.”

  Igor believed him, though he also knew they weren’t as honorable as they claimed. But what choice did he have but to agree? Despite his doubts, he was glad to be with them.

  “For punishment, you’ll walk for a while,” Vasily decided.

  Ivanyek seemed pleased, though Igor couldn’t be sure.

  “We’re not in a hurry, anyway. If you’re not happy, you can go back to the Vanders. It’s your call. But I advise you to stick with us. The criminals. It’s for your own good.”

  Vasily spurred his horse forward, and Stepan and Ivanyek followed. Igor looked back. He could go back to the Vanders—nothing was stopping him—but they were too far behind. It would take him half a day, and he didn’t know how they’d react to his return. Most weren’t happy with how they had left things. He could stay here, but where would he go? He didn’t know the way, nor what dangers lurked in these parts. So he made the only choice that made sense: he followed Vasily and his crew, on foot.

  The weather wasn’t too hot, which was fortunate for him, but his legs began to ache. The three riders didn’t move fast, and Igor often managed to catch up, but whenever he grew tired, his legs would give out, and the horses would pull ahead again.

  Vasily’s hand shot up again, signaling a stop.

  Igor quickly caught up and looked around. There didn’t seem to be any reason for stopping. There was nothing around them.

  “Are you getting back on?”

  “That’s it?” Ivanyek was the first to question. Igor knew Ivanyek didn’t like him. “You’ve punished them worse before.”

  “He’s slowing us down, and I think we’ll need him. I can’t leave him here.”

  “You’re getting too attached to this one, Vasily. I hope you’re not wrong. I don’t like him at all. No wonder Visnya threw him out of the forge.”

  “I’ll be the first to kill him if he makes a mistake, trust me. And I’ve trusted you, and him.” Vasily pointed to Stepan.

  “You’re wrong to compare us to him. He can’t even hold a sword straight. What kind of man is that?”

  “Give him one mistake.” Vasily repeated.

  “He’s already made it. He called us criminals. And that’s a lie.”

  Vasily didn’t reply, ignoring Ivanyek and signaling Igor to get back on the horse. Igor stepped into the stirrup and mounted the horse. It was still the same old nag, but now he loved it. It was nothing like the one before.

  “And what about Visnya? He took you in?” Vasily wanted Igor to continue the conversation from earlier.

  “Yes. For the first few days, everything was fine until his daughter showed up at the forge. She brought food.”

  “What did she look like?”

  “His daughter?”

  “No, Visnya. Of course, his daughter. Do you think I’m interested in men?”

  “She was tall and dark-haired,” Igor answered quickly. “With blue eyes. I think she was older than me.”

  “That’s not hard. How old are you? Seventeen?”

  Unauthorized reproduction: this story has been taken without approval. Report sightings.

  “This year, I’ll be nineteen.”

  “Nineteen? Well, we take back what we said about your parents. They should have kicked you out long ago to find your fortune. But you found it quickly with us.”

  This time, he felt a surge of excitement.

  Vasily didn’t press him further. The road ahead remained the same. To the right, the distant main road they had avoided occasionally came into view. To the left, forests and fields alternated. The monotony, heat, and lack of food were starting to take their toll on him. Every now and then, the freshly burned skin where the Vander’s mark now lay would sting, but the pain wasn’t as bad as it had been at the beginning.

  He rode behind the three, feeling as if they were shielding him. It was almost like being home again. Well, if he had a choice, he’d go back home, but these three were certainly stronger than his father. With Vasily, he felt safe. It was strange because Vasily was neither his father nor an older brother, but for some reason, he protected him. And it was just as well because Igor couldn’t fight, and he was afraid. Fear was something he had struggled with for all of his nineteen years. And when he felt afraid, he started drinking. It was the drinking that had brought him to Vasily. Whether it was fate or just luck, he didn’t know. But he knew one thing: he would die with these three. Whether by their hand or someone else’s.

  “Stop!”

  Igor heard Vasily’s voice, but he couldn’t see much past his body. Vasily’s hand was extended.

  Stepan and Ivanyek had already stopped.

  Two horses were approaching them—a white one and a brown one. Two men rode them, both fat, with mustaches and hats. From a distance, they looked alike, but the closer they came, the more distinct their features became. The horses pulled a wooden carriage. Igor had only seen such carriages when noble guests visited the kingdom and usually stopped by Visnya’s for some service, like having a used sword sharpened. Such travelers used their swords more for slicing fruit or cracking nuts. Rarely were there signs of blood on them, and if there were, it was from an animal.

  The horses trotted slowly, the carriage struggling over the stones. Igor noticed that the wooden wheels were lined with a thin rubber strip, something he hadn’t seen before, though he knew about such methods of protecting the wood. When he worked for Visnya, people often came for such strips, but made of iron, not rubber. They served the same purpose, absorbing the impact of stones like these. But the rubber was new. These men didn’t seem like ordinary travelers, and it was strange they were on this road.

  “It’s odd to see such refined gentlemen on this road,” Vasily seemed to share his thoughts.

  Vasily dismounted and approached the two men, moving in a way that was almost threatening. The carriage was entirely black and still smelled of fresh wood. It was tall, with a closed roof. Stepan and Ivanyek also moved closer to the windows. Stepan even tested the wood’s strength with a knock.

  “Vasily, there’s a woman in here,” Ivanyek called out loud enough for the two men pulling the carriage to turn around. They didn’t seem frightened, but rather surprised that these strangers dared to be so bold.

  “Tell your man to step away from there, or I won’t be responsible for what happens,” one of the mustachioed men warned.

  “Ivanek, leave the lady alone,” Vasily called out but still moved closer to peer through one of the windows. “And who is the lady? And why is such a fine woman traveling this road with you?”

  Igor saw her too—a woman, no older than him, holding a child of about four or five in her lap. They sat alone on the wooden benches in the carriage. She was well-dressed, in a blue dress that reached her pale ankles. She wore jewelry that hung around her neck and mingled with her brownish hair, which fell to her shoulders. The child, blonde, looked out the windows as if beasts were peering in from outside. He understood why.

  “The lady is important to us. She’s also important to the kingdom of Chernoval. So let us pass, and we’ll pretend we never met.”

  “For Chernoval? If she were important to the kingdom, they’d never let her travel this road. And they’d send soldiers to escort her. No offense, gentlemen, but how could you possibly protect her?”

  The two mustachioed men dismounted almost simultaneously and drew long, thin swords in unison.

  “If you don’t step aside, we’ll have to use force. We’ve brought the lady all the way from Volkar. We’re not about to let anything happen to her now.”

  “From the Wolf Gates along this road? Interesting. And you say you’ve kept her safe all the way? Along roads like this? You’re incredibly lucky.”

  “We’ve faced worse people than you. And ones who looked even more dangerous. The lady and the kingdom pay us well to do our job. Now please, let us do it. We don’t want trouble.”

  “I’m afraid it’s too late for that, my friends,” Igor saw the sly look in Vasily’s eyes. The leader of their band had something in mind. “You drew your weapons first. And those who draw their weapons must use them. Isn’t that right?”

  One of the mustachioed men sheathed his sword, but the other didn’t, and seeing his companion still holding his weapon, he drew his again.

  Vasily stood before them alone. Igor didn’t know what to do. Should he intervene? And what use would he be, given that he couldn’t fight? Still, he took a step forward, standing beside Vasily with the knife they had given him. His legs trembled. He knew himself well; he wouldn’t be able to do it.

  “Step back,” a strong hand gripped his shoulder and yanked him so hard that Igor stumbled. One of the mustachioed men grinned. He had already embarrassed himself, but at least he wouldn’t have to fight.

  “Well, two against two. A fair fight.”

  Vasily signaled Ivanyek to stay put and showed that he was alone. Then the dance began.

  Vasily’s opponents were quicker than Igor had expected, taking turns and striking at him one after the other. Ivanyek stood to the side, ready to step in. They clearly had a tactic, and it was working. Vasily was struggling, but he didn’t appear weaker than them.

  “Where are you headed?”

  Igor nearly jumped. He had remained by the carriage, and the voice came from inside. He glanced through the opening. The window was gone, and the woman was there, looking at him. Igor made sure she was talking to him and was surprised at how calm she seemed.

  “I can’t tell you, milady.”

  “Milady?” The woman smiled. “You look like barbarians and peasants. I didn’t expect you to address me like that. Let’s speak plainly. After all, you’re probably going to kill me soon.”

  “Kill you? But why?”

  “The fat men are good warriors, and I paid them enough to avoid trouble. But you’re outnumbered. And from the looks of it, your man is skilled with a sword.”

  Igor looked toward the makeshift battlefield in the dry fields, somewhere between Chernoval and Volkar. Vasily had already wounded one of the two men, who, despite the blood on his body and his now sluggish movements, continued to resist. Ivanyek and Stepan, like children, cheered at every strike from their friend, completely forgetting about Igor and not even glancing his way. Vasily truly could fight, and though his opponents were not on his level, his dance was mesmerizing. And he wasn’t even trying.

  “How long have you been with them, boy?”

  “A long time,” he lied. “I know them well; they won’t kill you if that’s what you’re worried about.”

  “You don’t know them. It’s clear you’re not one of them. Look at them—they’re men. Their faces are weathered. They have beards and hair that haven’t been combed in years. Their scars cover their skin. And yet they smile. They love this life. But you look like a child, trembling just watching them. No offense, but unless you’re their prisoner, you don’t belong in their band.”

  She was right. Igor knew it, but it sounded worse coming from a stranger. So he didn’t respond.

  “How much farther to Chernoval?” the woman sensed he had nothing to say.

  “Half a day’s journey.”

  “Well, those two fat men almost finished their job.”

  “Why are you taking this road? Everyone knows it’s…”

  “Filled with people like you?”

  “Yes.” He hoped Vasily wouldn’t hear him now.

  “I suggested it. They wanted to take the main road, as they should have. They’re professionals. But I paid them more to take this route.”

  “Why?”

  “That no longer matters. Can I ask you a favor?”

  Igor had been watching Vasily again. One of the fat men was already on the ground, covered in blood. One hand still twitched, refusing to give in to death. Ivanyek went over and ended his suffering. Vasily continued to deal with the other man. Death hovered in the air, waiting for him too. It was the first time he had seen Vasily fight. It was magical. He turned back to the woman.

  “What do you want?” He glanced at the child, who seemed calmer now. With every sound of steel, the woman’s eyes would close and open slowly. She would answer the child’s questions by gently stroking its head.

  “Can you make sure his death is quick?”

  “Whose death? We don’t kill women and children. Especially not children.”

  “I told you, you don’t belong with them. You won’t kill us. But they will. We’re just cargo. And if we make it to Chernoval, there’s a chance we could tell someone they attacked a lady like me.”

  “What makes you so important?”

  “That doesn’t matter,” she repeated. “Will you grant my request? I don’t want him to suffer.” The woman looked at her child, then back at Igor.

  “I promise you.”

  “I’m glad. I hope it happens after my death, but your friends will likely take turns with me first.”

  “Take turns? Igor looked at Vasily. The second fat man was still resisting.

  “Oh, how naive you are. It’s as if you were born yesterday. Of course, they’re men. Can you blame them? Judging by the looks of them, they probably don’t lack female attention. But a lady like me, well-dressed and smelling of something other than horse dung… It’s like a gift to them. Why do you think they’re fighting?”

  He hadn’t considered it.

  “Men are hunters. They fight for ego and for prey. Your men are testing their ego right now. And I’m the prey.”

  The second man fell. Vasily and Stepan were bent over, scavenging what they could from the bodies. Igor saw each of them find something and stash it in the pouch at their waist. Vasily quickly cleaned his sword and approached the carriage and the woman.

  “Well, Igor, I see you’ve kept her safe for us. You’re free now.”

  He stepped back. Maybe he should have protected her, but he didn’t. She was right—he wasn’t like them. He was a coward.

  The woman instinctively pulled the child closer. As tough as she tried to appear, there was fear in her eyes. Vasily opened the carriage door and bent a knee as noble lords did. Ivanyek and Stepan laughed. He was mocking her. The woman made a sour face, but she still took his hand and slowly stepped down from the carriage. Her face was blank, even as she looked Vasily straight in the eyes. Vasily also lifted the child, which clung to its mother’s skirt. Once they were down and had moved away, Stepan entered the carriage after them. He rummaged through what he could find, and when nothing useful turned up, he unhitched the horses and began stuffing dry grass and twigs into the wooden carriage. Everyone acted in unison, as if they knew exactly what to do.

  Vasily circled the woman like a predator around its prey. The woman stared at him coldly, without hatred, just acceptance that it would all be over soon. She stroked the blonde child in her lap.

  Stepan unhitched the horses from the carriage and led them away. Vasily held out his hand to the child. It hesitated at first but then, with a gentle nudge from the woman, moved toward him. The whole scene was strange to Igor. He felt a twinge of fear for them. He hoped the woman wasn’t right about Vasily.

  “I don’t know where you were headed, lady,” the woman glanced at Igor before looking back at Vasily, who continued speaking to her, “but your direction has changed. Igor!” he called out to him, “Tonight, we’ll eat your horse. You have a new one.”

  It seemed this haunted him everywhere. He didn’t want to kill his horse. He didn’t want to kill anything.

  Behind them, the wooden carriage from which the woman had stepped down was already burning, and Stepan, with eyes full of sparks, laughed at the fire. But instead of laughter, the sounds from his throat were enough to frighten the fiercest creature nearby.

  The woman pulled the child close again as Vasily sheathed his knife, turned his back on her, and left her alone in the middle of nowhere.

  She followed him.