face. Trevarre, startled, fell back before her fury.
“That is a foolish decision, Matya,” Ciri said, all pretext
of sweetness gone from her voice. “I will find another who
will break the enchantment for me. I’ll have the doll back!
You both will die!”
The enchantress spread her arms wide, and the wind
whipped about. Dry dust stung Matya’s face. Trevarre
looked around, shock on his face. The illusion had
vanished. The evil-looking ruins were laid bare and
undisguised.
Ciri spoke several strange, guttural words. Instantly the
swirling wind was filled with dead tree limbs and dry,
brown leaves. As Matya watched, the broken branches and
leaves began to clump together, growing denser, taking
shape.
“Trevarre, look out!” Matya cried out in terror.
The dead, brittle branches and dumps of rotting leaves
had taken the shape of a man. The tree creature was huge,
towering over the knight. It reached out a bark-covered arm
that ended in splintery claws. Its gigantic maw displayed
row upon row of jagged, thorny teeth.
Trevarre drew his sword, barely in time to block the
creature’s swing. Branches and splinters flew in all
directions, but the knight stumbled beneath the blow. His
face blanched with pain; his wounded leg buckled beneath
him. He was too weak to fight such a monster, Matya
realized. One more blow and he would fall. Ciri watched
the battle with a look of cruel pleasure on her face. The tree
monster roared again, drawing back its arm for another
bone-crushing blow.
Matya drew the doll from the leather pouch and stared
at it. She hesitated for a moment, but the sight of Trevarre –
standing before the monster, his face grim and unafraid –
steeled her resolve. Regretfully, she bade her dreams of
wealth farewell. . . and hurled the doll at the altar.
Too late Ciri saw Matya’s intent. The enchantress
shrieked in rage and reached out to catch the doll. Her
fingers closed on thin air.
The figurine struck the altar and shattered into a
thousand pale shards – dirty, broken bones. The wind died
as suddenly as it had started. The tree monster shuddered
and collapsed into a pile of inanimate wood and leaves.
Trevarre stumbled backward, leaning on his sword to keep
from falling. His face was ashen, his breathing hard.
“What have you done?” Ciri shrieked, her sapphire-blue
eyes wide with astonishment and horror.
“I’ve given you what you wanted,” Matya cried.
“You’re free now, Ciri. Just let Trevarre go. That’s all I
ask.”
Ciri shook her head, but her lips moved wordlessly
now. She took a few steps toward Matya, each one slower
than the last. Her movements had become strangely halting,
as if she were walking through water, not air. The
enchantress reached out a hand, but whether the gesture
was one of fury or supplication, Matya did not know.
Suddenly, Ciri shuddered and stood motionless. For a
moment, the figure of the enchantress stood there among
the ruins, as pale and perfect as a porcelain doll. Her eyes
glimmered like clear, soulless gems.
Then, even as Matya watched, a fine crack traced its
way across the smooth surface of Ciri’s lovely face. More
cracks spread from it, snaking their way across Ciri’s
cheeks, her throat, her arms. As if she had been fashioned
of porcelain herself, Ciri crumbled into a mound of
countless fragments, a heap of yellowed bones – all that
was left of the enchantress.
*****
The doves were singing their evening song when the
gaudily painted wagon bounced past the fallen remains of
the gigantic statues and turned eastward down the road,
heading toward the town of Garnet. Matya and Trevarre
had traveled in silence most of the way from the ruined
village of Tambor. The knight, still recovering from his
wounds, had slept the better part of the day. Matya was
content to occupy herself with her thoughts.
“You gave up your dreams to help me, didn’t you,
Matya?” Trevarre asked.
Matya turned her head to see that the knight was
awake, stroking his mousy brown moustache thoughtfully.
“And what reward do you have to show for it?”
“Why, I have this,” Matya said, gesturing to the
jeweled clasp she had pinned to her collar. “Besides, I can