The Goddess Needs her Crow

That eternal instant of our eyes meeting is broken shortly as the ascended goddess turns her gaze to where the Beast has pinned the human female and is about to feed. Kostroma vanishes and an instant later appears on the lakeshore on the opposite side of the Thing from where I am standing. It roars at her, but she spreads her hands wide, displaying that her fingernails have grown long and appear hard as garnets. She curls her lip in contempt. The dark Beast extracts its Tentacle from the helpless woman and sends both snaking toward the goddess. She bats them aside, the aura surrounding her acting as if it were solid armor against such attacks. Then she slashes one hand and a dark coil is cut in half, the dead part falling limp to the ground then dispersing like smoke. The Beast hisses in irritation but shows no weakness or hesitation. It seems to ignore that I am still here, and yet I feel I must do something. Noticing a branch on the ground 20 feet away, I pull it mentally and crack it in half, creating two pointed stakes. Metal did not work on the monster but I'm ready to try anything I can to help Kostroma win against her foe. It wraps the remaining tentacle around her body and begins dragging her toward its face. But the goddess grabs the arm with both of her slender hands, and slices it in turn just as she comes face to face with the unnatural thing. I see the Spring Maiden close her fist and blue eyes darken into sapphires as though readying a furious strike. But then as I start to throw my two sharp sticks a voice Whispers in the back of my mind. It is not Crow this time, but it is a being not of this world.

You are caught in a struggle of titans, mortal. What difference do you think you alone can make in my fight to stop the rising of Kostroma?

Suddenly the Thing whirls around, turning its attention from the goddess and pounces on me, pinning me to the ground. Its yellow eyes and teeth come next to my face and I hear the mental insinuations again.

. You want to know real power, human? Give up your bond with Old Crow, and join with me. Together we shall be unstoppable. All men shall fear our coming, even governments, armies. But first we can conquer her. Let me in, and this bitch shall fall beneath our combined strength. Have our way with her body, then leave her to die and return whence she came. Just give up your false morality, and be more than any man has ever been.

Maybe when I was younger, I would have listened. But Crow and I have been together for long years, and I can still feel him. He recognizes the goddess, as a fellow timeless being. And he knows this Darkness as well. We have been fighting it together since I was 18. I believe in something more than power. Beauty rules my heart, and compassion is more dear than lust for Dominion. I know I am not worthy to ask the goddess for her blessing, but she must live. The world shall need her. I stare into the venomous eyes of the unnatural thing, and gasp with what air is left in my lungs. "No!"

The creature rears back in rage at my refusal and then I strike. Both pieces of wood lance from where they had been waiting and bury themselves in its black torso. Unlike the daggers, these weapons encounter resistance as though Penetrating flesh, and I see ichor drip from the wounds I have given it. The Thing howls and then Kostroma lands astride its back. She rakes her claws against its neck and shoulders, emitting a keening cry like a widowed swan. Black blood flies wide and the beast seems to diminish in size. Then it leaps as though to fall upon the woman still lying at death's door on the lakeshore. I reach out my handless arm toward the bloody body, which rises and floats toward me just in time as the Thing drops on the vacated earth. Thwarted, the Dark Beast roars but is impotent; Kostroma still straddles its back like a rodeo performer astride a bucking bull. Then she vents a furious scream and the ruddy light surrounding her explodes outward in a sphere that hides both her form and that of her enemy for a moment. A second later the Light fades to reveal the goddess standing upon the shore; all that remains of the Thing is a dark mist which is blown away by the western wind. Kostroma does not watch it depart, but instantly kneels beside the dying woman where I laid her carefully. I mirror her on the victim's other side. I am panting from exertion and relief while I strive to keep my honor and turn my gaze from the Divine figure in front of me, cloaked in ephemeral scarlet that only partially obscures her breasts and hips. So I valiantly meet her gaze, and ask the most pressing question in my mind. "Kostroma, can you save her?"

Her confidence does not waver as she places one hand on the woman's forehead and the other on her chest over the wound. She does not answer me, but bends her head and Whispers in a tone I have to strain to hear, "Faithful servant, I honor your sacrifice. Your blood called to me in the water of my sojourn from this realm, forgotten by all including myself. Now I have returned, to heal the world in need of the Old Ones. Today, you shall not go across the bridge to the Beyond. Come back to your life."

As I hear this litany, I can see the bleeding stop and the flesh and skin of the woman closes together without leaving even a scar. Her body glows from within and then her green eyes snap open. She sits up and kisses the hand of the goddess who had saved her life. I remember to close my hanging jaw at the wonder of having witnessed yet another miracle.

The revived woman exclaims, "My Lady, I thank you. My coven has kept your sacraments alive throughout the years and it was foretold that you would return on a time when Darkness threatens Earth and all of its peoples. I, Vanislava, was chosen by our seer to find the lake which has been associated with your legend as the first rusalka. This day was the appointed hour of your Awakening, but as I drew near the Thing of the Dark pursued me. It plainly was aware of your coming and sought to stop you from fulfilling your purpose. I believe we both can say without this man's help he might have won." Both females look upon me in question and I am humbled again.

I interject, "I had come also by word of prophecy, and yet I did not know your name until your priestess voiced it, Kostroma. I knew of the Spring Maiden of the lake, but the Black God would be opposing you. Was he the Other which is defeated?"

The Goddess speaks again, "No, that was but one of his demonic servitors. You were clever in your way of fighting it, and I felt your strength of spirit as it sought to possess you. Your gifts remind me of the hero-shamans who led humanity in the ancient days when the gods were worshipped by all. What is your name, warrior?"

I cannot hide my identity from her, for unlike the mortals of this world who cannot know the man behind the mask, she has every right to see me plainly. "I was named Giovanni Lloyd. My dad is Welsh, and my Italian mother gave me my first name. They settled in New York when I was born. I have always believed in the Divines, and studied the tales of when they walked the world as our guides. I had my first encounter with the Totem, Crow, on my 18^th birthday. He showed me the truth of the spirit world and its connection with this one. We have been partners ever since. But until today, I have not seen a living Goddess. I am glad I was called here."

She gazes off into the distance, as though feeling something far away. Kostroma mutters, "I know so little of the world now; it has changed much while I slept. So many have made new gods, and few still remember the old ways, like you do." She smiles at Vanislava.

The priestess supplies, "Maybe you can remind them of awe and hope. That is the essence of Spring. The long winter can end with your coming, my lady."

The goddess strides over to a bare tree near the lake, her feet leaving no imprint on the soft earth, and her arms spread in benediction. In but a breath the branches become laden with flowers blooming with pleasant scent and white petals tinged with crimson. They begin to fall in a cloud as a halo surrounding her. Then in a flash the petals form into a traditional Slavic maiden's dress: white cloth with patterns of red running down its length. A woven belt green and soft as moss rides her hips. The skirt stops at her knees. She turns to gaze at us mere mortals, who are helplessly in love with her. How could it be any other way? Kostroma walks back toward us and I can see her compassion is turning to fertile eroticism that rises with springtime. The priestess and I are both ready to worship her in every way, but suddenly she starts and jerks her head toward the South.

The goddess exclaims, "I hear a call. Tell me, does the city of Kyiv still stand where I remember it?"

Pausing my rush of attraction for her, I reply, "Yes, that is where I arrived in this country. Though I fear I may not go back that way."

Kostroma continues, "The goddess who is patroness of that place is seeking aid. The capital is beleaguered, as enemies have passed the borders of Ukraine. She fights for her people with little help. The other nations have not responded with military might. So I shall help my colleague, Berehynia. The people need something to believe in. Will you follow me, warrior-brother of Crow?"

I respond, "I will go anywhere you lead, Kostroma. There is a mighty man who guards Ukraine, and he allowed me a one-time passage to come to you here. He might not be happy to see me again."

The goddess narrows her brows and questions me, "Is he a god, this protector?"

I shake my head and she declares, "Then do not be concerned. We shall stand with the people of Ukraine. But I can only take one with me."

Vanislava embraces the goddess quickly, then steps back. "It is alright my Lady. I am no warrior. Go, take this man with you to battle. Let me return the way I came, rejoin my coven, and spread the news of your truth. My part in your return is done; let the purpose be fulfilled."

Kostroma smiles then bids me quickly, "Put on your war-mask, Shaman. You can do much more good if we work together, than if we act separately."

I don my Crow-cowl and she takes hold of my shoulder. Then in a flash of red we are far away from the lonely lake in Belarus.