A Shade of Kiev 2(3)

“Release it gently,” I hissed. “So the lady doesn’t notice any bump.”

As soon as Ivan had untied the horse, he grabbed the reins and handed them over to me. I wrapped them securely around my arm before approaching Ivan again to once again hold the knife against his throat. But before I could grab him, in one sudden motion, he slapped the horse on the backside. The frightened animal galloped forward—knocking me to the ground and dragging my body after it.

By the time I managed to scramble to my feet, regain control over the horse, and rope it around a tree, the alarmed Ivan had already remounted the coach, which had started moving forward with just the one horse.

I reached the coach’s path just in time to fling myself at the driver’s seat, landing next to Ivan. He pulled out a knife of his own from beneath his seat and brandished it at me as the horse continued to gallop forward. Leaning back toward the edge of the seat, with one sharp thrust of my foot, I managed to knock the blade away from Ivan. Bone cracked as one of his fingers broke. He cried out in agony.

Grabbing the reins, I brought the horse to a stop.

“Now, let’s finish this,” I breathed, once again pointing my knife at his neck. “Hand over whatever supplies and coins you have. Don’t make me disturb the lady.”

“I know how filth like you work once you’ve finished robbing,” Ivan cried out, his eyes blazing. “I won’t let you lay a hand on my woman! You’ll have to kill me first.”

He ducked his head and threw all his weight against my midriff. As I fell back toward the ground, I instinctively grabbed him and pulled him with me. When he landed on top of me, I expected him to start punching me, but he went strangely limp. He lifted his head and looked down at me, eyes bulging. Then I felt it—blood seeping down the hilt of my knife.

The blade had buried itself deep into his stomach as we’d hit the gravel. He screamed as blood poured out of him, soaking through his clothes.

I rolled him off me and stood staring down at him, horror consuming me at what I’d just done.

At what I’d just become.

“Ivan!” A shrill voice pierced through the cold night air.

I turned around. A young woman in a blue silk cloak stood in the road, her face pale, her painted red lips parting in horror.

She screamed and ran back into the carriage. I thought she had run there for shelter, but she returned with a pistol in her hands, aimed directly at my chest.

“Drop the knife!” she cried out, tears welling in her eyes, her hands trembling.

I dropped the knife. She approached me cautiously, still pointing the gun at me, and picked it up. Then she ran over to Ivan and looked at his wound.

“You killed him!”

She whirled around in fury. This time she pulled the trigger. A bullet wedged itself into my shoulder. Warm blood spilled down my frozen chest.

I staggered back and fell to the ground. I began shaking uncontrollably, and I felt myself losing consciousness.

But then I remembered the promise I’d made to my brother earlier that evening. I remembered my parents’ tortured eyes looking up at me. I remembered Helina standing in the snow. And somehow I found the strength to turn myself over and slowly, steadily, quietly begin dragging myself toward the woman.

Her back was turned to me as she wept over Ivan. I reached out my uninjured arm and grabbed her. I knocked the pistol away from her hand. She kicked and screamed as I struggled to wrestle her to the ground. I grabbed the knife she had laid next to her and pushed it through her stomach.

Everything that I had ever identified myself with drifted away as that man and woman bled to death on the ground, tarnishing the white snow as their blood formed a crimson pool.

I was no longer a brother. No longer a son. No longer a physician’s apprentice.

At that moment, only one word circled in my mind for what I was.

Murderer.



* * *



“Kiev!”

Erik gasped as I stumbled into the cottage in the early morning hours.

“What happened to you?”

“Where’s Helina?” I panted.

“She… she’s sleeping. What is going on? Your shoulder—”

“Bring her, goddamn it!”

Erik sprinted up the staircase, casting worried glances at me. I’d managed to slow the blood flow by bunching up my cloak and holding it against the wound with one hand as I guided the horses and the carriage with the other. But it meant that I was now frozen numb from the cold.

I walked over to the warm fireplace and crumpled onto the carpet.

When Erik emerged, he was carrying a sleeping Helina.

“For God’s sake, brother,” Erik pleaded. “Will you tell me what happened?”

“It doesn’t matter… what happened,” I gasped. “Just listen to me. Carefully. I don’t have the strength to repeat myself. There’s a carriage with two horses waiting outside the house. In it, you’ll find enough food to last you a week and enough money to keep our uncle happy for at least five months.”