Chapter XX
DUST TO DUST
A creeping fog had settled in the woods that night, illuminating the beams of moonlight that broke through the ceiling of tree limbs. The snow was icy and hard underfoot as the blood brothers crept past caragana and pine trees adorned with climbing holly. Though adrenaline kept their minds clear, the boys chewed ginseng roots to sharpen their senses. Blizzard needed none. He guarded their flank, his great black nose sniffing the air, offering the two boys more protection than all their senses combined.
At the northwestern edge of the forest, they came to the edge of the tree line and gazed south: The diamond-white field sparked under the moonlight; in its center, the ancient oak erupted out of the ground, its twisted branches resembling the tentacles of a giant octopus.
"Let's sprint. Best not to expose our position for longer than we have to," Romulus whispered.
With all the swiftness and silence they could muster, the boys made a mad dash toward the oak, shovels in hand. Blizzard doubled their speed and skidded to a stop first. Romulus came next, and Viktor slid in last under the shadow. The world under the tree was different at night. It was still a haven, but now it was one of darkness, while everything beyond its perimeter was bright.
"Let's make this quick," Romulus said, moving directly in front of the heart carved in the tree trunk. He lifted his spade to slam into the ground.
"Stop," hissed Viktor, seeing warning signs from Blizzard: The gray-white hair on the wolf's back stood up and a low growl issued from his throat.
The blood brothers followed Blizzard's gaze to the schoolhouse. Through their classroom window, the dull, barely visible light of a candle flickered on the walls!
"Let's get closer," Romulus whispered.
"Do you think it's Dimovna?"
Romulus snorted. "Unless Modest is polishing the desks."
Viktor laid his shovel in the shadows next to Romulus' and prepared himself for another, even longer, nerve-wracking sprint. Once again, their feet flashed over the sparkling ground and slid up to the side of the schoolhouse—Blizzard, Romulus, and then Viktor. With his back to the wall, Romulus began inching over to a window. Blizzard let out another low growl.
"He senses someone. We've got to move," murmured Romulus.
No sooner had they crept around the corner of the building than they heard footsteps crunch in the snow toward their old position, accompanied by the stench of tobacco smoke. Blizzard's throat rumbled, but Romulus closed his fist; the wolf quieted and crouched low to the ground, ready, if necessary, to pounce.
Around the corner, the door to the schoolhouse banged open. Heavy footsteps echoed across the floorboards into Miss Dimovna's classroom. The window to their side cast the shadows of two figures out onto the field—one small, one large.
"It's an hour past midnight," said a female from within the building.
Viktor and Romulus exchanged a glance. It was indeed Miss Dimovna.
"Be grateful I came at all," boomed a second unmistakable voice: Captain Ulfrik. "This had better be important."
"The boy who burned my reviews—"
"Don't tell me this is about your lack of control."
"But he threatened to kill me! He walked out on my class!"
"Fool! Have I not warned you what the Leopard—"
"I know what will happen if he sees such a report! That's why I need you to deal with the boy Romulus—kill him."
Viktor's foot slipped, and his knee slammed into the ice. Romulus stared at him furiously as Captain Ulfrik's boots echoed closer to the window.
"Nobody would bat an eye," Dimovna continued. "His parents are dead—probably among the names listed in the Silent Dea—"
Captain Ulfrik's shadow twisted around and seized their teacher's silhouette by the throat. "How dare you speak those words! I should smother my cigar on your loose tongue. And if you speak the truth about how this boy's parents died, then how was the boy accepted into Molotov's school? A mistake like that could prove fatal."
Upon being released, Dimovna struggled to catch her breath. "I know not—nobody ever called him to the mines—I thought one of the professors sent him—assumed he was in the right place ..."
"Are you telling me the boy has no records—that he wasn't even selected for study?"
"It's all the more reason to dispose of him," Dimovna said. "He's dangerous, but I'm too close to him to carry out the deed. But you—you're skilled in these matters. With you, there will be no mistakes, no trace."
Captain Ulfrik puffed on his cigar with swollen pride. "True ... Fine, I'll do it."
Dread morphed Viktor's face; Romulus was unmoved.
"Wait!" Dimovna said. "He has a friend, too—an accomplice."
This time, fear flickered on both the boys' faces.
"No, Dimovna. You ask too much." Ulfrik turned to leave.
"It's the Vassinov boy—Viktor."
The footsteps halted. "I had his father whipped today in the mines. The fool was still asking questions about Petya's murder. But ... no, I have superior orders to hunt down the king of spades. The Leopard has no time for you, and neither do I."
"Ulfrik, they're young but dangerous. We cannot repeat the past."
Something in the words swayed Ulfrik, because his shadow nodded slowly. "Fine, I'll finish them ... But from now on, do not contact me! I cannot be seen near this school or the boys' homes."
"Thank you, Captain, thank you. Good night."
"A good night? No, I think not. You know what's out tonight, under a moon as rare as this blue one."
Captain Ulfrik's boots echoed out of the schoolhouse and into the night. Dimovna exited a moment later, her black cloak billowing in the wind.
"What do you suppose the captain meant? What could be out tonight?" asked Romulus.
"Who cares?" Viktor hissed. "He's going to kill us!"
"All the more reason to dig up the Silent Deal—and quickly."
Back under the cover of the oak, the boys took up their spades and began to chip away at the ice-cold ground. The first few feet were the hardest because the topsoil was in a frozen state, but as they toiled together, a pile of dirt built up beside the hole. The deeper they dug, the softer the soil became, and the quicker the pile grew. Blizzard kept watch.
Viktor had forgotten how fast Romulus was with a spade. In the Gypsy graveyard, his blood brother had dug in fear, yet now he dug with desire, redoubling his speed. Meanwhile, vengeance fueled Viktor. He was angry at injustice. He was unhappy with the hand dealt him. There were so many things he wanted to change, but for now, he could only shift the earth under his boots. The width of the hole expanded from four feet to six; the depth dropped from their thighs, to their waists, to their stomachs. So too grew their concern.
"Why isn't it here?" Viktor groaned, leaning on a wall of dirt and swallowing air.
"I don't know. Keep digging."
"Do you think it's on the other side of the trunk? Opposite the heart?"
"No. Do you?"
"No ..."
Viktor put his aching muscles and blistering skin back to work. How do miners do this every day? he wondered. How do they survive? And if I got sent to the tunnels, how could I survive? How did Grandpap and my ... His thoughts trailed off at a mental image of his father's thrashed back.
"I give." For the first time since they began, Romulus dropped his spade. "I must have been wrong."
Viktor blinked. He had lost track of time—and the surface. He had to stand on his toes to see out of the hole. "Yeah, Maksim wouldn't bury anything this deep."
Romulus wiped his brow, streaking it with dirt. "I can't believe it isn't here. I guess we could dig up the other side tomorrow night."
The thought alone exhausted Viktor. Blizzard stuck his muzzle over the edge, sniffing the air curiously.
"Get back," Romulus said to the wolf as he shooed him away. "Let's climb out of here. We can use the shovels for leverage."
Viktor nodded. He gripped the shovel's hand
le and slammed the iron blade in the earth.
THUD.
They looked at each other with wide eyes. Praying his imagination wasn't playing a trick on him, Viktor slammed his shovel into the same spot.
THUD.
Scrambling into motion, both boys began sliding their shovels along the surface, trying the remove the final layer of dirt between them and the buried object. Romulus dropped to knees and dusted away the dirt with his hands.
"It's definitely wood."
"A chest?" said Viktor.
Romulus looked ravenous. "Yeah. Let's dig it out more."
The object was rectangular, and its top was flat. It was long—unusually long for a chest, and its length continued to grow as they scooped away dirt.
"This is all wrong," Viktor murmured, crouching down and running his hand along the top of the chest. "There's no brackets, no hinges. The top is nailed in ... as if it's meant never to come off."
"My father must've wanted to keep the contents safe."
Viktor blew away dust, revealing a small engraving on the wood—a cross. His hand drifted slowly over his mouth as he backed away. A disgusting feeling rose up in his stomach and crawled over his skin. With his back pressed up against the dirt, he felt the walls closing in. His eyes beheld the worms and beetles squirming through the soil.
"Romulus, I know why Maksim buried this so deep. This is no chest."
"Then what is it?"
"A casket."
Romulus' jaw went tight. "We're in a grave."
Viktor suddenly found himself more superstitious than Mikhail—fearful of ghosts, spirits, and the faintest of shadows.
"We're in Feliks' grave," Romulus murmured.
"Who?"
"Don't you remember? My grandmother said not too long after my parents married, my father was burying his gambling friend, Feliks. She was still talking about the Kissing Tree! He buried his friend here, under the heart."
"'For where your treasure is, there will your heart be also,'" quoted Viktor.
"Oh, I'm a fool," Romulus uttered. "I only thought of things, but what my father treasured was love—and brotherhood."
"Then we're both fools. I thought the same."
Seconds slid by. Romulus stared at the casket, the hungry expression creeping back over his features. "Unless ..."
Viktor frowned. "I hope you're not thinking what I think you are."
"My father put the message on the card for a reason. He wanted me to find this."
"You can't be serious. Maksim wouldn't hide the Silent Deal in his friend's casket."
"There's only one way to find out." Romulus raised his shovel above his head, his muscles tensed to strike.
"Don't desecrate the dead!" Viktor hissed, throwing his hands out at the shovel. "You're not thinking straight. Would your father want you digging through his friend's remains? No—a hundred times over. Besides, any papers in that casket would've withered away with the body."
Shamed, Romulus lowered the spade.
Viktor's eyebrows arched with a new thought. "Have you ever been to a funeral?"
"How could I?" Romulus said bitterly. "Everyone I knew died before I got the chance to know them."
"Well, I have—my grandmother's. And there's an old tradition where loved ones drop a treasured belonging into the grave with the casket."
Romulus squinted. "You think my father dropped something for Feliks?"
"Yes, and I think he gave you this clue because he realized the object he parted with might help his son years later."
Romulus grabbed his shovel and began unearthing more of the casket. He'd only taken a few swings before he hit something solid.
CLANK.
They exchanged a look: This was metal. Romulus knocked more dirt away. Viktor dusted off the side of the object and found a handle. Together, he and Romulus yanked. The dirt gave way and out slid a chest—a foot in length, with heavy brackets and an iron lock.
"It's a strongbox!" said Viktor. "People lock jewels, documents, all sorts of things in these!"
"Watch out," Romulus said, hoisting his shovel to break the lock.
But something halted him: A mangled cry echoed from within the forest, more terrible than anything the boys had ever heard. Blizzard whined from above.
Romulus lowered the shovel. "What was that?"
"I don't know, but we can't stay here—it's not safe," Viktor whispered.
Romulus tossed the chest out the hole and boosted Viktor up, climbing after him. Then they frantically set to work shoveling the dirt back into the hole. Even Blizzard joined in, since burying bones was one of his instinctive acts. The work went much quicker than digging, and after a chunk of minutes, the ground around the Kissing Tree looked no different than before, save the dirt mixed in with snow.
Armed with spades and an old strongbox, the boys took to the woods with Blizzard as their guide. The wolf sniffed the air, wary of the mysterious creature. He must have caught a scent, because he steered off course, creeping slowly through thickets of brush.
"Is he taking us toward the thing?" Viktor whispered.
Romulus put his finger to his lips, but one turn later, Viktor had his answer. A once beautiful deer with brown fur and white spots lay dead on the ground. Viktor was hardened to hunted game, but his nerves weren't prepared for this: The deer's chest had been gruesomely ripped open; its bloody heart rested in the middle of the cavity, exposed to the elements.
"Wh-What animal would do this?" Viktor asked.
"No animal. Only a monster ... or madman."
"And to a poor doe," said Viktor, trying not to dwell on the fearful creature of Aryk's old legends, Ivan the Terrible's bane.
Romulus shook his head. "No, it's a stag."
"But it has no antlers ..." Viktor trailed off as he took in the deer's head, which was twisted in an unnatural angle and had two bloody wounds where the antlers had been literally broken off its skull. Even Blizzard sensed the depravity of the scene; he pawed the ground, whimpering.
Viktor voiced his qualms. "Kamdrac said the man he made the cards for was a great hunter. The Leopard claimed to know the forest better than anyone alive."
For once, Romulus didn't seem so comfortable among the never-ending trees. "Whoever it was, they can't be far off. We have to leave."
By the time they stumbled into the Den, dawn was approaching and the boys' attention had shifted away from the mutilated deer, Feliks' grave, and Ulfrik's murderous vow. Now only one thing dominated their minds: The mysterious contents of Maksim's chest.
With shaking hands and hungry eyes, Romulus set the strongbox on the dirt floor in front of the fireplace. Viktor's heart quickened as Romulus raised a shovel above his head and slammed the padlock with all his might.
After all the years spent underground, the deteriorated metal shattered easily and the lid of the chest burst off its hinges. Inside rested a brown, leather-bound book. Romulus picked it up gently, careful not to tear any of the loose, yellowed pages, and opened the cover.
"It's the Silent Deal, isn't it?" Viktor said anxiously.
"No." Romulus looked up at Viktor, whose expectations had been shattered. "It's even better."
"Better? How so?"
Romulus showed him the cover page. "Maksim's Memoirs. It's my father's journal."