Chapter Three
The Speech Of Kroki
István has been to the border before. He says it gets colder as you get closer, but then it is not even as freezing as winter is. The wall, which blocks our escape from Atkozott, is made of ice. Thin and transparent ice, so we can see the other side.
Mockery.
It never melts.
And yet the wall never causes Atkozott to freeze over.
"Works of the devil," the priest called it.
He took the journey with István and the some other men from the village, to try to destroy the wall, yet again. When István touched it, the ice began to freeze over his hand, and up his arm, trying to pull the rest of his body into the wall; it took the strength of the whole group, the dogs, and the horses pulling the wagon to pull him loose.
Visitors not native to Atkozott can come and go as they wish; they see no wall of ice, for they were not involved in the curse, some cruel loop-hole. The oldest, wisest man in the village told us of the Count's unholy covenant with the devil, the one that made him the evil that he was.
"The devil promised the demon that he would always have prey," The old man wheezed. "We are the prey, we shall fuel that evil creature, and all of our descendants. There will always be Atkozott, so there will always be the ördög Count and we can never leave. One should rather die than become the strength of such wickedness."
"...Can't we ask one of the visitors for help?" Someone sobbed.
"No," The old man sighed. "He has cursed our tongues so that we speak a different language, and as ignorant peasants...no educated man would teach us..."
But what the Count had not anticipated was the great change in our generation. In his arrogance, he thought us to remain lowly peasants forever, and that the only people who would be educated would be the Nobles, and no nobleman would educate a person of lower status. The great gifts I received from the Ambassador was not expected. But still Atkozott hates me, and will not allow me to ask the rare visitors for help. They have told me that if I speak of the Count, or plan to foil his doings, more people will be killed. They told me I was the cause for several deaths that occurred after I returned from the Embassy. I have no doubt it was my fault.... Kövér's death was might fault, for that night I had tried to warn Sir Stoker.... I know my intelligence is evil, but...it makes me happy. I would not want to lose it.
So, perhaps I am evil too. Perhaps my wickedness is the reason for the Count's pursuit of me.
Two slips in the unholy covenant remain unclear for me: why visitors do not see the wall, and how István's family traveled to Amsterdam, then, 12 years later, returned him to Atkozott. ...Perhaps István's parents gave themselves as a sacrifice.
Upon the group's returning unsuccessful, Mama innocently asked István if he knew how his parents had gotten through the ice wall to travel to Amsterdam.
Quickly, a sobbing mob formed around him. I remember vaguely, István had been around 15 at the time....
"I...I don't remember," He said awkwardly, slightly frightened. "I wasn't even born until we had arrived...I don't remember traveling."
Kroki had no desire of escaping Atkozott, or for any of the rest of us, for that matter. I believe that he only brought out his horrible little voice so he could spread ill will.
"But you were a boy of 12 when you returned..." Kroki hissed.
István has told us that he had gone to bed in Amsterdam, with nothing out of the ordinary, he only heard the doorbell ring just before falling into sleep. He woke up by the well in the town center of Atkozott, his parents gone. He honestly did not know.
When the flood of people heard this, they quickly turned violent: breaking things, pushing, shouting angrily. Young as I was, I tried to pull István to safety, but the crowd was so large and fast, István ended up shoving and locking me into the quiet serenity of Sára and her son, Máté's, Apothecary (István had a key because he was staying with them). Máté's mother was ill at the time, so Máté and I were alone, while the once crackling campfire roared and swallowed the whole forest.
I turned away sobbing when István was knocked to the ground. Máté rubbed my back in a gesture of comfort. In all of the chaos, the Apothecary window was smashed, and that was how I received the scar on my ear; Máté was watching, so he saw it coming and was able to get us out of the way of serious injury.
István's arm ended up pulled out of socket, scars now run up and down his arms, and twirled across his chest. His ankle smashed; now he walks with a slight limp.
So Atkozott hated István Helsing. Many lives were lost to the Count before they decided to trust him. And that was only because Sára, the healer, was saved by him. The water cooled to a simmer.
When Apollónia died, Atkozott's pot returned to an overflowing boil.
All of these dark hate filled memories boiled in my own pot of thoughts when Larjen and Kashna tackled us as István and I entered the alleyway.
The morning had been peaceful, free of the familiar shrill screams, which were well known as the aftermath of the Count. I had just suppressed my dignity for nobility and courage so I could speak to István regarding my dreams, when those lumbering buta men pounced.
I know István:
Had I not been with him at the time, I doubt he would have shouted and cursed the two men as he did. He wouldn't have fought has hard as he did. István is the complete opposite of weak, physically and emotionally, but I am afraid he believes that he deserves the persecution he receives from the villagers. He thinks so because he failed to save Apollónia.
I do not remember much about the brawl, a dirty fist, headaches, and shouts. I felt a horrible force meet my head, causing the scene before me to rattle like Anya's wooden beads did when she ran up the stairs. Larjen and Kashna were cursing rapidly at István and me, though I had done nothing but shout and wiggle. Larjen and Kashna always use the filthiest words, on Sunday, to women, to children; they were the pure essence of ignorance. Larjen was rather scrawny but surprisingly fast and strong; Kashna had deep set blank eyes, bushy eyebrows, and a long scar across his cheek and forehead from a previous interaction with the Count. I felt sorry for Kashna because of his very traumatic experience, and I felt pity for Larjen because of the fact that he truly was alone in the world...
But I felt no pity for either of them at that moment. I wanted to slam their faces into the snow.
Gladly, I would have.
István pulled me up roughly and grasped my arm tightly as he shouted accusations of cowardice for attacking a young lady who should be protected, as all women should be.
"You have a bruise on your head," He said once his business was done and his gentle, quiet manner had returned. He reached out his arm to gently touch a pain near my temple. Instinctively, I brushed his hand away.
"Forgive me," István said softly. "I am a doctor, I must see if it is a concussion..." Carefully he touched the bruise, and I felt a shrill of pain, which made me jerk slightly. Next he looked at my eyes, asked me to follow his finger with my gaze.
"Your pupils are very dilated," He sighed rather wearily. "Which is a first sign, but everything else seems fine." He told me to come to him if certain symptoms came. István was not formally educated, but he learned basic medical skills by watching, and the books he read in Amsterdam and the ones I brought him from the Ambassador.
"Do you wish to return home?" István asked, putting a sympathetic arm around my waist as we walked out of the alley. "I will complete the errands for you."
"No..." I said, my cheeks reddening again as he gently guided me. "I want my time outside." István nodded understandingly.
"114," János growled impatiently.
"114?" I asked, shyly in distress, sighing slightly under the weight of the vegetables I was purchasing.
"114," He affirmed, coldly.
"...Sir János, your sign says that one through six pounds of vegetables are only 55 today," I said timidly.
"Sir János, I do not wish to cause trouble but you cannot-," István began to softly argue but I touched his arm to quiet him. A moment of silence passed, as János' eyes grew wide the longer he watched me. I watched as the történik charm clouded over the shopkeeper's face.
"Don't worry about the price, drága," He said to me, smiling dreamily. "Go ahead and take it for free."
And the same thing happened at all of the other shops that we stopped by. István did not comment; he could sense how uncomfortable I was with it all. I felt slightly ashamed over my small joy but now Anya and I will have more money for other things we needed. I am surprised; usually when the wives of the shopkeepers see me enter, they take control of the till and force me to pay extra, but today they were no where to be found.
The történik charm works differently on women; since they cannot be physically attracted to me, once they fall under they treat me as a very dear daughter, but it takes much longer to cloud their senses.
Cloud senses.
Influence – change – judgment.
I really must be wicked. It makes me sad. Perhaps I deserve to die as a victim of the Count.
I may not be so wicked, because I do feel ashamed of who I am. I must have some good in me somewhere- despite the történik charm- if I feel awful over my wickedness.
For a reason unknown to me, István is unaffected by the charm for longer than anyone else. Most of the time, he treats me like a real person and not as some pretty porcelain doll who stands on the shelf in a room of a mansion. I suppose it might be because he spends so much time with me, he might have grown some kind of immunity...?
But occasionally, rare as it is, I see that familiar dreamy look and even if I said, "I have a talking wart on my bottom," he'd just nod with a smile. Even then, it only lasts a second or so.
It breaks my heart to see him fall under my charm. Sometimes I have to leave the room when he's that way because of tears blocking my vision.
When I was younger I would sob whenever anyone fell under. Although I could not understand it, I knew something was wrong. Now, as a young woman of 18, I understand. No one will ever love me because I am kind, thoughtful, funny. I am thankful for my gift of beauty, but whoever marries me will not have chosen of their own will. If they had not fallen under my charm, they might have met their true soul mate.
Then they could be happy.
But with my curse, I am ruining the man's life, his partner's life, and all of the children who would have descended. I would be destroying the family.
I would rather be...alone.
For my entire life.
I will never marry.
Oh, it turns me cold! I am so frightened, so frightened, of being alone. I have always been alone. I wish to be loved! The love I have experienced so far in my life has been fake, a fool's love. Even my dear Anya...
I love István. But I can't be with him, even if he feels the same way. If I have to, I will explain to him...or I could claim celibacy. I will do it for István, his future wife, and their children.
I will be the flickering candle on their dinner table, watching. Watching and wishing.
The love I have received with the történik charm is a fool's love.
Will I never be loved? Perhaps I deserve this fate as a punishment for my wickedness.
The Ambassador educated me, and yet all of the villagers in Atkozott know more than I, for I will never know love.... Then, how do I know if I love István? Is...my own love a fool's love?
The shopping was done as quickly as was usual, and István insisted we cross town center, because he did not want to risk my safety in the alley, incase Larjen and Kashna came back. But crossing town center meant we would have to deal with crowds and Kroki; long ago he had claimed the empty well for his own home.
"Once more into the breech, dear friend," I sighed with a smile. "Or fill up the hole with our outcast dead."
"...What?"
"It's from Shakespeare," I said, my smile vanishing and my cheeks blushing.
"Shakespeare?" István grinned slightly, watching the ground. "Who is he?"
"...A...playwright." Only the world's greatest. Oh, I hope I did not cause him shame just because I knew what he did not...my mouth says what my mind thinks...
István gently took my hand as we began to walk. A sun rose in my chest, and no matter how I discouraged it, I could not put it out. As we approached the well, since Kroki was not standing on the steps ranting, we expected him to spring up out of the well, as he did often to catch passerby off guard. But no such thing occurred.
Once we had passed the well peacefully, István sighed with relief and released my hand, "It seems we won't need to fill anything with our dead."
"Perhaps Kroki has decided to take a day off..." I said.
But we were wrong in both our thinking—
"Nyajas..." István frowned slightly as he looked at me. "Your head is bleeding slightly from Larjen's hit..."
--Kroki had been wandering the village—
"We must get home so I can treat you..."
--looking for me.
As we began to walk again, I felt someone wrench me back by my long hair. The force caused me to swirl around and fall to my knees, whacking my already aching head on the stone rim of the well.
It was an odd feeling, as though my head was in a tank of water. The voices around me were muffled and there seemed to be a bluish fog before my eyes. I was out of my body, floating. I was only a cloud passing over the scene. I laid my head down upon the ground, cobblestones breathing their cold breath on my face. Where I was, what was happening, seemed very far away, on the horizon. My eyes closed as sleep cloaked me.
Eventually, I felt someone gently pick me up, and carry me...somewhere. Perhaps it is the man I will marry. The man who will not love a fool's love...the man who will carry me away from Atkozott. Away from the Count.
Husband, is that you?
..."It seems we won't need to fill anything with our dead."
"Perhaps Kroki has decided to take a day off..." Again, they began walking, slower, more at ease.
Behind them, someone was approaching. Wheezing, panting, chipped glasses glinting in the newly risen sun. István turned as a scraggly hand reached out, grasping a handful of Nyajas' dark hair. Quickly he jerked her backwards and she fell to the ground. As head met stone a sickening crack broke the air, silencing the crowd around them.
Kroki reached out again but was instead smacked across the face and retained by István.
"Master!" Kroki screeched. "Your bride awaits you! She has heard your midnight calls, master! She—." Another rough smack quieted him as he stumbled backwards, babbling on in a husky whisper.
"She is the ördög's seductress!" A man stepped out of the watching crowd, pointing to Nyajas' limp figure. "Determined to damn us all!"
"The Count does call her!" Another yelled. "Near the house I hear the howls of a wolf! A wolf beneath her window!"
"She attempts to seduce my husband with her witchcraft!" A woman screamed, throwing a rock in Nyajas' direction.
"We cannot allow the Count to retrieve her! Only more destruction will come!"
Dry wood was thrown onto the wild forest fire of Atkozott's hatred.
As they finished their discussion, a dark stranger had already crept in among them. His words would remind Atkozott why the girl had been allowed to live after birth, even though she had been a sickly, troublesome infant. Atkozott would remember how they had willingly agreed to the sacrifices. The stranger would remind Atkozott of their bonds.
Atkozott could not forget their bonds; they were chained to them by their own crave for survival.
Atkozott was starved for survival.
And the stranger wondered aloud how many more times they would need to be reminded of the key to satisfying that craving. Meanwhile, he watched from the corner of his eye as a man slipped away with the girl, the key to Atkozott's survival.
