The Golden Stag Read online



  The Golden Stag

  By Mark Baggett

  The Golden Stag.

  By Mark Baggett

  Copyright 2012 by Mark Baggett

  Original cover art by Bill Barlow. Artwork used with permission.

  It was during his seventh winter - the worst in ages – as he was often reminded - that the boy first set eyes upon the beast. Even to a child of limited experience the sight was something to cherish, a vision to behold, something most are never allowed to see in an entire lifetime.

  For Dmitri Kovtun, son of Daniil, it would only be the first of many such encounters with the mythical Golden Stag.

  On this particular day Dmitri was deep in the forest with his elder brother Grigory specifically to collect firewood. But with the cold wind desperately trying to peel his cheeks of near frozen flesh Dmitri decided he would prefer sliding down the snow covered hills than help with this chore.

  Being a determined child with few friends and a great love of winter he set off alone to indulge in his passion for racing down the slopes.

  While being unaccompanied should rightfully have frightened a child of his age it bothered Dmitri none whatsoever. His beloved brother was wolfen, as was his father. Try as he might Dmitri would never be capable of staying lost. Their ability to track him down by scent alone would always be his lifeline home.

  This single fact emboldened the boy tenfold.

  Here in the dense wood he was at home, completely at peace with the world. And if not for the sub-frigid wind he would linger out on the freshly blanketed snow fields all day. But even a head strong boy had limits.

  So Dmitri determinedly trudged up the chosen hill and then stared down the long smooth slide that beckoned him forward. He licked his dry, cracked lips in anticipation and immediately regretted doing so. The bitter cold stung like bees.

  It was just that moment that he heard a ruckus down wind. Something large moved about in the forest ahead and he was instantly alert, wary of predators.

  Swiveling the boy peered all about for trouble. He had heard a wolf’s howl not long prior. But his brother had assured him that the animal was far away, well out of range. Upon this land a stray wolf would be most unwelcome and if the beast were smart it would sense this from the markings.

  Not all wolves were smart though, according to his father.

  Listening with all his might Dmitri found that there was nothing else to hear. Perhaps it had been a falling branch or tree. Winter killed. Even the trees were not exempt from the bitterness.

  He was alone.

  Only a slight, hardly perceptible tremor marked the fact that young Dmitri did not truly believe the noise had come from a toppling tree at all.

  In time his reservations passed. The cold could do that as well. Days were short, and priceless. Not to be wasted on needless worries. He was a boy after all. And boys were meant to play. He gazed longingly down the long, curling slope. It waited patiently for his first headlong dive down its gullet.

  The slender boy smiled then dove forward with his usual gusto.

  With the wind whistling in his ears the youngster roared with laughter as he sped down the virgin slope without a care in the world.

  Snow collected on his chest and face, blotting out the sights ahead. Hysterical with glee he rolled onto his back and watched the ice blue sky overhead until he plowed head first into a mound of snow at the foot of the hill.

  In an almost silent explosion the young Russian decimated the snow pile as he was launched spinning into the air.

  Afterward, dizzy and out of breath but ecstatic, Dmitri rested upon his back, just as he had landed, as the world spun crazily over him. He already began plotting a second run on the majestic hillside.

  Sights and sounds meant nothing to him at this moment. Only the rush of the wind in his face as he plummeted recklessly through the void mattered. Only the thrill…

  A movement from the corner of his eye brought him soundly back to earth. But before he could manage to pry himself from the snow pile’s cold clutches a long face leaned above him.

  It wasn’t human.

  With a gasp Dmitri began to thrash, struggling to right himself, but he was sodden to the core. Heavy and cold limbed and topsy-turvy in the snowy crater he found freeing himself a hardship he could not perform fast enough.

  The long face, or rather a long snouted head, peered down with menacing black eyes that shot his nerves full of fear. Huge antlers glimmered amidst the treetops, latticing the blue sky above.

  With a sharp bellow and a frightening blast steam from flaring nostrils the huge stag nudged him back down into the crater. When he first dared to ignore this ‘request’ the beast stamped the ground in anger inches from his ear.

  Shivering with cold and fear the boy understood and obeyed. With wild eyed terror he waited with trembling breath for the animal to pummel him beneath those imposing hooves.

  But the stag did nothing of the sort. With a nasally whine it shook its massive rack of horn and sidestepped the boy. Dmitri could have sworn it was chuckling at him.

  Slowly, still rife with trepidation, he sat up. The stag lingered a heartbeat away, its antlers shimmering with another worldly quality. Tiny stars of yellow and gold and orange swam in the air betwixt the golden felt of the huge animal’s rack.

  Awestruck Dmitri scooted closer for a better look. Up onto his knees he slid, but no closer. The beast was an awe inspiring sight. But deathly frightening as well. Huge – even for these woodlands – the stag surveyed the kingdom over which it held sway. With hardly a glint of interest in the youngster it stared off into the distance.

  Following the beast’s gaze Dmitri saw nothing other than forest. Disheartened by this he turned and found himself the one under observation.

  Again the stag ambled over to where the boy crouched nervously and peered directly into his cold numbed face. Liquid black eyes watched his every flinch, every expression, his every breath. With hardly an effort, a simple head swing perhaps, those glimmering antlers could end his brief life.

  Despite this fact young Dmitri found himself mesmerized by the spectacle before him. Tiny sparks - miniature stars by all appearance - about the size of gnats, swirled and danced around and between the imposing antlers crowning the stag’s head.

  While magic was not unheard of in the lives of the poor country people of Russia – his very grandmother spoke of such from time to time – Dmitri had never personally witnessed anything remotely this bizarre in his lifetime. To him a magical experience was as simple as watching his father take to his wolfen form. Now that was special.

  But this, this was indeed magical!

  Thoughtlessly the youth reached out to touch the shimmering sparks. They were so close! So wonderfully real! Smiling ecstatically he extended an arm. So fantastic!

  The shock sent him spiraling across the snow, his world cascading wildly before his dazed eyes.

  When he landed, face down at that, he remained there for long, chilling moments, unsure of what had happened and exactly why it had hurt so badly. His entire body felt charged, as if struck by lightning. But it was a beautiful day, not a cloud in the sky.

  Dmitri let out a soft moan. His clothes were sodden, and not merely from the snow any longer. He had wet himself. Shameful.

  Embarrassed by his accident Dmitri eased his aching body over and lie upon his back. Here he waited for his head to clear. Stars appeared in his vision, but these were not real, simply in his head. Dizzily his head swam. What had happened?

  Several meters away the stag feigned indifference yet continued to watch him surreptitiously. Why was this strange beast so interested in him? He was just a boy.

  As his temples throbbed mercilessly and his ears rang with an eerie whistle D
mitri stared as the massively built stag ambled nonchalantly over to stand nearby. This confused him greatly. He was clearly no threat to the animal. Perhaps it was his wolfen bloodline that made it curious.

  Wolves were deadly enemies of the wildlife of the great forests. This stag would be no different. If the tables were turned then it would be an easy meal for a wolfen. Was this a chance to repay the wolfen in kind? To kill a youngster before it could grow into a real threat?

  When the stag again approached Dmitri visibly cringed. What was this thing? How had it hurt him without even striking out?

  With a slow swing of its massive head the stag stared at him from a hands breadth away. Blood – brilliantly crimson against the dusting of snow on its brow – trickled from the animal’s left eye. Dmitri was shocked.

  A moment later he was shocked far worse as the beast did speak to him.

  “You wound me, fair pup,” the stag informed him in a bored, gruff tone that sent Dmitri scurrying away in terror.

  The great beast chuckled, so very