Baba Yaga

By Paul Kater

This is the story of a young, Russian witch who has taken it upon herself to live like an 'ordinary' person for one year. As per the family tradition, she will abstain from magic in that year, and travel around to get life experience while working like a normal girl to earn her living.

Follow young Baba Yaga on her journey through her homeland and learn about the different people and situations she gets mixed up in.

This book is a companion-publication to the "Hilda the Wicked Witch" series.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Paul Kater
• Release date: Mar 15, 2019
• ISBN: 9780463503997

Paul Kater

Paul Kater was born in the Netherlands in 1960. He quickly developed a feel for books and languages but ended up in the IT business despite that. Books and languages never ceased to fascinate him, so since 2003 he's been actively writing, encouraged by friends on the internet. The internet is the reason why most of his work is in English. A friend asking for writing help is why some of his writing is now also in Dutch. Paul currently lives in Cuijk, the Netherlands, with his books, possibly with cats, and the many characters he's developed in the past years, who claim he is a figment of their imagination.

Book preview

1.

The hut walked along a lake. Its inhabitants were on their way home. At least that was how the parents perceived their goal. Young Baba Yaga was getting more distressed, the further they were away from Rompford, the little town where her best friend Hilda lived. Together with Hilda she had visited the magic school of Miss Hepatia Strunk and, like Hilda, Baba had completed her training there. Baba Yaga sat at the table near a window and looked at the world as it slowly passed by. She didn't even notice the light swaying of the hut as it ambled along on its huge chicken legs.

What are you doing? asked her mother as she sat down at the table as well.

Nothing. There is nothing to do while we travel, said Baba with a sigh. And we travel so slowly. This wasn't the first time she wished her family flew on brooms. In that respect, and not only that one, she was an outsider. She'd learnt to fly on a broom from Hilda's parents and she loved it. It was fun and fast. Together with Hilda she'd done speed competitions and occasionally she had even won!

We have the old books, Baba. Mama Yaga didn't feel good that her daughter looked so depressed at the prospect of going home. Maybe they should have left sooner, she mused as she too looked out the window. Maybe they had stayed in Rompford too long. Baba had become one of them instead of remaining a proper Yaga daughter.

"I have read all the old books, Mama. Several times. At first they were nice to read because of their age but, there are terrible mistakes in them."

Do not speak of the family books like that, child. Mama Yaga didn't like it when Baba criticised the books. They had been written by their ancestors and those had to be revered. They had painstakingly noted all their knowledge. She agreed that the writing wasn't always very clear but still, it was there.

Can I go outside to fly around a little? Baba was dying to get some fresh air. She couldn't understand how her parents could be happy sitting in the house for so much time every day and for so many days in succession. It was driving her crazy.

Her mother looked at her. You did that four days ago. Aren't you bored with that yet? Baba knew that her parents still disapproved of the broom flying. Witches from their homeland did not fly on brooms. One of the family books had mentioned flying in a cauldron. That part had been written by an ancient aunt who, according to Baba, had been crazy enough for three crazy people. Her name had been Baba Yaga too, and as soon as young Baba had read that, she'd asked her parents to give her a new name. They hadn't agreed on that so Babs was stuck with her name.

But Mama, flying is so much more fun than sitting around and reading those... Baba swallowed the wrong words. Books. She realised that her friend Hilda would not have swallowed those words. That was why Hilda got into a lot more trouble than Baba did.

Can't you wait just a little longer, child? Mama Yaga shook her head. We're already in our homeland and the town of Novnonod is nearby. What if the people there see you?

Baba Yaga sighed once again and gave up. This was not going to fly today. Nor was she.

Papa Yaga made the hut stop well beyond Novnonod. Baba asked him why they hadn't visited the town. She had never been there and it had looked like a quaint place to visit.

"Quaint? What kind of word is that? Her father was a good man as well as a mediocre magical, but he'd never ventured outside the commonplace vocabulary. Baba often had tried to make him learn and use other words, better words, but the man persisted in what he knew. That has served me for many years already and it will be enough until I have no more years to serve me," he said.

Quaint, Baba said. Fun, nice, cute, interesting. Charming?

Novnonod isn't a good town, girl. Her father smiled and patted her on the head. That cost him more effort lately, as she had grown taller than he was. I have been to Novnonod. That was before I met Mama Yaga. There are people in Novnonod that want to take all your copper and silver coins. Thieves, I tell you. Thieves and stealers. He left out a few minor facts. One fact was that these thieves were part of the gambling groups. Another fact was that he'd been one of the people running these groups. The last fact was that he'd been addicted to the games and that fact had cost him all of his copper and silver. "Another fact is that Novnonod is not a town for a pretty girl like you, daughter. There are many men who want to... take advantage of your innocence." Baba asked him what he meant by that but he didn't want to say. He also didn't want to say that those were the kind of men that often were in the gambling groups.

Can I at least fly my broom for a while? Baba knew her father. If he didn't want to talk, he wouldn't talk.

Very well. Fly, girl. But make sure no one sees you. This is so against the traditions. Mama shook her head again. This girl and her obsession with flying on a cleaning tool. Why couldn't she have chosen a cauldron, like her ancient namesake?

Baba Yaga kicked one of the huge legs to make the hut kneel down. As soon as it had, she hurried to get the broom from her room. Finally she was able to fly again, to feel free and to be away from the hut. She loved her parents, but at times they did get on her nerves.

The young witch knew how her broom-flying made her parents nervous so she took the broom around the hut and lifted off behind it. As her feet left the ground she felt free. This was how it should be for a witch. She thought of her friend back in Rompford. She missed Hilda. In a way she even missed Hilda's nosy little sister, Charisma.

In the distance Baba saw the lake they'd passed, on the other side of Novnonod. How she'd love to chase over the water, her feet almost touching the surface! Unfortunately it would take too long to get there, plus there was a chance of one hundred percent of being seen, if not more.

Baba didn't feel bad though. Here she was, over a small group of trees, flying around like a bird. She probably was the only person in the country on broomstick. She wanted to enjoy this as much as she could because once they'd reached Slapsibirsk life would look a lot different for her...

#

Slapsibirsk was not a quaint town. The group of houses and other buildings looked as if it had been thrown down near the foot of a mountain range. The lucky thrower had managed to put the town bridge over a stream that would almost overflow in the summer due to melting ice from the mountains. In the winter the stream, proudly called the river by the Slapsibirskians, was dry as oatmeal.

According to history, Slapsibirsk was an old town. It had been at the foot of the mountains as long as people could remember. Most of these people weren't very old though, and not much had been written about the town, so Slapsibirsk had the benefit of the doubt.

We are home. Papa Yaga looked happy. Baba didn't understand that. She couldn't even remember ever having lived here and she couldn't imagine ever wanting to do that. Father Yaga turned to Mama. Where do you want us to live?

Mama Yaga looked out the window. Maybe at the old spot? Baba frowned. She'd been too young to remember an old spot and wondered what that would look like.

Good idea, said Papa. I'll leave the house here and we can walk up there to see if it's still available. He explained to his daughter that they'd left many years ago, when Baba was still in diapers. We can't be certain that the space is still free. Someone may have built a house there.

That made sense. As soon as the hut had knelt down, the family exited their mobile home. Papa directed them towards the bridge. As it was autumn and a lot of rain had fallen, the stream resembled something liquid again. Baba looked over the handrail to see if there were any fish in the water. Mama, I see one. She pointed at an unfortunate model that hadn't made it to wet areas in time. Most of it was still there but insects were working hard on rectifying that.

That is too bad, said Mama. Had more been left of it, we'd have made soup from it. Come child, your father isn't waiting for us.

The family walked on to where father stood. He pointed at a large building. They built a house here. He didn't sound annoyed, just stating a fact.

Indeed. It's a nice house. Mama nodded approvingly. I would like to live there.

What? Would you give up the comforts of a hut on legs for... that? Papa now did sound a little annoyed.

I would. Sorry, Papa, but the hut is a little too shaky for my taste. We're both getting on in years, said Mama, and I for one feel like settling down. A big house like this would be just perfect. We can invite the entire family in there and talk and drink tea and all other good things.

Papa frowned. He wasn't convinced yet. Too bad this isn't our house then. It looks as if people live there. He pointed at a window where a curtain moved. "Or a prizrak, which would be nice."

Why would a ghost be nice, Papa? asked Baba Yaga. In school we learnt...

Baba. You are no longer in school. You can be normal again, like a proper girl from the homeland.

Baba looked at her mother and wanted to talk back but the look in Mama's eyes made her decide otherwise. If Mama was angry, Mama was very angry. Therefore it was dumb to make Mama angry.

At that moment the door of the building opened. It was not a ghost that came out but a young man with fair hair. He wore a bright red coat and long, black breeches with a few mud stains near his ankles. Good day to you, the man said as he spotted the family. Are you looking at the building?

No, said Papa. We're looking at you. Is this your building? Did you move the curtain just now?

Yes. I did move the curtain. It wasn't hanging down correctly. The fair-haired man sounded proud of his action. And no, this is not my building. I am merely the caretaker. That was what I did in there. I took care.

Of the curtain. Mama Yaga was quick to understand this.

"Indeed. And a few other things. It's a shame that the owner of the house died years ago without any heirs. It's even worse that my uncle, who was the caretaker before me, ordered me to take care of the house after he died. Now I am stuck taking care of this... thing... until someone wants it. Really wants it."

I want it. Papa Yaga was quick to say this.

You want it?

I want it.

Do you really want it?

Do I really have to say this again? Papa Yaga sighed. I want it. Really.

The young, fair-haired man took a key from his pocket. This opens the lock. He pressed the metal into Papa Yaga's hand and looked incredibly relieved. "It's yours. Now the house is yours. Thank you!"

Thank you? None of the family members understood why the man thanked them for accepting the key. They couldn't ask him any more because he was running off like a devil or another nasty creature was after him.

Papa Yaga turned to his wife and presented the key to her. Dear Mama. Here is your house.

2.

It took Baba and her parents several dozens of weeks before they didn't get lost in their new home any more. The place was incredibly strange because, as they later learnt, a sorcerer had lived there. This man had decided the house wasn't big enough on the inside so he had unleashed a very strange spell on it which had doubled the number of rooms and lengthened all the corridors. Each room was bigger too now. The odd thing was that each room looked normal when you came into it. The effect only became apparent when you walked to another wall. That would take much longer than you'd expect.

It had taken the population of Slapsibirsk more than a few months to get used to the new family that had arrived. This was partly because the hut on legs was temporarily parked in the street in front of the house where the Yagas lived, and partly because the Slapsibirskians weren't used to magical people living there. The Yaga family had been gone for quite a while and the memories kept in the heads of ordinaries faded quickly.

Baba Yaga had been the incentive for most people to accept the magical family. She was out and about most of the time, looking at the new place where they now lived, meeting and talking to people.

"So you're a ved'ma, are you? A witch? The greengrocer of Slapsibirsk nodded. I've heard of witches. Interesting people. Flying in cauldrons. Do you have a cauldron?"

No, but I have a broom.

The greengrocer nodded. Convenient things, brooms. There's an old woman up the street who makes them. Great for sweeping the street.

I fly on my broom. Baba was intent on educating this man, but he was stubborn and insisted that cauldrons were the only safe way to fly for witches.

There is a very good reason for that too, you know, he said as he was arranging a few sad-looking lettuce heads to make them appear best. Suppose there are a few witches flying around and they hit each other in mid air. Who, do you think, will be protected best? You with your broom or the witch inside a big, solid cauldron?

Baba Yaga sighed. This man's logic was hard to beat even though she knew it was severely flawed. Flying a broom was much easier than hauling a heavy cauldron around through the air. She knew this because, in the months since she'd arrived, she had actually tried it. The next day she'd suffered severe magical muscle-burn. She'd promised herself to only do that again if there was nothing better to fly in. In the same thought she had promised herself to always have at least one spare broom available.

#

During Baba's exploration of the town and the people who lived here, Papa and Mama had written letters to family members to let them know they were home again. It didn't feel like home to the young witch but her parents insisted on that.

How many family members do we have? she asked as she saw the insane amount of letters on a table.

Many, said Papa. We are inviting them over for a small party, to celebrate our return.

And there will be many fine, young, magical men, Mama added, giving Babs a wink. You can choose the one you like best. They will all want you, you pretty girl.

Mama. I'm almost eighteen. My year is almost beginning. I don't want one of those young men. Babs was used to her freedom. Spending so much time with her friend Hilda had only deepened that desire and she was not going to give it up so easily.

But Babooshka, said Mama, knowing that her daughter liked that name, if you marry before you are eighteen, you won't have to go through that dreadful year. Married witches don't have to do that.

Baba Yaga sat down. She didn't understand this. During the long journey from Rompford to Slapsibirsk her parents had told her about the year. Very often. How interesting it would be, how much she'd learn, how well she'd get to know life from that side. It would be a year of adventure. A year in which she'd have to travel around the country during which she was not allowed to use magic. No one should know she was a magical person.

Baba, Papa said. We did tell you about the year. It's an interesting one but also a difficult one. It is a tradition in this country.

We should have stayed in Rompford, Baba Yaga muttered. They don't have such strange traditions there. Strange sounded better than stupid, although stupid was closer to the truth.

And that is why we offer you this way to escape the year. Her mother smiled as if she was giving Babs the best present ever.

No. I'd rather go without magic for a year than be married for the rest of my life. Baba could be stubborn too. As soon as she'd spoken those words, an icy hand grabbed her heart. Only then she realised what she'd said. A year of travelling would be fun and fine, but... without magic?

Very well. You can do your year, Babooshka. Mama didn't seem very bothered by Babs' decision. You will still get to meet all the nice, young men. Maybe one of them will change your mind.

Baba wondered how Mama knew about all those young men. During their years in Rompford she hadn't sent many letters and received even fewer in return. Her Mama didn't have anything fancy like the crystal ball that Hilda's mother had, That was kind of peculiar as their homeland (which Babs didn't consider her own as such) was a famous supplier of fabulous crystal balls.

A crystal ball? Please, dear child, we are a traditional family and as such we stick to traditional means. Crystal balls are an example of these modern expressions showing a lack of magical ability. If you can't write it down in a letter, you're doing something wrong.

But Hilda's mother...

Oh. Please. Not that woman again. Don't get me wrong, Baba. Hilda's mother is a very nice person, but she is far too fond of modern things. As I said... an example. And an example of how not to do magic.

Baba expected that her mother would throw brooms into that category as well but she didn't. Not audibly at least. I'm going out again, Mama.

Very well, but without your broom, do you hear me?

Yes, Mama. Because we're a traditional family. As she said it, Baba wondered how much damage she'd cause flying around in a big cauldron. She thought herself lucky that Slapsibirsk was a relatively small town that was easily negotiated on foot.

Baba Yaga had seen some activity on the other side of the bridge so she went there to have a closer look. As she approached the building where people had been walking around, she saw a group of local children hanging around, staying away from the people who carried all kinds of odd furniture into the building. Do you know what is going on here? she asked a boy she knew as Igor. He was around twenty years old, only a few years older than Baba.

They are taking things inside.

You're kidding.

No. And you still talk in a funny way. Igor looked at Baba and smiled at her. You're cute.

And you're in danger, Baba said. Igor frowned and asked why. I'm a witch. You don't say things like that to a witch.

I just did, said Igor, because I don't care if you are a witch or not. You're cute.

Oh. Baba Yaga wasn't certain how to respond to that. What is going to happen there? Asking about the activities that had attracted all the others probably was the safer direction.

It's going to be a shop. A crystal workers' shop. It's going to operate under the name Blamovitch and Blamovitch. One is the older and one is the younger. Igor was well informed.

Crystal?

Igor sighed and threw his hands up. And you are a witch? Even I know what crystal is! But what almost no one knows is that they will get their supplies from the Karzelek.

From the... Karzelek... Baba Yaga had read a few things about her new home town but something called Karzelek had not been mentioned.

The tiny people. Dwarves. They live up there. Igor pointed at the peaks of the nearby mountains. They dig out crystal and they harvest Phargene. This is a wonderful local, economical venture, the young man continued, as there is only little transport needed. And we're lucky too.

As in? Baba Yaga didn't like how she had to ask so much.

"We get to see the Karzelek when they make deliveries. I can tell you have