“Howdy, fellas!” Kashchey greeted them happily. The cheerfulness on the guards’ faces didn’t get brighter. “Don’t you see who has come to you for a visit? Don’t you recognize me? It’s me, Mister Good Sinister!”
The guards stared at him wide-eyed, then woke up from the stupor and seized their weapons.
“Straight to the fun?” Kashchey was surprised. “Without even enjoying a pint of beer to celebrate our meeting? As you wish!”
He snatched his magic sword from the scabbard and ran right at the pikes and spears in front of him. The guards turned out to be quite brave as it took no less than a minute before he managed to turn them to flight, urging those who lagged behind to run faster by swinging his sword and yelling like a madman.
The watchmen on the walls gazed helplessly at the turmoil below. Not only had they shamelessly missed the appearance of the unplanned guest, but they also couldn’t shoot as there was a risk of hitting their mates. After some delay, two-thirds of the guards finally did descend and rushed at “Mister Good Sinister.” The double pursuit continued until the guards who were moving through the narrow lanes crashed into each other, leaving Kashchey far behind. He studied the pile of fallen guards and then rushed to attack them, swinging his sword in a frenzied excitement.
When the guards who he kept goading sprinted past the royal stables and sped off in an unknown direction, Kashchey stopped. A huge cluster of carriages decorated with emblems drew his attention. It became clear why there were so many guards around and where the travelers had wanted to deliver the portrait of the princess. Monarchs and princes of all kinds had arrived for the annual ball. They were arranged every year in different states to introduce princes to princesses, develop diplomatic relations, and settle some personal scores. The appearance of Kashchey could bring a lot of confusion and surprises to the traditional routine of the high society, so he decided to take advantage of that. He would paint the town red!
The ball was in full swing when an old peasant with a long beard entered the hall and stopped near the balcony where the orchestra was playing a cheerful melody.
“Hey-ho!” he shouted so loudly that the couples closest to him went temporarily deaf, and the music turned into a blood-curdling cacophony before stopping. The dances of the monarchs of the world turned into a Brownian movement of particles and ended as well. Those present focused on the noisy stranger in disbelief.
“I don’t hear anything!” the old man yelled. “What the hell is happening?”
He put his finger in his ear and after a few twists, pulled out a small white ball.
“Guards! Get this idiot out of here!” a cheeky-looking prince shouted, his strong accent distorting his voice.
“Argh, they’ve pushed this damn cotton wool in my ears again!” the old man rumbled angrily and threw a piece of cotton at the disgruntled prince. Then he smirked, enjoying the way everyone was palpably shocked by his manners. Then he spat out the pebbles that made him lisp, tore off the country clothes he had worn over his battle suit, and pulled off his beard. “And here is me, The Great and All-Mighty, standing before you with all my modest strength and minor capabilities!”
The crowd blinked, puzzled. Kashchey spat out the last pebble and coughed, breaking the dead silence.
“Don’t you recognize me?” he addressed the confused king. “Me, the Great, the All-Mighty, the Evil Kashchey the Immortal? Well, what do they say? If one is not recognized, one is going to be rich!”
The crowd began to back away.
“Or you do recognize me?” Kashchey added. “Where are you going? You’re going to make me poor again! Wait! I’m not poisonous!”
The area around him was becoming increasingly free of people.
“And what about dancing ‘til you drop?” Kashchey appealed to them. No volunteers stepped forward.
“Who wants to dance with the greatest villain of the universe? Be reasonable, don’t make me choose my own partner!” Kashchey threatened. It seemed that his urging had been noted because a moment later, a significantly magnified number of armed guards ran into the ballroom.
“I don’t dance with men!” he protested, putting down his sword and drawing a circle around him with it. The guards obviously liked dancing with their sabers. Just give them the opportunity and they’d be up for it. “Whoever crosses this line will abruptly increase in quantity and decrease in quality!”
The guards did not heed the advice and stupidly rushed forward to attack him. Loud screams ranging from “Hurray!” to “Save yourselves while you still can!” rocked the walls of the palace.
“Haven’t they told you that attacking all together is bad for one’s health?” Kashchey exclaimed, eagerly chopping the spears and axes of his opponents who kept rushing into the battle, colliding with one another. Nothing but tiny pieces of metal were left afterward. Upon seeing it, the guards went berserk, but as they lost their weapons, too, they backed away, reigning in their fury. The guests fled to the corners, all but several crazy princes who rushed to help the guard. It took a while before Kashchey realized that he was fighting not only just the guards. Only after noticing that some of them had uniforms of strangely peaceful colors did he understand that civilians liked to fight, too.
“I wasn’t expecting that!” he called out, feeling genuinely surprised, so much so that he punched some annoying offspring of a monarch away from himself. “How about a fair one-on-one battle?”
“You have an unfair advantage!” the offspring parried.
“Such as?”
“You’re immortal!”
“Well, yes,” Kashchey agreed. “But what would you have me do? Search for an immortal opponent? I’d die before I found one!”
Kashchey looked around the room, hoping to see the princess. She was peeking from behind the throne and seemed tremendously unhappy with the situation. It was useless to ask her questions at this time. Clearly, he wouldn’t get a straight answer. He’d have to go the hard way, then.
“Don’t I always?” Kashchey muttered. He was momentarily distracted from the fight and almost missed the blow. This infuriated him, so with one powerful swing of the sword, he destroyed the opponents’ tiny weapons. Then he rushed towards Maria like a hurricane, scattering the guards and the guests as if they were bowling pins. The space around the bewildered princess emptied instantly. Prince Yaroslav was the only person who remained nearby. He stepped in front of Maria and raised his sword in defense. Still running, Kashchey threw several bomb-spheres around him, and the hall was shrouded in a sleeping purple gas. Kashchey knocked the sword out of the prince’s hands. Yaroslav attacked with his fist, but Kashchey ducked and the punch whistled over his head. Using the brief pause, Kashchey picked up the now-sleeping princess and rushed towards the window.
He jumped on the windowsill, turned to the guests and shouted, “I dare the bravest of you to fight me! May he defeat me in a fierce combat and free the princess! If he manages to do it, that is!”
Kashchey grinned, and the most impressionable guests fainted even before getting to the land of dreams because of the gas.
“Have a nice nightmare!”
Kashchey whirled on his heels. His boots blazed with rocket flames and lifted him promptly to the upper windows. Kashchey looked down one last time, noticed the king shouting threats at him, and waved his hand. Then he pulled a remote fuse from his sleeve, pressed a button, and covered himself and the princess with a cloak. Explosions thundered outside while multicolored fireworks began flashing in the sky. The glass shattered with a plaintive sound. Frightened people dropped to the ground, shouting in panic, while the ghostly horse flew towards the palace. Kashchey jumped out of the window and fell towards the ground. Had the horse come even a second late, Kashchey would have committed a murder-suicide without knowing the princess’ secret, as the ground was about a 15-meter drop. The horse picked them up right before they hit the ground, and, once the passengers were safely on, it flew up into the clouds.