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Chapter 6

Koschei raised his head as soon as he heard that Hope can draw too. While earlier she was evoking his curiosity, now he was struck by this brave little girl, who understood and shared his delight of touching the canvas with a brush for the first time, putting bright colours softly and creating real paintings. The waves of sheer magic are going through you body, pouring out onto the canvas, paper or board, and forming whole, brights images. He remembered the trembling the young artist was holding one of the portraits with. It was his early work. What would she say if she saw his late ones? It became incredibly interesting and important for him to hear her opinion. But he didn’t dare to ask. It would be too harsh, too early. To trust so soon could cause new pain.

What a catch! No, he wouldn’t send her away and let her go at all, Koschei decided. At least, until he finds out her opinion about each of his paintings. He whistled at the amount of paintings in his house silently. His heart filled with the joy of anticipation, as if thousands of butterflies spread their wings in his chest all together, flying up to the light.

But then she continued her story, making him sad again.

– But I will never draw again, – Hope said and explained. – Because I can end up anywhere. I got here, for instance, when I drew the forest.

– So you got here through the canvas? – Gorynych perked up after her words, raised his head and looked carefully at Koschei.

The girl was shifting her gaze from one fairy-tale creature to another, baffled. Koschei answered his friend:

– Yes, Gorynych, it seems like I’ve found my last canvas.

– But how? – Hope asked.

Koschei started his story, slowly recalling the most forgotten days.

– Once one young man on a strong war horse showed up at my place with a sword and demanded that I give him all my magic. But he saw my paintings. Like those you can see in a palace. And for some reason he thought that I use them to get into the royal castles and capture the beauties. So, he stole all the pictures he could find. He also took away empty canvases, so I couldn’t create any portals. Ridiculous. And on his way home he was robbed himself by Nightingale the Robber. The paintings started to spread among forest inhabitants. It is amusing, but the author never gets such wealth as the one who got his works.

– But is it true that your canvases can really transport a person to another place? – Hope wondered, listening to the story with bated breath.

Koschei shook his head.

– Well, that’s the thing, that they can’t. But faith is a powerful tool which does all magic. And this young man believed that the power was in the paintings and convinced others. I went to a great deal of trouble to find all the paintings, except for one, so they didn’t harm anyone. Because one who doesn’t know how to handle magic, is a danger to himself and to others.

Hope realized immediately that the last painting he hadn’t found was her canvas. That's how she occured in the magic forest! But how to come back home? And how did Matvey Ivanovich get this canvas?

– And why did that young man come to you if you say that you have never captured, leveled to the ground or harmed anyone? – the girl narrowed her eyes suspiciously, taking her time to believe in Koschei’s nobility. Everything in this world is deceiving, and only the almighty time knows how to set truth straight. You just have to wait.

He nodded. Koschei decided to trust her with his most important secret, and Gorynych put his head on his paws, ready to listen.

– I was the weakest boy from the whole lake family. But the eldest. So I had to watch the gateway when I grew up.

– What type of gateway? – Hope asked immediately.

– The gateway to the underworld. It’s a family tradition...

– Wait a minute! What do you mean, to the underworld?!

– There are so many different worlds… This is only one of them, – the interlocutor was evasive, answering the question. Hope understood that it was useless to insist, and she didn’t say anything, although her head was already filled with dozens of questions.

– I was often sick, – Koschei returned to the interrupted theme. – And nobody wanted to be friends with me. Nobody played with me. I wasn’t handsome or obedient, so I had no friends. But for Gorynych, of course. With him, we have been friends since childhood. But he frequently flew away somewhere, and I was left alone. The forest inhabitants, who were the same age, often teased me and I quited trying to make friends with them. I started getting angry, offended. I drew more and played less with them. But then I suddenly realized that anger had made me stronger than others. I liked that I could be stronger than those who offended me... – he confessed, sneaking a peek at Hope. Contrary to the fears he had, the girl didn’t jump out of the armchair or ran away in disgust to his confession. He couldn’t observe his transformation while he was opening his mind, and he didn’t know how hard she wanted to see that handsome man not in the mirror, but in front of her.

– I was angry, – Koschei kept telling his story, – and I fought. I fought with my offenders and started to win more and more often. I became feared. Both they and the village boys, that used to come and laugh at me, got scared of me. They saw that I won many times due to my magic and anger, so they couldn’t handle me with their fists or magic. And then they came up with another idea. They were looking for those who could handle me. They were telling every ready to listen person about my terrible temper. They were telling how cruel I am. And eventually, even I believed them. Why waste time and persuade someone if you can just meet others’ expectations? I believed even more, especially in those moments, when the next passing by hero knocked at my door, holding the sword in his hands, without trying to figure out the truth.