Chapter 41 Stasya
41
Stasya
If she ever had to make a mind-picture of exhaustion, this would be it. Aleks had a faraway look in his eyes, as if, like her, he was gazing into a series of dark possibilities. Even Karolis, who often seemed strong enough to go on forever, was lying on the ground now, with his head resting on a rolled-up blanket. What with the unkempt hair, the scruffy beards and the clinging dirt of the journey, the men resembled a pack of sad vagrants, and no doubt she looked just as dishevelled. But those things only helped make them what they were: comrades in adversity. True brothers. And one sister. Two sisters, if you counted Flip. A story … She was so tired. Tired and sore and sad, even though by some miracle they had survived this.
As for what had just happened, she might not be ready to tell that story for a long time. She still couldn’t quite get her head around it. This story, now, should be about gratitude. They had survived, all of them. And it was not only human endeavour that had seen them through this. The mountain had challenged them, yes. It had shown a dark and evil face. But it had allowed them to move forward. Someone, or some thing , had shown them the way.
‘Are you brave enough?’ she began. ‘That was the question the strange group of travellers faced when they reached the perilous slopes and hidden traps of the faraway mountain. Are you strong enough? Even a tiny beetle can be brave; even the smallest hatchling can find its courage in a moment of challenge. How brave would the travellers need to be? What might they face on the mountain? As for being strong, there was more than one kind of strength. Yes, there was the strength that allowed an ox to pull a heavy cart, or a man to chop wood, or a woman to give birth to a child. There was also the strength that allowed a community to stand up for what was right, or a court official to question orders that seemed unjust, or men and women to leave their homes and all that was familiar in order to serve a higher cause. For the animals, the quest was not quite as grand as that, but it was done in the same spirit. Hawk was searching for a lost friend. Bear and Fox had joined him out of comradeship and loyalty. Goat had been drawn into it somewhat against his better judgement, but as the strange adventure unfolded, he’d found a certain satisfaction in being part of a team; in knowing he was useful. As for the Storyteller and her little dog, nobody was quite sure why they had joined the group, but they had their uses, if only to keep the others entertained.’
Stasya went on a while, presenting the group of travellers with challenges they met with courage, strength or quick thinking. She had not planned the story when she started, but knew she needed to keep it brief. They needed to move on as soon as Matiss was ready. Maybe that dark presence had collapsed into bones, and maybe it was still out there in some form. They were too exposed here.
‘With that disaster averted,’ she said, ‘the adventurers stopped for a while to rest. And it is when one stops to rest that the doubts and fears often flood back in. So it was with Hawk, leader of the expedition.’ Sometimes a story takes its course almost despite the teller. This was one of those times. ‘One of them was gone, perhaps forever. One had been so sick that for a while he could barely walk. One had been terribly injured and was still in pain. All had almost fallen to oblivion. As for the little dog, she had been key to their survival, but now she was gone. Where, nobody knew. Hawk felt the weight of those losses, those sorrows; he carried them deep in his spirit. He waited for his companions to ask, Is your quest truly worth this? Is the cost simply too high? What if it proves to be in vain? But they did not speak.’
Nobody looked at her. Nobody moved. It was Karolis who broke the silence.
‘You can’t end it there.’
‘It’s not for me to answer those questions,’ Stasya said. Aleks wasn’t looking at her. His unease was written all over him. Perhaps he blamed her for what had just happened. Perhaps he thought she’d led them astray. But she had followed the signs, and the signs had been a clear invitation to take a certain path. Perhaps everything that had happened was part of a test. Are you worthy?
Aleksis spoke at last. ‘I don’t know what you want from me.’
A silence, in which the sound of Matiss’s breathing, quieter now but still laboured, was a reminder of the horror they had escaped. Stasya stayed silent. Aleks was the leader. He must work this out for himself.
It was Lukas who eventually spoke. ‘We have no choice but to go on. Turning back now would be foolish. And … what happened before … it feels as if the mountain is helping us to move on.’
‘The mountain is listening to Stasya,’ said Karolis.
‘If you’re worried … about … right path,’ Matiss put in, ‘Stasya might do what she does … with the fire …’
Aleks moved, sitting up straighter, turning to face his companions. ‘Hawk was not prepared to accept defeat,’ he said, and a nameless feeling rushed through Stasya, warming every part of her. ‘Not even when he’d come close to losing all of his comrades. Not even when exhaustion had driven them to the brink of despair. The place they sought was in sight now, mist-shrouded and strange, but entirely real. He would not turn back. His companions were worn down, sad, hurt. But they were also a team. They had helped one another, they had shown courage, kindness, strength even in such adversity as this. What should he do? How should he speak to them?’
The silence that followed was one of sharp attention. Matiss sipped the draught Karolis had given him, his eyes fixed on Aleks. Stasya had no idea what was coming next. He had already astonished her.
‘He wondered if now was the time for a rallying cry, a stirring call to duty. An invitation to the building of a better future. For although he would rejoice if his lost friend was found, he knew that would be the start of a far greater quest. But Hawk was no legendary hero. He was as flawed and broken and mixed-up as anyone else. It came to him that something different was needed now. So, he said to them, I’m sorry. You are my friends. You’ve shown strength beyond what I could ever have expected. I’m sorry I have let you be hurt, scared, unsettled. I’m sorry I have led you close to death. From my heart, I’m sorry, and I thank you for your loyalty.
There were tears in Stasya’s eyes now. She was not the only one. Matiss set down his cup to dab at his cheek, and both Karolis and Lukas gave nods of understanding.
‘And now we move on,’ Aleks said. ‘We move on to the end together. I hope you can forgive me for my errors.’
‘First, forgive yourself.’ The words were out before Stasya could stop them. ‘Then you can move on.’ She felt her face flush. Aleks was the Ruler’s senior adviser, and she was … whatever she was. A farm worker, a labourer, a woman who sometimes let her words come out when she should have held them back. She was about to mumble an apology when Aleks rose to his feet.
‘Not easy,’ he said, looking at the ground.
‘Not easy for any of us,’ said Karolis quietly. ‘We all have regrets. We all have things we wish we’d done better. We’ve all made decisions that later proved to be less than perfect. Yes, it’s hard to acknowledge your errors and set them behind you. But that’s the only way forward. Lay aside the burdens of the past. Learn from your mistakes. Recognise your own strengths. And move on.’
There was something stirring in this speech, softly though it was delivered. And Aleks had listened; she saw that on his face. ‘When you’re ready, Matiss,’ he said now, ‘we’ll set out and find that safe camping spot. I will take time to think on what you said, Stasya. And if you’re willing, perhaps you will look in the flames for us tonight and ask for insights.’ There was a brightness in his eyes now, the fledgeling spark of something new and good. But there were long, weary miles ahead. ‘We’ll talk again later,’ Aleks added. ‘Thank you for your honesty. For saying what had to be said.’
She nodded, not daring to speak again lest the tears become unstoppable.
Scrying was best done alone. An audience was a distraction, even when those watching stayed silent and kept their distance. But there was only one fire in this new camp, the fire that was keeping them all warm, the one on which they’d heated a makeshift soup made more palatable by the inclusion of small fish caught in a nearby pond. Lukas had strained this through a piece of cloth, so the meal provided flavour without tiny, sharp bones. The food did little to satisfy Stasya’s hunger, and she imagined it was the same for all of them, but nobody complained. It was what it was. Perhaps the onward journey would provide better opportunities.
And now here she was, with the rest of them around her at a discreet distance, waiting. The fire had died down, but smoke still rose in lazy swirls, and the embers glowed in the half-dark of late evening.
‘Stasya.’ Lukas moved on soft feet, coming up beside her. ‘You’ll be needing this.’ The amber owl dangled from its chain, catching the fire’s light as he passed it to her. Stasya took it, smiling, and cupped it in her hand; its small presence was steadying. Lukas retreated to sit with the others, and she began the ritual.
She’d done this often enough. The steps came without conscious thought, despite the awkwardness of being watched. Because she had an audience, she made the ritual simpler. First, slow breathing. Then Grandmother’s verse, spoken in a murmur. The mind clear; the body upright but relaxed. Eyes on the fire. And … between one breath and the next, the tiny owl came from nowhere to alight on her shoulder. Stasya heard the gasps of surprise, the soft sounds of recognition from the men as Flip settled in her rightful spot. She was back. She was safe. Now Stasya’s tears fell, not in the outburst of emotion she had choked back after Aleks at last spoke from the heart, but in a steady, silent stream. She did not wipe them away. They were tears of relief, delight, joy; without a doubt, they were part of the ritual.
There were so many questions that could be asked. Too many. And sometimes it was safer, and better, not to know the answers. Stasya took her time, keeping her mind open, hearing only the whisper of leaves, the steady breathing of her companions, the distant calls of birds. What rose to the surface was this: At the end of this journey, will we find answers? She spoke the words in a murmur, then waited.
What came in the smoke was a familiar scene: the old woman smiling, beckoning, as if to say, Come, daughter. Seek your answers here. Another was there too, a tall figure in a hooded cloak, the same she had seen in a much earlier vision. This could be man or woman or something else entirely. Again, the two stood in front of a rock wall. This time shadows danced on the expanse of stone, forms moving with grace. Then, all too soon, the vision dissipated, leaving only trailing wisps of smoke. She sat utterly still, wanting more, needing more. But there was no more. Eventually she drew a deep breath, let it out slowly, and looked over toward the men.
‘I didn’t see much,’ she said. ‘Only what I’d seen before. An old woman, most likely at the Hermit. Someone else with her. A cloaked figure. And the sense that she would welcome me and perhaps share knowledge with me, if I went to her.’
A silence. Then Karolis asked the question Aleks would not. ‘Anything about Markus?’
‘Nothing. And I’m not sure asking that question would have helped. There’s so much we don’t know. What I saw did seem … hopeful. I’m sorry I can’t tell you more. Visions don’t show you exactly what will happen in the future. They can’t. Our choices shape the way things turn out.’
‘The cloaked figure … could that have been him?’ Matiss asked. ‘Markus?’
‘It could have been him or anyone else the height of a grown man. I saw no clues. Except that it was someone who chose not to show me their face. Someone hidden. You could interpret that in different ways.’
‘It does sound hopeful,’ Karolis said. ‘I would take it that this old woman exists, that she is well disposed toward you, and that she is not alone at the Hermit. That much is surely sufficient to keep us moving on, once we’re all ready to do so. As for the hooded figure, it’s not hard to guess why Markus might wish to keep his presence there secret, at least until the right time came to reveal himself. If others are living in those wild parts of the Northlands, perhaps they have their own reasons for secrecy.’
‘The old woman has shown herself to me several times now. Every time, it’s looked as if she wanted me to go forward. Toward her.’ It felt odd to be talking openly about this; Grandmother had taught her that the substance of visions was deeply secret, to be shared only by the seer and whoever sought answers. Though, in a sense, their team of five was made up of seer and truth-seekers. And if that was so, now was the time to tell all she had seen. Not to do so would feel like a betrayal. ‘In earlier visions of that old woman, I’ve seen bad things from the past. From when the Commander came to Heartwood.’ Gods, it was in front of her eyes now, in all its horror. But she must get the truth out now she’d started. All of it. ‘In one of those I saw the ridgeway, the mist, the ghosts. Someone falling. But when it really happened, just now, I didn’t recognise it until it was too late. And … in that earlier vision, there was a fight. A terrible, violent hand-to-hand fight. Maybe, because of some choice we’ve made along the way, that never happened.’ She glanced around the circle: Karolis, calm and capable; Matiss, his arm in a sling, his shoulder bandaged, the look on his face showing the draught had not entirely eased the pain; Lukas sitting cross-legged by the fire, frowning as if his thoughts hurt him. And Aleks, watching her like the hawk he was. Waiting because he suspected she was holding something back. He would just have to wait. She was not going to say You were there, with fury in your eyes. ‘Maybe I should have warned you when those images were first shown to me,’ she said instead. ‘I was still learning to trust, and I’ve been taught to keep what I see to myself. Visions are not easy to interpret. A warning might itself end up causing disaster.’
A silence. Then Matiss said, ‘Nobody’s judging you, Stasya. Your wisdom is essential to the team. I understand what a burden that must place on you, and I thank you for using your gift to help us.’ He shifted awkwardly in place, trying to get comfortable. It seemed cruel to expect him to go on with the journey.
‘You speak for all of us, Matiss,’ said Karolis.
Stasya stared into the dying fire. She’d told them; that was good. But something felt wrong still. Aleks was too quiet. And the task of reaching the Hermit loomed larger than before, even though the place itself was now in sight. Matiss would be slow, and Lukas still wasn’t his old strong self. Tonight there was a pinched look about his features. Perhaps, in helping haul Matiss back from near-death, he had done himself new damage. As a storyteller, it was part of her job to bring hope. But hope was hard to reach right now. She imagined her old life in Heartwood, wondering if she would go back to it if there were such a choice. A quiet, orderly life. In that life, she’d been looked on as odd. Strong and reliable, yes, but never part of the community. Now the future held danger, challenge, uncomfortable change. But she was among friends. Here, she was … equal.
Aleks spoke at last. ‘What are you thinking, Stasya?’
‘Asking myself if I would go back to my old life, if I still could.’
‘And what was the answer?’
‘I don’t think I’d fit into that life anymore. None of us can go back to exactly what we were.’ Into the silence that followed this, she said, ‘I hope we’ll be the better for the way this tests us. But there are times when that’s hard to believe.’
A silence, broken eventually by Karolis. ‘If we achieve our mission, the whole of the Northlands may change for the better. It’s worth reminding ourselves of that when we feel low.’
‘Well said, my friend.’ Matiss added his voice.
‘A change of Ruler can’t undo the damage already done,’ said Lukas. ‘The folk who suffered, the folk who died in Heartwood.’ He glanced at Stasya. ‘The work of destruction.’
Stasya waited for Aleksis to respond to this, but he did not. Eventually she said, ‘If the new Ruler was a peace-loving man, if he could be relied upon to make good choices, and if folk followed him because they believed in him, not because they were afraid of him, then such horrors would not happen under his rule. He couldn’t undo the ills of the past; nobody can bring the dead back to life.’ The Ancestor; Irina; poor Tomas. And so many others. ‘Markus is the son of Lord Kasimir. And it sounds as if Lord Kasimir was that kind of leader.’
Aleks looked up; met her gaze. His smile was like the first cautious touch of sunshine on a frozen landscape. It warmed her heart. ‘Thank you, Stasya. You did not know Markus or his father, but Lord Kasimir was indeed a wise and peaceable leader, and although Markus was only a boy when I knew him, he showed every sign of growing into the same kind of man.’
‘Or would have done, if he’d grown up in his father’s household.’ That was Lukas.
Stasya held back words she knew she would regret. She reminded herself that Lukas was probably in pain; that he was missing his family desperately. ‘True,’ she said. ‘And he may still have done, growing up elsewhere. Perhaps learning more than he ever could have learned if he had not set out on that adventure long ago. We’re learning on our own journey, aren’t we? Everything from how to make a great cup of tea to how a strangely assorted group of animals can end up helping one another, supporting one another, sharing understanding. They can become friends. And maybe achieve what none of them, alone, could ever have done.’