Chapter 34 Pilgrimage
Chapter thirty-four
Pilgrimage
I grab her hand and pull her toward the house.
As we walk, the shadows disperse just enough to show the path and the front door.
I open it, finding a modest but clean room.
Just one. A straw bed lies in the corner, close to a fireplace with a lonely log almost burned down to embers, the flames frozen.
In the bed lies a woman, maybe thirty years old, though she looks much older. Her face is haggard, her hair thin and oily. She’s frozen in time, her lips parted, a sweet scent of sickness floating above them.
“Her son prayed for her. He’s about eleven or so. They are on their own.”
Jaga drops my hand and kneels by the woman, putting her palm on her chest.
“Oh. She has pneumonia, or something like it. She won’t live long. I could treat it with a few spells and brews.”
“Ah, but that wouldn’t be a miracle,” I say. “Stand aside. I’m the god of healing, am I not?”
She eyes me dubiously as I drop to my knees by the woman’s bedside. Jaga knows advanced healing magic, but even the most powerful bieses are limited by their lack of knowledge and vision.
“I made the world,” I whisper, pushing my shadows into the woman and letting them spread until they sit in her heart, her lungs, her bloodstream. “I made the first diseases, which have changed and advanced since then, but they still work the same. Now… I will remove the illness. Like this.”
I pull my shadows out, piling the infinitely tiny particles of the lung consumption into a uniform shape. It becomes a sticky, unpleasant piece of dirt which I fling into the fireplace.
“And done.” I get up, turning to Jaga. “I’ve made her body stronger so she won’t fall ill again. Let’s go. We can do a few more miracles.”
Jaga comes over to the bed. The woman hasn’t moved or taken a single breath yet, but she looks better, her complexion healthier thanks to my magic. A tiny triangle with horns is etched into the bedframe just over her head. Jaga strokes it with her fingertip.
“That’s clever.” She falls silent, then gives me a surprisingly wounded look. “I prayed to you as a little girl. You probably never heard it. And to think that I hoped…”
She pulls away with a bitter scoff, and I clench my fists at my sides, not knowing what to do.
This is the crux of the rift between us, I think. I want Jaga to be a goddess, because I know how to love and woo one. But she won’t stop being mortal for years to come, maybe never. And those hurting, imperfect parts of her daunt me.
They used to make me think she was easy to manipulate. She proved me wrong. Now I see them as insurmountable differences between us even as I can’t look away from the exquisite broken mess that is her.
“I didn’t answer anyone’s prayers back then,” I say quietly, not knowing if it’s the right thing to say, yet needing to give an answer to her painful resentment. “And I’m sorry. I should have tried. I should have been better. I’m sorry you suffered and I didn’t come to save you.”
She takes a shaky breath then turns away, her shoulders stiffening as she lifts her head high.
“Whatever. What’s next?”
“A young woman suspected of witchcraft. I think I’ll wipe the memory of everyone in the village so they don’t suspect her anymore. Do you have objections?”
“None,” she spits, turning to me with loathing in her eyes. “I would have worshipped you forever if you had done the same thing for me when they…”
“When they what?”
She shakes her head. I sigh and take her hand, pulling us through space while time stands frozen.
Soon, the young woman is saved, the zerca in her village blessed with a bag of gold, since greed is such a universal vice among mortals, bieses, and gods, and I don’t have time to figure out what each of them craves the most.
Our final destination is a town at the foot of the mountains in the south. Here, the weather is balmy, a warm wind caressing Jaga’s face as she tilts it up to the sun. I shake off my bag and stretch up my arms with a groan.
“Let’s just leave the bags and say we made camp nearby if anyone asks,” I propose. “Doing miracles is tiring.”
“You’ve done only two. I finally understand why you think this will take centuries. At the pace you’ve set, I’d say your estimate was generous.”
“I can do it faster on my own. Come on. Let’s take a walk in town and talk to people. It’s been a long time since I actually walked among mortals, and you’ve reminded me why that’s important.”
I take her hand, and she tugs it free, giving me a baleful look.
“I’m a sick relative you’re taking to a holy healer somewhere nearby. I’m sure they have one of those,” she says with emphasis. “And don’t you ever introduce me as your wife again.”
“You’re spoiling all the fun. You’re a menace and a viper.”
“Ah, so ideal company for the god of poisons.”
We walk up a winding path, and Jaga looks around with curiosity, bending down to examine a few wildflowers she doesn’t know the names of. I name them for her, digging the information out of long-unused parts of my mind. Again, I am reminded how little she’s seen and experienced.
“This is so festive,” Jaga murmurs when she notices colorful pennants fluttering above our heads. They hang from ropes stretched between the houses on either side of the road. Ahead, a fiddler plays a fast, joyful song.
“Is this some kind of festival?” she asks, glancing at me. “It’s too early for Dziady. Maybe they celebrate the end of the harvest late?”
I shake my head, because I don’t know. We walk down the street, passing a few people heaving heavy bags clearly intended for travel. When we reach the main square, there are at least a hundred people gathered there, most ready to set out.
“Are you joining the pilgrimage?” a pregnant woman with a toddler on her hip asks us when we stop to watch the commotion.
“No, we’re just passing through,” Jaga says. “What pilgrimage?”
“Oh, you don’t know!” The woman beams at us with excitement. “Perun has come to our world! A messenger rode through yesterday, telling us Perun has made himself a dwelling in the mortal world! He sits on his throne in person giving out blessings, and all are invited to see him!”
I don’t say anything, because my throat is tight with hate and fear. Finally, Perun’s scheme is revealed. Only—what is it?
“What blessings?” Jaga asks a little too sharply.
The woman frowns, clearly disappointed by her lack of enthusiasm. Jaga clears her throat, sensing it, too.
“Oh, that is so shocking, but so wonderful!” she says, plastering a fake smile on her face. “Could you tell us more? What did the messenger say about the blessings?”
The woman smiles eagerly, leaning toward Jaga as she speaks fast.
“He said little, because he has many more towns and villages to visit! You see, he set out from Warkogrod, where the temple is, and he’s going north to spread the news everywhere!
All we know is that Perun will be giving us blessings no god has ever given to mortals before, and we must make haste to see him before winter.
Everyone who can is going on a pilgrimage.
It’s five days away on foot, so you should join!
My husband and eldest son are going, but I must stay home.
Hopefully, Perun will keep seeing us in years to come. ”
She points at her pregnant stomach and the child, who watches me curiously, sucking on his thumb. My entire being buzzes with impatience, because we have to go right now and see what Perun’s done. It can’t be good. Whatever his blessing will do, it will defeat me for good. I just know.
“Thank you for telling us,” Jaga says, grabbing my elbow. “Me and my husband need to get some food, and we’ll definitely think about the pilgrimage. Blessings for you and your family!”
“We’ll have them soon,” the woman says with a laugh, waving as we walk away.
“So now I’m your husband,” I say bitterly. “Come on, we have to…”
“You have a miracle to do,” Jaga says sternly, pushing me against a building in a less crowded spot. “You said an old woman prayed to you for food for her grandchildren. That’s why we’re here.”
“But Perun…” I begin, angry that she doesn’t feel the same urgency I do.
Jaga lays her palm on my mouth. “I know. We’ll go after you feed the hungry. It will take only a minute.”
I nip at her skin with my teeth, and she jumps away, cursing.
“Fine. Let’s go. It was a small house on the outskirts. Let me just…”
I stop time and send my shadows in every direction, searching for the right house.
When I locate it, I make sure no one will see us disappear, and take us right there.
The house looks miserable from up close.
It’s shabby, with a roof that’s about to fall in and badly needs fixing.
An old woman sits on a bench outside, sunning herself, and three children, the oldest around seven, dig in the garden.
I can tell at once nothing grows there, and they must have eaten everything. I sigh, annoyed that I’m grateful to Jaga for making me come. This woman doesn’t have an ancestral soul. She’s one of mine, and I should take care of my people.
“Hide,” I whisper to Jaga, pushing her away until she stands by a building opposite, unobtrusive and hidden in shadow. “And watch.”
“Have you given up, old woman?” I ask, putting my hand on the fence that’s one storm away from keeling over.
She looks up, shielding her eyes from the sun. “Hm? Who asks?”
“A friend,” I say with a grin, knowing I look nothing like Weles, yet certain she’ll know it was me after I go. I used to do this sort of thing long ago, before Perun broke me and the world. “So. Have you given up?”
She shakes her head morosely. “Ah, young man. These children have no one but me, and I have bad knees, bad wrists, and bad fingers. There is nothing for us but to pray and hope. This winter will kill us. Take them if you wish, but promise me you’ll keep them fed and warm. That’s all I ask.”
I shake my head. “I don’t want your children, old woman. I will go away in a minute. Once I’m gone, I want you to draw water from your well. Pull up a full bucket. The children should help you. Inside, you will find everything you need. The smallest bottle has medicine for you. Good day.”
I stop time and move toward Jaga, taking her hand. With one last look behind us, I fix the roof over the cottage—and the fence, too. We walk away quickly, and I only release my time spell when we move to Warkogrod.
“Won’t you check on her?” Jaga asks, giving me a look that’s a bit awed, a bit resentful.
“After this is over. Maybe, if I don’t forget. Look.”
The sight revealed to us is unsettling. I brought us to a stony outcropping not far from the main road, and we watch from our vantage point as a long line of people, donkeys, and horses trudge up the slope to the walled town on top of the mountain.
“So many pilgrims,” Jaga says grimly, watching the heaving, impatient crowd as they make their way up. “News travels fast. Is he really up there?”
I nod, tightening my barriers on instinct. I feel Perun’s magic, a hundred times more odious than the oaks, and it makes me want to run or cower. If he catches me again… If he chains me… If he takes Jaga…
A warm palm wraps around mine, and Jaga cups my cheek. “Are we in danger?” she asks seriously, looking into my eyes.
I shake my head fitfully. “No, he doesn’t know we’re here. But I… I hate him. So much. His magic permeates the ground. It’s suffocating.”
“I understand. Let me… Oh.”
The road up is narrow and partly walled in by natural stone formations, but a group of people are going down and squeezing past the crowd. A large, richly dressed man waves his arm, laughing boisterously.
“Got mine! Perun blessed me! Oh, you poor folks, you have to wait, but it’s worth it, I tell you! He’s magnificent!”
“Let’s ask him about it once he gets down the slope,” she murmurs, taking my hand. “We should wait for him down there. Can you stop time and take us? I can’t do magic.”
I shake off my loathing and fear and pull her close, ignoring her angry inhale when I squeeze her too hard, crushing her to my chest.
“Settle,” I tell her, my voice sounding cold and gritty. “Quiet. Please.”
I stop time and just hold her, and she lets me now, her breathing fast and shallow like a rabbit’s, her body warm and alive. I don’t care what she looks like, because I know her soul and spirit, and it’s all in here, tightly wrapped and secure, yet not secret to me.
“I can’t breathe,” Jaga chokes out.
I tighten my grip. “You don’t need to breathe. Please. A bit longer.”
She surrenders, going soft and pliant, and I growl with longing, gripping the back of her shirt so hard, it almost tears in half. My fear is tight and cold around me, a cage that goes everywhere I go, and she is the only thing in the world that lets me breathe.
“Woland,” she whispers, hoarse and breathless. “We can leave this place. We should.”
“Yes. We should leave and fuck. I never want to be outside you again. Let’s just go, stay in Nawie forever, you and me. Let him rule all mortals and do whatever he fucking wants. I’m done. I won’t ever win this, Jaga. I just want you.”
She pushes me away, and it’s for nothing, because I’m stronger like this, gripped by fear and despair. I pull her closer, jerking my hips, the fear making me so maddeningly thirsty. I could be chained up tomorrow, and I need to have her one more time before it happens.
Jaga grows spikes, the familiar trick that still hurts so bad, and I stumble away with a mad laugh. She shakes her head, watching me coldly.
“If you want to fuck me ever again, you will pull yourself together and take us to the foot of the mountain so we can ask that man about Perun’s temple and blessings. You will do it now.”
I drop into an elegant, mocking bow, still laughing.
“Yes, Your Bitchiness. As you command.”