Chapter 26 Stasya
26
Stasya
She huddled in a corner of the cell with the horse blanket around her, knees up, head down, eyes shut. The darkness was complete. There was no keeping out the chill. There was no keeping out the spectre of the morning and what was to come. The truth was that when the sun rose she would die, horribly. Fifty lashes. Was that really what he had said? And two chances to stop it. But at what cost? To save her own life meant betraying everything she believed in, everything she lived by. It would mean the plundering of Heartwood, the deaths of ancient trees and the wild things that lived there. It would mean breaking her vow. Unthinkable.
Perhaps this was where her story had been heading all along. A sacrifice. Perhaps she had always been meant to die this way. Nobody would miss her much. Except for Lukas. But Lukas would be better off if she was gone. He’d be free to choose a wife and be happy without her getting in the way. Once she was dead, they’d set him free, wouldn’t they? Once she was gone, once she couldn’t do what the Ruler wanted, there would be no reason for them to keep him here.
Twice, over the long hours, the hatch opened and someone peered in, waiting long enough for Stasya to speak. Twice she sat silent, shivering, with her heart pounding and her stomach tying itself in knots, until the hatch closed again. She forced herself not to call on Flip. Best that Flip stay well away, much as Stasya longed for her comforting presence. She was safer out there, in whatever form she chose, and once this was over, she could fly home. That did not stop bitter tears from falling as Stasya remembered the good times: the forest walks, the cosy nights, the shared adventures.
She must have fallen briefly asleep, for she was startled awake when the bolt on her door shifted. It was a cautious sound, as if someone were sliding it across with infinite care. Was it dawn out there already? Oh, gods, let it not be so.
She got to her feet in the darkness, her back against the stone wall, her hands clutching the blanket. Stand up tall , she ordered herself. You chose this path. Walk it bravely.
Whoever was out there, they were moving very quietly. The hatch opened without a sound. The flickering light of a candle showed that it was still night out there. ‘Stasya?’ someone whispered. ‘It’s Matiss. Come quietly over to the door.’
Now she was wide awake. It could be a trap. But she knew his kind voice. She rose and moved to the door; the eyes looking in at her were indeed those of the big man. ‘Keep very quiet,’ he murmured. ‘We’re getting you out.’
The door opened, and there he was, wearing riding clothes. ‘Got to be quick,’ he said. ‘Anything to bring? We won’t be coming back.’
Stasya shook her head.
‘Come, then. This way.’ He did not drag her or push her along. Instead, he put an arm around her shoulders as a father might, and with the candle in his other hand guided her through the darkened stables. In a screened area at one end a small lantern burned, and by it a man stood utterly still. Aleksis. He watched them approach; the expression on his face was strange, unreadable.
‘She’ll need some fresh clothes before we go. And a wash.’ Matiss was still keeping his voice to a whisper.
‘Sort it out, then. Be quick.’ Aleksis still had his eyes fixed on Stasya. ‘What have they done to you?’
‘I don’t— I can’t—’ Her voice came out as a rough croak. She struggled to control it, to keep it soft. ‘What about—’
‘Hush now. Stay quiet. They’re getting Lukas out, then we’ll go.’
She wondered, later, how they managed to do it; wondered how many allies they must have had within Dragon’s Keep to make things flow so swiftly and quietly. At the time it felt unreal, like a dream. Matiss took her to a little yard with a pump, filled a shallow basin, found her soap, a brush and a cloth to dry herself, stood with his back turned while she did her best to clean her filthy body and neglected hair. The water was icy cold, but she scrubbed and rinsed until her skin hurt. Picked out the splinters from her feet. Dried herself, shivering; got into the clothes Matiss had brought. They were garments like the ones she had been wearing when she left home – the practical trousers, shirt and over-tunic of a young working man. There was even a pair of boots, which fitted well enough. A warm cloak, a hat of felted wool which she pulled down over her damp, tangled hair. Everything in muted colours, as if to avoid attention.
‘I’m ready,’ she murmured to Matiss’s back. ‘Thank you.’ And when he turned, ‘Where are we going?’
‘For now, to a place of safety some miles from here. A place where we won’t be found. And we need to be gone swiftly.’ He looked toward the darkened stable. ‘Just waiting for your friend, then we’re off.’
Stasya did not ask how long it was until dawn. ‘We should tidy this up,’ she said instead. ‘Won’t people wonder …?’
‘I’ll deal with it. Wait over there.’ Matiss put away everything they had used. He emptied the basin into a drain. All was done with quick efficiency and almost no noise. He turned to regard her. ‘Think you’ll be able to ride?’
Stasya did not ask how far they were going, or how they could take horses from the stables without being heard or seen, or what would happen if Lady Elisabeta found out they were … What were they doing, exactly? Escaping? But Aleksis was the Ruler’s personal adviser. Matiss was a court guard, and didn’t a court guard always obey the Ruler’s orders?
‘I’ll manage,’ she said. ‘Matiss— they were going to— they were—’
‘I know. Hush now.’
They waited with Aleksis by the light of the lamp. The men did not talk. Stasya felt the tension in them, the need to be gone; she saw the looks they exchanged. It felt like an age before two men came into view, supporting another between them. One was Pavel, not wearing his uniform; another was a strapping fellow with auburn hair and beard. Between them was Lukas. Stasya would have rushed to him, spoken his name, wept against his shoulder, but she met Aleksis’s eye and held still. Now Lukas was standing without support, lifting one foot then the other, bending his knees as if testing his strength. He looked shaky, pale, a hollow-eyed ghost of his old self. He did not so much as glance at her. Were they expecting him, too, to ride? They could hardly take a cart out without raising the alarm.
Nobody said a word. It was clear to Stasya that they were following a plan, and that someone – Aleksis, most likely – was making sure they did so as quickly and quietly as possible. They donned packs that lay ready, then headed along the stable block with Stasya and Matiss at the rear. From time to time, Matiss glanced over his shoulder. Stasya tried not to think what would happen if someone spotted them.
Matiss had halted; the others were heading on. There was a fine- looking grey horse in one of the stalls, a long-legged creature with gentle eyes. For a moment she caught what was in its mind as the big man stroked its face and whispered words she could not hear. Perhaps the two of them shared the same thoughts. Goodbye. Be well, dear friend. And, as the man briefly laid his brow against the horse’s neck, I will never forget you.
They moved on. Out of the stables, not by the double door through which horses and riders might pass, but through a narrow opening to one side. Aleksis was carrying the lantern; its flame cast their shadows on the rough stone of the fortress wall, and on something else: a drainage channel that made its way beneath that wall, and an iron grating that kept wayward stock from coming to grief there. The red-bearded man went forward, picked up some kind of tool, and set to work on the grating. It looked as if that was their way out; had the tool been placed there in readiness? Wouldn’t the sound of metal on metal alert every guard close at hand? But no. It seemed this, too, had been well prepared: the process was quick and efficient, almost as if the grating had already been cut, then set carefully back in place. Pavel lifted a section out, the other man stowed the tool in his pack, and in turn they crept through the opening. For Matiss it was a tight squeeze, not helped by the pack he was now wearing. Stasya came after him. The red-haired man was last. She heard him doing something with the loose grating, perhaps setting it back in place. Maybe it would pass a casual inspection.
The tunnel was cramped. There was no walking upright. Sometimes they moved at an awkward crouch; sometimes they went on hands and knees, moving through a trickle of water. Stasya heard Lukas grunting with effort; the others were helping him as best they could. What were they going to do at the other end? Where did this open up? Without horses, how could they possibly get far enough away before the sun rose? Foolishly, she found herself feeling sad that the good clothing she’d been given was getting damp. As if that mattered in the least.
At last, they emerged under a night sky scattered with stars. Stasya straightened up, back aching, and her heart lurched. Aleksis had held on to the lantern, how she could not imagine. They were outside the fortress, and before them a rocky hillside descended to a rough track beside the lake. They were no longer alone. On the track stood men and horses, how many she could not see. She opened her mouth to say something, to warn him, hadn’t he noticed – but swallowed her words as Aleksis put a finger to his lips, signalling silence. He gestured for his companions to follow and set off down the precipitous slope.
It was impossible for Lukas; an awkward scramble even for the fittest of them. Matiss passed his pack to Pavel, squatted down, lifted Lukas onto his back, and commenced a careful descent. The others followed, the red-bearded man keeping close to Stasya, as if he thought she might fall.
‘My name’s Karolis,’ he whispered, giving her a nod.
‘I’m Stasya,’ she murmured, surprised to find she wanted to smile. If ever there was a strange moment to be exchanging polite introductions, this was it. She’d tell the story one day, if they survived. A story whose terror and darkness were softened by such moments.
Few words were exchanged once they reached the track. It was soon clear this, too, was part of a well-prepared plan. The horses were handed over, fully harnessed up; words were exchanged in an undertone; and the two men who’d been waiting, both in dark clothing and hooded cloaks, vanished into the night. They might have been anyone.
Six horses. Five men and a woman. Stasya knew Lukas was an able rider, but tonight he would not be able to ride alone. It seemed Aleksis had expected this; one of the animals was a sturdy packhorse, with the appropriate harness and saddlebags. With remarkable speed, the men transferred the packs to this horse. Matiss mounted the biggest animal; Pavel and Karolis helped Lukas up behind him. Aleksis offered Stasya a leg-up on her allocated horse, whose exact colour she could not tell in the lantern light. As she mounted, she reached out to the animal with her mind, offering trust. Thank you, beautiful one. I will be kind to you, I promise.
Aleksis was still standing beside her, one hand on the harness. The others were mounted and looked ready to go, with Karolis leading the pack horse. ‘Stasya,’ Aleksis said. ‘What about your little dog?’
Before Stasya could decide how to answer, a small bird landed on her shoulder. Perhaps it had flown down from the castle wall; perhaps it had come from some hiding place known only to itself. It shifted its tiny feet, fluffing up its feathers against the cold. Stasya looked at Aleksis. Aleksis looked back steadily. He must have heard the whole story, or he would not have acted so quickly to get them out. He must know, or guess, the secret.
‘As you see,’ she said.
Something flashed across his hawkish features; it might almost have been a smile. He nodded, turned away, doused the lantern. Within moments, he was on his horse, and they were riding away from Dragon’s Keep.