Chapter 31 Aleksis
31
Aleksis
How many years since he had last come this way? Sixteen, nearly seventeen? Long ago in another life, that was how it felt. The day two boys set off on an adventure and only one came back. The day everything changed.
Perhaps this was not exactly the same path. He knew it had been close to the farm they’d left this morning. And it had been close to Sweetwater, though they hadn’t stayed there. A friend of his father’s had lived nearby, a wealthy man who bred fine riding horses. They’d been accommodated in that household, which had many comforts. And they’d had watchful keepers. That was why they’d snatched the opportunity to go off exploring on their own at a time when they were supposed to be resting.
A fateful decision. It had haunted him ever since. He’d begged the gods he didn’t believe in to turn back time so he could live that day again and make it all better. He’d endured the just fury of those betrayed, the hot tears of those bereaved. He would never forget the look on his father’s face when he’d returned alone and confessed the truth. Under that look, he had felt his heart shrivel.
Later, being the man he was, his father had comforted him in his own sorrow, and explained that sometimes we make mistakes, and that some mistakes have very serious consequences, and that we must then find ways to carry on. Young Aleks had made his apologies, he had been quiet and dutiful, he had studied hard. His father was senior adviser to Lord Kasimir. In time Aleks, too, would become a court adviser.
But now, here on this forest track, part of him was that ten-year-old boy, running in dappled shade with his friend, laughing and joking, brimful with delight at escaping the confines of their highly supervised life. Not thinking ahead. Why would he? What could spoil such a perfect day?
He must put that out of his mind. He must stop brooding. It was past. It was gone.
Up ahead, Stasya had signalled a halt. She and Lukas were conferring in hushed voices. It seemed they had set aside their differences. The little dog nosed about in the undergrowth, while the others stretched their limbs and drank from their water skins, taking advantage of the pause.
‘Problem?’ Aleksis asked as he came up to them.
‘A choice,’ Stasya said. ‘Up or around. Move along this way and take a look. It’s much steeper than the track Lukas and I used to take from Heartwood.’
He came forward; eyed the rock face that was now in view, a towering thing across which ran a precarious ledge, too narrow to be called a pathway. In a few spots clung particularly tenacious bushes. His stomach churned. Familiar. All too familiar.
‘Are you all right?’ Stasya was regarding him closely. Gods only knew what his face was showing.
He ignored the question. ‘You said a choice. What is the alternative?’
‘One way or another we need to get to the top. Either we take the ledge across, or head back and take that branching downhill path we saw earlier. My guess is that would lead us around the foot of the bluff.’ She pointed across the rock wall to an area where more trees grew. ‘We could scramble up over that side, I think. There’s some vegetation to hold onto. But the ledge would get us there quicker.’
The past crowded in again. He found himself without words.
Matiss broke the awkward silence. ‘We’d be crazy to attempt the ledge. My vote’s for the downhill path, even if it means a longer climb later.’
Stasya glanced at Lukas; he gave a nod. ‘Agreed. We’ll do that,’ she said. ‘Everyone ready?’
It proved a wise choice. The ascent through the steep forested area gave them branches to hold on to, small level areas where they could catch their breath, and also some cover, should pursuers draw near while they were still labouring their way upward. Aleksis kept an eye on his companions as they went; it helped to ward off the shadows that were invading his mind. Stasya’s strength and balance were an example to them all. Matiss was strong and steady; for a solidly built man, he climbed well. Karolis probably could have done it in half the time of the others. And it was evident that Lukas knew how to climb, but he was tiring, perhaps in pain. As for Pavel, he looked weary now, his face waxen pale, his eyes shadowed. Coming straight after his solo walk to Heartwood, this had been too much to ask of him. An error. Another error.
He wanted to press straight on, to get to Clearwater and away before pursuit reached them. But a good leader does not push his team so hard they suffer for it; not unless there is an immediate risk to life and limb. Balance, Aleks, he imagined his father saying. Balance is the key.
‘We’ll take a brief rest as soon as we reach a sheltered spot,’ he said when they stood at the top of the rise, catching their breath. During the ascent, Flip had transformed from small brown dog to small brown bird.
They stopped to rest in a clearing shielded by whispering birch trees. Here, great moss-covered stones lay like ancient, sleeping creatures. The day was warming; the air held a promise of summer. Flip was a dog again, lapping water from a puddle, checking scents, finding tiny wild strawberries bright with promise.
Stasya was sitting on the ground, leaning against a stone with her legs stretched out in front of her. Her head was tilted back and her eyes were closed.
Aleksis set his pack down and lowered himself to sit, not far from her. ‘All right?’
Her eyes snapped open. ‘Why wouldn’t I be?’
‘I just— Never mind. I thought you might be tired. That was a steep haul.’
‘We’re used to it. Lukas and me. But that was a tough stretch, yes.’ After a moment she added, ‘I think we can reach Clearwater before dark.’
Aleksis cast his gaze around. Lukas was not far off, lying flat with his head pillowed on his pack. Flip had settled beside him on her belly, muzzle on paws, eyes closed to slits. Matiss and Pavel were sitting together, talking in low voices. Karolis was performing a series of stretching exercises that looked almost like dance; it went far beyond what he’d taught the others.
‘It looks like we’ll need to camp there tonight,’ he said. ‘Is there good cover?’
‘Good enough. Above the lake the forest is mostly pine or larch, but there are smaller trees and bushes near the water. From there on it’s pretty steep, I think. But I’m only going from the tales, and from rumour. We should get a better view ahead from higher up. Though the stories say the Hermit is shrouded in mist, even in fine weather. Another reason for those tales of the uncanny. Ghosts, spirits, fey folk.’
‘How do you know which ones to believe and which are … fanciful?’
‘You don’t. Nobody does. Except, I suppose, whatever lives up there. That’s if anything does, beyond wolves and hawks. It’s easy enough to make up a story. Often they’re sparked off by something real, and they grow from that, and it’s up to the teller to add warrior toads or wee folk or uneasy spirits if they want to.’ She went quiet for a little, thinking. ‘Of course, even going up there might not give a person the answer. It’s up to the Hermit what it shows us.’
‘Stasya.’
She turned her head toward him, caught by something in his tone.
‘Do you think there could be people living up there? I mean, ordinary people like you and me?’
Stasya’s smile was more of a grimace. ‘You think we’re ordinary? Me, the outsider of my village? You, the Ruler’s senior adviser at the age of … whatever it was?’
‘I was a little shy of two-and-twenty when my father died. I stepped straight into his role at court, at the request of Lord Kasimir.’ Aleksis drew a breath. ‘I should have asked, might there be human folk living higher up the mountain?’
‘I suppose there could be, though it’s an out-of-the-way place to choose. The stories speak of caves. There could be a freshwater spring. Some folk would like the solitude.’
‘Such as yourself?’
‘It would depend. I like to be alone, yes. I like quiet. Space to think. It’s good to hear the sounds of the forest. But … I wonder how it would be to live up there, perhaps with only a few other folk and not be able to get help if something went wrong because it’s so far from everywhere.’ She glanced at Lukas. ‘Even if a person doesn’t like too much company, it’s good to have a friend you can trust.’ Across the clearing, Karolis was balancing on his hands, his body perfectly straight and still. Matiss and Pavel were quiet now, watching him. ‘Or friends. I think you are lucky.’
If only you knew, Aleksis thought. It seemed the right moment to change the subject. ‘Do you have any family living, Stasya? Parents, brothers and sisters?’
She shook her head. ‘My grandmother brought me up from when I was small. My parents are dead. I don’t remember them, and I know almost nothing about them. Grandmother died when I was eleven. I’m used to looking after myself.’
‘I can see that.’
‘You?’ she asked, surprising him. ‘Any family?’
‘Only distant connections. That’s just as well; my work leaves no time for family.’
‘Family comes in different forms,’ Stasya said. ‘And at different times. It can surprise you, I think. Irina …’ Her composure faltered for the first time, and she dropped her gaze. ‘Irina and Tomas – her son – were something close to family for me. She was always kind to me, even when I was a child. She didn’t judge me the way some others did.’
He could not take time to consider his response. ‘I’m deeply sorry we could not get your friend to safety. I regret very much that the boy lost his life. That was … it was part of what caused me to act when I did. To bring our venture forward so we could get you and Lukas out. But it was too late for Irina and her son, and for others who perished. I’ll bear the weight of that all my life.’ Along with the old guilt. Along with the old burden.
‘The Ruler sent you away on purpose, didn’t she? Sent you away so she could … so she could do whatever she wanted to try to make me talk.’
Her voice was shaky now. Aleksis saw her hands clench into fists and wished he had cut the conversation short earlier. ‘Better that we do not speak of this further. I regret—’
Stasya stood up abruptly and moved a few steps away, her arms folded, her back to him. ‘Regret doesn’t help. Regret can’t bring them back. It can’t take away the pain.’
The silence that followed was broken eventually by a warbling comment from somewhere in the trees. The bird, clearly, had not caught the mood. When Aleksis spoke, it was in the merest murmur. ‘It might stop me from making the same error twice. I will explain, I promise. At the right time. When we’ve put more distance between ourselves and …’ He gestured in the general direction of Dragon’s Keep. ‘Because you and Lukas disappeared from court when we did, she’ll make certain assumptions.’
‘Why wouldn’t she assume you’re carrying out her mission as ordered? Taking me with you so I can guide you to the treasure but doing it in your own time and your own way? Why would I not think that? It’s close to what she suggested to me herself.’
It was a fair point. Why, then, did it feel as if she had struck him? Why was it so hard to find the right answer, when as a royal adviser he had this skill down to a fine art? ‘I was hoping,’ he said, ‘that by now there might be a small degree of trust between us.’
‘Why should I trust you when you won’t tell me the truth?’
‘The truth can be dangerous, Stasya. You, of all people, should know that.’ He had hinted, at least, that his venture might ensure a better future for the Northlands. But perhaps what he hoped for, what he so badly wanted to be true, really was only a dream. ‘It’s a story that could end in different ways,’ he said, speaking more or less to himself. ‘Good, bad or nothing much at all. But I don’t need to tell you that. You know it better than anyone.’