Chapter 34 Stasya
34
Stasya
It was more overhang than cave, but deep enough to provide shelter for all of them. By the time they reached it the rain was bucketing down, though the tall pines surrounding the outcrop provided an added shield against the deluge. Aleksis had no choice but to agree to a halt. Still, he made sure the time was not wasted. After helping set up camp, Karolis and Matiss went off hunting, or possibly fishing, depending on what they found upstream. A narrow watercourse emerged from the forest not far from their place of shelter. They’d need to keep an eye on that if the rain persisted. But if there was a pond or small lake further up, there might be fish or eels to be had. Matiss had brought a supply of salt, which was being carefully rationed. A good catch might be preserved for a leaner day.
Aleksis had insisted the two men stay together. Nobody was to wander off alone, except on the short walk required to relieve themselves in relative privacy. Stasya and Lukas collected wood for the fire, stacking it well under the overhang. There was a depression in the ground, below the outer rim of the cave roof; flat stones had been laid around it. It seemed this had been used as a camping place by others in the past, though from the look of it, not for some time. Which raised questions nobody was asking right now.
By nightfall the storm was raging, with bright flashes of lightning punctuated by furious thunderclaps and heavy rain. The wind added its howling voice, and around the cave the stately pines shivered and moaned under the onslaught. Once or twice Stasya heard a cracking sound, as if somewhere out there a forest giant had dropped a limb. Flip had retreated into the darkest recesses of the cave, where she’d snuggled into someone’s cloak.
They’d had a fine meal, thanks to the fish the men had caught. Their fire had stayed alight so far. Before the worst of the storm, Stasya had found some wild mushrooms and a handful of herbs, and Matiss had cooked everything into a kind of soup. They still had a small supply of the hard wayfarers’ bread. Each took a chunk which, dipped in the warm brew, softened enough to be eaten without endangering a person’s teeth.
It seemed unlikely they’d be able to go on in the morning. The storm was relentless, scourging the land all around them. The gentle trickle of the stream had become a wild gushing, but so far the water was spilling out onto the open ground rather than coming sideways into their place of shelter.
Now, as they sat around the fire with their bellies comfortably full, it was time for stories. She was glad Lukas had suggested it, though surprised as well. He was uneasy about their situation. She only had to look at him to know that. Up till now he’d been reluctant to add his voice to the planning. Which was silly. He was a farmer, a practical man, a solver of problems. Who better to help this strange expedition reach its destination safely? Whatever the true destination was.
‘Who’s first tonight?’ Karolis asked. ‘Stasya? Matiss?’
‘We’re waiting for Aleksis’s story, aren’t we?’
Stasya could have told Lukas this was not the way to get Aleksis talking. But she did want to hear that story. She looked across at their leader. They were all losing weight on the journey, conserving the rations and working their bodies hard. Aleksis looked almost gaunt. The name Hawk Man was more apt than ever. The look in his eye was forbidding. ‘It does feel like time,’ she said quietly.
A silence. Seemed nobody else was going to back her up. But then, the rest of them probably knew all about Aleksis’s plan. It was only herself and Lukas, the outsiders, who had been kept in the dark.
‘It’s not safe.’ Aleksis’s voice was barely audible above the wild noise of the storm. He was looking in her direction, but she thought he was seeing something far, far away. Perhaps far away and long ago. ‘Not yet.’
‘Who’s going to overhear you, Aleks?’ It was Matiss who spoke, his deep voice calm and reassuring. ‘Who’s going to be out here on a night like this? Except crazy folk like us, that is.’
Aleksis shook his head. Made some kind of gesture Stasya didn’t understand.
‘You could tell part of it,’ said Karolis. ‘Save the end until you’re ready to go on. Like Stasya’s tale of the strange companions on their journey.’
A silence. Matiss reached to stir up the fire. Stasya wished she could talk to Aleksis the way she did to Flip, or indeed to any animal needing reassurance. If it’s so hard, why not get it done now, when you’re among friends? Be brave. Just say it. Because this wasn’t solely about being followed by the Ruler’s men, or by any kind of enemy, including those whose weaponry was eldritch voices. Looking at Aleksis, she saw the shadow of the boy he had once been, and knew without needing to be told that there was some hurt deep inside him, a burden he had carried for years, growing up at court, learning the strange ways of folk there, becoming indispensable to the Ruler, and then … ‘Tell us what you can, Aleks,’ she said softly, not sure if she was speaking to the man sitting opposite her, or to that long-ago boy, or only to herself. ‘Take all the time you need.’
Aleksis drew a deep breath. Squared his shoulders, as if preparing for a physical challenge. Out in the forest, above the noise of the storm, something let out a howl that brought sudden tears to Stasya’s eyes. A cry of sorrow; a song of loss. The others sat silent, waiting.
‘I’m no storyteller,’ Aleksis said. ‘I have no gift for that. But I’ll do the best I can.’ The firelight was on his face, the stormy dark behind him. ‘As I told you, Stasya, I was in these parts once before, as a child of ten. Staying for a short while on a holding near Sweetwater with a friend close to my own age, and our parents.’ He drew a deep breath. Whatever it was, it hurt him still. ‘My friend had a grand future ahead of him, and because of that there were many folk to watch over him. Servants, tutors, guards. A privileged sort of life, but lacking freedom. Even his friends were carefully chosen for him.’
This was not what Stasya had expected. There was such pain in his eyes. They should not have pushed him into this. But she wanted to hear more. ‘What was your friend’s name?’ she asked.
Aleks glanced at Matiss, then at Karolis, almost as if seeking permission. Both were listening with quiet attention. ‘Markus.’ Aleks’s voice cracked as he spoke the name. ‘We slipped away one afternoon to go exploring in the forest. An expedition. Running, climbing, finding small treasures. Playing games. Then the light began to fade. It was later than we’d thought, and people would be looking for us. So we headed back, or tried to. But we’d lost our way.’
Whatever was coming, it couldn’t be good. Aleksis had fallen silent, bowing his head. Stasya became aware of Flip beside her, pressing up against her legs. She gathered the dog onto her knee, welcoming her warmth. It seemed Aleks needed to tell this, reluctant as he had been. But it was hurting him, anyone could tell that. Stasya felt that hurt in her own heart. Almost as if … No, that could not be so. She would not believe it.
‘We tried to find the way. It was dusk, and we knew we’d be in trouble. No sign of the house, only branching paths that might have led anywhere. And …’ Suddenly, it seemed Aleksis could not find the words. He was somewhere else, Stasya could tell. Lost in the past, seeing it before his eyes.
‘Here,’ said Matiss, offering his friend a water skin. ‘Take a drink. I’ll make tea later; still got some of the chamomile mix left.’
‘Stop if you want, Aleks,’ Stasya said. ‘The rest can wait.’ Though she hoped he would go on. She hated the thought of those two children out in the forest with the dark coming. Wouldn’t they have heard the voices of folk looking for them? Calling their names?
He drank; wiped his hand over his mouth. ‘We split up. My idea. Went down separate paths, arranged to call out if we spotted the house. We said we’d count to fifty as we walked, then come back if neither of us found it.’
Stasya wondered if she really did want to know what came next. Pavel had moved in closer; he looked like a big-eyed ghost. Something in this had disturbed him badly. Lukas was grim-faced. But Aleks went on, led now, she thought, by a force he could not stop.
‘I saw it before I got to fifty. The high slate roof, the light from a window. I called out. No answer. I could have gone straight there and fetched help. But I headed back instead, shouting his name. I couldn’t run; the dusk was closing in and it was hard to see the way. I got to the place where he should have been waiting. But he wasn’t there.’
In the silence, Stasya saw that every listener was caught by the tale; each waited with bated breath, as she did. Even if they knew the story, even if they knew the outcome, perhaps they had not heard it told this way, raw, cruel, straight from the heart. Lukas looked as if he might cry. Pavel’s face was a story in itself. Perhaps this had awakened some fearsome memory for him.
‘I went along the path Markus had taken,’ Aleksis said, ‘and it led to that place we saw on our way up, with the rock wall and the ledge. I called his name one last time. Then I turned back, and after a while I heard other voices. My father. Markus’s father. A search party. But they were too late. It was too dark for searching. They went out at first light next morning, with tracking dogs. But Markus was never found.’
This time the silence was longer. Aleks sat staring into the fire. Stasya had no doubt that this story was true. He had borne this burden since the day the terrible thing happened. Perhaps it had governed many of his choices as a man. How would a family ever recover from such a blow? How could they ever forgive young Aleksis? But then, these were only children. She imagined Tomas in that situation, a boy of around the same age, and how a child might not make the same choices as a man or woman.
Matiss broke the silence by rising and filling the pot from a water skin. He hung it over the fire. ‘Not that tea is the answer to everything,’ he murmured, more to himself than to the others, ‘but it always helps.’
Stasya was still watching Aleksis. Her heart broke for him, leader and royal confidant though he was. They were all tiptoeing around him, as if afraid to recognise that the child was still there. Matiss was the wisest. But now, seeing the haunted look on Aleks’s face, the defeat in his posture, she knew something more was needed. Don’t think too much, just do it, she told herself, rising and walking over to him. ‘You were a child,’ she said softly and, sitting down beside him, she put an arm around his shoulders. ‘Whatever happened, it was not your fault. You did your best.’ She thought of that boy running, running and calling, keeping going as night fell and the silence drew out. In that child was the seed of this driven man, a man who tried to do everything perfectly. A man who continued to judge himself, every moment of every day.
He did not flinch or pull away from her, but she felt the tension in his body, a tight trembling that suggested he might give way to tears if he were not that man. A pity he did not let himself weep. It might have helped.
‘She’s right, you know,’ said Karolis quietly. ‘We all make mistakes; we all make wrong choices sometimes. None of us is perfect. If you let those errors eat you up you can’t move on, live your life. I nearly made a very bad one; nearly said yes to joining the warrior monks. Loved the fighting, the training, the discipline. Never could get my mind around the prayers and chanting and rituals. Other things too, which I won’t speak of here in case I give you all nightmares. It was a hard choice. I made some friends there. But looking back, I thank whatever gods might be inclined to listen for the decision I did make.’
‘Besides,’ Matiss said, glancing over at Aleksis, who still had his head bowed, ‘your story is unfinished. Don’t forget that. Don’t give up before every path has been exhausted.’ He busied himself with the tea preparations. ‘Lukas, will you pass me those cups? I think we all need a hot drink after that. And maybe a plan for tomorrow. Though it’s looking as if the foul weather may be with us for a while. Might be another day of enforced rest.’
—
The rain did not abate. As for the wind, if anything it grew stronger as time passed. Aleksis agreed that keeping watch at night would be pointless, and they all settled to sleep, glad that the very back of the shelter was still dry. The firewood they’d stacked there would do for the morning. They’d never keep a fire alight overnight unless someone stayed up to tend it, and nobody was volunteering.
Stasya’s mind was whirring with Aleksis’s story, the possibilities, the link with what he was doing now, if there was one. He must have had opportunities over the years to conduct a new search for Markus’s body. Couldn’t he have used the resources of court, if the Ruler approved? As a senior adviser he was probably wealthy in his own right. Not that finding a small, sad set of bones somewhere in this vast landscape would have been an easy task. But … perhaps it was something else that had sparked this journey. He’d asked her, earlier, whether she thought there might be people living up near the Hermit. Could he really believe his childhood friend might have survived all these years, rescued by some unknown person who, instead of returning him to his family, had cho sen to keep him up there? Surely any right-thinking person, any kindly person, would take the child straight home to his family. He’d been old enough to explain who he was and where he’d come from. But … how could a child of that age have made his way from down there, close to Sweetwater, to the distant mountaintop? The answer was, he couldn’t, not on his own. Did Aleks think someone had snatched him and kept him? Taken him away? She shuddered to think of that. If Markus had survived, he would be terribly changed by his experience. Might Aleks find him and regret making the attempt? If he did find his friend, what was his plan? To take him home to his family for a happy reunion? That kind of thing happened in stories sometimes. But she could not see it in this one.
She rolled over, cursing under her breath. At this rate she was never going to get to sleep. The others were all quiet now, motionless under their blankets. The only one awake, apart from herself, was Flip, who was watching her, big-eyed, as if waiting for something. Stasya reached to stroke the little dog’s back and scratch behind her ears, the way she liked. The temptation to send Flip ahead was always there; as a bird she’d be able to fly quickly up the mountain, armed with a question such as, Is there anyone up there? But Stasya wouldn’t send her. She hadn’t forgotten that warning down by Clearwater, the twisted thorns, the powerful, threatening voice that only she could hear. Someone, or some thing , did not want her to be on this journey. There was danger out there. Flip had been unusually clingy for quite some time, reluctant to leave Stasya’s side for long. She, too, was feeling the peril, the risk, the possibility that they were unwelcome. Besides, the weather was appalling. What bird would fly out in that unless it was a life-or-death choice?
She made herself calm; went through her pattern of breathing. Whispered the words of Grandmother’s verse to herself, knowing that in some way Flip would understand. ‘The oak’s deep roots hold fast to the earth. I, too, will be strong.’ She imagined Grandmother saying, Breathe, Sta sya. Make your body still. Listen to what is around you. Hear the voices. The howl of the wind; the ceaseless drumming of the rain; someone snoring gently. ‘The graceful willow moves with the wind. I, too, will dance.’ When the storm was over. When they reached home, wherever home was now. When they found what they were looking for. ‘The mighty ash towers to the heavens. I, too, will stretch high.’ She was trying. Doing her best. Sometimes it was hard. Sometimes it felt as if she had stretched herself to breaking point. But it was always possible to do more. Always. To reach out a hand in kindness. To help a person in trouble. To keep going even if you were weary to the bone and full of doubts.
Flip sent her a mind-picture: Stasya turning into a bird, not a lark this time but something much bigger, perhaps a wild goose. Spreading her wings, rising to the sky, her snowy feathers touched to gold by the sunlight. Beautiful. Powerful. The bird flew across a cloudless sky, away, away, leaving behind all that was familiar. A moment of sheer magic. ‘Thank you,’ Stasya whispered. The little one was wise. Stretching high could mean being prepared to leave the past behind. Growing, moving on, learning new things, making new journeys. Taking new risks. ‘The sun gleams on the still pool. I, too, will hold the light.’ The light was the love of all creatures, wayward humankind included. It was understanding. It was knowing how to make wise choices, how to keep going when things got overwhelming and all you really wanted was to curl up and stop thinking for a while. It was keeping on walking. Being a true friend. Offering comfort when you knew someone was suffering. Because it wasn’t only holding the light; it was sharing the light. Perhaps the light showed the way forward. Or the way out. ‘Hold the light,’ she whispered to Flip. ‘Be the light. All of us can do that, if only we can find it in ourselves.’