The Amber Owl (Heartwood #1)

Chapter 37 Stasya

37

Stasya

They moved uphill on a narrow track. Here the trees stood among great mossy stones, and the high canopy had shielded the ground beneath from the worst of the deluge. The storm was dying down. The cold wind still clutched at them, but here and there the clouds were giving way to patches of cool blue, and the drenching rain had dwindled to an intermittent pattering. With luck, once they climbed high enough, the view might provide some wisdom.

Flip had chosen to come with them as a tiny wren, but she did not lead, simply fluttered along nearby. She did not share her thoughts. Something was amiss with her, and it troubled Stasya. Did her small friend believe the whole venture was misguided? Was it stupid to put any trust at all in Aleksis? It was clear Lukas felt that way.

‘You’re quiet,’ Lukas said, jolting her out of her musings.

‘Mmm. Going uphill, it helps not to talk.’

‘We could rest for a bit. No rule against it.’

‘All right. Up there, where the— Oh.’ Stasya came to a sudden halt. Beside the narrow track they were following through the forest a great stone loomed, clad in a mossy cloak. On the ground directly before it stood a miniature cairn, the piled-up stones uniformly round and grey. Not toppled by the storm. Not washed away, though the ground was muddy and streamlets tumbled down between the trees. This tiny construction was neat and perfect.

‘Is someone trying to tell us something?’ Lukas asked.

She could have hugged him at that moment. Clearly, she had underestimated her friend. ‘I think so. There were signs like this further down. You probably saw them.’

‘You could have told me,’ he said after a silence.

Stasya heard the words he wasn’t saying. Don’t you trust me? Your oldest friend? ‘It’s hard with other people around all the time. Always someone listening.’

‘You’ve been talking too much to Aleksis.’ Lukas spoke without judgement, as if he were simply stating fact. ‘The man who’s afraid to speak up in case the wrong person hears the truth. The story whose ending never gets told. I’m happier if folk say whatever it is they want to say, even if it hurts to hear it.’

The shadow of what had happened at court, the pain of that misunderstanding, still lay between them, not far below the surface. He hadn’t spoken out then. But who was she to judge him? Stasya slipped her hand into his. ‘I’m sorry,’ she said. ‘You know what people think about this kind of thing – the pattern, the stones. It’s too easy for someone to say witchcraft , and for other voices to join in, and then everything turns to hate and violence. Grandmother taught me to avoid that at all costs. It’s bad enough that Aleks and the others have seen Flip change. And what happened before, when Karolis and I … If I’d done something like that back in the settlement I’d have been judged harshly.’ She watched as the wren darted up to a low branch, gave one hard peck, then came down again with a wriggling morsel in her beak. ‘They seem like good men, but …’ It was too hard to finish that sentence. They were good men; deep down she knew it. ‘Only, under enough pressure even a good man or woman can give away secrets,’ she added. ‘And the Ruler knows how to apply pressure.’ She shivered, releasing his hand to wrap her arms around herself.

‘Up,’ said Lukas, pointing ahead to the point where forest once more gave way to steep rocky rise. ‘Let’s get to the top of that and then take a break.’

Again, she understood the unspoken message . And for now, we’ll stop talking about the whole messy situation.

It was a steep climb. No question of talking; all their effort went into hauling their bodies up the rock face, finding the next safe hand- or foothold, sucking in another breath. Not a race; that was something they might have tried in the past, on a safer climb, in the time before. Before the Commander came to the settlement; before their world turned upside down. They reached the top more or less together and found a secure spot to stand, not too near the edge. Flip had perched not far off, in a little tree that clung to the rock, its roots in a crack that seemed too narrow to sustain any life at all. But there it was, a strange thing with heart-shaped leaves that were almost silver in colour, and branches that curved curiously, as if not quite sure which way to grow.

‘It does feel as if we’ve moved into somewhere … different,’ Stasya said.

Lukas was gazing back down the mountain. ‘We wouldn’t see Pavel from here,’ he said, as if he had not heard her. ‘Even if he was wearing something bright, something that would stand out. The trees block out almost everything.’

‘Maybe from higher up? We need an idea of the best way on.’ Higher up would mean further into the part of the mountain that was different, Stasya thought. The place might change again, and they’d walk off a cliff or fall down a ravine or find themselves at the bottom of a lake. Some signs meant, Yes, this is the way . Some meant, Flee or perish . In the tales, travellers in Heartwood Forest tended to die at the hand of monsters, be driven mad by ghosts, vanish without a trace. Or return home changed beyond recognition, unfit for the world as they’d known it. What did the Hermit hold for them: the wise woman stretching out her hands in welcome, or the knives and the blood, the terror and the fury?

‘Perhaps a bit higher,’ Lukas said, and for a moment she couldn’t remember what they’d been talking about. He sounded less than enthusiastic. ‘Take too long and we’ll have Aleksis thinking he’s lost us too. I think if we go that way,’ he pointed north-eastward, ‘there might be a spot where it flattens out for a bit. We might get a clearer idea of the lie of the land up ahead. That would help you decide on a route when we all move on. Don’t you think?’

‘Sounds good. Let’s just sit here awhile first and enjoy the quiet.’

They settled as comfortably as they could. Flip stayed in bird form, hopping from stone to stone, perhaps seeking out insects.

‘Stasya?’

‘Mmm?’

‘Why didn’t you choose to go out with one of the others this time? Why me?’

‘We’re the best team for this. Especially after what happened before, with Karolis.’

‘What, because we know how to move safely through the forest? What happened was something completely different. I’d have had no idea what to do. There’s something strange and evil here, just like in the tales.’

‘I can’t explain what it is, Lukas, nor why I did what I did. It was risky. I couldn’t know what would happen. But … I think there’s a power here that wants us to find the right way. And another that wants to stop us. You and I know the forest. We respect it and understand it, as much as a man or woman can. And the forest knows us. The others may be well-meaning, but they’re strangers in this place, and … because of that, they don’t have the full trust of that good power.’

‘What about Aleksis? He’s been here before. If you believe the story.’

‘As a child. Not far into the forest, and not for long. And he made a bad choice.’

‘And now all of us are paying for that bad choice.’ Lukas’s tone was bitter. ‘What chance is there, really, of finding any trace of this lost boy? The man’s lost sight of what is reasonable.’

‘He drove all of us too hard today, yes. And I agree the chances of tracking down Markus are slim. I was surprised the reason for being here wasn’t something grander. He spoke to me once about making the Northlands a better place.’

‘Stasya?’

‘Mmm?’

‘Say we go up there, all the way to the Hermit, and Markus isn’t there, and nor is anyone else. Just the five of us, with hardly any supplies left. Say that against the odds we make it safely back down, all the way to Sweetwater. What happens then?’

‘I can’t answer that,’ Stasya said. ‘If he’s been telling us the truth, then doing this will mean he’s lost his trusted position at court. And the Ruler will be angry. He defied her orders, he took us away, meaning she couldn’t use me for her own purposes. And … the Commander will still be in Heartwood, as far as we know.’

‘I should be there,’ Lukas said. There was an unsettling edge to his voice now, like the first hint of a storm. ‘They need me. Even though Pavel said Father is well, even if things have settled down a bit, that man has done terrible damage. He’s evil. He’s a curse on the place. I should be there.’

‘I understand. But be sensible, Lukas. If he’s still in the settlement, the moment he learned you’d come back he’d target you. Pump you for information. Hurt you, as he did before. And …’ She hesitated, seeing the grim look on his face.

‘And what?’

‘If you go back, you put your family at risk. The Commander might use them to force the truth out of you. Your loved ones could be hurt. And you’d put all of us at risk too. If you refused to speak, you’d probably end up dead. That’s the way the man does things.’

Lukas picked up a pebble and threw it with some violence over the drop. ‘You can’t understand,’ he said. ‘You have no family. You can’t know how it feels.’

Stasya blinked back sudden tears. She rose to her feet. ‘Let’s move on,’ she said. ‘We’ll try this way you suggested.’ And she thought, We can’t afford to spend time making each other feel bad. But she did not say it. To keep going required faith in the mission. It required heart. Perhaps, for that, a person only needed to believe in their companions. If men like Matiss and Karolis had faith in Aleksis and his quest, that had to be worth something. If Pavel, to start with at least, had been prepared to put his loved ones at risk in order to support Aleks, that meant a great deal. Pavel was gone now, and they might never know what had happened to him. That made it all the more important to see this through.

The two of them went on. The silence was full of things unspoken. Full of what had been between them and what might have been. Higher up there was open ground and a track that might have been used by wild goats, weaving between rocky outcrops and a scattering of hardy trees. Here and there a tall larch stood, majestic against the sky, as if guarding the land around it. Flip kept pace, flying from tree to tree, coming down occasionally to drink from puddles left by the recent storm. Stasya tried to banish the troublesome thoughts. She would have liked to say, You are my family. But that would have been neither accurate nor fair. Lukas felt like family; he had from early times. Like a brother, only not quite. But he wasn’t blood kin, and she would never have a place in his family. Both of them knew it, though they never talked about it. And even if things changed at Heartwood and she went back to her cottage and her old life, Lukas was sure to marry soon. She doubted his wife would approve of a close friendship between her new husband and the village outsider.

Maybe the only answer was to retreat into the forest, build herself some sort of shelter, become a hermit. She imagined herself clad in garments woven from leaves and grasses with her hair a wild nest, walking barefoot under the trees, seeking wisdom in still pools or the smoke of a tiny campfire, and when humankind came close, hiding away like a wild creature. It had a certain appeal. But in practical terms, it was unlikely. In the settlement she had an understanding with ordinary folk. Work hard, make yourself useful, earn your keep in food and other necessities. Be treated fairly, if somewhat warily. And in the case of certain people like Farmer Vidas, receive some respect, because those folk saw that what made her different also made her valuable. She hoped Vidas was safe, and Kiril. She hoped everyone was safe. If by some miracle the Commander withdrew his men from Heartwood, maybe the folk who were left would not be too damaged to set things to rights. Maybe they would be stronger than before. But they’d need leaders. People who could set an example; people others would be glad to follow. Irina was gone. But Jurgis could be one of these leaders. Lukas, in time, would be another. If the Commander left. If things changed. If, if, if …

‘There,’ Lukas said, coming to a halt. ‘What do you think?’

The rain had ceased. From this point they could see a fair way ahead, though not once had there been even a faraway glimpse of the mountaintop and its crowning rock formation. But a route forward suggested itself, at least as far as what looked like a broad flat area perhaps housing a mountain tarn, for a stream flowed down from there, bouncing over the rocks in a series of miniature waterfalls. Many birds flew above that place, dipping down, rising up, winging off and away. A flock of swallows. Higher up, Stasya thought she saw a hawk hovering. ‘Fresh water,’ she said. ‘Fish, I expect. And …’ It was another sign. Unless she was imagining things.

Flip left her shoulder, flying upward. Too late to say danger . Too late to do anything but hold her breath and hope. The flock turned and turned in the sky, a marvellous skein of feather and bone and beating heart. Flip was lost somewhere within it, but Stasya could feel the rhythm and swirl of this dance in her own body. Flip was full of joy, bursting with the thrill of freedom, and at the same time safe within the unity of her tribe. No longer closed off, no longer timid or fearful or uneasy, Flip was home.

‘Stasya?’

Lukas had said something, and she’d been so wrapped up in those sensations that she’d missed it. He was looking at her strangely.

‘What?’ The elation drained quickly from her body. In the sky above them the flock was no longer making patterns, but dispersing, some flying this way, some that. She wondered if Flip might not come back. If, like Pavel, she would disappear without trace. If she lost Flip, she would lose part of herself.

‘You looked as if you were somewhere else,’ Lukas said. ‘Are you all right?’

Before she needed to answer, there was a small whoosh of wings, and Flip was on her shoulder. Stasya felt again that wondrous sense of being both free and safe. Had she ever truly felt that way before? Perhaps; but only long ago, when she’d been too young to know what a precious gift it was. ‘Thank you,’ she whispered to the bird, who responded by pecking her gently on the ear, as if to say, You’re welcome, silly.

Lukas was waiting for an answer.

‘I’m fine,’ she said, thinking how pale he looked. Was he standing a little crooked, as if in pain? ‘Getting tired, that’s all. Maybe we should head back.’ She wouldn’t ask him about that troublesome burn; better to have a discreet word with Karolis when they returned to camp.

Lukas was frowning. ‘We should go up as far as the lake, if that’s what it is,’ he said. ‘Get a feel for the track. Then report back and hope Aleksis agrees to go this way. Come on, Stasya. It’s not like you to be so cautious.’

She shut her mouth over the words, Are we arguing again? ‘That’s a fair climb,’ she said instead. ‘Aleks will take our advice on this, surely.’

‘Mmm.’ His face gave nothing away. ‘What if he wants more from us? From you? What if being here is stopping us from doing the things we should be doing?’

Like going back to Heartwood and getting ourselves killed. She didn’t say it. ‘I’m heading back down now, Lukas. I’m too tired to climb any further. And there’s no point in trying to guess what Aleks wants, apart from finding out what happened to his lost friend.’ As she spoke, she turned and headed back. She didn’t like the way he was moving. And she didn’t much care for the way he was talking. He sounded almost angry. What it meant she had no idea, but getting him back to camp seemed important.

It took them longer than it should have to get down. The steepest parts were a trial. Stasya insisted on going first, though if Lukas lost his grip, there’d be no way she could stop him from falling. She thought of the climbs they’d done back at Heartwood, in old times: the two of them joking, laughing even as they put themselves to tests whose peril they scarcely thought of. They’d been so full of delight and confidence. They’d been lucky in each other. Perfect friends. She tried not to think of that vision: someone falling, falling.

By the time they reached the foot of the steepest pitch, Lukas couldn’t hide his weariness, an exhaustion that was out of proportion to the effort they’d made. They stood there a few moments, not speaking. Lukas had a hand out against the rock wall, as if he could not stand upright without support.

‘Sit. Breathe.’ Stasya got out her water skin. That Lukas obeyed her without question was another sign all was not well. She drank, handed him the skin, waited without saying more. Flip found a perch nearby.

‘Dizzy. Sorry.’ Lukas put his head down on his knees. His voice sounded odd, distant, as if he might be close to losing consciousness.

‘Just sit quietly for a while.’ And then what? She’d seen that look on someone before, an older man from the village who’d been stricken with chest pains while unloading sacks of grain from a cart. So pale his face looked almost grey. Unable to stand straight; his voice like that of a ghost. The next thing had been a complete collapse. The man had died later that day. She wouldn’t let that happen to Lukas. So what to do? Leave him here, get quickly down to the others and fetch help? No. Two would be out searching, only one on watch in the shelter. She couldn’t leave Lukas on his own. If only she could send Flip with a message. Not possible. But …

‘Can you hear me, Lukas?’

‘Mmm.’

He was still conscious, at least. Stasya reached out to Flip, sending her a mind-picture of Lukas in pain, unable to walk; then an image of him at the shelter, with Karolis applying a poultice to the troublesome burn, and Matiss offering a cup of tea. What do I do, Flip? I need to get him there safely.

She might have known what Flip’s answer would be. Stasya had carried Lukas before, across her shoulders, when they were testing their strength on a long-ago walk in the forest. Each could carry the other’s weight. Lukas was strong from handling the goats, and Stasya from a myriad of tasks on folk’s farms. In Flip’s mind-picture Stasya heaved Lukas up across her shoulders without any apparent effort and strode with confidence down the track. It was an image from an old, heroic story, not reality. Still, she could do it, if not with quite the same grace and ease. Flip let out a chirp, then sent another image: the little bird winging her way down toward the shelter, a messenger travelling ahead as Stasya bore her friend to safety.

‘Good,’ Stasya whispered. For Flip would need neither words nor mind-pictures to pass on a message asking for help or suggesting urgency. Her bird-voice, her fluttering wings would speak for her. At the very least, it would warn Aleksis that something was amiss.

Lukas was reluctant at first, mumbling that he was too heavy, that she should just leave him. But he did not fight her when she got into position to manoeuvre him up. ‘No talking from now on,’ she said. ‘I’ll need all my breath for the job.’ Just as well they’d carried little apart from the water skin, which she could hang from her belt. She was about to lift him when the tale of the boy called Amber and his healing talisman came to her: the tale she had told Lady Elisabeta in what now felt like a different life, though it had not been so very long ago. ‘Here,’ she said, and reached to unclip the chain that held the amber owl. She fastened it around Lukas’s neck, her hands brushing against his curly hair, which was now almost down to his shoulders and more than a little wild.

‘But—’

‘Ssh. I’ll take it back when we’re safe. Now give me a bit of help if you can. Arm around my shoulder and one … two … three.’

It was a long way. She was close to giving up a few times, her back fiery with pain, her steps less steady than she’d have liked. Maybe she’d misread the signs: the little cairn, the joyous dance of birds that had so captured Flip’s heart. Perhaps they’d been messages of warning. You are entering another realm. Be prepared for everything to change. It was easy to believe. Since the Commander came to Heartwood, their lives had been all change. Don’t die, Lukas, she willed him, pausing to shift her stance a little, to balance his weight more evenly. Heartwood needs you. She gritted her teeth and walked on. No sign of Flip; no knowing if she had delivered any kind of message.

As she drew near the last steep descent, with her strength ebbing fast, there was a cry of birds above her, and she saw the flock winging across, circling, dipping, rising. She stopped in her tracks, with Lukas still balanced on her shoulders. Then, as gently as she could, she squatted down and eased him onto the ground. He murmured something. It made no sense, but that didn’t matter. For now, coming up toward them, she saw a sturdy figure, and then another. Matiss. Karolis. Stasya found herself smiling through exhausted tears. Never mind that the two of them, and Lukas, resembled hairy monsters from a tale, for all the men now wore unkempt beards, and they would no doubt look even shaggier by the time they reached the Hermit. If they reached the Hermit …

Karolis was examining Lukas, speaking to him in a low voice, looking into his eyes. Matiss crouched down beside Stasya, who was sitting on the ground now. ‘Well done,’ he said quietly. ‘We’ll need Aleks, too, if we’re to get him down to the shelter. One of us will go back.’

‘No, wait,’ she said. ‘Just give me a bit of time.’ Perhaps it was risky, but common sense said the risk was worth taking. The day was passing, Lukas was ashen and barely conscious, and she judged herself to be almost too tired to climb safely down the rest of the way. Almost. She could do it. But … She reached out to Flip with her thoughts, and saw one bird detach itself from the flock, flying down to perch nearby, not so close as to draw attention. She showed Flip an image of Aleks alone in the shelter, gazing up toward them, though he would not be able to see them. She showed Flip flying down there and returning with Aleks; then the three men manoeuvring Lukas down the drop and carrying him to the shelter in a makeshift sling made from blankets, with herself walking along behind, the bird on her shoulder. It was only when Flip arose from the stunted tree where she was perched and flew off that Stasya blinked and became suddenly aware that both Matiss and Karolis were staring at her with some fascination. ‘She’ll bring Aleks,’ she said. ‘I think.’

Matiss grinned with apparent appreciation. Karolis gave a solemn nod. ‘Good. The three of us should be able to get him down safely. And you.’

‘I’m all right to do it.’

‘No doubt you are,’ Matiss said. ‘But allow us a little concern, will you? You’ve just done a mighty walk carrying a man’s full weight. That takes a toll even on the fittest of bodies.’

Stasya found herself smiling back, tired and sore though she was. ‘Sometimes you simply have to keep going,’ she said.

—

While the other two tended to Lukas in the shelter, Stasya told Aleksis about the terrain they’d seen, the lake higher up, the clearer ground. A suitable path forward. He listened without much comment, busying himself with building up the fire and warming water. Karolis washed and dried the burned area on Lukas’s side, then surprised Stasya by asking her to come and offer an opinion.

She was no expert on such things. But she’d seen plenty of injuries while working on the farms, burns included. She’d seen already the toll his time at Dragon’s Keep had taken on Lukas’s body, on top of the damage done when he rescued his father from the fire. Living at such close quarters, it had been hard not to see. He’d be scarred for life. A man could live with scars. But this burn, which had been the slowest to heal, was now inflamed to the point of looking raw, with red streaks spreading out beyond the original wound. There were ill humours in it, without a doubt.

‘It’s impossible to keep up a supply of clean dry bandages,’ Karolis said, his voice held carefully calm. ‘Pity there are no spare shirts to tear up.’

‘Mmm.’ Lukas was still conscious, if barely. He’d probably hear whatever they said; she must match Karolis’s control. ‘Perhaps something different for the poultice? Coltsfoot, if it grows somewhere nearby? Blackberry leaves?’

The questions hung in silence. They must all know Lukas would not be able to go on for several days at least. He was lying with his head on a folded cloak and his eyes closed. Karolis was unrolling a length of linen, perhaps the last clean supply. Matiss gathered the old bandage and the shirt Lukas had been wearing, adding them to a heap of items to be rinsed out and hung by the fire to dry. Aleksis wasn’t saying a thing. As for Flip, she was back in dog form, and looking as if she intended to curl up by Lukas’s side for a nap.

‘No, Flip,’ Stasya said aloud, and sent her a mind-picture of Lukas sleeping alone, while Flip herself lay on someone else’s bedding. But her mind soon moved to a different matter. All the men were here; it was quiet. And she had something to say.

‘I think we have to give up searching for Pavel. We’re exhausting ourselves when the chance of finding him is slight. We need to let Lukas rest and recover for however long it takes, and then move on. What happened earlier tells me there’s truth in those old tales about the forest and the Hermit. There could be more nasty surprises, tricks that couldn’t happen out in the world we’re used to. I see things in visions sometimes, in the fire or in the water, and not all of them are good. There have been signs on the way up, some of them telling us we’re on the right track, and some warning us off. I know it sounds crazy. That’s why I didn’t say anything for a while. But we can’t ignore those signs.’

‘Real life can be crazy,’ observed Matiss, looking around at the others. ‘Crazy and wild. A surprise at every turn, and not all of them good ones. Stasya, how do you tell the difference between good signs and bad ones?’

‘I can’t, not really. It’s more a … a feeling. What happened to Karolis and me … there’s no doubt at all that was a warning. We could have died. I used to see the good signs back at Clearwater sometimes, before all this began. I took those to mean that someone recognised Lukas and me as friends of the forest.’

Nobody said a word.

‘We need to be careful. Not only of the Ruler’s people coming after us. Careful of the mountain and its secrets. Watchful. Respectful.’

Aleksis spoke at last. ‘If the mountain is going to welcome anyone, surely it will be you, Stasya.’

His simple words, spoken with unusual feeling, robbed her of the ability to say a thing. Her face felt hot, and her heart was performing a strange little dance.

‘He’s right,’ said Matiss. ‘The land knows you as a friend, I think, despite what happened earlier. Whether that carries over to the rest of us, as your companions, remains to be seen. I see Lukas is wearing your amber owl, Stasya. That was generous of you.’

Not generous, Stasya thought. Only common sense. If there was a chance an amber token could help folk heal, it made sense for Lukas to wear hers now. She missed it; she would rather have kept it close, its small presence warmed by her body. ‘Mmm,’ she said, avoiding further discussion.

After another silence, Matiss asked, ‘Tea, everyone? And then I’ll wash these things. Might be the last chance for a while.’