Chapter 39 Stasya
39
Stasya
The days passed, the weather warmed and the new poultices worked their own kind of magic. Maybe the amber owl played a part. Though not entirely his old self, Lukas recovered well enough to go on, though he still tired quickly, slowing their progress. The increasingly steep terrain was an added challenge.
It grew harder to find adequate shelter, and there were some uncomfortable nights. Flip was restless again, changing her form when there seemed no real need for it, or flying one way then the other as if unable to decide which would be safer or quicker. Stasya could get nothing useful from her. By night, in her dog form, she pressed close against Stasya under the blanket, sometimes waking with a start, sometimes whimpering in her sleep.
As they climbed higher, Stasya saw more and more signs. Stones balanced in ways that seemed unnatural. Long, spindly grasses whose leaves were woven into patterns even as their roots held fast to the hard ground. A flat leaf holding a tiny harvest of berries that must have come from lower down, for the terrain they were crossing now was a place of bald stone, treacherous gravel and a few spiky bushes. She did not eat the berries, tempting as they were; they were clearly set out as an offering to some god or spirit.
Here and there were hollows, places where a creature might snatch a rest or hide from birds of prey. And there were mountain goats, strong and nimble. Lukas proved his worth the first time they encountered the creatures. Aleksis was in the lead with Lukas behind him. Their path wound through a defile with steep rock walls on either side, and as they rounded a bend, there in front of them was an animal so formidable they stopped dead. The goat lowered his head as he saw them, as if to charge forward and skewer Aleksis on his horns. Backing up was not an option; Stasya was right behind Lukas, the others behind her, and the look in the goat’s eyes was not one of retreat.
‘Duck.’ Lukas spoke in an urgent undertone. ‘Now.’ As Aleksis did so, Lukas drew a deep breath and raised his voice in a call that took Stasya right back to past times, when he was working the goats through the gate. A long, strong note sliding up to a higher-pitched cry: ‘Ooooo-up! Ooooo-up!’
A goatherd has his own magic, even if the goats in question live wild and free on a mountain. Stasya understood that, but she still watched in wonder as Lukas gestured, holding both hands up in the air, palms forward, then making a pushing motion above the crouching Aleks’s head. This held the goat briefly still. Lukas seized the moment to edge past the other man and stand directly facing the animal. He gave the cry again, this time in a more insistent tone. ‘Ooooo-up!’
The goat tried the lowered head once more, showing this upstart man how splendid and sharp his horns were, but Lukas held his ground, feet slightly apart, head high, back straight, hands making the order clear: That way. Stasya found herself counting silently. One, two, three …
The goat backed up, demonstrating the considerable skill such animals have on mountain tracks. As the creature ceded ground, taking its time, Lukas moved forward step by careful step, with the others following: Aleksis, Stasya, Karolis, and Matiss as rear guard. By the time they had emerged from the defile the creature was nowhere to be seen. Stasya did not pause to think but threw her arms around Lukas in a hug. ‘Well done!’ she said. Then, suddenly aware that all eyes were on them, she stepped back, releasing him. His cheeks were flushed. She must have embarrassed him. For a moment, she had forgotten that the easy trust between them no longer existed.
‘Thank you, Lukas,’ Aleksis said. ‘I think you just saved my life.’
‘Or at least your pretty face,’ put in Matiss. ‘That was a fine set of horns.’
Lukas made no comment, save for a nod of acknowledgement.
‘Goat magic,’ said Karolis. ‘Remarkable. How did you know the creature wouldn’t flip you over its head and leave you in a mangled heap?’
That got a smile from Lukas. ‘I didn’t,’ he said. ‘But it works with the goats at home, so I thought I might as well try it.’
‘Well done, friend.’ Karolis gave him a comradely slap on the shoulder.
‘I would answer, Any time, friend . But I’m hoping there won’t be another time. With luck, he’ll spread the word that we’re not to be meddled with.’
They moved on with Stasya in the lead, picking out a route in an area of broken rocks, sudden dips and rises, and increasingly narrow pathways. One foot placed wrong, and a person might fall so far there would be no coming back. After some time, a solitary larch came into sight, a towering giant of a tree standing atop a rise. Stasya halted, gazing up at it without speaking. A sentinel. A marker. Provided it was not like that place where she and Karolis had found themselves facing a different world.
‘Up there,’ she said. ‘There should be a useful view ahead.’
Flip responded instantly, becoming a bird and flying away to alight high in the larch. Oh, for a pair of wings. They could have completed this weary journey in a single day.
At the top of the rise they halted under the great tree, silenced by the sight before them. Ahead – miles ahead – was a still higher peak, crowned with a rock formation that could only be the Hermit. It was of remarkable size and steepness, and it wore a robe of green. There were pines up there, and summer-leafed trees as well, though Stasya was not sure what kind they were.
The end was in sight at last. But a formidable challenge lay ahead. The terrain dipped again, narrowing to a ridgeway barely broad enough for one person to walk along. To one side the land dropped away to bare rock, fissured and cracked; a fall onto this would be certain death. To the other side the slope held here and there a tenacious bush or small clinging tree. Around these was a nightmare of small stones on which even a sure-footed mountain goat would be hard put to find a purchase. A fall to that side might not instantly kill a traveller, but climbing back up would be near-impossible. The ridgeway ran for some thirty paces before it broadened. On the other side there would be room for their whole group. And from that point it was not far to the next tract of forest.
Thirty paces. It might as well be thirty miles.
Matiss muttered an oath. Karolis scratched his beard, a sure sign that even he, the fittest of them all, was uneasy. Lukas stood quiet, arms folded, his face revealing nothing. Stasya glanced at Aleksis, saw that he had gone sheet-white, and looked quickly away. He’s scared of heights, she thought, remembering his account of the day Markus went missing and the impossible ledge.
There was something on the ground by her feet. She crouched down to examine it. Twigs. Feathers. Stones. This was no random scattering of bits and pieces. It was a pattern.
‘It’s a warning,’ she said, rising to her feet. ‘Something like, proceed at your own peril. I hate to say this, but it looks almost too risky.’ Gods, what if this had to be done with one’s eyes closed? How could she possibly ask that of them?
‘It’s doable. Keep moving steadily. Look ahead, not down.’ Lukas sounded remarkably calm.
‘Arms out to the sides for balance. Don’t forget to breathe.’ Karolis was already adjusting his pack to sit more securely.
Matiss looked doubtful. ‘Would it be worth backtracking, Aleks? Stasya? This surely can’t be the only way in and out from the Hermit. I don’t like the look of it at all.’
‘I’m sure there are other ways,’ Stasya said. ‘But finding them might well mean going all the way back and starting again.’ She glanced at Aleks. ‘That would be inviting a different kind of trouble, yes?’
‘We can’t go back,’ he said. ‘Not now.’ Something in his tone clutched at Stasya’s heart, but there was nothing she could say.
Matiss cleared his throat. ‘There’s a mist coming in,’ he observed. ‘If we’re going on, we should move now. We should cross this thing at least, then if we can’t see far enough ahead, there’s room on the other side to bunker down and wait for it to clear.’
‘Who’s for trying this?’ Aleksis asked.
One by one, slowly, they all put their hands up. Karolis; Lukas; Matiss; Stasya. No backing out now. ‘Right. Have a drink and check your gear is secure. Karolis, you should take the lead.’
She had to speak. ‘Aleks. I should go first. And you need to follow my instructions, all of you, no matter what I say. This may be a … a different sort of place.’
Silence from the men. Nobody challenged her. Stasya looked up into the tree but saw no sign of Flip. She made a mind-picture of the little bird flying straight across the ridgeway, finding a secure perch, and waiting until they were all safely over. There was no response. Was that a bad sign? Wouldn’t Flip warn her if she was walking into danger? Or had she flown on elsewhere while nobody was looking? No time to ponder.
‘All ready?’ She tried to keep her voice calm and confident.
‘Ready.’
Karolis had taken the position behind her; then came Aleksis, Matiss and Lukas at the rear. Look straight ahead , she told herself. It’s not so far. She stepped out onto the narrow path.
They were halfway over when the mist came down around them, blanketing the land below and ahead, swirling as if with a mind of its own. Matiss cursed; Karolis made some sort of reply, his tone calm. Just keep walking, she told herself. It shouldn’t be hard.
A voice came from the mist, making her wobble. Then a hand, brushing her face, chill as the depths of winter. Another voice, another touch, words in a language unknown to her, but the meaning was clear: Help us! Traveller, help us in our trouble! Save us from despair! Or die as we did, broken and bloody on the mountain! The fingers again, pulling at her clothing, poking at her face. An illusion, it had to be, it was all in her mind. She mustn’t think of falling—
A sharp clap of hands behind her, as one of her comrades tried to scare something off. The sound echoed strangely. Matiss cursed again. And now, within the swirls and waves of thickening mist she saw them: men, or the shadows of men, for they were surely no longer living. Their eyes were hollow, empty. Their limbs were spindly, their hands long-fingered, like claws reaching for her.
‘Halt!’ she shouted, struggling to stay upright. The beings were all around her. Help us! they wailed. As they plucked at her garments, threatening her balance, their shrill pleas made her heart ache. We can never leave this place! Endless sorrow is ours. Help us or fall and shed your lifeblood as we did! Through shifting shreds of mist, she glimpsed them far below in the ravine, their once-strong bodies now no more than shattered bones and staring skulls: the dreadful aftermath of some long-ago conflict. Yet at the same time they were here beside her, sobbing, screaming, a cacophony of woeful voices. They called for their wives, their mothers, their sweethearts, and there was nobody to answer them.
What use your hearth magic now? You cannot even save yourself! A bony arm reached around her waist. This was no dead warrior, but something old and dark and sinister.
‘Don’t touch me!’ she gasped out as her gut churned with terror. She squeezed her eyes shut, clapped her hands over her ears, felt her legs turn to jelly … Why couldn’t she be strong?
A shout went through her like a blow. Matiss, falling. Lukas crying out, the sound cut off abruptly. She forced her eyes open. Made herself turn, just in time to see Aleks toppling over the edge, enveloped by a figure all mist and shadows. ‘No!’ she yelled. ‘Stop!’ Her heart was racing, her throat tight with horror. ‘Karolis! Lukas! Are you there?’
Nothing but the mist. She was all alone. Alone, save for … Jump, something said, deep in her mind. Go on, jump. A rock-hard hand touched her back, as if preparing to push. Get it over quickly, hearth witch. Your kind is not welcome here.
Even as she fought for balance, even as shock and grief tore at her, something flared to life inside her, burning bright. Help us , they’d pleaded. And she could, despite everything. Even though she could no longer see them, hear them. They were here. She could reach them. And … even in the darkest place, there had to be hope. Flowers blooming after a winter storm. Young oaks growing up around the fallen Ancestor. Aleks, oh gods, Aleks, holding onto the fragile thread of hope because of a story … Lukas following her into this place of peril …
She stretched out her arms again, ignoring the touch of the malign hand. Fought to slow her breathing, imagined the Mother watching over her, and opened her mind fully to the lost ones. ‘I hear you!’ she called aloud, making mind-pictures for them as she spoke. ‘I honour your loss! In the world of the living, your loved ones remember you! They weep for your passing, they tell tales of your brave life and your sacrifice! Your children tell your story. Your community celebrates your courage! You were kind fathers, loyal brothers, faithful sweethearts, loving sons. Be at peace now!’ One last mind-picture, a mother’s arms around her son, a tear shed in acknowledgement of his pain … ‘They love and honour you, brave hearts. You will never be forgotten.’
Her own tears were coming fast now, threatening to blind her even as the mist thinned to wisps and the ground was once more visible beneath her feet. Above her a solitary bird flew, but the ridgeway was empty. They had fallen, all of them. A great sob burst from her. Gone, lost, her friends, her comrades … Let yourself fall, came the voice from behind her. Make it quick, why suffer? Join your foolish companions. Pay your fee.
‘I will pay you no fee! I am a friend of the forest, sworn to protect and preserve it!’ She hardly recognised her own voice; it had become iron-strong. She would not give up. Not even after this. If she was the last one left, it was for her to complete the mission. And … if she could speak to those things, those departed souls, if in this strange realm the landscape could change in the blink of an eye, maybe, just maybe, hope could work a magic of its own.
One step at a time. That being was still present, vile, threatening. She could feel it behind her. With all her fading strength, she reached out to Flip again. Help!
Sunlight struck down through the last shreds of mist, golden bright, and across the sky flew a great bird, crow-like in shape. This was no creature of flesh and feathers, but a thing of bones and air. Its eyes carried the light; it opened its beak to release, not a cawing sound, but a strange kind of music, a song whose message was clear: Come! Come with me! A swirling mass of spectral beings arose from the depths and followed the crow as it flew over the ridgeway as if in a farewell display, then away across the great forest of Heartwood. Stasya heard something collapse behind her, as if into fragments of bone. She watched the flying dance of ghosts until she could no longer see them, then made herself walk, one shaky step at a time, to the other side of the ridgeway. She took off her pack; turned and made herself look back, hoping for a miracle. Sunlight still illuminated the narrow pathway, but nobody was there.