The Second Bell

by Gabriela Houston

  Salka looked at Dola blankly. “Why didn’t you just say that before? I could have left sooner. You didn’t have to give me the potion at all! If I’d gone before, then Munu would still be alive!”

  “But you wouldn’t be.” Dola looked back at Salka. “You can’t control it as well as you think you can. Not yet. You couldn’t hide it, and if you used it to defend yourself, you’d be as likely to kill your attacker as yourself. And I don’t have you counted as a cold-blooded killer either. How would you live with yourself if you saw your shadow pull the life out of a man? Not being able to stop it? And it would happen, sooner or later. You wouldn’t be safe anywhere in the Heyne Mountains. The humans would kill you on sight. And if the strigas got you… Tell me, girl, have you seen a striga have her other heart burnt out?”

  Salka shook her head.

  “The entire village gathers round and uses a tiny bit of their second hearts. The strigas that are deemed to have crossed the line into becoming stigois will have their second heart turned to ash inside their chests. Most of them survive, that much is true. They live, for a time, but a sad life it is indeed. They have no understanding, no feeling left in them. No strength. That’s what would have happened to you. A kindness, strigas call it. Far better to be half a human than a stigoi.”

  “Markus was banished… Nobody hurt him.”

  Dola looked at Salka sadly and opened her mouth as if she was going to say something, then shut it again. “He was not like you, love. He only just began exploring his powers. His shadow was no greater than that of the older strigas. Even Alma’s second heart is stronger than his was. But she is old and will not get much stronger before she dies. Markus was young. And the road he set upon would have eventually led him to where you are now.”

  Salka looked at the fire and gently stroked something lying in her lap with her thumb. It was a feather, woven into a necklace.

  “Did you see it? My shadow, I mean? In your visions? How did you know how bad it was?”

  Dola stroked her belly with her swollen hands. “My visions are my own, girl. I tell you what you need to know. Today I came down to the village to tell you that you won’t be safe here for much longer. Keep taking the potion, for now, and get ready to leave. Stay here a day or two at the most. When the trouble comes, you don’t want to be here to greet it. And when you’re ready, come to my house.”

  “I’ve never been to your house,” Salka said.

  “A doubtful honor,” Dola smiled. “Walk eastward, only turning north at the boulder marking the edge of the striga forest. I’ll help you.”

  “What about my mother?” Salka asked.

  Dola got up from the bed. The movement clearly caused her discomfort and she winced when her feet touched the ground. She rubbed her lower back and said, “You must decide for yourself, I think.” She left the house and nodded briefly at Miriat, evading the questions Salka’s mother would have likely showered her with, and turned towards home.

  Dola leaned against a tree. It was a long walk to the striga village. Far too long for her heavy belly and the swollen legs which made every step torturous. She stroked her stomach and ground her teeth as shame threatened to temporarily overwhelm her. It would be worth it in the end. A sharp pain ran across her back and around her hips. She sucked in the cold air greedily, as if it could take the place of the pain.

  She knew what had to be done. Shame was of no use to her now. No use at all.

  CHAPTER 26

  Dran woke up early that morning, some sweet dream bringing a smile onto his face even before he shook the last of the sleep off. His first thought was of Salka: the way she had laced her fingers together behind his neck, and how warm her breath had felt on his collarbone as she leaned into him for comfort.

  He’d felt strong then, for a moment. Strong and healthy – as he should have been. He could weep at the memory of it. But that was then, and today he was himself again. He gritted his teeth as pain shot up his leg.

  It was not the time to ask her, it really wasn’t. He could feel a knot of shame in his chest as he thought of what he needed from her. But it was not the time to delay either.

  What if he asked her and she never again looked at him like she did yesterday?

  When he opened the door, the crisp morning air brought blood to his cheeks. He thought about bringing a small gift for Salka, something to comfort her. He decided against it.

  He walked towards Miriat’s house, his leg dragging. He knew once he warmed up, it would work better again, but he struggled through the mornings. He saw Dola leaving Miriat’s house, and he stepped into the shadow underneath the eaves of Trina’s hut. Ever since Markus, he studiously avoided Dola, lest she looked at him with her witch eye and saw the truth of what he’d done. He thought himself well hidden, but as Dola passed him, she pierced him with a look that chilled him to the bone. You know nothing, he reassured himself as he matched her gaze with his own. But then she was gone, and he was left standing alone, waiting for Salka to come out of her house.

  At long last she did, leading out her lamb for grazing. Dran looked around and walked up to her, his hands in his pockets to hide their shaking. “Good morning, Salka. How are you feeling?” he asked.

  Salka looked up at him, as if she couldn’t quite place him for a moment. “I’m well,” she said, her eyes on the ground, as she walked past him.

  Dran frowned. It was not the welcome he’d hoped for. “I was worried about you,” he said, catching up with her. “Would it be all right if I accompanied you today?”

  Salka looked at him askance, then blushed. The previous night she had allowed herself to be comforted by Dran. The morning saw her regretting her weakness. He scared and attracted her in equal measure. She ventured a look at his face again. It was handsome, for sure. His eyes slanted delicately, giving his face a cat-like aspect. In spite of the confidence he exuded, he was still new to manhood, and his chin had only the faintest shadow of a beard on it.

  She looked down as he met her eyes. When he looked at her, she thought she saw a tenderness that went beyond the careless bluster and ostentatious flirtation he had displayed with Emila. He looked at her now and smiled sadly, as if her silence caused him physical discomfort.

  Once they passed the gate, she said, “Thank you for your kindness yesterday.” She felt she could talk freely only outside the village walls.

  He nodded. “Losing a friend, that’s a hard thing. Still…” He reached out and clasped Salka’s hand, causing heat to rush all the way up her neck and to the roots of her black curls. “A new friend, though he can’t replace one lost, can make things easier? Let me help, Salka. I hope you can learn to trust me.”

  Salka nodded and walked for a while holding his hand, not wishing to offend him. It felt cold to the touch. In the end, he drew his hand away, as if sensing her discomfort. She wanted to tell him about Dola’s earlier visit, but she didn’t dare. Even a heart as lonely as hers would not let itself be hurried too much. So instead she said, “What will happen now?”

  “Well,” Dran said. “We need to speak with my mother. Pike will be punished, though perhaps not as severely as she would have been, had you not nearly mauled her to death.” Dran smiled good-humoredly.

  Salka looked down. “I wish I had. I wish she was dead instead of Munu.” As they walked, she kept looking down to the ground, as if she could find an answer in the browned, muddied pine needles. Suddenly, she became aware of Dran slowing down and looked up in alarm. “Are you well? Do you need to rest? I’m sorry, I didn’t think…”

  Dran shot her an angry look. Then his expression changed once more, as quick as a flash, so Salka thought she imagined it. “Yes. I suppose that would be nice. There is a small clearing close to here, if we leave the path and turn by the big tree over there.” He pointed with his finger. “There’s some decent grazing, your lamb won’t be worse off for you not making the long hike to the eastern slopes.”

  Salka nodded. “Thank you.”

  The clearing
was well hidden, with thick bushes growing on either side and big boulders at the edge of it, some flat-topped and easy to climb. “It’s almost as if somebody made this,” Salka said, sitting herself comfortably. “I’ve walked these woods my entire life and have never come across it.”

  “I found it as a small lad. A refuge of sorts, as there is just one path leading into it. I’m happy to share it with you, if you promise to keep it secret.” He winked at Salka, and a small smile brightened her face.

  “Can I ask you something?” she said, her fingers tracing the smooth surface of the stone they sat on. Curious grazed on the sparse grass below, methodically chewing through the spring vegetation.

  Dran nodded.

  “Are you not well?” she asked. “I’m sorry to mention it, only… You’ve always been strong, even with your foot. And I noticed… Your hands shook today.”

  Dran gave her a careful look. “I won’t insult your intelligence by pretending you’re wrong. And I suppose talking to someone about it might make the burden lighter as well.” He lay back and put his arms under his head. “I’m sick. And I will only get sicker. My mother’s herbs have brought no relief and I fear there is not much anyone can do.” He paused, weighing his options. He then grabbed the neck of his tunic and pulled it down, revealing the dark tendrils swirling in a horrific pattern on his chest.

  Salka gasped and put her hands to her mouth. They sat in silence for a moment.

  “Markus could cure you if he were still here…” Salka said and shot a glance at Dran, who tensed up. “I know it’s forbidden,” she added quickly, and began fiddling with a piece of lichen growing from a crack in the stone. “But surely your mother could sanction it… A special dispensation…”

  Dran gave a mirthless chuckle. “Oh no. My mother would do nearly anything for me, but not that, never that. Her precious laws are more precious than her son, it would seem.” He looked at Salka. “You can see how deeply the fear of stigois runs through our village. Pike was poisoned with it enough to kill your bird, and my mother is no different.”

  “And what do you think?” Salka asked.

  “I think if another could help me, they’d have my thanks and respect, not my condemnation.”

  “Even if it turned the striga helping you into a stigoi?” Salka asked. She fidgeted, weaving her fingers together.

  Dran noticed but pretended not to. Instead, he turned to face Salka with his hand propping up his chin. “What is a stigoi but a powerful striga? The humans want us to stay powerless and we help them by tying our own hands.”

  “Why don’t you use your own powers to do it then?” Salka asked.

  “I tried. I couldn’t do it,” he said. Not the whole truth, but a shameful enough part of it. He bit his lip, afraid of her reaction. She watched him for a moment. Then she reached out and squeezed his hand. She meant to pull it back, but he laced his fingers with hers and she could not withdraw. She reddened.

  “I wish I could help you,” she said simply.

  “Can’t you?” he asked. He looked towards the grazing animals and she followed his gaze towards the lamb.

  She blanched.

  He laughed. “Don’t worry, I would never betray you. We’re friends, aren’t we?”

  She nodded.

  “Tell me, how are you managing to keep your powers down this way? Anyone would say your other heart was burned out of you. But your mind’s too clear for that.” He reached out and tucked a curl behind Salka’s ear.

  Salka played with the feather necklace. “I can’t help you now,” she finally said.

  Dran’s face fell. He moved away and stared at the forest. “Then I’m lost,” he said.

  “But…” Salka bit her lip, “I might be able to do something in the future. The close future.”

  Dran looked at her with interest.

  “I can’t say anymore. Not yet. But maybe soon…”

  Dran smiled and brushed Salka’s cheek with the tips of his fingers, contouring her jawline and stopping right under her chin. He gently tilted it upwards so she was facing him. He leaned forward and kissed her.

  Salka stiffened at first and then, hesitantly, put her arms around his neck. She ran her fingers through his thick black hair and breathed in his scent as he pulled her closer in his arms.

  Dran pulled away, finally, and smiled at her. “Don’t worry, Salka, I will keep your secret if you keep mine. Your kindness… I don’t deserve it. But thank you.”

  CHAPTER 27

  “I called you here to confirm a report I was given,” Alma said, drumming her long fingers on the armrest of her chair.

  Kalina stood sad and forlorn. Her hair was unbrushed and fell in greasy streaks down her puffed-up face. She’d been crying and looked close to tears now. A part of Alma wanted to comfort the girl, but the anger within her was so consuming that it was all she could do to control herself.

  “What report?” Kalina asked. She shifted her weight and winced at the pulsating pain in her shoulder. She braced yourself and met Alma’s cold stare.

  “Show me your shoulder.”

  Kalina hung her head. There it was. After a lifetime of service, she had finally proven herself undeserving. She loosened the strap at her throat and waist. It took her a moment to disentangle herself, pulling on her clothes with one arm. Alma gasped. The inexpertly done dressing slid off Kalina’s arm and revealed a jagged wound, crusted over with blood and pus.

  “You should have come to me with this, child! It will fester if you don’t treat it!” Alma said, shaking her head.

  Kalina’s eyes filled with tears. “Thank you, Alma, I know I don’t deserve such kindness…”

  “Nonsense!” Alma hit the armrest with her fist and got up to face Kalina. She cupped Kalina’s face with her hands. “I admit I haven’t always appreciated you, Kalina, but your compassion and kindness, though misplaced, are to be admired and praised. I’m ashamed to say I hadn’t thought you capable of such selflessness. I won’t forget it.”

  Kalina’s mouth hung open. “I don’t understand…”

  Alma shook her head and walked towards her herb cabinet. “You can stop this now. I know the whole story. I just needed to see the wound to have it confirmed, for I could scarcely believe it. Truth be told, I didn’t want to believe it.” Alma pulled out a few clay jars and a mortar. “It surprised me, I admit – here, sit down over there – why you’d try to protect her. I thought, I truly thought the months in the Windry Pass would teach her caution and respect, but I was mistaken then as you were mistaken now in shielding her.”

  Kalina walked towards the stool in a daze. She was afraid to speak, lest she incriminate herself in some way. A knock on the door made her jump and turn sharply to the entrance.

  “Come in, Emila,” Alma called without looking up. The dark room was already filled with the smell of the herbs she was mixing. Normally, Kalina would have killed to witness the preparation of Alma’s famous tonics and ointments, but today she could muster no interest.

  Emila opened the door and slid in. Her auburn hair half covered her face, and she shot Kalina a look that warned her not to speak. “You called me, Alma.”

  “Yes. Tell Kalina what you told me.”

  Kalina watched with an open mouth as Emila bent her head and said, “Yes, Alma.” She pulled the hair from her forehead and was fiddling with the edge of her scarf. Kalina focused her eyes on it, on its lovely green and yellow stripes, expertly woven by Rida. She was not willing to look Emila in the face, lest she betray herself somehow.

  “Last night Salka called my mother to assist in the labor of Miriat’s doe. I went with her to help. Salka was told to stay outside of her mother’s house so she would not get in the way. It was a difficult birthing and overcrowding the room would not have made it easier.”

  Kalina couldn’t help but think how much Emila looked like Rida in that moment, in spite of having inherited none of her mother’s features.

  “We needed water, and since Salka didn’t come when c
alled, I was asked to bring some from the well. As I got closer, I heard screaming.” Emila coughed and shifted uncomfortably. She cast a furtive glance at Kalina. “I was surprised it didn’t wake the whole village, it was so blood-curdling.”

  “Just straight to the point, please,” Alma hurried her. She had no time for flowery descriptions. Kalina wondered briefly if it was because she could sense the falsehood in them and chose to ignore her instinct to get to the answer she wanted.

  Emila stood confused for a moment, like a singer asked to skip a line of a well-known song. She blushed under Kalina’s gaze and continued in halting tones: “I walked up, and I saw Salka, on top of Pi… Kalina, biting her shoulder. It looked like she would drink the blood, had she the time. She was interrupted by your own brave son, who tore Salka away from Kalina before she could kill her.”

  “And her shadow? Tell me again of her shadow, child. I know it must be hard for you. But speak true.”

  Emila had the decency to look embarrassed. “Salka’s shadow seemed to feed on the blood from the ground. It grew till it stood from the ground, like a woman grown behind her.”

  “Did you see Salka’s face then?” Alma asked. She gently placed the prepared salve on Kalina’s wound with her finger. Kalina winced as the fingers touched her torn skin, but then felt a cooling sensation which numbed the pain quickly.

  Emila coughed and looked down at her feet.

  You’re lying, you’re lying… Kalina watched Emila’s face in fascination. She didn’t dare say a word. Emila met her eyes and a look of recognition passed between them. One, a liar out of spite, and one out of fear.

  “Yes, Alma. She was no longer the Salka we knew before. She was a stigoi, I’m sure. Though I had not seen one before that evening.”

  “And there you have it,” Alma said, gently placing a fresh dressing over Kalina’s wound. “Now there are just two things here I cannot for the life of me understand. How does she manage to hide the corruption in her soul, and…” She looked into Kalina’s eyes. “Why did you and my son try to protect her?”