“I don’t understand!” Miriat nearly screamed. “She’s not a stigoi. She didn’t hurt anyone! She couldn’t have! It’s all a misunderstanding…”
“Is this a misunderstanding?” Alma gestured at Kalina who approached her with an ashen face. “Uncover your shoulder, girl.”
Kalina hung her head, but obeyed. The entire village gasped as she peeled off the dressing to reveal the wound where Salka had bitten off a chunk of her flesh.
“Does this look like something a young woman would do, Miriat?” Alma rose from her seat. “Our laws are there to protect us. Thanks to them, this is only the second time I have had to carry out the cleansing.” She approached Miriat and put a hand on her shoulder. Miriat recoiled and would have struck Alma, had Mordat not held down her arm. The old woman shook her head. “This is necessary, Miriat. Please believe me, I am not enjoying this. But Salka is no longer the daughter you once knew. There is no love, no humanity in a stigoi. They are wild yet crafty animals, who will devour you if you let them. By burning out her other heart we can return your daughter to you. Tell me where she is.”
“She didn’t do it.” Miriat shook her head. “I know she didn’t. She’s not like you describe, she’s barely more than a child…” Tears rose to Miriat’s eyes, as Alma’s grew colder.
“We will find her,” she said. “There can be no escaping this.”
“Alma, I found a pack of food and tools on the west side of the village!” A young girl ran up to Alma, dragging behind her Miriat’s pack. Miriat’s face fell.
Alma looked at Miriat and smiled. “You meant to travel west. That is wise. Trina!” she called out. Trina stepped forward, hesitantly. “Take three other strigas with you and go west. The other teams will search in the other directions. Make haste. She has the advantage, but she expected banishment. She won’t be anticipating a pursuit.” Trina stood there with her head down, not moving. Alma narrowed her eyes. “This is your chance to prove your loyalty, Trina. Unless you wish me to believe you were in on Miriat’s deception?”
Trina opened her mouth and closed it again. She shot Miriat a look. The entire village around them seemed to be holding its breath.
“Answer me, Trina. Are we to understand Salka’s treachery is yours as well? Is her blasphemy yours too?”
“No, Alma.” Trina shook her head. She kept her eyes down, and a blush spread over her face, making the mark on her face a deeper shade of purple. She bowed and walked towards the west gate. Three more strigas picked out by Alma trailed behind.
Alma sighed and turned to Miriat. “I’m sorry it had to be done like this, Miriat. It’s for her own good. I know in time you will see this.”
“Don’t count on it,” Miriat said through clenched teeth. She would have torn Alma’s throat out herself, had her arms not been held behind her.
Alma closed her eyes briefly and turned towards the crowd. “I’m afraid we have no choice but to wait now.” She turned towards Miriat. “But we will not be thwarted. Salka puts us all in danger and I will not allow that, Miriat. She is too far gone for us to simply let her leave. It would break every truce the strigas have ever made. You will be kept under lock and key until we can recover her. We cannot have you running off to search for her yourself. Tolan!”
Tolan stepped forward, half pushed by his wife. He was looking down at his feet and a blush was spreading from his neck up to the roots of his auburn hair. Alma gestured towards Miriat. “My storeroom. You can bar the door and there are no windows for her to escape through. You will stay outside and guard her.” She turned to Miriat and whispered, so that no other striga heard her. “I know your mother’s instincts tell you to stop this, to spare your daughter the pain. I understand those instincts, but believe me, were it my own son, I would tie him up to that pole myself. It is love that guides us.” Miriat only shot her a furious look. Alma sighed and gestured at Tolan to take Miriat away.
Tolan grabbed one of Miriat’s arms. She struggled as he led her towards Alma’s storeroom, but she might as well have struggled against an oak tree. “Tolan, please don’t do this!” she pleaded. “You know Salka, you know this isn’t her!” He hesitated for a moment.
“I’m sorry, Miriat,” he said, pushing her inside the storeroom. Miriat rammed into the door with her entire weight, but it was already barred. She crumpled down to the floor and began to cry: a low wail which began in her chest and escaped as a heart-rending keen.
Outside the storeroom, Tolan slid to the ground. He closed his eyes and put his fists against his ears. “I’m so sorry…”
CHAPTER 31
Salka walked at a steady pace. She dared not rest. The early morning light already began to filter through the trees and her mother would wake soon. She imagined the expression on Miriat’s face when she realized Salka had left alone. The disbelief and the shock she would feel. Salka tortured herself with the image. Tears that streamed down her face in the first hours since she left had dried, but she could still feel their salty tracks on her cheeks. She did not rub them off. There was a small satisfaction in the discomfort, a sense that she deserved it.
Miriat would get over it, Salka reasoned with herself. Eventually, she’d realize it was for the best. She had already left one home for her daughter, she owed her nothing more. Salka sniffed. It was the right thing to do, she was certain. If one of them had to make the sacrifice she wouldn’t let it be Miriat.
The forest was already buzzing with activity. Spring had finally arrived to the Heyne Mountains and the wet, cool air breathed life into the bushes and color into the moss and the hedges. The tiniest leaf buds covered the branches of rabbit-bushes: little humps of potential. The ground was wet, and a tiny trickle of water here and there showed the soaked soil would not take much more. The spring came high and fast this year and the snow topping the Green Sister mountain was melting far too quickly. Salka tried not to slip in the mud, which nearly pulled her boots off once or twice.
Salka stopped for a moment to catch her breath. She was lost. The directions given to her by Dola were accurate, she was sure, but not exhaustive. They failed to mention that there were more boulders at the edge of the striga forest than there were fleas on a dog. And Salka had clearly picked the wrong one. She had been walking around for a few hours now, not daring to go back to the main path. The new tunic kept her warm, but it did nothing for the hunger in her belly.
She pulled open her pack and reached inside. Miriat had packed a great array of provisions, with a few onions right at the top. There was also some of her famously hard and stodgy flatbread, and Salka pulled out a piece of it now. She chewed on it slowly as she sat on her haunches leaning against the trunk of a tall pine. She rubbed her temples. She hadn’t taken Dola’s potion that morning, but the headache came nonetheless.
Flecks of light danced before her eyes and she felt a wave of nausea hit her. She turned to the side and threw up violently. She lifted herself with some effort and picked up a handful of melting snow to wipe her mouth. She then pulled out some moss and wiped a spatter of vomit off the top of her shoe. The morning was finally here, and the light only made the pain in Salka’s head worse.
She picked up her pack and walked back down the path again. She would choose a different boulder this time and hope for luck.
As she got closer to the path, Salka heard some movement below her. She hid behind a thick juniper leaning against a pine. If it was her mother, would she stay hidden? Could she? She closed her eyes shut. She couldn’t do it, she decided. She only had the strength to leave Miriat once. She lifted herself up with some effort and was about to call out when she heard a familiar voice rise in complaint.
“It’s a waste of time. We all know she went west! Trina will be back and we will miss the burning for certain!” Rida said. One of them mumbled an objection. Salka broke out in cold sweat. The burning. So that was what they had in mind for her? But it was impossible. Nobody saw her use her powers. Nobody knew except… Dran? Could he have betrayed her? No… Salka�
��s mouth twisted in pain. He needed her. She promised she would help him…
“She’s not stupid enough to go down to the town again. I say we go back.”
Salka could see Rida’s face from between the juniper branches as the woman stood stubbornly in the middle of the path.
“Wait.” This came from Mordat, who was looking at the ground. Salka’s heart sank. He was an excellent tracker, and even though the snow was now mostly gone this low in the mountains, he would easily find her footprints in the wet moss.
“Oh, come off it!” Rida complained. “This side of the mountains is riddled with Dola homesteads. You think the girl is the only one capable of disturbing some leaves?”
Mordat ignored her. He walked up a little way to the right on the path. “No,” he said. “But these footprints are fresh. You can stay here if you want. Me and Lesny will bring her down ourselves if she’s up there.”
“I never said I wouldn’t go, did I?” Rida shook her head. “If you see a track, we’ll follow it. I won’t have it said that I shirk my duty. Though you can smell rain on the air, and we’re as likely to be washed away in the downpour as we are to find her,” she said the last under her breath, her voice just barely reaching Salka’s ears.
Nonetheless, Rida joined the other two as they began climbing up the narrow forest path up the slope. Salka clung to the side of the tree. They were following the path she took herself an hour or so back. She was less than fifty yards to the east of it and if they continued up, they would soon see her. She pressed her back against the tree. The blinding pain once again pierced her head.
Salka bit her lip. Her back was now drenched in sweat. She couldn’t stay hidden for much longer. She could hear Mordat’s labored breath and Rida’s continued complaining as from behind a screen. The thumping noise in her brain was getting louder. She closed her eyes and tried to push down another wave of nausea. They were getting closer, they would discover her. There was nowhere to hide; the bushes were too thin, the trees too far apart. If she moved, they would see her. If she stayed, they would see her. Tears escaped from her eyes. She dug her fingers into the pine’s hard bark. It cut the delicate skin around her nails, but she didn’t notice.
“Can I help you, my fine friends?” a voice boomed across the forest, echoing between the rocks.
“Dola! You’re up so early! I would have guessed you’d be warming by the fire for it looks like rain,” Lesny said with a grin. Mordat shot him an angry look, which wiped the young man’s smile away. It was a solemn business they were on, and he did not appreciate this lack of decorum.
“We’re looking for Salka. Have you seen her?” Mordat asked.
“Well, that’s rather abrupt,” Dola said, stroking her stomach. “Not a ‘Hello’ or a ‘How fare thee?’ even. No, I haven’t seen the girl. Not since last night anyway. Why?”
Mordat and Lesny looked at each other.
“When and where did you see her?” Lesny asked.
“Late in the night, handsome, in a vision of mine.”
“You and your visions,” Rida scoffed.
Dola gave her most innocent smile. “Well, if you feel that way, I suggest you be on your way following goat tracks. I won’t waste any more of your time.” She turned around and continued walking down the path.
Salka swallowed. Rida had already begun walking up the path. Another moment and she would be discovered.
“Wait!” Lesny called out. “Please, tell us!” He shot Rida an angry look. She shrugged her shoulders, but Salka noticed she paused.
“She’s headed to the Windry Pass, my dears.” Dola smiled. “And once she crosses the stone bridge you won’t have another chance of finding her.”
Mordat swore under his breath. “Rida, Lesny, we’re going back. Thank you, Dola, for your counsel.” He bowed his head and started climbing down towards the path. Above him, Salka held her breath.
“That’s nonsense. You want to head all the way to the Windry Pass on her say so? She and Miriat are thick as thieves! I wouldn’t believe a word she says. Salka is probably halfway down the west slopes already and we’re going to be wasting even more time!”
“Shut up, Rida!” Lesny turned towards her with a growl. “You will not disrespect her! She’s a Dola first!”
Rida blinked in surprise.
Mordat raised his eyebrow at Lesny who looked down with a blush already coloring his cheeks, but then he turned to Rida, “Lesny is right. Dolas are the keepers of the laws. It isn’t your place to question her, Rida.”
Rida, chastened, muttered an apology, and then followed Mordat, muttering under her breath.
“Thank you, Dola.” Lesny said before following the other strigas. He hesitated. “I hope the birthing comes soon and comes easy.”
Dola turned her head to the side. “Don’t worry yourself about the matters of Dolas. I accept your good wishes.”
Lesny looked like he was going to say more, but then he just nodded and walked back towards the striga village.
Dola watched them go and after what seemed like an eternity she said, “You can come out now.” She looked up and waited as Salka made her way down the slope, gripping the protruding roots for balance.
“You’re unwell,” Dola said, more stating a fact than asking. “Follow me. You can’t rest here.” Dola made her best effort to walk briskly, but they still moved at a painfully slow pace. “I expected you sooner. I got worried when you dawdled.”
Salka squinted at Dola, trying to pierce through the fog of pain and confusion. “What do you mean? How did you know I was coming today? Did you have a vision?”
“No,” Dola said. “I met a… friend… on my way home yesterday. He was cutting down a tree for a pole. I persuaded him to tell me what it was for.”
Salka couldn’t help but smile. Dola had several “friends”, many among the striga men in particular.
“You could have told my mother,” Salka said. She leaned against a tree, fighting back a wave of nausea. The ringing in her ears was getting worse. The sweat-soaked clothes on her back stuck uncomfortably to her skin.
“If I’d showed my face in the village again that night, both you and your mother would have been apprehended immediately, tradition or no. Instead, I told the next striga I met to tell the others that you have been judged, and hoped that Miriat would put two and two together or that somebody would have the loyalty to tell her if she did not. Strigas are terrible gossips and for once that worked in our favor. Here, drink this.” She uncorked her waterskin and stuck it under Salka’s nose. Salka took a small sip and gagged at the bitter taste. She threw up again under a tree. She turned towards Dola. “What is that? That’s not water!”
“Just a tea meant to settle your stomach. A great job it’s done of that, clearly.” Dola smiled. “In fairness, it was meant for me more than you.”
“No, it’s… better, really…” Salka said, still heaving.
“Are you done?” Dola asked. “Not to be unkind, but we need to make our way to my house. There is much to be getting on with.” She once again began her slow climb up the path.
“Like what?” Salka said under her breath. She followed Dola miserably, trying to shield her eyes from the light. Dola didn’t reply, instead focusing on what must have been a difficult walk. As she climbed, Dola would stop here and there, to touch the ground or to feel the rough bark of a pine, looking for signs Salka couldn’t interpret.
After what seemed an eternity, they arrived at a small grove. It seemed so out of place wedged into the middle of a mountain forest, Salka stopped and gawked. The native pines had been cleared, and instead, there grew a wealth of smaller trees, still bare from winter.
“Are these fruit trees?” Salka asked, her eyes wide. “How did you manage to make them grow this high up?”
“I have my ways. Which are my grandmother’s ways, to tell the truth. She used to say that it is best to be remembered by the green things we make grow. And so, every summer and autumn I think of her, as I enjoy
the apples from the orchard. But we best get inside. Lesny was right: there is rain coming. And it might not be safe outside when it does.”
Dola led Salka among the trees to a crooked, steep-roofed house, which to Salka’s eyes looked like an extravagant jewel, with glassed windows and a brick chimney. A small fence surrounded the house, and a vine twisted its way around it. A tiny enclosure to the side housed several chickens and geese, judging by the noise and the smell that lingered around it.
“I’ll remember these if you ever come scrounging a lunch off of us again!” Salka said, pointing towards the hens. In spite of her headache, a small smile appeared on her lips, to then disappear almost instantly. Because, of course, there would be no more lunches together, with Miriat and Trina laughing while they prepared the ingredients for a stew. No more Maladia coming back from her traps with a rabbit or a wild bird strung over her shoulder. That was all gone now. Salka’s eyes filled up with tears and she hung her head.
Dola put her hand on Salka’s shoulder and nodded her head. “I know, my girl, I know. It will get easier in time. Come in now. You might not have enjoyed the fullness of my stores in the past, perhaps, but I am about to correct that.”
“Dola!” Salka stood rigid, pointing at Dola’s window. “Somebody’s in your house! They found me!”
Dola smiled. “I think you best come on in,” she said.
Salka looked at her uncomprehendingly, but she followed her nonetheless.
The inside of the house smelled of pinesap and rich food. Salka’s stomach churned. There was precious little light filtering through the windows, and she blinked a couple of times as she looked at the woman seated in front of her, who now stood with some considerable effort.
“Salka, you’re all right! I thought you’d never come! Shame on you for making Dola walk all that way,” Maladia said, smiling broadly, though her eyes glistened wet in the blue-grey light.
“You have questions.” Dola smiled at Salka, as she sat heavily in the other chair in the room. She pulled her shoe off by pulling on its heel with her toes. “Ask them.” Dola grunted as the other shoe went flying across the floor. “Fire and rheumatism, but I’m tired out!” she said, leaning back. Salka kept standing by the open door, shocked frozen. Dola waved at her to come in. “Come on, all the heat’s escaping through the door!”
The Second Bell Page 18
