Nevertell

by Katharine Orton

  “It is for anyone who gets in the way,” added Tuyaara.

  “How long has she been here, then?” asked Lina.

  “Only a short time in this part of Sakha,” said Tuyaara. “But years, supposedly, in one region or another. The stories have been around since I can remember. I know that much.”

  Michil nodded. “I was three when I first heard the tale of the Man Hunter and the spirit wolves that roam the plains, turning humans into ghosts. They came when she did — so they must be drawn into this world by her.”

  “Michil, you know those tales were just Mama trying to get you to go to bed without making a fuss.” Tuyaara punched his arm and grinned.

  Michil wrapped his arm around her shoulders, winked at Lina and Bogdan, and said, “Our sister likes to think she’s above all this talk. She thinks she’ll move to Yakutsk one day and study to be a teacher. But it won’t last — she’ll get homesick in two minutes flat and wish she could trade the cars and classrooms for her old horse.”

  “Says you!” Tuyaara wrestled Michil off while Dolan smirked and shook his head.

  Lina glanced away. It felt hard to breathe all of a sudden. Could this have been her life too, growing up, if it hadn’t been for the camp?

  Lina glanced at Bogdan, who strained to lift the corner of his mouth. He was still smarting, she could tell, after discovering he’d been wrong about the river and where they were. Despite the warmth and the welcome, a kind of creeping despair had come over Lina as well. Every second she did nothing felt like failing her mother. Being held captive in Svetlana’s tower had wasted yet more time. They still had thousands of miles to travel.

  Moscow and her dreams had never seemed further away.

  If Tuyaara’s parents had been discussing their worries about harboring two escaped prisoners earlier, they didn’t mention it when they called everyone to the table. Dinner was a frozen salted fish dish called stroganina, a horse-milk drink called kumis, and a deliciously warm and fatty millet porridge. After years of cabbage soup, Lina’s tongue tingled with all the new flavors.

  Tuyaara’s father rose from his seat every so often to stoke the fire, tending it with great care. Finally he sat down with them, straight-backed at the table. “Any friend of Keskil’s is a friend of ours,” he said firmly. He put his hand to his heart. “It will be wonderful to be able to bring our friends news of their son. They will be overjoyed to hear that he’s still alive.” Tears sparkled in his dark eyes, and he blinked them away. “You can stay with us for the winter, if you need to,” he announced.

  At this, Tuyaara’s mother, Namiya, pursed her red lips and turned her attention to the baby, the same troubled frown on her face again. Lina shifted in her seat with another guilty twinge.

  But Tuyaara’s father went on as if he hadn’t noticed his wife’s displeasure. “If the Man Hunter is after you, as you say, you’ll need to stay hidden until it moves on or forgets. It’s far too dangerous, otherwise.”

  Lina stood next to Bogdan, outside by the cattle shed. Night had come quickly and stars pricked the sky like snow that had been frozen in time. They had borrowed Michil’s and Dolan’s coats and hats to keep warm. It was quiet out here. Only the occasional snort of a horse echoed from the gloom, and the odd rumble came from inside the cattle shed, along with a strong whiff of hay, as the cows shifted their feet.

  Above the outlines of the other distant village cabins, light flashed and rippled across the dark sky in shades of green, with the occasional pulse of purple or yellow. “The Northern Lights,” said Bogdan, gazing out at them. He looked different with Michil’s ushanka balanced on top of his head, the way Michil had worn it earlier.

  Lina stared at the lights too. So much more was possible than she’d ever realized. Her stone necklace — which both warmed her and warned of danger. Lost spirits, terrorizing and abducting humans. The existence of furry, pot-bellied horses. And now these rippling lights splayed across the night sky, flashing and changing as if trying to tell them something.

  How was it that, in the face of all this, reaching Moscow could seem so impossible? They had thousands of miles to travel — and Svetlana hunting them on top of that.

  “We were never going to get to the city on foot,” said Bogdan. “Perhaps this is for the best, after all. Staying here, I mean.”

  Lina hugged herself. Spring was months away. Part of her wanted to go back to the camp right now to check on her mother. But only her grandmother had the power, the influence, to free her. All she needed was Lina’s knowledge of which camp her mother was in — names, places, specific details — and she could make it happen with just a single word in the right ear. Lina knew it.

  She’d promised her mother she’d carry on. That was what she must do.

  The longer they stayed here, the further away her dreams of meeting her grandmother and rescuing her mother would slip. Anyway, could they really stay hidden for the whole winter with Svetlana searching the skies and plains for them? Something told Lina she’d never stop — not until she found them. She’d seemed fixed on finding out why her wolves wouldn’t bind Lina. And then they’d defied her by escaping. She’d be angry.

  No. As kind as it was of Tuyaara’s father to offer them shelter, food, and company, they’d be endangering everyone if they stayed. Tuyaara’s mother knew it — Lina could see that she was worried about her family. Their baby.

  Lina steeled herself. Now she just had to work out how they were going to get to Moscow.

  “Bogey,” she said. “What d’you think Vadim planned to do when he got to that farmhouse? Would they have stayed there or moved on eventually?”

  “Doubt they would’ve stayed for long. Not the sort to keep to himself, was he? He would’ve gotten bored before long without anyone to bully. Think about it — he even got bored at the camp, and there were plenty of people there he could bother.”

  “So a city, then?”

  “Probably back to Stalingrad, where his gang operates.”

  Lina thought about it. She was definitely missing something. She had to be. “He couldn’t have been planning to do it all on foot. It’s impossible. He must’ve had another way. Another plan.” And he must have told her mother something. He’d promised to take Lina to Moscow. Katya wouldn’t have let Lina go without knowing how Vadim planned to get her there.

  Bogdan shrugged. “Got no idea what Vadim’s plan was, but Tuyaara’s family might lend us a sled. Maybe some of their dogs, to pull us. We could go from town to town picking up supplies until we finally get to Moscow. But it’ll still take months.”

  Lina let her mind drift. She felt it going out to meet the Northern Lights.

  Everything snapped into focus in a rush.

  “Bogey!”

  He flinched away from her. She’d shouted in his ear by accident. “Aargh! What?”

  Lina couldn’t believe she hadn’t thought of it before.

  She could barely keep still. She felt like she was going to explode. “Think back, Bogey. How did you get to the camp, when you first arrived?”

  “We walked a ways, towing carts . . .” Bogdan said. He was silent for some time. Then he set his jaw. “Train,” he said. “Before that, I came by train.”

  Lina and Bogdan ran back into the balagan together. “Excuse me,” said Bogdan. “Where’s the nearest town with a station along the Trans-Siberian railway?”

  Tuyaara’s father stared into the corner of the room as he considered the question. The harder he stared, the more he frowned, and the harder he appeared to be thinking. “Far,” he said at last. “Too far by horse or by dogsled. And it’s too much of a risk with that thing searching for you.”

  “There are the practicalities to consider too. Money. Tickets,” Namiya chipped in, but she didn’t sound as against the idea. She squinted as though also thinking hard.

  Tuyaara leaped to her feet. “I can take them to the train station at Bratsk,” she said. “We can stop with Uncle and his family on the way and borrow their car. It’s old a
nd won’t go far, but it’ll at least get to Bratsk. Then the journey won’t take long. I can lead Lina and Bogdan to Uncle’s. I know the way — I can do it.”

  Moscow. The train would really take them to Moscow.

  “Wait a minute,” said her father. “It may be dangerous, Tuyaara. Let’s not rush into this.”

  “We need to rush,” said Tuyaara. “Never mind your Man Hunter, guards could come looking for them any day now. And Lina needs to reach her grandmother as soon as possible.”

  “She’s right, you know,” said her mother. “We’ve already discussed the possibility that search parties may come looking. And no one is quicker or more capable of this than Tuyaara.”

  Lina felt guilty for causing a division in the family, however small. She would’ve been happy to leave — just her and Bogdan, on their own.

  But Tuyaara’s eyes gleamed. “Is that a yes? Papa, they’re friends of Keskil’s, remember. They need our help. So can I take them?”

  Her father looked at his wife, frowned, and tutted. “Yes,” he said, at last. “I suppose you can.”

  That night, Lina snuggled down in a bed of blankets and furs. The floor was hard underneath her, but she didn’t mind it. Buried in all that warm bedding, she finally thought she knew how mice must feel, snug in their little nests.

  At daybreak, they would take horses and head out to find Tuyaara’s uncle. From there, they would drive onward to the train station at Bratsk.

  Lina knew it wouldn’t be easy to leave. For the first time, she’d glimpsed a real family home, and her heart ached at the thought of leaving it behind to face more snow and ice, cold and danger. But, like Tuyaara, she could also hardly wait. She would be on her way again, moving closer to finding her grandmother.

  This had been the most eventful birthday of her life. At certain points, she hadn’t thought she would survive it. And yet, here she was.

  When Lina slept, she dreamed of Tuyaara’s home and of all the talk, the laughter, and the feeling between her whole family: so tender it was painful. But beneath the noise of her dreams, she kept hearing another voice. A whisper close to her ear, which woke her several times into the still darkness of the room.

  “Nevertell.”

  Come first light, not one horse would go near them.

  Even those most docile and used to riders reared and bucked when Tuyaara and her brothers tried to guide them over. “Maybe they sense something around you,” said Michil at last. “According to Yakut folklore, they’re very perceptive of spirits. They see them.”

  Tuyaara frowned and tapped her toe. She wasn’t interested in her brother’s musings, and she wanted to get moving, Lina could tell.

  “Maybe you should just forget about this journey and stay,” Tuyaara’s father said. “It would be for the best.”

  “Thank you,” said Lina. Every kindness Tuyaara’s family showed them made her flush with gratitude. But she shared a knowing look with Tuyaara’s mother and understood that he was being helpful — but not practical. And they were fugitives. Carrying on their journey still felt like the right decision.

  “Thing is, I think I know what it is,” Lina went on. She’d had her suspicions all morning since she woke from that terrible disturbed sleep, her head aching, her face puffy and rubbery. She fixed her gaze on Bogdan. “I think we’ve brought our friend with us. The one who helped us escape.”

  Bogdan looked puzzled at first. Then understanding flashed in his eyes.

  “Who is it?” asked Tuyaara. “Why can’t we see them?”

  “It’s one of the shadows, from Svetlana’s tower,” said Lina. “I didn’t realize before, but then all night I kept seeing and hearing things. I’m sure of it now. She must’ve been with us since we escaped into that mist. I bet that’s why your horse wouldn’t go near us too.”

  “She?” said Bogdan.

  Lina shrugged. “Pretty sure she’s a girl. Don’t know why.”

  Tuyaara raised her eyebrow. “Interesting. Is it — ‘she’ — friendly?”

  Lina nodded. “She did help us. So I think so.”

  The sun blazed an orange rainbow across the sky as they argued about what to do. The light dragged their blue shadows over the snow, as if urging them to get moving. After a lot of discussion — including Michil insisting they stay another night to carry on the debate and Tuyaara shrieking with impatience — they decided Lina and Bogdan should take the dogsled while Tuyaara rode her horse.

  “Make sure you bring those dogs back, Tuyaara,” said her mother, wagging her finger. “We need them. And you’re not to get on the train.”

  “Don’t worry, Mama. I can handle the dogs and I’ll come straight back.”

  Tuyaara’s family lent them felt boots and furs, food for their journey, gifts for Tuyaara’s uncle and his family — and even more food parcels for the train. Each kindness weighed heavier on Lina than the last, because she could barely offer anything in return. “I promise we’ll send the boots and furs back somehow,” she said, clutching Tuyaara’s mother’s hand in her own, “as soon as we get to Moscow and find my grandmother.”

  Namiya patted Lina’s shoulder. She must’ve known that returning the clothes would be all but impossible but, unlike Lina, had accepted it. “Thank you, Lina. But bringing news of Keskil that we can pass on to his family is enough. To them — and to my Tuyaara — knowing he’s alive is worth more than furs and food.”

  Lina nodded, said goodbye to Tuyaara’s father and brothers, and climbed aboard the sled with Bogdan.

  “We’ll know if the spirit has gone with you by the horses’ reactions,” said Michil, “and you ought to be able to tell by Tuyaara’s horse.” He was clearly wary of the spirit. Lina felt fine about it, though. It had helped them escape from Svetlana’s tower, after all. And she was fairly certain it was going to come with them. If she tilted her head a certain way, she could see the small shadow, perched just behind Bogdan on the sled.

  By the time they set off, the morning sun had turned white, and a bitter wind whipped up the snow. Lina knew by the weather and the fall in temperature that a bad storm was on the way. They all did.

  After a great start and a break for lunch, they rode on long into the afternoon. Dark clouds began squeezing the sky from above. They pressed down and down until only a sliver of ice-blue sky remained. It swamped the friends in an eerie green light and made the mist of glittering diamond dust that hung all around them a murky, marshy color.

  From high above came a falcon’s shriek. Lina jumped and called the dogs to a halt. Tuyaara stopped her horse too and sat as still as she could. “Hard for it to see us in this,” she said. But she still didn’t take her eyes off the sky.

  The dark shadow of the giant falcon passed through the clouds above them, circled twice, and glided off ahead. Had it spotted them, after all? Lina guessed they’d know for sure if they heard Svetlana’s wolves. She dreaded hearing their howls and flinched at every sound from then on.

  “If you’re lucky, this ‘Svetlana’ won’t follow you all the way to Moscow,” said Tuyaara. “Surely she wouldn’t track you that far.”

  “Let’s hope we lose her somewhere between here and there,” said Bogdan, “so she stops bothering all of us.”

  They talked about other things after that, to distract themselves, chatting over the racket of the horse and the dogs and over the snow spray kicked up by the sled. Bogdan shared stories of his past and of his hope of finding his parents, while Tuyaara talked about wanting to study to be a teacher in a city like Yakutsk. She talked about how there was such an imbalance in the world between people, and how, by becoming a teacher, she wanted to make it better. Or at least try. She was excited to hear all about Bogdan’s upbringing in Leningrad.

  Lina stayed quiet. She thought about her grandfather’s gardens. With her knowledge and abilities with plants, she hoped she could get a job there one day without much trouble. Her knowledge — and her abilities . . . But what were those abilities, exactly? Just a way with plants,
the same as her grandfather had had? Or something else? Her experience in the pine forest suggested there was more to it than a normal talent. Could she do it again, make something grow like that? And, if so, could she do it from a seed? From thin air? She longed to try, but now wasn’t the time.

  Funny, she thought, how she’d only ever wanted to be a gardener like her grandfather. And now here she was, thinking about magic.

  Her stone necklace kept her warm, though her new furs did an excellent job of that too. But despite that, she felt uneasy. A pressure gathered at her temples with the coming storm, and she wondered if any distance would be enough to escape from Svetlana. If the stories were true, and she’d spent all those years hunting . . . Lina didn’t need to be an expert to know she wasn’t the sort who just gave up and let things go.

  Lina checked again to make sure their shadow friend was still with them. Yes, there she was: the merest flicker of movement at the edge of Lina’s vision. To see her had become a comfort. Lina knew nothing about her — who she’d once been or what she even knew of her own past. But she trusted her. That was important.

  She trusted them all: Bogdan, Tuyaara’s family, and Tuyaara too. Especially Bogdan, though. He’d been her first true friend. She was so glad that he was here with her. All this talk of Leningrad and the future made her fearful of what might come. What would happen when they reached Moscow and Lina finally found her grandmother? How long would Bogdan stay with her before going on to find his own family?

  Now it was really cold. Lina’s face felt numb. Ice droplets formed in her eyelashes and in the fur that encircled her face. The same was happening to Tuyaara and Bogdan. Even the horse’s lashes were completely encrusted with the sparkling frost.

  Tuyaara and Bogdan were still chatting. Lina noticed another sound in the background, though. A kind of swishing, tinkling sound. “Wait,” she said. “What’s that?”

  Bogdan stopped the dogs this time, and Tuyaara brought her horse around to stand next to them. They listened in silence.