Nevertell

by Katharine Orton

She placed her hands among the leaves. They felt warm and smooth against her fingertips.

  “Cold and warm magic are bound together,” Svetlana said softly, close to her ear. “One is not necessarily bad and the other is not necessarily good — that depends on who uses them and what for. Cold magic gives insight and crosses boundaries. Warm magic is growth and creates boundaries. Remember that.”

  Lina nodded. She closed her eyes and willed the electric heat to build in her chest, as it had done before. Willed it to travel down her arms and into her hands, to push out into the leaves. Grow, she urged. Grow.

  Nothing happened.

  Lina opened her eyes again. “I — I don’t understand.” Had she imagined her power before? In the greenhouse? In the forest?

  “Never mind, Lina,” said Bogdan quickly, ruffling her hair. “You’ll do it next time.”

  “Indeed,” said Svetlana with a small sigh. “It can take time, and the right conditions, to master such a skill.”

  Even so, disappointment swelled in Lina’s chest.

  “Next time, focus on what you wish to achieve and why — not the feeling of power itself,” Svetlana said, as if sensing her sadness. “If we succeed and survive,” she added, “I can teach you more. If you would like?”

  Lina nodded, although she couldn’t yet muster any words.

  In seconds, Svetlana had grown fruit and plucked it from the trees for them. She did it with such swiftness and ease that it made Lina feel worse, and where she took the fruit, more grew in its place. “These peaches will restore us more than any other food,” Svetlana said. As soon as she’d passed some to Lina and Bogdan, she bit into a fruit herself. Judging by the urgency with which she ate, she must’ve been ravenous.

  Lina looked around in awe again. “You keep a garden here?” she said. “I had no idea. Is it . . . ?” She hesitated, worried about probing too far. “Is it to remember my grandfather?”

  Svetlana brushed a leaf with her fingertips. “That, and our home. We met in the Caucasus Mountains, many years ago. Humans had often traveled that way. I would just hide and watch them pass. I knew better than to get involved with them — cruel and bullying, with their wars and their love only of violence and killing. But your grandfather seemed . . . different. He had a certain energy to him. Almost a touch of a natural spirit like my own kind. When we spoke, I realized it came from his passion for making things grow.”

  Svetlana took another peach and carried on. “His dream was to go to Moscow. He wanted to use his talent for growing for the good of the people and to be part of a new way of doing things that, he said, would be fairer for all. Yet he stayed with me for many years. We had two children, as you know. Valentin and Katya.

  “I didn’t want to leave my home in the mountains,” Svetlana went on. “It’s where I draw my strength. My power. But I knew if I wanted our family to be together, I would need to. He loved our home there too, but Moscow still called to him. So I agreed to move, as long as I could journey back to the mountains whenever I needed to, to feel at peace. It was a true torment, being split between my family and my home.”

  When they had all eaten their fill, they left the courtyard for the frozen lake, to give Svetlana more space to take off. Before she transformed, she stood apart from them and stopped still, as if listening. Then she knelt down and placed her hand against the ice.

  The ice moved. Thin cracks appeared. Even from where she stood, Lina could hear the deep groaning sound it made. She found herself reaching for the bead in which her moth friend lived, for comfort. Beneath the ice, she caught a glimpse of Pechal’s silver scales pressed against Svetlana’s hand. The fish had come to see Svetlana — though there would always be the ice between them.

  In that moment, Svetlana was the loneliest figure Lina had ever seen.

  As they left the lake with its tower, the three of them clinging to Svetlana’s falcon back once again, Lina gazed behind her. The courtyard had felt like a place of true calm. Of peace. In her bones, she yearned to create something as beautiful — as magical — as that.

  They hadn’t flown far before Bogdan pointed and cried out. “Down there,” he shouted. “Look at that, Lina. Look!”

  “What? What is it?”

  “I recognize that river. Follow it that way a little and over to the right. What do you see?”

  Lina gasped. “Tuyaara’s farm village. Bogey — well spotted!”

  Bogdan beamed.

  Lina could see the rooftops of the several lonely balagans now, with smoke rising from the chimneys and the horses moving on the ground. They looked like they were the size of millet grains. Among them was a smaller shape that had to be a person.

  “Svetlana, can you please take us down over there?” said Bogdan.

  Lina glanced at him. She wanted to see Tuyaara again as much as he did — she missed their friend — but time was so short. What about her mother?

  Bogdan reached across and gripped her arm. “We won’t be long, don’t worry. But Tuyaara should know we’re alive. And she’s got a right to be there. For Keskil. Anyway, we’ll need all the help we can get, I reckon.”

  Bogdan was probably right. As usual. Lina still had no idea how they were going to manage all this, or if the plan would work at all.

  All she could think about was getting to her mother.

  As they landed, the horses bucked and scattered. Tuyaara saw the bird coming and hurriedly swung her leg over her horse to escape, but Lina called out to her. “Tuyaara, wait!”

  “Lina? Bogdan?”

  They scrambled off Svetlana’s back and ran to their friend. Tuyaara climbed down from the horse. She gathered them both up in her arms, which were thick in all her furs and barely able to bend. “What are you doing with that thing?” She scowled at the bird. “Is it safe? Has it hurt you?”

  “It’s fine,” said Bogdan.

  Tuyaara frowned. “I don’t know what’s going on. But”— she raised her voice —“you are a pair of absolute half-wits. What were you thinking, running off like that into the storm? I thought you must be goners. Do you know how it felt to go out the next day, to look for your bodies?” She studied their faces hard until her anger softened. “When we didn’t find you, I did wonder. I hoped, anyway. Ah, it’s so good to see you alive and well.”

  They hugged again — until Tuyaara pulled away.

  “Come on,” said Bogdan. “We’ll tell you everything on the way.”

  “On the way? To where?”

  “We’re going to rescue my mother,” Lina said. “And liberate the camp, if we can. We thought you might like to help — maybe to bring Keskil home to his family. It’ll be dangerous, of course . . .”

  Tuyaara’s mouth became a thin line of resolve. “How many can the bird carry?” she said.

  Lina and Bogdan looked at each other and shrugged. “She’s pretty strong,” said Lina. “But then, she’s carried us a long way already . . .”

  “I can carry as many as can fit on my back,” came Svetlana’s voice.

  They all turned to see her, standing where the falcon had been. Tuyaara leaped backward, her arms spread in front of Lina and Bogdan protectively. But when they showed no sign of surprise or fear, she relaxed a little and nodded. “I’ll get my brothers, then,” she said. “They won’t want to miss this.”

  It was a lot cozier with six of them clinging to Svetlana’s back. It had taken a lot to convince Michil, in particular, to go anywhere near Svetlana’s falcon form and not to tell their parents. They’d had to threaten to leave without him in the end.

  Now Lina and Bogdan told Tuyaara and her brothers everything. Already they were steeling themselves for a fight — Lina could tell. And she recognized herself in the way Tuyaara looked to the horizon. It was her own burning need to save her mother — but different somehow. Keskil must have meant a great deal to her.

  Soon the dusk rolled in. They came down near the edge of a forest, and Svetlana became a person in among the shadows. If Tuyaara and her brothers wer
e shocked this time, they hid it well.

  “We will keep on, through the night,” said Svetlana between shallow breaths. “There’ll be no sleep for me, if we’re to make it now. You should all rest, however, if you can.”

  True to her word, Svetlana transformed again into a falcon and took to the air. The others closed their eyes. Even if they couldn’t sleep for fear of falling, they could at least try to rest, as Svetlana had encouraged them to.

  All but Lina. She had too much on her mind.

  What state would her mother be in when — if — she got to her? And what about Commandant Zima? She hated to think of him: the man who might be her father. How would she react if she saw him? How would he react to her?

  Through it all, her failure to grow the peaches in Svetlana’s courtyard weighed heavily. What was the true nature of her powers, if not to grow things? It didn’t make sense. That was the thing she loved doing the most.

  She looked to Bogdan, as she usually did when something worried her. Somehow, now that she really studied it, his face looked older than she remembered. Even in the semi-dark, his complexion glowed in a way she’d never seen before. Perhaps it was his returning health. It was true that his terrible churning cough had all but disappeared.

  Buried in Svetlana’s feathers, her thoughts blurred with dreams until she couldn’t tell the difference anymore.

  As dawn broke on the horizon, there was still no glimpse of the camp. Svetlana brought them down in the middle of nowhere. Lina scrambled off Svetlana’s back and ran around just in time to see two pale arms reach up out of the feathers to brush the falcon face away — as if it were a costume. Svetlana’s own face rose up from beneath the beak. All at once, she was a person again. Lina ignored her surprise at Svetlana’s transformation. “What’s happening? Why’ve we stopped?” she said.

  Bogdan came to stand close to Lina, and she could just see Natalya’s shadow on her other side. Svetlana clutched her stomach and caught her breath. It was clear she couldn’t yet speak. In the silence, Lina paced. She felt like shaking Svetlana and demanding to know where they were.

  She had to breathe. Control her own frustration.

  “We are close enough,” gasped Svetlana, “to the camp — for you to use your piece of the cape. Do not worry. I enchanted the peach you ate yesterday. It will protect you from the other world for long enough to allow you to make your journey.”

  Lina was stunned. “Here? But how do you know we’re near the camp?”

  Svetlana put her hands on her hips and straightened out her back. “We are close to the men you escaped with. They have been wandering in this wood since that night. The wolf-binding has been taking place and they are becoming shadows. It is time for the rest of us to find them. We will bring them to the camp with my wolves and other shadows and stir a mutiny, as we agreed.”

  Lina and Bogdan looked at each other and nodded.

  Tuyaara shared a glance with her brother Michil and then looked at the floor. “I wish I had my horse,” she grumbled. “It sounds stupid, I know, but somehow it doesn’t feel right, doing this without one.”

  “I can arrange a horse,” said Svetlana. She closed her eyes.

  Tuyaara frowned. “What’s she doing?”

  Lina and Bogdan shrugged.

  “There are spirits other than wolves — and other realms in which to find them,” said Svetlana without opening her eyes. Her voice sounded hushed and sharp all at once. Her breath shuddered out of her as if she’d been running for a very long time. Then Lina heard a new sound. The pounding of hooves.

  It came from the forest. Lina turned just in time to see a horse leap from the trees. It galloped toward them.

  The horse’s body looked as if it was made of ice. It had mist dancing inside it — like dappled tree shade that had been captured. Its face and mane were feathered with frost. Tuyaara let out a small cry, which she stifled with her own fist. Lina could see tears welling in her eyes. Watching her, Lina felt the hot sting of her own tears.

  Her thoughts soon turned back to their task, though. There wasn’t time to be awestruck.

  “So this is where I go and get Mamochka,” said Lina. She turned to Bogdan. “Ready to ‘distract and attack’?” Looking into his eyes, a lump rose in her throat that she couldn’t swallow. This was the first time she’d be apart from Bogdan in what felt like a lifetime. “Bogey . . .”

  “Lina.” Bogdan crossed the space between them in an instant and hugged her so tight she struggled to breathe. “You are my friend, Lina. My best friend. Be safe.”

  She slipped her arms around him too and said into the fur of his coat, “And you are mine — my very best friend. Take care, Bogey.”

  “Look after yourself.”

  “You look after yourself.”

  “Don’t do anything foolish.”

  “Bogey. Come on. I can’t breathe.”

  He let go. They shared a shy grin.

  “Good luck, Lina,” said Tuyaara, gently stroking the horse’s nose. “We won’t be far behind. You can count on us.”

  Michil put his arm around Dolan and they both nodded at her solemnly, as if to agree with their sister. Lina felt a pressure on her arm. Natalya was touching her. “Nevertell.”

  Svetlana lifted her chin and flicked her hair over her shoulders. “Focus, Lina. Imagine yourself into a part of the camp you can picture the best — and that’s where you will go. The better you know where you’re going, and the less time you spend beneath the cape, the less risk there is of becoming trapped in the nothing world. You must have experienced this when you first used it. But I believe you can do this now.”

  Lina nodded. “Thanks. I’ll do everything I can to save Mama.”

  “I don’t doubt it. But, as Bogdan said, don’t do anything foolish. Wait until you hear us coming before you act.”

  Lina took a deep breath and centered herself. She felt inside her pocket for the scrap of cape, pulled it out, and held it in both hands. It started to stretch — to give. In an instant, she’d pictured one of the places she knew best — one that wouldn’t be swarming with guards.

  The greenhouse.

  In the next second, Lina couldn’t see. All she could hear was a rushing sound, like flying — or falling. She panicked, flailing her arms and jerking her legs. All sense of anything solid beneath her had completely gone.

  Until the ground came up under her feet and the musty smell of warm, damp soil hit her. She blinked until the world came into focus. Lina was back at the camp.

  The greenhouse was as Lina remembered — except for one detail. All the plants were gone. Only empty pots and seed trays betrayed the fact that any had ever been there. That is, until her eyes adjusted, and she was able to take in the sight of the floor.

  Uprooted plants lay all around, weak white roots dangling from clods of dark earth. Torn and trampled leaves shriveled into themselves, as if trying to escape. Soil had been ground into the flagstones by heavy boots. When Lina took the vegetables, she’d left the greenhouse in a decent state. She hadn’t had the heart to destroy it, not totally. Since then, this place had been the site of an explosion of rage. Only one man could have done this. Commandant Zima.

  Lina remembered his violent temper with sick dread. She’d seen it with her own eyes. How a plant had only to grow wrong or suffer in some way — have dry leaves or incurable rot — and he’d rip it up and shred it in front of her, as if it had caused him some terrible injury.

  She didn’t dare allow herself to remember how his rages had played out with people.

  Looking at all those empty pots, ready and waiting to be planted, Lina felt a tingle in her fingers: the urge to make something grow. She remembered the way she’d felt on top of the mountains in the sunshine. The way she’d soaked up the warmth, like energy.

  She remembered Svetlana’s words: “Cold magic gives insight and crosses boundaries. Warm magic is growth and creates boundaries.”

  “Focus on what I wish to achieve and why — not the
feeling of power itself.” Lina repeated what Svetlana had told her, moved a little ways down the aisle, and took a couple of stranded seeds from the floor. She put one in her pocket and held the other between her fingers. It looked like rye. It had been the wrong moment before, but she could do this now. She knew it. The question was: How far could she push her abilities?

  Footsteps scraped on the gravel outside. The sound of a hard sole, which could only mean a guard. Lina dropped the seed. She had to get out of there. But how? She glanced around. No escape. Could she hide instead? What about the piece of cape? Could she use it to transport herself to another part of the camp?

  It lay in the aisle, between her and the door. She ran, dropped, and scrabbled for it.

  Too late. A key turned in the lock and the greenhouse door screeched open. The sudden blast of icy air from the doorway carried the cape over her shoulder and away. She froze on her knees in the center of the aisle.

  Commandant Zima filled the doorway.

  Slowly, Lina stood up. Commandant Zima’s glare made all her limbs feel heavy and stuck. For several seconds, he didn’t move a muscle. Then his nostrils flared with fury. “You,” he spat. “How?”

  Zima paced toward her at a frightening speed. Lina flinched, but her legs still felt glued down. She was so frightened she couldn’t move, let alone run. She could only hope he didn’t shoot her on the spot or tear at her like one of the plants.

  He stopped just a few feet away. “Can it be true?” He spoke quietly and slowly, scanning her face. She felt conscious of her new clothes. “You — little Lina — are back?” A softness came into his voice, which came out in a kind of sigh — almost like he was pleased to see her. Relieved, even. It didn’t last long. As if remembering who he was, he pulled himself up to his full height and snapped, “You stole from me. You ruined the officers’ banquet. If you knew the embarrassment I’ve had to face . . . Did you and Katya think it was funny? I assume she did help you. Have you come back now to laugh at me some more?” Dark circles cupped his bulging eyes. The anger in them and the redness rising up his neck made her shudder. His cruelty was made worse somehow by his gentle tone from a moment before.