Rowan motioned towards Koryak, then back to me, indicating my hands. Haida frowned, came over, and examined my hands, then as soon as she'd seen them, shouted for Koryak.
Koryak appeared from behind a partition. As he moved around it, firelight reflected off him. Another group was in the back. I wondered who they were.
Haida spoke to him briskly, then he checked my hands. He whistled and shook his head.
"Ask him if I can use magic to heal them," said Rowan.
I translated for Rowan, explaining that she was a healer. It was strange to use Russian again after all these years. It was an angry language.
"Magic? She has magic?" asked Koryak, his expression grave.
"For healing only," I said.
Koryak glanced at Rowan. "Magic not healing only. No magic, or bring wolves."
"What about my hands?" I asked.
Koryak scoffed. "Should not have gotten wet."
He showed me a grin, which in the firelight and with his black lips, made his face into a skull.
Rowan knew the answer even before I told her.
"I should have left him in that hole," I said.
"If you had, then you'd still be out in the woods freezing to death," she said.
She must have seen the anguish on my face, because Rowan moved close and kissed me on the forehead. She smelled like a sweet rose. "Don't worry, Kat. We will find a way to heal your hands. Maybe the wolves will leave the area and they will let me use magic."
"What happens if they won't let you? What happens to my hands?" I asked.
"Your blood and flesh has been damaged, maybe to the point of not working again. If so, then your fingers or hands will turn black and then we will have to cut them off or they'll make you sick," said Rowan, in the practiced neutral tone of a physician.
"Cut off my hands..."
I'd been aggravated that I had to leave the oestium rapier in the boulders. But without hands, I wouldn't even be able to use the weapon.
"It looks like the others are lying down to sleep. Let us rest. It's been a long day. In the morning, we'll see what they want," said Rowan.
"What if they want to kill us?" I asked.
"Don't you think they would have done that already?" asked Rowan.
"That's not a very comforting argument," I said.
Rowan made a half-shrug that said she wasn't too concerned. But she wasn't going to possibly lose her hands.
We lay down near the fire. The stone was unyielding. I watched the bright-orange coals, enjoying the blanket of heat on my front. The firelight flickered over my swollen hands. Before I fell asleep, I noticed the tip of my index finger had already turned black.
Chapter Seven
The next day, the warriors fed us caribou sausage and cooked roots. The purpose of the cave became clear as daylight filtered in through the entrance. Along the curved rock wall, the carcasses of caribou, rabbit, fox, and other animals hung from ropes that were attached to wooden scaffolding.
Some of the men and women I thought had been hunters the night before, were working on the carcasses, removing the fur and then dividing the meat.
I watched while a young girl who couldn't have been older than twelve carefully removed the skin of a mink. She must have nicked a scent gland with her blade, because one of the older women came over and slapped her and yelled in her face. The others went about their business as if nothing had happened.
When it was finished, the girl went back to skinning the mink, though she looked painfully tentative, flinching at every slice. Her face was screwed up as she tried not to smell the odorous scent of the mink. It wasn't as bad as a skunk, but it was strong enough to water the girl's eyes. Even from across the cave, the smell made my noise wrinkle.
A few parties of hunters went out during the morning. We sat by the fire, and Rowan tended my hands. Gently as she could, she massaged them, trying to help the blood flow to encourage healing.
She also tended the fire, which the warriors seemed to approve of. I felt useless without hands. Even the gentle massage was agonizing, but I was willing to endure if it meant keeping my hands.
Haida watched us the whole while. I'd seen no sign of Koryak. For all we knew, he'd left with one of the hunting parties.
The back area of the cave was a mystery. Another group was sequestered there. Since Koryak had gone into the back area last night, I hadn't see anyone come or go.
There was also a separate table with a metal box sitting on it. Two warriors stood guard in front of it. The box wasn't any larger than a stack of bricks five wide and two high, but it appeared very heavy.
After a while, Rowan grew restless and joined the men and women who were processing the dead animals. At first, they kept motioning for her to return to the fire, but somehow she convinced one to let her work on a hanging deer carcass. It only took a few cuts for them to realize she was an expert. A few watched her, then went back to their work.
I shouldn't have been surprised by Rowan's skill, considering her work as a physician. She told me that once she'd been an empress, but now she was cleaning a deer carcass, not even caring about the splattered blood and guts on her fine clothes.
It made me wonder what they were doing with us that they would allow a captive to have a knife. Not that it would do us any good. There were at least thirty people in the cave. They probably thought her magic more of a danger, and since they couldn't take that away: what was the danger of giving her a knife?
To my surprise, Koryak appeared from the back. He wore a fine jacket that had once been a Cossack's, but had been covered in trinkets. His lips were blacker than they were the night before, almost as if he'd been drinking ink.
The arrogance of his stride conveyed a strength and power I had not guessed before. He was a slight man, smaller than the warriors around the cave, but he did not act like one. Which meant only one thing—he had magic.
When he saw Rowan amongst the skinners, he snapped his fingers, and they ushered her back to the fire. Rowan gave up her knife without comment.
In Russian, he said, "Today we leave to return to khan. Two days. Fate of spy decided."
A khan? That meant this was only an outpost. The real village was somewhere else. Which was smart. If there was a dragon around, then frequent movement might draw its notice.
I explained what was happening, but Rowan protested.
"Tell him that you can't travel. Your hands are too delicate. You need healing. Without the proper care, your flesh could become sick," said Rowan.
I explained this to Koryak, which was strange. It made me feel like I was speaking about someone else. That it was not me who could lose her hands, or die.
Koryak gave my hands a cursory once-over, then shook his head.
"No magic," he said.
After I translated, Rowan said, "Then no travel. She can't go. A two-day journey in this weather would ensure she'd lose her hands, or kill her if the infection grew."
I tried to soften the message, but even a less confrontational wording made Koryak's black eyes bulge. He looked at my hands once again, then barked at Haida and a few others.
Before long, the cave was a hornet's nest upended. Men and women were moving all around. Haida stepped beside Rowan and placed a blade to her neck while others grabbed my arms. Neither of us resisted, but I was getting more worried by the second.
When a heavy wooden table was brought over, and then a saber stuck into the fire, I knew exactly what was going to happen. They were going to cut off my hands.
"No. Please no," I begged Koryak. "Please don't cut them off."
Koryak motioned towards Rowan. "Tell her that if she calls even one tiny spark of magic, Haida will kill her and then we will burn you alive."
I relayed the message. Rowan glanced towards the blade.
"Tell them I can heal your hands if they just let me use magic," she said.
"I'm trying," I said to her. Then to Koryak, "Please. We can fix this. Just a little magic. Rowan's a great h
ealer. She can heal others if you want. Please."
Koryak put a hand on my arm. His face was sober with intent. "No magic, or wolves come. If wolves come, dragon not far behind. If outpost ruined, then no more food for village, and everyone dies."
The cold calculation put a spike through my heart. He could not be swayed. Would not be swayed. If I were in his position, I would make the same choice.
But when they dragged me to the table and used bindings to hold my arms in place, I screamed just the same. Their village be damned, I didn't want to lose my hands. I kicked and struggled, but many people held me and I was weak still.
Rowan watched me with tears in her eyes. She knew the danger of the wolves as well as anyone. Maybe she could use her magic to quietly heal me, but a sorcerous battle to free me would certainly draw them. Once again the details of my life drawn and calculated.
I could feel the magic in my head bubble to the surface. What would happen when they cut my hands off? How would I even use my magic? Or if I tried to use it with my hands in their deteriorated state, would they survive?
Bindings were wrapped around my forearms, cutting off the flow of blood. The ropes were so tight they made my hands ache. Koryak pulled the glowing blade out of the fire and walked towards me.
His gaze was one of indelible purpose. There would be no last second reprieve based on anything I said.
As Koryak prepared to strike, I decided to embrace my fate. I would endure this tragedy with silent and stoic resolve. I would not cry out when the blade struck.
But as Koryak lifted the burning blade above his head with both hands, words trumpeted from my lips in the thralls of terror.
"Stars and stones, please save me!"
I squeezed my eyes shut, preparing for the exquisite pain that would follow.
Instead, I heard a woman's voice from the back of the cave shout, first in their language, then in Russian. I recognized it, though I could not believe it true.
I opened my eyes. Koryak still held the blade above my hands, concern racking his face.
"Put down the blade and let her go," said the woman from the back in Russian.
The authority of this woman was evident in the rapid adherence to her words. The ropes were quickly removed from my arms. Koryak tossed the saber next to the fire, scowling with disdain.
The crowd parted. It was Anastasia. My daughter.
"Is this the spy?" she asked.
I wanted to throw myself in her arms, but she did not move towards me, instead staying on the other side of the group. It had been twenty years since I'd seen her, and without that same voice, I'm not sure I would have immediately recognized her.
Her hair was threaded with gray and knotted, trinkets hanging from the ends. She had a scar beneath her left eye that made it droop. Her lips were dark like Koryak's, but faded. Anastasia and her husband had fled Moscow twenty years ago, and it appeared the years had not been kind.
"Ana, what are you doing here?" I asked.
My heart was jumping around in my chest like a jack rabbit.
Her eyes flickered with recognition before her lips barked out a command.
"How do you know my name?" she asked. "Who are you?"
"I'm your..."
The words trailed off my lips as I remembered that I appeared to be in my twenties, rather than nearing sixty. Everyone was staring at me, except for Koryak, who was looking at Anastasia.
"I'm your cousin, Yeka. Don't you remember?"
Koryak squinted in my direction. "I thought said you from Karelia?"
The tenuous lie was stretched further. At least Rowan had never called me Princess Dashkova.
"I am. But I had family in Moscow," I said, realizing my mistake as soon as Koryak's head whipped around. I'd been concerned before about revealing that I'd been a part of the nobility. I wasn't sure how Ana had achieved a position of authority, but I might have undermined it.
Ana shook her head and bared her teeth. The trinkets rattled like bones.
"This woman is a liar and a spy. Not my cousin," she said in Russian. "She was sent here to discredit me and sow discord amongst the Yaran. Do not believe her!"
Rowan was watching the exchange with considerable interest. She kept looking back and forth between us. I could see the dawning realization on her face. If she could see it, then Koryak would figure it out eventually.
He spoke in a low voice. "If she is spy, then let us cut off her hands so we can return her to the khan for questioning."
"No," she said. "I forbid it. I am yanyani tadibya. It is my decision what to do with the prisoner."
The next part of the exchange was spoken in the Yaran language. The others followed the back and forth, until finally, Koryak threw up his hands and marched out of the cave.
After giving instructions, Ana turned to us and explained in Russian. Though there were no speakers of our language nearby, she gave no hint that we were family in her tone or words.
"We return to Ice Lake. Prepare for travel. It is five-day journey and we leave tonight." When her gaze flickered to my hands, she continued, "You must survive until then."
Chapter Eight
My thoughts were a whirlwind. I was relieved not to have my hands chopped off, but five days of travel would only injure them further, resulting in their eventual removal. Rowan acquired herbs from our guards to make a poultice, but her flat gaze told me it was an insufficient measure.
Further still, I was in shock from seeing my daughter. It'd been a long time since I'd seen Anastasia. I didn't know who she was. Had she feigned not knowing me to protect herself, or did she really not know who I was based on my age?
We prepared to leave that evening after the sun went down. I'd tried to sleep so I could march through the night, but my hands ached, leaving me to toss and turn.
Before we left, Rowan fit an extra pair of gloves around my hands to protect them from the cold.
"If you trip or fall, try not to catch yourself with your hands," she explained.
"How am I supposed to do that?" I asked, hearing the desperation in my voice.
"Fall on your side, or your knees. Whatever you do, you cannot injure them again, or they'll have to cut them off," she said.
"Can't you heal them now? Use your magic?" I asked.
"Even if we could chance it, I'm drained from healing Ben and Brassy, not even counting the hut repairing itself, which puts a toil on me. I would require a donor to fix your hands," she said, with heavy emphasis on the word donor.
"Then what am I to do?" I asked.
Rowan reached out and fixed an errant strand of hair that had fallen into my eyes. Her gaze was watery. "Save your strength, protect your hands, and look for opportunities. Something might come up if we're ready."
My instinct was to embrace her in a hug. I needed the reassurance. But my hands would not allow it. So let out a heavy sigh.
"You're right. I'm whining. I'll keep ready," I said, hanging my head.
Rowan lowered her voice. "What about the exchange with that shaman? Is she...?"
"She's my daughter," I said quietly, and before she could ask, I followed with, "and our parting was not sweet."
Rowan moved away, mulling the information as the rest of the party gathered themselves. Besides returning to Ice Lake to decide my fate with the khan, the party would be bringing back furs and meat. Two sleds were loaded down with supplies.
The travelers consisted of Anastasia, Koryak, Haida, six men, three women, me, and Rowan. They blindfolded Rowan and me for the first hour of the journey. I was worried about falling during this time, but thankfully one of the men held onto my overcoat.
The wind was relatively calm, which meant we didn't have to bind our faces against the cold. The march was slow and plodding. Despite the relative darkness, a thin moon had risen above the hills, and they kept to the places beneath the trees to hide the passage of the sleds.
I was too busy watching where I was planting my feet to worry about much else. I only fel
l once that evening, reflexively holding out my arms before tucking them against my stomach and throwing myself to my knees at the last second.
Before the sun came up, we camped in a thick grove. The others put up hide tents and covered them with pine branches. Rowan and I were allowed our own tent, but the opening was sewn shut with gut string once we were inside.
It didn't matter that we were trapped. After Rowan fixed my bandages and cleaned my wounds, I fell into a deep sleep.
The next morning, we were cut out of our tent to eat dried meats and drink the water that we had melted with our body heat while the sun was setting. Rowan cleaned my hands again, replacing the poultice before applying the double gloves. My hands didn't ache as much as the first day, but the swollen blackness growing on my left index finger was unmistakable, along with Rowan's quiet frown.
The next evening went slower than the first. After the moon rose, we heard the wolves of shadow on the hunt. As soon as the first howl reached our ears, Koryak was back at our place in the line, putting his finger in Rowan's chest.
"Did use magic?" he asked angrily under his breath.
Rowan wisely shook her head in the negative.
A second howl, slightly closer, brought a knife to Koryak's fist. It sounded like one of the wolves was in the same valley.
"If wolf come, I bleed you and leave for it," he said.
No one moved while we waited for the next howl. I feared if it was nearer than the one before, he would jam the blade into the space beneath her left breast. While it would not kill Rowan, her return to the hut would leave me without a healer.
The line of fourteen people and two sleds waited quietly, breath forming like mist as we listened to the chilly night. An owl hooted nearby, spooking one of the men into nervous laughter until Anastasia hissed at him to be quiet.
Through the dim light, I gazed upon my daughter and wondered how she had changed. What had led her to become a shaman for the Yaran people? I supposed that Siberia was a hard place, and one took the opportunities where one could find them.
Ana was staring back at me. I couldn't tell if she was studying me, trying to determine the truth of my relation to her, or trying to impart some secret message.
Dragons of Siberia (The Dashkova Memoirs Book 7) Page 4
