by Mark Lucek
Iwa froze, her breath held deep in her throat. In the bushes behind her there was a flicker of movement, the merest hint of something in the undergrowth. Hardly daring to take her eyes from the vision before her she glanced over the top of the tree. The bark glowed with a soft unearthly light that shimmered across the waters.
There it was again, the movement in the dark. Despite the danger, she couldn’t help but peer closer. A little further into the forest there was a tiny bush, its leaves twisting sharply about the branches, and underneath hung a group of purple berries.
From the ruins another swell of sound shook through the leaves. Still she didn’t dare move. A deep thicket surrounded the bush on three sides, but the other lay exposed to the shore. One brief glance and the pig-faced creature was bound to see her. She had survived one encounter with the night hag, but Jezi Baba was always shifty, her allegiance ever turning like a falling leaf.
From the shore the sound quietened, but that only served to scare Iwa more. She pressed her cheek hard against the rotten stump of the tree, soaked with the damp scent of earth and decay. In the half-light she could see a myriad of tiny worms crawling across the bark. But these were like no creatures she’d ever seen before. Their skins glowed with an incandescent light that shimmered in the gloom as they slithered across the dead white wood.
Still she couldn’t move, the breath close in her throat. I was an idiot to have ever come here. From the distant shore, the drumbeat continued and brought with it a static crackle, like the coming of a thunderstorm. Except that there was something else about the sound; a deep, unnatural feeling that clung in the air. Off in the distance the bush shook, though there was no trace of wind.
Iwa blinked and, in spite of her fear, almost broke from cover. Was it her imagination or had the forest rearranged itself? Slowly she peered out across the blackness. There was little trace of the path along which she’d come only a few moments ago. Even the bush before her seemed to shimmer, the bracken around it twisting and changing. A trick of the light, she told herself, though she knew that was impossible.
She clung to the shadows and shook her head. Such things can’t happen. The forest hardly changed from one year to the next, the familiar landmarks always there to welcome the clan as they followed the herds. Matka Ziemia was as eternal as the stars. But somehow she knew that she was far from the domain of moist Mother Earth.
Helplessly she watched as the bush began to recede, sharp tendrils of bracken coiled about it. No! She almost cried out in fear. This can’t happen. In the darkness the bush shimmered. Already it had grown faint, the leaves hardly more than a shadow, but still she couldn’t pull herself away, her face clinging to the stump as she pressed her cheek into the dead wood. If only she could get to the berries – they seemed so close, barely more than an arm’s reach away. She tensed and willed her legs to spring forward. But she couldn’t move. Torchlight danced across the shadows and the figure of Jezi Baba floated eerily across the water. No matter how much she willed herself to move she couldn’t break from the safety of her cover.
In truth, the berries were farther away than she’d imagined. Iwa tensed, her calves trembling, her hands held ready. Yet some part of her held back, a primordial instinct that rose deep out of the blackness and, no matter how much she tried to convince herself that the bush was within reach, she couldn’t move. Between her and the forest there was a patch of bare ground. One glance from Jezi Baba or her pig-faced demon, a simple look in her direction, and they’d be upon her. She remembered the woyaks in the forest, their eyes blank as boiled carp. Then the sound stopped and the breath dried in her throat. Slowly Iwa peered over the rump of the wood. The figure of Jezi Baba hovered as mist over the altar, as the pig-faced woman raised her hands in supplication, her face turned to the figure before her.
There was a crackle of thunder as the light pulsed eerily across the water. In terror, Iwa closed her eyes: it was now or never. Breath held hot in her throat, she began to crawl, her stomach pressed hard against the ground like a snake as she tried to mould herself to the shadows. Before her the forest stretched, an inky black mess of roots and briars as, behind her, the sound of Jezi Baba took hold once more, the dark rhythm creeping through the leaves as all around her the forest shifted. The bush seemed distant now, the bracken closing in. Iwa paused, her eyes filling with tears. It was no good, she would have to get up and run, but her legs wouldn’t move and, try as she might, she could only lie there, the fight draining from her limbs.
Karnobog, protect your child, and give strength to my heart. She screwed up her eyes and, with the breath almost screaming in her lungs, launched herself up and ran over to the bracken.
She moved quickly, her limbs hot with fear. Not even bothering to look back, she bent down, her fingers scrabbling for the berries, her heart beating with a dull hollow pain as she plucked the last of the fruit. Behind her the sound of Jezi Baba faded. Surely they’ve seen me. She almost cried out, too panicked to even think of hiding.
Then all was still. Slowly, the pig-faced demon turned and for a moment its eyes scanned the shore, but Iwa had already crept away, her breath coming in short frozen gasps as she crawled through the undergrowth. It was only as the sun broke above the ridge of the horizon that she dared to stand. There was a tingle in her stomach; her mouth was dry and she hadn’t eaten in ages. She was tired too, her hands numb and trembling. But she was alive and she had the berries.
At first glance the trees appeared normal but, as she peered closer, she realised that she couldn’t make out exactly which type they were. There was no sign of an oak or linden or anything remotely familiar. Carefully, she reached out to the nearest tree, the wood soft and pliant under her hand, but there was something unnatural about its touch, a warm tingling as her fingers wrapped smoothly over the bark.
Will I ever get out of this place? Above her a hawk circled. If only she could see beyond the trees. The mountains had to be somewhere nearby and it’d be easy then to find her way to the river. The hunters often judged their position by the sun and the length of shadows, but here everything was different.
She was lost. Around her the trees seemed to close in, strange leaves curling about the oddly scented bark. A feeling of helplessness came over her. She was alone, without food or a knife or any hope of shelter. Food for the wolves. The ancestor world was ready to claim her. By now she was hungry, a sharp ache growing in her stomach, but there was nothing to eat. She tried to move but the ache only increased. One berry, she told herself, one berry and I’ll leave the rest for Yaroslav.
It had only taken a few to cure Godek’s hound, a mere handful, and she’d gathered far more than that. Yet, even as she stuffed one into her mouth she couldn’t help but feel that she was somehow betraying her father. There was something about the berries, the way that the light appeared to sink into them. And the skin had a hard prickly texture like a gooseberry, but the surface appeared perfectly smooth. Slowly she sucked on the juices and tried not to think about the strangeness of the berry. It was not an altogether unpleasant taste, sweet like a strawberry but with an odd, bitter sensation lurking behind.
A strange dizzy feeling overcame Iwa. She could see clearly now, her eyes taking in the whole of the forest as though she soared far above. Like a hawk, she could see it all: the tiny paths that snaked almost unseen through the trees, and the tall crests of the mountains. Sharp eyes picked out even the smallest details: the scurry of mice or the scent of a rabbit.
Then she was falling as if from a great height, an angry squawk as feathered wings beat warmly about her. No! She recoiled in terror. This wasn’t the first time she’d wandered off into some animal’s mind, but that had always been by accident and it had never been so real before, so vivid.
Jezi Baba, she prayed. Let me find my way out of here. But there was little chance of that. Around her the forest grew, the branches twisted into strange unnatural shapes. There would be little chance of coming across a familiar path.
&nbs
p; Desperately she willed herself back into the creature’s mind. If only she had an inkling about what she was doing. Part of her rebelled against the thought. Better to die than have truck with such things. She’d never actually consciously tried to get inside an animal’s head before. When such things had happened she’d been able to convince herself that it’d been nothing but play, a wild imagination getting the best of her.
Part of her wanted to swoop, her heart longing for the rush of the wind against her face and the warm flood of blood in her mouth. Fighting down the temptation to hunt, Iwa forced herself on.
Dimly she was aware of her body, the soft tread of the earth comforting beneath her feet as she made her way along a half-forgotten track. It was difficult to focus; it was still as if she were in two places at once, looking out through the hawk’s eyes as well as her own. Around her the trees swelled. She put out her hand to stop herself from falling and realised that she recognised it, the bark hard against her hand. She must have wandered across the barrier and back into the world.outside. She drew some comfort from that at least, if only she could make out where she was. The owls had flown so far, so fast.
Finally, she rounded a bend and saw the trickle of water through a gap in the trees: she was almost at the cave. Maybe she hadn’t travelled far at all. By now the sun was high in the sky and she could feel the bird’s hunger as it swept away, leaving her with little more than the memory of the breeze tingling along her arm. Dazed and confused, Iwa shook her head and sank against a tree. Getting used to her own eyes proved difficult, her vision so impoverished compared with the hawk’s. How did I ever manage to see anything with these stunted eyes? Through the forest, a dark shape came towards her: it was Jarel.
‘Hush, you idiot,’ he hissed, ‘do you want to bring every woyak out of the camp?’
‘I lost my way.’
‘You should have known better.’ Jarel nodded to the track. There was little to mark her passing, except for a few broken twigs and a patch of earth disturbed under her tread, but the hunters were used to tracking animals and Jarel could pick out the trail as clearly as if she’d cut her way through with an axe. ‘Why not just call out to the woyaks if you’d like to bring them here?’
‘They’re not hunters,’ Iwa replied, as she eyed the thin hare in his hand. ‘They couldn’t track a herd of elk through the forest without losing the trail.’
‘Elk herds move more quietly, and leave less trace of their passing.’
‘Well, at least I’ve managed to gather something useful.’ She held the bag defensively between them.
‘A few measly berries! Half an hour’s work at most.’
‘And you’ve done better, I suppose?’
‘Fresh meat is hard to come by,’ Jarel turned the hare in his hand in an effort to make it look larger, ‘and cunning too. Not like berries, which hang in the bracken waiting for you to come along and pick them.’
‘But they cured Godek’s old hound. Remember how sick he was? Even Katchka’s herbs hadn’t helped. He was howling for the ancestor world and I cured him, with these.’
‘Dogs are one thing, men another.’ Without looking back Jarel began to move off in the direction of the cave, his leg dragging heavily across the ground.
‘Yaroslav!’ Iwa cried, and she felt a stab of panic, but the hunter didn’t even break his stride. ‘He is all right?’ Suddenly Iwa realised why Jarel only had the one hare. ‘No!’ she cried.
Jarel paused as if to say something, but decided against it. It would be better to let her learn the truth for herself, and besides, she’d already pushed past him.
‘Father…’ She scrabbled into the cave. The air was oily with the stench of fire and decay. Around her the paintings shimmered as she ran to her father’s side. ‘Yaroslav!’ she cried as she turned over his body, cold as a winter frost. ‘Please be alive.’ She touched skin, tough as bleached leather. His eyes were black, the light reflecting dully from his pupils as Jarel fed a few twigs to the fire.
‘I tried to give him some meat,’ Jarel said, ‘but he wouldn’t take it. There was nothing more I could do,’ he continued, as the fire flickered into life.
Iwa wasn’t listening. The tears were hot on her cheeks as she pulled the body towards her and buried her face in the folds of his cloak. ‘We should prepare his body for the ancestor world,’ Jarel said grimly. ‘I would have done so myself, but there were no women to help. Your father never claimed his first kill, so the hunters’ rites are not for him.’
‘No.’ Iwa looked up. ‘I won’t let you take him.’
Jarel placed a hand on her shoulder.
‘I won’t do it,’ she managed through her tears. ‘He’s not dead, he can’t be.’
‘That’ll not bring him back; nothing will, not even your berries.’
Iwa put her head against her father’s body and her heart leapt as she felt a gurgle of air draw through his lips. So he was alive – but the scent of death hung over him. Now that the fire had flared up Iwa could see his skin, cold and clammy, and his face tinged with blue. The spirit world lay ready to call him.
‘We could try the berries,’ she said, aware of how pitiful her words must sound.
‘Soon he will have his fill by the undying fire that burns before the sacred body of Karnobog. His tent is already pitched and the eternal hunt calls for him.’
‘Let me try the berries at least.’ A deep anger swelled within her. Jarel had already given up, ready to cast her father into the ancestor world. All this talk of the last rites was nothing more than a sham. All he wants is to let my father die so he can get out of here as quickly as possible.
Jarel gave her a sharp look, his lips parting as though about to answer, but then he turned away, his face grim as he set about skinning the hare. In normal days the dying would be given one last meal; but food was scarce now.
Slowly Iwa lifted up Yaroslav’s head, hardly able to look at those unmoving eyes. Putting a skin to his mouth, she felt him drink, but it was nothing more than a reflex, the water gurgling over his lips as he struggled to take in the liquid. Taking a handful of berries, she squeezed the juices into the water and pressed the flask again to his lips. This time Yaroslav spluttered, his mouth fighting the bitter aftertaste as he coughed back a thin film of liquid. How much has he swallowed? she wondered as she tilted back his head. There was no telling if the berries would work, or how many he should take: most healing herbs were poisonous if taken too readily. If they allow me to see with a bird’s eyes then there’s no telling what else they might do.
‘Just another sip,’ she pleaded, the skin trembling as she pressed it into his mouth. If only she could remember some of Katchka’s healing prayers. Desperately, she tried to dredge up some of the words, but they wouldn’t come, just a jumble of meaningless sounds that crammed in, one on top of the other, like the nonsense rhymes that had always made Tomaz giggle.
‘You should eat.’ Jarel cut away a thick chunk of meat and gave it to her. She must have been quite some time because the meat was well cooked. But she found that she had no appetite now and could only sit, staring blankly at the wall.
‘Leave your father to the ancestor world, where there is no need for such things. But you’ll need all your strength. There’s not much to hunt around here and the woyaks have lost their fear of the woods.’
But the dark settled over Iwa as she lay on the hard earth and prayed to Bielobog and Chernobog that they might let Yaroslav’s death pass over him. Just for a little while longer. What does it matter to the great gods if one man lives or dies? Jarel threw more twigs on the fire and the flames sputtered into life, casting shadows across the walls. In the light the painted figures flickered: the pattern of snakes and hands danced with the figures of men and the shapes of bison. There was something else too; a darkness that picked its way amongst the paintings, a hollow gloom that lurked behind the colours.
Behind her the fire spat as the wood split and the sap from a green branch hissed into the blaze.
But she was caught in the eddy of colour as the images on the walls danced before her. There was something else, a presence that breathed beneath the pictures. There it was again. A vision had taken life amongst the figures of bison and elk. In the dark the palm prints beat down upon her as, from the rocks, the pictures of snakes hissed.
There was another sound, and the flames roared higher, but it was no longer the same fire. This one was larger and men sat around it too. They were dressed in rough skins, their eyes old and flecked with grey. These were not men of the clans. There were no clan marks on their clothes, only strange symbols etched across their faces and dyed into the skin. The patterns were irregular but strangely beguiling, like waves or the skin of a snake.
She stared into the face of a boy. He couldn’t have been much older than her, but his skin was gaunt and his eyes were pale. By the fire one of the men looked up and muttered. It wasn’t anything like the language of the clans, more of a guttural cry, hardly indistinguishable from an animal, but the boy understood.
Slowly he crawled to the cave mouth and peered out. There was a strangeness about the forest. She couldn’t put her finger on it, but sensed the difference all the same. It must have been late summer, because the trees were well in bloom and in the distance there was the hum of bees. Yet the bracken was far thicker, totally obscuring the mountain path as it tangled about the roots of trees. From behind the cover of the bracken something moved; like a lynx, only bigger. She couldn’t see it properly, catching only a fleeting glimpse as it slunk through the undergrowth. The boy scanned the forest and then, picking up a rock, he hurled it into the thickets. There was a howl as the rock hit home and the animal snarled off into the woods.
She caught a glimpse of the creature as it skulked away. Only then did she realise just how large the thing was. Just too small for a bear, and surely no cat that size had ever prowled the forest paths? Another snarl erupted from its depths, angry and twisted, and then all was silent. But the boy hardly noticed, fearful eyes scanning the tree line. It was not just the cat which had scared him.