The Moon Child

by Mark Lucek

  She stopped short. Of course it was obvious that the woyaks went into their great ships to sleep, and she didn’t really know where they kept their weapons unless it was by their sides. But if he guessed the truth, Jarel didn’t let on.

  This was even more unfair. Surely she must have come across some scrap of knowledge which might be useful? She’d found out about their plans and a few of their names, but little else.

  She was about to take another kick at the stone when Jarel pushed her flat against a tree. Iwa opened her mouth to protest, but he motioned her to silence. A knife glistened in his hand as he cast furtive glances into the undergrowth. What? she mouthed, but Jarel remained silent, his grip tightening as he pinned her to the bark.

  ‘Somebody follows,’ he whispered eventually, ‘I’m sure of it.’

  ‘I didn’t hear anything.’

  ‘Maybe I was mistaken.’ But still he didn’t move. Before them was a clearing, the ground littered with a mass of leaves and branch wood. ‘Get across as quick as you can.’ Jarel motioned with the knife. ‘I’ll keep watch, just in case.’ Cautiously she stopped at the edge. ‘Quickly,’ Jarel hissed urgently.

  Without a look back she broke out of the undergrowth and into the clearing. With a crash the world tumbled in around her, leaves and wood falling as she plummeted to the ground.

  Blinking, she recovered her senses. Her eyes were filled with dirt and there was a numb buzzing between her ears. ‘Are you all right?’ a tiny voice called inside her head. She struggled to her knees and tried to speak but her lips were fuzzy and filled with the taste of rotten leaves. ‘Are you all right?’ This time she realised it was Jarel. Only then did she shake the dust out of her eyes. It was a bear trap. Even in the dark she should have seen it; the thin cover of leaves and dead wood drawn over a deep pit.

  ‘Jarel, you idiot,’ she hissed, still trying to keep her voice down in case they were really being followed.

  ‘At least the fall hasn’t damaged your temper.’

  Iwa got to her feet and winced as a stab of pain stung her right leg. Carefully, she leant against the side of the pit and rolled her foot in the air. Luckily it didn’t appear to be bad, nothing more than the trace of a bruise beginning to swell about her ankle.

  ‘Get me out of here,’ she said, barely able to contain her anger. Jarel should have known about the pit. It wasn’t as if any of the other clans used this path. She paused, but there was no sound. ‘Jarel,’ she hissed: still nothing. Then she began to panic. What if they were being followed? There was no sound of a scuffle, but maybe Jarel had been ambushed before he’d had a chance to cry out. Maybe the ground above was filled with woyaks, or worse. She waited uncertainly, a dull ache throbbing at the base of her foot as she looked around the pit: there was no way to climb out. Finally she could wait no more. ‘Jarel!’ she said, as loudly as she dared.

  She expected a rope, but all she got was a water skin that hit her on the side of her face. ‘Sorry,’ Jarel said, but didn’t dare show himself.

  ‘Just get me out of here.’ There was a long silence and then his head poked over the top of the pit. Without a word he threw in some dried meat.

  ‘Jarel?’ she yelled.

  ‘I’m sorry.’

  ‘Stop mucking about.’ Iwa stamped her foot and stifled a wince. ‘Just climb down and get me out of here.’ There was another long silence. ‘Jarel? I’m fine; now get me out.’

  ‘I’m sorry,’ he said again. This time his voice was quiet, almost sheepish.

  ‘For what?’ She began to claw at the side of the pit, but the walls were steep and the earth was smooth.

  ‘I’ll come back for you later, once I’ve spoken to Kazik.’

  ‘You’ll get me out of here now!’ Iwa yelled as she tried to climb the wall; it was hard to keep a trace of panic from her voice as she scrabbled for a handhold and tumbled down to the floor. ‘We were supposed to speak to Kazik and the others together, or have you forgotten that?’

  ‘It’s best if I go alone.’ Jarel’s voice trembled, he sounded almost as scared as she felt. ‘I saw you in the cave, the way you stared at those pictures for hours with hardly a breath.’

  ‘What kind of foolishness is this? Get me out of here now!’

  ‘I couldn’t break the trance, no matter how hard I grabbed your shoulder, and all the while you just kept staring into the rock.’

  ‘They’re just pictures.’

  ‘Not for you. Kazik warned me about you; you’re filled with magic, like your mother. She almost damned us all with her spells and her witchcraft.’

  ‘What are you talking about?’ She was almost in hysterics now, slamming the walls of the pit with her fists. What did Jarel know? Nobody had ever told her any of this. What spells? What witchcraft? How had her mother almost destroyed the clan? ‘You need me, Jarel!’ she cried. ‘You need me to talk to Kazik.’

  ‘You are the last person he’ll listen to. And nobody is going to let you wander round freely, not with the fate of the clan at stake.’

  ‘I can help you.’

  ‘Magic helps no one in the end. People think that they can control it – your mother believed that, but in the end it is the magic that controls the magician and works things to its own end.’

  ‘You’re wrong: I’ve no magic of my own. I’m just like you, Jarel.’

  ‘You are your mother’s daughter. The clan tolerated you because of Yaroslav. He said that there was no sign of the craft about you and we believed him. Who knows, you might have cast a spell to fool him, or maybe he just didn’t want to see the signs. We should have thrown you out at birth and left you on the rocks to die.’

  ‘Together we can fight the woyaks,’ she pleaded, still trying to take everything in. He’d never mentioned her mother before, or said anything about her having anything to do with magic or the dark powers of the earth. That’d only been something the old ones said, and even then they barely mentioned it. He must be making it up, they all were. He just doesn’t want to take me to Kazik. But even then she realised it was a lie. He seemed truly scared. ‘I’ve seen Jezi Baba kill the woyaks. Maybe I can summon her to help us.’

  ‘That’s the last thing we need. No, magic is too dangerous and nobody is going to allow you to roam around free, especially not now.’

  ‘Look, I don’t know anything about magic, or my mother. Just get me out of here and we can talk. I’m no danger to anyone.’ Surely he had been wrong about her mother? If she had been so powerful why did she let Iwa kill her in childbirth? It made no sense. Nothing about this made any sense. If only he’d let her back up.

  ‘A woman who thinks she can summon Jezi Baba is a danger to everyone. I’ll put in a good word for you when I meet with Kazik. Who knows, if you keep your mouth shut about magic and Jezi Baba, then we might free you when this is all over and things are safe again.’

  ‘Let me out, Jarel, please,’ Iwa begged, her voice reduced to a trickle of fear. ‘Jarel!’ she called again, but there was no response, only the scrape of leaves and rustle of bracken. ‘Jarel,’ she tried again. After that she kicked the side of the wall in anger, which brought her nothing but another stab of pain.

  She sank back against the side of the pit and began to cry. ‘Please,’ she murmured, though she was not sure exactly what she was asking for. Would Kazik come for her, or just leave her to rot until her bones were bleached in the sun? Jarel had sounded pretty scared. Maybe the hunters would just forget about her, or worse.

  Iwa picked herself up from the ground. Until then she’d never imagined that the clan would want to kill her. None of the clans sacrificed people, just animals or maybe a special object thrown into the river, but she’d heard stories of the ancient days, mystic clans and dark rites practised for bloodthirsty gods.

  Some of the elders had accused the Otter Clan of planning to slit a virgin’s throat so that Chernobog would help them survive a harsh winter. But, no, surely none of the Bison Grass would do such a thing, not even to her. Yaroslav wou
ldn’t let it happen… but what if they killed her without his knowledge? It would be the simplest thing to tell him that she’d fallen into the trap and broken her neck, or that her throat had been slit by some woyak.

  ‘Mother,’ she whispered through her tears, but, of course, there was no response. If only I were a witch, then I’d fly out of here and beat Jarel to death with the blunt end of a birch branch. At least she had some water and a scrap of meat, though neither would last long. If he’d meant for her to die, then Jarel wouldn’t have left them. Or, maybe that was just a sop to his conscience, a way for him not to face the grim reality of what was about to happen? What was the use in sacrificing a dead virgin; would the gods be pleased with that?

  Wiping her tears, Iwa took a mouthful of water and checked for handholds. Finding none, she picked up a stick and began to scrape out a tiny hollow. Maybe if she kept on she’d be able to reach the top. It was a hopeless endeavour, but fear drove her on as she began to scratch the earth so hard that the stick snapped, leaving her to carry on with her bare hands. She’d been prepared for death at the end of a woyak’s blade, not from her own people.

  Finally her strength gave way and she collapsed to the floor. Her fingers were ruined; her nails grubby and broken. If only she could find a way out. Around her the bracken lay scattered on the floor. Most of the branches had snapped when she’d fallen but, in the middle, one had survived almost intact. Jabbing one end into the floor Iwa rested the other against the wall. If only she could climb to the top and then maybe she could pull herself out. And after that I’ll get Yaroslav and we’ll run away together and leave the clan to rot.

  Carefully, she tested the branch with her foot. It was little more than a sapling, bending easily under her weight. ‘So long as you don’t break, little sapling.’ Iwa muttered her prayer to the Leszy as she began to clamber up. Not that it was easy. She had to wrap her legs around the base and haul herself up. She got to the middle and felt the wood buckle as the branch began to sag, the top pushing hard against the earth. Please do not break, little branch, she prayed as she pulled herself up further. But now that the branch had buckled, it was harder and, straining with effort, she almost wrenched it away from the wall. For one awful moment she thought that it might give way entirely. There was a scraping sound as the branch dragged against the earth. It was all she could do to cling on for dear life, breath held, as she readied herself to fall.

  Much to her relief the branch stopped and came to rest, the top only a fraction under the lip of the trap. She let out a long sigh and relaxed. With a crunch, the branch broke. There was an explosion of pain from the back of her head, white hot and boiling, and then only blackness.

  Chapter Nine

  From somewhere in the blackness there was a sound, like distant waves. Iwa felt that she was tumbling, though she’d no idea why. There was only the distant roar of the dark. Then she felt it. It was as if a river’s flood had burst over her.

  Her body was tossed and turned on invisible currents that threatened to rend her apart. She tried to scream but there was no air, only a thick choking stillness. If only the sound would go away. It was stronger now, all about her as she struggled.

  There was something else out there too. She sensed an unnatural presence, eerie and malign, that prowled on the edges of that grim darkness. She could feel it stir as, dimly, it became aware of her. And in the darkness something reached out.

  Then there was a trace of warmth, a glimmer of light, soft and blue, fragile as an egg. Not really knowing how, she tried to make for it. Again the clamour rose about her, her body aching as she retched so hard that she thought her stomach might rip.

  No, she had to find the light. She tried to search for it, but there was only blackness and the strange unseen tide that threatened to sweep her further into the endless void. Will I be lost forever? She tried to drown out the fear that rose through her like a molten ball.

  And if it hadn’t been for the fear and the pain she wouldn’t have noticed her body at all. At her heels something snapped. Whatever it was, the thing had followed her. She had the sense of something evil, cold and hollow as a gaping mouth, and around her ankles there was a clammy sensation as if something had reached out and was trying to pull her towards it.

  She had to get away! Desperately she tried to kick out but the thing held firm, the sensation crawling to her calf. Then the hidden currents twisted about her and she was snapped free. Somewhere in the dark she sensed the thing’s displeasure, a mordant howl through the pitch.

  So this is a dream. She felt the blackness stir about her, thick currents pulling, and in the distance there was the presence, hungry, lurking. Then its voice came again, a screeching voice that echoed through the dark. I must have hit my head when I fell. She could feel it now, the presence drawn close, attracted by the sudden warmth of this spirit which had wandered into the void. She felt it stir, curious about what it had found.

  I am asleep, and a Nocnica sits on my chest. Desperately, Iwa willed herself awake. She could almost see the nightmare spirit, crafted from shadow, as it sat on her chest, sucking out her life to leave nothing more than an empty husk. I have to wake before it kills me.

  But the great blackness of the nightmare closed in on her. Invisible currents tore at her again as the roar swirled and, from deep in the recesses, the Nocnica crept forward. Iwa could smell it, the peaty stench choking her, filling her throat. A cold, clammy wetness wrapped over her ankle once again and crawled across her skin.

  She had to get away. Helplessly she twisted but the thing held firm, the stench overpowering, rising as if to blot out all thought, all reason from her until she was nothing but a hollow vessel. It has come to suck out my soul whilst I sleep. She was sure of it. Frantically she tried to force herself to wake, but the dream was all around her and there was nothing she could do, no thought or prayer to help her now.

  She had to get away. Dimly she was aware of the totem that hung about her neck – it was a miracle that the strap hadn’t broken. Great Karnobog, guide your child, she prayed silently, safely along the forest paths, to the river and the summer camp. Around her neck the totem squeezed, the carved bone soft against her skin. There was something else as well, a strange sensation as if, deep within the carving, something had awoken. She felt the totem hum with a gentle warmth. But the currents snatched at her, her limbs twisting helplessly as she fought to find that tiny patch of blue.

  Dimly in the great void she sensed the light, a warm current carried through the great blackness. If only she could reach it. Somehow she had to, but there was only the howl of the firmament and the thick choking laughter.

  Chapter Ten

  There was nothing but the canopy of night. Countless stars wove through the ebony, illuminated by a cold crescent moon. At least that seemed familiar. Iwa’s body ached, and her head throbbed as if a swarm of wasps had been let loose inside her.

  She sank against the cold ground and drew a deep breath to try and calm the throbbing. If only she could figure out where she was. Hardly moving, she gazed up at the stars but they seemed wrong somehow. The patterns were vaguely familiar but they were all disjointed, as if the wind had shaken them, and she couldn’t make out the hunter’s star or any of the other constellations.

  At least the buzzing had subsided. The air came cold, frosted on the breeze as the pain eased. This was all wrong, where was Zorya Vechernyaya? The sky should have burned bright with the evening star. Desperately, she scanned the night sky but there was nothing where her star should have been, only a cold empty blackness. Where was Jarel and the bear pit? It should have been daylight, surely she couldn’t have been unconscious all this time?

  Cautiously Iwa reached behind her head, half expecting to feel blood matted in her hair where the fall had knocked her out, but there was nothing. Am I still dreaming? But a sharp pain in her side told her that she wasn’t. Above her the stars glowed with an unnatural incandescence that settled softly on the air. Even the moon seemed di
fferent as its reflection rippled pale silver across the waters which hardly stirred in the breeze.

  In the darkness there was a sound. She tensed, hardly daring to peer round. At least the earth felt solid, pressing reassuringly against her body. She’d managed to find a blanket but had no idea how. There was an unnatural stillness about this place, a stagnant stench, though, in the pale moonlight, the waters seemed clear with no trace of algae or decay about them. No birds called in the night, no animals disturbed the bracken. But for all the strangeness, this place felt right.

  There it was again, the sound, thin like the scrape of bone. In the darkness something slithered. She sensed it, a dim presence by the water’s edge. Was it the Nocnica, the shadow spirit come to suck out her soul if she fell asleep again? Not that she could be sure that she wasn’t dreaming, but, for all its strangeness, this place didn’t feel like a dream. The rock behind her head was too hard for one thing.

  Slowly she drew the blanket around her and made ready should the Nocnica try to claim her dreams once more. It was out there, she was sure of it, a vague presence that prowled the water’s edge.

  By now the moon had risen higher, its cold light picking over the broken teeth of rocks and the cold, hard edges of stone. Only then did Iwa began to realise what had troubled her. She was not lying on the earth, but on solid stone. That wouldn’t have been strange except that this rock was unnaturally smooth, as if Chernobog – or some other god – had reached down and flattened the ground with the palm of his hand. The rocks rose above her as if she was in a cave, but there was no roof, and their sides were smooth as a well-scraped hide; only the tops were blackened and ragged.

  In a corner lay a heap of stones. At least they looked rough, gnarled and broken like stones should, but there was something wrong about those too. She couldn’t quite say what, but a prick of fear etched along her neck and she lay perfectly still, her eyes fixed on the boulders. One of the shadows moved, so slowly that she hardly noticed.