But not us, I thought, not now. I could not know what lay beyond the Dragon’s walls, but until I passed through them, I was mistress of my own path. I would be brave, like Kizzy, and would not care if it led me to a trap so long as I could willingly walk it.
It was made easier by having Mira and Fen by my side. They were talking more easily now. Whatever had upset Mira seemed to have left her and they made simple, easy chatter, soft as our horses took the road north. Within a few hours, the birds began their calls though sunlight would remain elusive for a while yet: I heard skylarks, starlings, and even a nightingale. It was sweet as honey poured onto my tongue.
Just as the birds began, Fen quietened.
‘We’re getting close,’ he said to me, and I nodded. I could feel it too, prickling up my arms.
‘Close to what?’ asked Mira. I listened to the question rumble her back as I pressed my ear against it, suddenly weary with sadness.
‘Where we were taken,’ said Fen, his voice clouded with the same grief I felt welling inside my own throat. ‘Where they—’
He broke off, looking past us into the forest. I turned my head slowly, slowly, thinking he may have caught sight of a wild bear going back to its den, or a scout sent after us. But all I saw was more trees, perhaps a little thinner here than usual, the bracken about their trunks less full.
‘Is that where we came through?’ I asked, remembering there was a point where we had joined the main road, but not much besides.
‘Yes,’ murmured Fen.
Mira pulled our horse right, towards the almost imperceptible break in the trees.
‘What are you doing?’ I asked.
‘You don’t want to go?’
I glanced at Fen, uncertain. ‘We should get to Kizzy.’
Fen looked from Mira to the route north. ‘We could cut through the valley. It might even be better, if someone’s following. It will throw them off the scent if we follow the river.’
I nodded, but as I did so I realised that I had hoped this would not be his answer. Mira noticed my reluctance. ‘Do you not want to?’
The truth was I did, and I did not. I wanted to see the place we had last been happy, truly happy, but it was also the place where that feeling had died, alongside Mamă. Whatever lay ahead of us now, good or bad, there would always be a hole in my heart, a place raw and tender and aching, made by what we had seen, what we had lost.
Fen must have seen my uncertainty, because he urged his mule forwards, and reached up to me.
‘I know,’ he said, simply. ‘But we must. Kizzy would.’
Of course she would. I nodded again, more certainly this time, and the horses began to move along the path. The forest had not fully claimed it, not fully smoothed the signs of the caged cart’s crossing. Perhaps animals had adopted the break, and this was why it was so free of weeds to catch at the horses’ legs.
I was glad of the ease and sickened by it. I did not want to think that we had made this mark on the forest, however unwillingly. We prided ourselves on moving on before our presence could imprint any sort of permanence on the world. Take only what you need, Old Charani would say. Leave enough for the next.
I thought of the mushrooms collected in my apron the day of the burnings, the dying, drying roots. Kizzy’s bright, precise fingernails ensuring she wasted nothing. Mamă’s face as she waved us off before turning back to the fire. Fire, swallowing our caravans.
My palms stung, and my mind swung back into my body. I realised my nails were digging into them. With a great effort, I unclenched my hands, and placed them back around Mira’s waist, leaning once more against her back, listening to the buzz of her voice comforting the horse.
Fen led the way, knowing the woods from his time hunting, and it was his voice that called us to a halt. ‘We’re here.’
I closed my eyes so tightly sparks burst before them. It looked akin to embers spitting from a fire, and I began to shake.
I can’t do this I can’t I can’t do this.
Mira eased my arms gently from around her waist and turned around in the saddle so her legs were across mine, their weight solid and good, her hands on my already wet cheeks.
‘You can,’ she said, as though she could hear the mantra in my head repeating. I opened my eyes. Her face was very close, her voice very quiet. ‘You get to say goodbye, Lil. It is a blessing. One I did not have.’
‘Your parents were killed?’
‘Not my parents,’ she said. ‘Cristina. They took her in the night. When I woke, she was long gone.’
My heart seemed to twist. Had Cristina lain with her? I looked away so she would not see my confusion.
The ground was mossy, throwing up green, clean scent. But overlaying it was scorch and burn, even after all these weeks. I pulled up a square of yielding moss and rubbed it beneath my nose, then took Fen’s outstretched hand.
We walked to the edge of the clearing. The daylight was gathering now, trees releasing their caught dark and starting to shine with a soft, chilled light. I held out my hand to a shaft of sun, letting it dance across my palm, allowing myself these last few moments before I saw the remnants of our former lives. I would never be able to unsee them.
‘Ready?’ said Fen. And we stepped out from the shade.
The scorched shells of the caravans were slumped about the clearing like the skeletons of felled beasts, or beached whales. Any ash left behind had long since washed away, and the pieces of wood that remained were the largest: beams that had held our roofs steady, floorboards we had washed and walked and danced on. Open to the elements, their black was striped through with bleached strips where the paint had reacted to the heat of the fire.
The spokes of Old Charani’s wagon’s wheels were gone, the circles of the metal runs glinting in the growing light. I took a deep breath, and looked towards where I had last seen her, her gnarled hand reaching up, pleading mercy—
Nothing remained. There was nothing of her, or Dika, or Erha, or any of the slain. All that remained of the bloodshed was the pelt of Erha’s bear Dorsi, picked clean by the wolves.
I released a long breath. The creatures had spared us the sight of our families, their bones shining through rotting flesh like so much melted metal. It was as close to a sky burial as we could have hoped for.
I think Fen felt the same relief: he grasped at my hand, and I saw tears work their silent way down his cheeks, just as they had in the cart.
I squeezed his hand back, then dropped it and began to circle the scene, taking the longest possible route to where I knew I must ultimately go: the place Mamă was murdered.
I passed the churned ground of struggles, the shattered caravans, Albu’s chain sliced and left in the dirt. Mamă’s axe lay beside it where I had dropped it upon seeing Kem. I reached out and took hold of its leather grip.
The moment rushed back upon me as if I were slipping through the cracks of time like a Seer. I fought the rising panic as I remembered the sound of Albu howling, Kem’s silent, fearful face, the sound of our elders dying, our caravans burning and Kizzy wrenching at the wood barring the door, melting her palms—
‘Easy,’ said Mira, her touch on my shoulder making me flinch. I was on the ground, cradling the axe, knuckles showing white through my dark skin. ‘Put that down, Lil.’
‘No,’ I said, a little more forcefully than I meant to. Mira drew away.