Not here

Chapter 6 — “Not Here”

In the cold hall, torches crackled, their light trembling across the stone walls. The council whispered among themselves, waiting. Sarah’s steps sounded dull, echoing beneath the vaults.

— Sarah. Child of Morning Dew. From the Green Grass settlement, — Caleb said, watching her carefully. — We do not know your customs, just as you do not know ours. This decision was not easy for us, but we have made it. You and your people will be given shelter.

Sarah exhaled and stepped forward, holding out a pouch.

— I have Lagerents. This should be enough…

A murmur passed through the hall. Caleb coughed shortly, glanced at Michael, and the voices fell silent.

— I had not finished. Keep them. You will need them. This is not about glass, but about usefulness. We need blacksmiths, farmers, people capable of holding the walls.

Caleb fell silent for a second, as if choosing his words.

— You may speak, — a voice from the council said.

Sarah looked back at Michael. He gave the slightest nod.

— Thank you… We will try to be useful. We have blacksmiths, and farmers too. But nearly all of our guards are dead. Our people lived for a long time under the rule of Strend’s father. They are hardworking, but not educated. Many can neither read nor write. I tried to teach them writing, but it does not take root at once. And not in everyone.

An elderly woman stepped out of the shadows. Around her neck were more feathers than on the others. When she removed her hood, a wave of discontent rolled through the hall.

— Quiet, — she said calmly. — How can we expect trust if we do not give it ourselves?

The voices gradually died down. The woman came closer to Sarah.

— I have heard of you. You held your people together. I vote in favor.

Caleb straightened. There was enough support.

— Sarah, I give you a place on the council. Not a full one, — Caleb added more firmly, cutting through the new murmur, — but you will become the link between our peoples. The decision is made.

The staff struck the stone floor. Then Caleb turned his gaze to Michael.

— And you lose your place on the council and take responsibility for the boy.

Michael stepped closer, without raising his head, and said nothing.

— The council is over, — Caleb said, striking the staff again.

The hall came alive, filling with noise.

— And the Bone Camp? — voices called out.

— Tomorrow, — Caleb answered shortly. Then he looked at Michael: — You are assigned to Sarah. Help her settle in.

Michael stood motionless for another second, then turned around.

— Sarah, — he said quietly, and left.

At the wooden lift, Michael waited in silence. A heavy pressure sat in his chest: anxiety, shame, and exhaustion tangled together, clouding his thoughts. Sarah came out almost immediately. It was clear from her face — she did not like what was happening either, but there was no choice left.

The lever creaked, and the platform slowly began to descend along the waterfall.

— I don’t know if I can forgive you, — Sarah said after a long pause. — And I don’t even understand whether you are guilty. Maybe I need to forgive myself… And I don’t know if I am worthy of forgiveness.

Michael did not answer and did not even turn.

When the platform reached the bottom, he stepped forward first. Every movement took effort. The wooden crutch struck the stone dully, echoing in his head with torn memories of the swamp. Sarah followed behind, not daring to catch up or fall back. She wanted to disappear, to dissolve among the cherry petals swirling in the air.

By the bridge, closer to the center of the settlement, Luka and Catherine were already waiting for them.

— Come on, — Luka said. — You’ve been settled over there, on the hill.

On the cliff stood a small house with a wooden platform like a balcony. Trees grew neatly around it, and a stone road led up the slope toward the house. Sarah did not even look at Michael. She simply turned and walked away.

Catherine silently took Michael by the arm. She had never seen him so broken.

— Can you imagine… they brought us a boy, — Catherine said, trying to stir her husband. — I laid him by the fireplace, in the entry room.

— How is he?.. — Michael asked dully, as if the question had no meaning.

— No fever. But he sleeps all the time. He hasn’t even woken up. Only mumbled something.

They walked slowly.

— Are you hungry? I made your favorite green soup.

Passersby called out to them:

— Thank you, Michael! My wife is better — the herbs helped!

Michael raised his head.

— I’m glad…

The words came by themselves. And with them came everything else. He drew in a breath, his eyes filling with tears. Michael turned away, wiping his face and beard, but it no longer helped. Catherine tightened her grip on his arm.

— Let’s go home.

At home, Michael sat down at the table without even taking off his clothes. He sat motionless, staring at one spot.

— It’s too late to go to the spring, — Catherine said. — I’ll heat water and wash you. Wait.

She bustled around the house, not knowing what to take up first: grabbing the pot of soup, then the bowl of water she set to warm. The boy lay by the fireplace.

— Mom… mom… — he mumbled without waking.

Michael raised his head.

— No… mom… get out of the car…

The word was foreign. Unfamiliar. Catherine came closer with warm water.

— He says that often. I don’t understand all the words… Is he from another settlement?

— No, — Michael answered dully. — I found him in the ruins. Under the rubble. It was as if something was pulling me there.

Catherine held her gaze on her husband. This was unlike him. Usually Michael came back and told everything in detail, with fire in his voice. Now it was as if he were not really here.

She carefully removed his clothes and froze. His back was covered in bruises, fading into yellow-green. Catherine understood everything, but said nothing. She simply took a wet cloth and began gently wiping his back, trying not to cause pain.

When she finished, Michael completed the rest himself, changed into clean clothes, and sat at the table again. He ate silently, without taste, simply because he had to. Catherine sat beside him and did not look away. There was quiet joy in her eyes: he was alive, he had returned.

Meanwhile, Sarah had already reached her new dwelling. On the way, she had barely said a word, only listened to Luka, who was eagerly telling her how they had reached the Ravens’ settlement.

— We went across the bridge, — Luka said. — The wind shook it so badly the floor kept slipping under our feet. Gretta and Leah screamed, kept wanting to turn back. The hardest part was carrying the boy…

Sarah gave him a brief look, as if asking him to be silent. She wanted quiet, but Luka did not understand.

— And there were strange birds too. With long necks. We drove them off with stones, and then they started circling, trying to peck us. We hid in an iron booth and sat there until evening. And the sounds were disgusting… and stones on the roof too…

— And after that? — Sarah interrupted.

Luka stopped.

— Looks like we’re here.

— Thank you for walking me here, — Sarah said tiredly.

— Should I stay? Or call Leah or Gretta to examine you?

— No, thank you. I’ll manage.

Before her stood the house. From below, it had seemed smaller than it really was. Sarah opened the door and went in. Inside, it was clean, cozy, and empty. Bookshelves, a fireplace, a small kitchen, a bedroom. Part of the house went into the rock. To one side stood a wooden bathtub. On the balcony, which could be reached straight from the room, lay a bag of food: fruit, vegetables, meat.

Sarah carried the bag inside and placed it on the table. She took out a small piece of glowing horn, which she always carried with her, and placed it by the fireplace.

Everything was good.

Too good.

But foreign.

The smell seemed soft, sweet, not her own.

Sarah washed herself with cold water, then, almost without thinking, began peeling vegetables. Tears flowed on their own. She wiped them away with her shoulder, holding herself back from screaming. Everything felt heavy. She did not understand what all of this was for.

She cooked a stew, poked at it with a spoon, and barely ate. Then she took the piece of horn and lay down in bed, trying to grow used to the new place, the new smell, the new life.

Outside the windows, darkness slowly thickened. Catherine lowered the lamp, lit a candle, and raised it back beneath the ceiling, covering it with a glass shade.

— You know… I’m glad you brought the boy, — she said, moving closer and resting her head on Michael’s shoulder. — We have wanted children for so long.

Catherine ran her hand over his shoulder.

— He could grow up to be a hunter like you.

— Don’t rush, — Michael answered dully. — Let him come to himself first.

He rose heavily.

— Come on. I’m tired.

They lay down. Michael almost immediately closed his eyes, trying simply to shut off. Catherine watched him for a while longer, then embraced him and dozed off too.

Night settled over the settlement. The noise gradually faded. Only a dull hum from behind the waterfall rolled through the camp from time to time: somewhere behind the stone, a hidden mechanism was working. Once an hour, it gave out a drawn-out whistle, and that sound, barely audible during the day, carried especially clearly at night. Several times, it pulled Michael out of half-sleep, reminding him: he was home.

— No… no… — suddenly came from the fireplace.

Michael and Catherine woke. The boy tossed about, then opened his eyes and lifted himself up. His forehead was wet with sweat. His gaze clung to everything around him, not understanding where he was. Seeing the adults, the boy froze.

Catherine carefully knelt beside him.

— Everything is all right. Don’t be afraid.

The boy recoiled.

— Do you want water? — Catherine asked softly and looked at Michael.

He silently got up and brought a bowl. The boy nodded, grabbed it, and drank greedily, almost without breathing. Then he set it back down and inhaled deeply. His breathing gradually steadied.

— What is your name? Do you understand me? My name is Catherine.

She pointed to herself.

— And this is Michael.

The boy looked at them, then uncertainly repeated:

— C… Catherine… M… Michael…

— Yes, — Catherine smiled. — That’s right. And you?

The boy froze. His eyes darted around, and for an instant a faint light seemed to flash in them. Then he stood and headed toward the door.

— It’s night out there, — Catherine said and was about to follow him, but Michael stopped her with his hand.

He understood nothing, but he felt it: something was happening. Catherine still caught up to the boy, helping him walk, and they went out after him.

The settlement was not asleep. Torches burned, the waterfall roared, guards walked the paths. Leaves swirled in the night air. The boy lifted his head. The sky was clear, scattered with stars. The cliffs around them reflected the torchlight, coloring everything in warm red shades.

He looked upward without looking away.

And suddenly an image came: a woman with red hair, a warm voice.

“Sam… wake up…”

He did not understand who she was. But the image was familiar. Dear.

— Awooooo…

A howl sounded beyond the gates. The guards instantly stirred.

— Khemars! — came a shout.

People with weapons began gathering at the walls. Green lights flickered beyond the gates. Lights began coming on in the windows of houses, residents stepping outside, trying to understand what was happening.

— Take him into the house, — Michael said hoarsely, letting go of Catherine’s hand.

Limping, he went to the door, took the crossbow, and sat down on the bench outside the house. His breathing was broken, uneven. Catherine came to the boy and took his hand. His palm was hot. The boy looked into her eyes and calmly followed her.

— Sam… I… — he said.

— Sam, then, — Catherine smiled.

The commotion around her did not frighten her. She turned back to Michael:

— And where do you think you’re going?

— Nowhere. I’ll sit here, — he answered, gripping the crossbow.

Sam sat beside him. His gaze darted around: the guard at the gates was growing denser, torches trembling in the dark. There was no panic, but tension hung in the air. People gradually began returning to their homes.

Only Sarah stood on the balcony, watching what was happening. Here, everything was different: order, readiness, measured movements of the guards, signals, light. No bustle, no shouting, no panic. A safety she had not yet grown used to.

Several people from Green Grass came to her house. Those who had survived. Their faces were tired, tense, fear in their eyes as if everything was about to happen again.

— Sarah… what should we do? — one of them asked.

She looked at the people, at the camp, at the walls and the guards.

— It is safe here. Return to your houses. Rest. Tomorrow I will gather everyone.

The survivors exchanged glances, as if testing her words, and slowly dispersed. Sarah remained alone. She was not sure of a single word she had said, but she needed it to be true.

And suddenly, the dull hum from behind the waterfall rolled through the camp.

“Tssssss-eeeee.”

Sam froze. His gaze became empty. The sound struck his head — foreign, painful. Images flashed before his eyes: a car, blood, a hand reaching toward him.

“Everything will be all right… I love you, son…”

Sam lifted his head and screamed.

The air around him compressed, became heavy, and then softly glowed pale blue. A wave of light spread from Sam like breath: torches went out, the water in the stream trembled, and when it struck the waterfall, the glow returned stronger. It swept through the camp toward the gates, knocking people from their feet, and went beyond the walls.

In the darkness, the green lights of the Khemars began to go out one after another. At first, it seemed the creatures were simply retreating, but then something flared inside their bodies. Torn greenish light burst through ribs and jaws, as if something alive were forcing its way out from within.

The Khemars jerked. Their fur began to fall away in clumps, their skin cracked and spread apart in thin glowing veins. Their bodies seemed to destroy themselves — without blood, without screams.

A few seconds later, the beasts began crumbling right before everyone’s eyes. First their paws collapsed inward, then their chests, muzzles, spines. Everything turned into gray-black sand, instantly carried away by the wind.

Darkness covered everything.

For several seconds, the camp froze. No one moved. Only heavy breathing and the splash of water could be heard.

Sam stood swaying. The light around him vanished as suddenly as it had appeared. The boy took one step and collapsed.

— Sam! — Catherine cried, rushing to him.

Michael slowly rose. His head rang, his body would not obey: the blow had passed through the whole camp. Several guards at the gates held their heads, and someone remained on the ground, not yet fully recovered.

— What was that?.. — someone whispered in the dark.

Gradually, the torches began to be lit again. One after another. Light returned.

— Check beyond the gates! — came a voice from the wall.

Several flaming arrows rose into the air and flew beyond the camp. Everyone waited.

— Clear! — someone shouted from outside. — They’re gone!

But there was no joy. Only silence and a strange feeling, as if something still remained.

At the very gates, on the ground, among the dust, shards gleamed dimly. Small. Faintly glowing. In the place where, only a moment before, the Khemars had been.

Five years earlier. The road to the Bone Camp.

The decrepit, overloaded wagon barely crawled along a washed-out clay road stretching through the forest along the mountains. The horse wheezed, steam pouring from its nostrils. It was pulling not only the wagon, but itself as well — with the last of its strength. Every few minutes, it stopped to catch its breath or snatch a tuft of grass along the way.

The cocoon with the girl inside rocked from side to side, as if it might break loose at any moment and roll into the thicket.

— Let’s see what we’ve got here… junk… junk… all junk…

The voice came from a pile of rubbish on the wagon. Only legs stuck out of it, and torn cloth kept flying up from the movements.

— Oh… now this is something worth something…

The balding man climbed out, holding a semi-transparent cloak, torn in places. He turned it in front of his eyes, evaluating it.

— Hey, darling… I think we’re going the wrong way… prr-r-r…

He narrowed his eyes, looking through the trees at the barely visible outlines of the ruined city.

— And where are you?..

The man turned toward the rear of the wagon, trying to find the horse. Then he slapped his forehead.

— My bald head…

He had mixed up the front and the back. He turned around, grabbed the reins.

— Now move! Why are you standing there, waiting for evening?

He jerked once, shouting. The wagon creaked again and moved.

The man turned back to the cocoon. His gaze changed, became greedy, clutching. He slowly came closer. His fingers slid over the smooth shell, his face almost pressed against the surface as he tried to see what was inside.

— Come on… let’s have a look…

Suddenly, in front of the horse, there came:

— Wee-ee-frrr…

The horse reared, neighed, and stopped.

— What is it now, old woman…

The man tore himself away from the cocoon and turned forward. A creature jumped out of the bushes onto the road. Not a fox. Not a cat. Red fur, a short muzzle, vertical pupils.

— Veyna… — the man whispered. — A White Veyna…

He grabbed a small sack and tried to jump down from the wagon. His foot landed on a rotten step, the wood cracked, and the man crashed to the ground. The little beast flinched at the noise and darted into the bushes.

— Dog’s liver! You’re lying if you think you’ll get away. Today is my lucky day! — the man muttered, springing up and rushing after it.

Pushing through branches and scratching himself on bushes, he moved closer and closer to the creature.

— Where are you, little pelt… Strend will be pleased. Albert, today you’re not losing for once… enough to cover the debt for this rotten wagon… maybe I’ll even play you…

The Veyna became tangled in thick roots, hissed, and its fur began changing from red to white. From deeper in the forest came a piercing screech. Birds burst from the branches; the forest seemed to come alive.

The man stopped.

— Oh no… no-no… I don’t like that. Looks like your mother’s nearby…

He quickly shoved the Veyna into the sack and began looking around frantically, trying to figure out where the road was. The bushes around him stirred. First two White Veynas appeared, then two more. They emerged smoothly, almost silently, and began to surround him.

Somewhere far away, as if not here, lines flickered in the darkness:

unknown subject detected…

remote access confirmed…

restart and connection process…

Orange light ran between the trees.

— Eeeeggh! — came the horse’s cry from the road.

The Veynas flattened their ears and were distracted for an instant.

— To hell with you! — the man shouted and rushed back.

He caught on the bark, fell, but immediately crawled, quickly moving his hands and legs, never letting go of the sack. Reaching the road, he saw the wagon and the horse, ran to them, and leaned against the side, trying to breathe.

— Hah… hah… why are you standing there… move… let’s go…

Gathering the last of his strength, Albert climbed into the wagon, pulling his legs up. But the horse did not move. It stood rooted to the spot. The Veynas were already coming out of the forest — slowly, gracefully. Their game was beginning. The hunter’s role had changed.

— Shoo! Get lost! I didn’t call you! Shoo! — Albert shouted, tearing rags from under his feet and throwing them toward the beasts.

The sack in his hands twitched. The Veyna inside hissed, bit through the fabric, and broke free. It jumped onto the edge of the wagon and slipped behind a little girl.

The girl sat among the junk. About fourteen years old. She seemed not to understand where she was: she repeated Albert’s movements, throwing things over the side or pulling them onto herself and examining them.

Albert froze.

— And who are you?.. Your Udgal… and the cocoon?.. Where is the cocoon?!

He looked around.

— You… you threw out my cocoon?..

Panic sounded in his voice. The Veyna hissed at the girl’s feet. Albert stepped back, not daring to come closer.

— Go away! — the girl said, as if repeating what she had heard.

The Veynas by the wagon stopped. Their white fur slowly flowed into orange-red. A few more seconds — the hissing faded, and the beasts dissolved back into the forest just as silently.

Albert’s gaze slid to the girl’s neck.

A pendant.

The same one.

The one the girl in the cocoon had worn.

— That’s mine…

Albert lunged forward and tore it off. The small Veyna squeaked and instantly slipped under the girl’s clothes, not harming her, but continuing to hiss.

The girl did not react. Her gaze remained empty, lifeless, but lingered on Albert’s hand — where the bite was bleeding. She slowly reached out and touched the wound. In the same instant, the skin glowed with warm yellow light. The blood vanished, the wound closed, leaving only a thin scar.

The girl’s eyes flashed for an instant, and she went limp, falling onto her side.

— Wonderful… wonderful! — Albert breathed out in delight.

He jumped to his feet in the wagon, still clutching the pendant in his hand.

— Now move!

Albert jerked the reins and even stamped his foot in excitement. He kept looking around, still expecting the Veynas to return.

The forest was silent.

He smirked.

Venomously.

And then the sound of hooves came.

Albert grew alert and turned his head. Two riders burst out of the forest from the direction of the Bone settlement. Their faces were smeared with white soot, their features distorted. Spears in their hands, small animal bones dangling from their clothing.

— Ooooh! — Albert perked up. — I was just heading to you… to Strend!

He tried to smile, even rose slightly.

The riders did not answer. Silently, they looked over the wagon. Then Albert.

And in the next second, one of them struck him in the neck with the blunt side of a spear.

End of Chapter Six.