Into the Deep Wood

Ivan and Hamza spent quite a bit of time going over maps together in the privacy of the longhouse.

The three had already spent a few days there.

Val’s offering of fir branches and small mugs of beer to the Bannik had placated him into allowing her daily time alone in the baths. Having never had a mug of his own, he was delighted at the concentrated beverage he claimed he tasted already through the sweat of the more imbibing lumbermen. This had continued to give Val the ick, but not more so than the habitual feeding of other creatures of the Nothing.

During the day, she would eat lunch of their bread and pudding with Yaro somewhere outdoors and talk about things he had learned through hunting in the four kingdoms. She even began bringing her journal and writing things down in the margins of pages - expanding upon entries and changing the information that had been far too outrageous to have been true. It seemed more than one of its contributors greatly misrepresented events.

Ever since speaking of Anushka, the red-bearded man had become fond of her, his stories becoming deeper and far more open.

She still avoided Ivan, even when they had a chance to speak privately. After what he witnessed, she was unsure she could handle the confrontation. He had been sweet to her initially, but once the event cooled in their minds, she saw him looking at her in a way she did not like - a mix of unease, distrust - and curiosity. She had liked him too much to bear the disappointment if he was to express wanting to part now.

“They aren’t here.” Ivan’s face was grim. Hamza and a few of his men sat around the table with him. Dinner was not yet served, although the smell of roasted meat had already drifted toward them from the kitchens next door.

Ivan ran his finger along a valley of steppes following the opening in the Deep Wood from which he had initially made it North with his small company.

“The regimen that caught us was ill-supplied. The larger host was not nearby to replenish them.”

Hamza nodded slightly and thoughtfully.

“Beyond the mountains is a great lake. It is frozen over until late in the spring - and even during the summer months, it stands as cold as ice,” He said. “It is the largest body of water besides the sea in Roska. I’ve been there often - no one for leagues to the north or east of it. You would do well to head west.”

“Back toward the main road,” Ivan said dryly. From there, they would have to venture into the tundra. “For all we know, they could have already moved to the East and obliterated the smaller tribal cities and their warlords.”

“I would have heard.” Hamza straightened his back, leaning away from the map. “I suppose you would turn down the invitation to stay the week? A storm is coming, and the mountain pass will be unreachable.”

Ivan stood as well.

“I am grateful for your welcome and hospitality.” He reached out and shook the other man’s hand. “It is much appreciated, my friend.”

Again, Val snuck to the baths while everyone poured into the longhouse for their evening meal. The Bannik had warmed it far ahead of time, waiting with anticipation for her to show.

She brought him beer and a few pickles she had stashed away earlier that day. He sat on top of the stove, crunching them eagerly as she got comfortable on the wooden bench, sitting back against the rough log wall.

“Now these!” He exclaimed approvingly, stuffing the last of them into his mouth, “These taste like sweat!”

Val had decided then that the days of her ever having a pickle again were very much over.

“How long have you been here?” She asked him, beginning one of their pleasant conversations that both had grown to look forward to.

The Bannik considered this thoughtfully.

“I guess, always.” He said. “As long as the bathhouse, at least.”

“Hm. You do not remember before that? I’m sure that it has not been here that long, all things considered.”

“I don’t know what things you are considering, but I have been here always.” He insisted.

“Why don’t you want to be unbound?” She asked.

“Why would I?” He swung his feet back and forth, shifting on the hot coals. “I’m warm, and I have a home. I eat, breathe, and take in the smells of the forests, dirt, and sky.”

“Are you not in pain?” Val thought of what she had felt touching the chort.

“No.”

“Hm.” In the span of a few days, Val had learned a great deal about this creature.

It was a strange and new experience - and even Sirin had not been the same. Val chose to overlook so much of the bird-woman’s atrocities because she had been lonely, and Sirin had been a friend.

“Do you know anything about the other Nothing-touched?”

“They come around sometimes.” He answered. “The men, they ward the houses and themselves. So, the Nothing-touched eat each other when they cannot get near.”

“Each other?” Again, Val was disgusted, although this couldn’t have been entirely unexpected.

“The dumb ones.” The Bannik confirmed. “The ones that cannot speak. Even the ones that do, they sometimes cannot agree and eat each other anyway.”

“Is the bathhouse warded?”

“No. But I am here. And when they smell me, they do not approach. Were I to leave, it would be different. Were the men to ward it, I would have to leave.”

“Does that mean they know you are here?”

The Bannik chewed on his lip as if trying to find the right words.

“Yes and no. I do not speak to them. But, men have long paid homage to our kind. I do not think they know me for what I am - only that I am.”

“Like a god…” Val was fascinated. She knew even her village worshipped many gods and brought them offerings - especially on dedicated holidays. Even there, they brought bundles of birch branches, eucalyptus, and lavender to the bathhouses to honor them.

The Bannik nodded and suddenly tensed.

His eyes flew to the door, and he scrambled to climb right into the blazing oven and out of sight. Val sat up quickly, pulling the linen towel tighter around herself. The door creaked open, and Ivan appeared, having to duck his head and bend to get through the low doorway. He, too, was wearing only a towel.

“A good time to be in here.” He commented, sitting down. “No wonder you sneak off daily.”

“I like the solitude.” She said dully.

“If you would like, I can leave.” He looked a tad embarrassed at her words. “But, I thought it a good - and needed time to talk.”

She softened, some of the tension of his presence fading off with his directness.

“We can talk.” She said, her hands unconsciously coming together to pick lightly at the healing scabs.

He took a minute to find the words, breathing in the thick, hot air.

“I want to apologize for the past few days.” He said finally. “I have not been kind to you after you saved my life. I needed time to think, to understand, what happened in the woods. I will not lie to you; I still do not.”

“I am not sure I can explain.” She admitted, still not looking up.

“I do not ask you to.” He hurried to say. “I have accepted that I may never understand, and yet, I trust that what you have done was good.”

Surprised at his words, her eyes focused on his face. He was not looking at her but straight ahead, his head resting on the wall behind him. Beads of sweat began appearing on his brow and his chest.

“You have to understand,” he continued, “I was raised in the church. The All-Father’s will is what I have always known. The darkness, the sorcery, and the Nothing - that is in direct conflict with their teachings.”

“I appreciate your apology…” Val said slowly, ”I understand of the All-Father, but this…”

She trailed off for a moment, unsure of how to describe it.

“This has nothing to do with the All-Father.”

His face remained blank, and then hesitance flashed across it.

“You say you know the All-Father.” He said. “And we have never spoken of it, but how can you be Golden and still embrace the Nothing?”

“The Nothing,” she repeated, “has nothing to do with the All-Father. It is not a light that banishes the darkness. Nor does it protect against its wrath. The Nothing contradicts itself; its creation is the means of its destruction. Its blood wards away its influence, and Nothing-touched eat the Nothing-touched.”

He was looking at her, processing but not arguing.

“You would know better than I.” A slight, forced smile to diffuse the tension, “But, can I ask?”

“You can, but I may not answer.” She smiled back.

“Are the stories true?” He asked, “About the Golden?”

His eyes cast downward for a second, and she uncomfortably shifted in her seat.

“They are.”

“Hm.” He ran a hand through his hair, wiping the sweat from his forehead and brow. It had been collecting there, and drops were rolling down his face. “I can understand why it is you have had such a hard life.”

A pause, a moment, and in her chest, she felt the need to spill all her truth to him. His words, kindness, and understanding all collected at once and choked her up.

“That’s why she kept me, you know.” She said. “That’s why the Hag kept me locked up for so long. She knew long before I did. Before anyone had.”

Her voice cracked.

“They knew, too. That’s why they were taking me to the city. And then, the man who betrayed Aisultan. And now, Korschey.”

“Korschey knows?” Ivan repeated. It was not a question but a realization.

“I’m sorry I did not warn you, traveling alongside me.” She continued. “They do not seek me - I don’t think. It has been years. I think, seven, in the Glade. But, I am dangerous company to keep nevertheless, even if they think me dead.”

“Why did you go back to the Glade?”

Again, she hesitated. How could she tell him without mentioning…

“You do not have to tell me, Valeria.” She felt his hand on hers - warm, but not as warm as the air around them. It was damp with sweat. “I do not wish to pry.”

She felt the pressure of his hand increase, his rough and calloused fingers curling ever so slightly, careful not to hurt the cuts from the chorts.

“It is only because I find that I cannot get enough of you.” He said, dropping his eyes, unable to meet hers. “You fascinate me yet scare me half to death. I think you are more terrifying now than when I thought you to be the Hag.”

She tried to smile, but only a corner of her mouth twitched, her eyes on his hand atop hers.

And then, he drew it away.

“What did you do so that they did not tear us to shreds?” He asked, pushing the subject far from his mind.

“I covered up your scent.” She said simply. “You smell of sugar rot and vinegar.”

She smiled at the thought of Sirin again.

“What is sugar rot?” He seemed offended by this and turned very slightly to smell his own armpit inconspicuously.

She laughed at this.

“I do not know!” A smile remained on her face as she looked at him and he at her.

“You are a very strange creature.” He observed. “If you are not careful, I might just fall in love.”

“You’ve done dumber things than that.” Again, she laughed.

“I imagine it would be as dumb as running into the Deep Wood at night.” He stood, adjusting the towel tighter around his waist. “We’d better get out; sugar rot is not the worst thing that will smell up this place once the rest of them get here.”

He walked out first, and Val sat smiling to herself, although unsure why.

Out of the coals a small hand raised, the Bannik pulling himself up.

“They’re gonna kill him, you know.”