Chapter 16
Is rode Lark ahead of the creaking wagons. John rode on her right, and Ondre drove the first wagon. A young couple drove the second wagon, and the others of their group followed behind with more wagons and extra horses.
The Splitting of the Ways had begun. Is occasionally looked back. The plains were covered with similar parties heading out in all the directions of the compass.
Petre had gone out with a group of scouts. The Hluit were putting out more scouts than usual to keep an eye on any Alliance troop movement.
“Everyone trains at scouting,” Petre had told her. “It’s a good way for young adults to earn status. You have to be able to survive on the land alone or in small groups for extended periods. There are dangers. The Blueskins are always ready to pick off an unwary scout or at least give him a good beating. And of course wild animals and the elements are a challenge. We like to feel that any one of us can survive on his or her own under any conditions. We like to think that everyone can find their way around and avoid trouble.”
He had told her that scouting and infiltrating the Alliance were the two biggest tests that young people routinely put themselves through. He had done both. Although he had not been a spy exactly he had learned to pass as an Alliance citizen, get through the gates, meet at a certain point with other “infiltrators” and get out again. It was training in the “courageous use of skills,” as he had put it, and it was one of the ways the Hluit got information out of the Alliance.
But Is knew that his decision to go away now was complicated. Of course he wanted to help his people, and he had told her he was a good scout. But she suspected he also needed to be away from her and doing something dangerous to keep from thinking about her too much. Although it might not match the danger that she and John were riding into, at least it would relieve some of the pressure he must feel. If he could not take this risk with her, he could take another risk and contribute something rather than sit and wait.
There was something else too, though Petre was not going to say it. Even if Is and John lived through whatever happened at the Mirror, Petre would still lose her to John. So Is suspected that going away on scouting duty was Petre’s way of beginning to make the separation. He was too close to her, too much in love with her. He was trying to do the honorable thing.
“You know if there was anything I could do to help I would be going with you,” he had told her and she had known it was true. “But John thinks it should be just the two of you, and Lark and Celeste.”
They had explained to her how the Mirror wasn’t exactly a solid “thing” in a solid location. Each berserker had to take a different path to find it. If Petre, or Ondre, or anyone tried to come with her and John they might keep them from finding it. Or, at the very least, they would change the complexion of what they did find.
There had been several sessions between Ondre and John, and between Petre and John where both men had tried to persuade John that they should go with him. John had used his best body language to show them that he loved them and appreciated their offers but no, they could not go with him. That was clear.
When Is asked John if she should go with him he had gotten tears in his eyes and come close to one of his hysterical outbursts. It was obvious that he did not want to expose her to risk but he needed her for something he could not explain. He would not ask her to go, but he did not forbid it as he’d done with the others.
Ondre had tried to explain it to Is. “Lark may be the key to finding the Mirror and we know Lark has taken Celeste with him to Amil’s cabin so he may take her to the Mirror. Because you’re riding Lark and because he’s not fully trained he may not fight the Mirror, and John may have his chance to do whatever he is going to do. The two of you belong together in some way on this. I think you were given some information John needs. Hopefully, when the time comes, it will fit in somehow.” But Is didn’t feel as though she knew anything that would help.
For the first few days, while she and John traveled with this splinter group, there was much work to do. There was hay to cut, turn for drying, or stack for winter caches. The work was hard, and in the evenings everyone sat around the campfire talking, or just staring, until they rolled out their sleeping bags and slept.
Alene had not come with them. People said she and John had broken up.
In their group there was a young couple who was deeply in love but not yet married. They would live the winter together before they decided whether to marry or not. Then they would need at least one couple, and one elder, to stand up for them before the clan would accept their marriage. The girl, Bonice, explained all this to Is. They had come with Ondre and Ellie's group because theirs was one of the most envied marriages. The couple hoped to learn from them, and it seemed to Is, they thought if Ondre and Ellie gave their approval, the success of their own marriage would be guaranteed.
Is asked Bonice what they would do if they didn't get that approval.
"We'll go on living with each other as long as we want.
"No one cares?"
Bonice gave her a funny look. "Of course they care."
Is was struggling with her upbringing in the government schools, where sex was a tool to advance oneself, a weapon to hold over others, or a means of winning favor with someone you feared or whose protection you needed. Love was something uncontrollable that sometimes happened and had to be hidden from all adults or they would surely separate the couple completely. Students caught at sex, or suspected of being in love, were punished equally severely. Of course, punishment didn’t stop them, just forced the behavior underground and gave it even more power.
Is had never imagined a society in which a sexual relationship between two young people would be openly tolerated by adults. She was often present when Bonice discussed her relationship with Ellie, and there didn't seem to be anything Bonice couldn't talk about. The couple practiced contraception with lady's root and a careful accounting of the days of the month.
One of the other people in the group was an old lady. She had family of her own, but she had opted to come with Ondre's group for some reason Is didn't understand and was too inhibited to question. The woman was too old to be much help at anything except taking care of a baby that belonged to one of the other married couples. Surely she would be a burden to the group. Is watched carefully, but she could detect no animosity toward the old woman for her helplessness.
There was also a teenage girl, Ahl, who had a crush on Ondre. This worried Is. It was obvious to her, so it must be apparent to Ellie and Ondre. Ellie treated the girl as though she were fully adult and her equal in every way. Ondre treated her with a beautiful balance of love and discipline that Is admired. She sometimes compared his response to the way Riding Master Masley would have acted. To have had that kind of power over a young girl's emotions would have brought out the worst in the Riding Master. He would have either taken advantage of her, or blatantly and hurtfully rejected her. Is found herself loving Ondre for the way he was behaving.
She watched John most carefully, but as discreetly as possible. She did not want people to think she was like Ahl, with a crush on John. She didn't want to bother him, and most certainly didn't want him treating her the way Ondre treated Ahl. She wasn't sure what she did want.
She missed Petre a lot. She thought about how he had said good-bye and worried all sorts of interpretations into it.
“You know my heart will be with you, Is. And when you get back I will come see you.” His words had been casual but he’d held her such a long time Is believed that Petre thought, one way or another, he would never hold her again.
The ground began to get steeper and the grass less thick. Then came the day that the wagons turned aside. Ondre accompanied Is and John another two days.
Is was filled with doubt and fear. She thought Ondre had placed false trust in her. She had tried to tell him so several times. On their last night together, she tried again.
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"Ondre, I don't know anything. I can't help John. I wish I could, but I can't. You're sending him with false hope. I don't know anything."
"I'm not sending him," Ondre said softly. He was sitting cross legged by the fire, his boots lying beside him. He glanced at this brother. "And as for false hope, if I were in his shoes, I'd probably have to go too. And if he were in mine, he'd understand how much I don't want him to go."
John met Ondre's words with a look of desperate pleading.
"It's okay," Ondre said. "I'm not trying to stop you. I just want you to know, I love you."
John's answer was to clasp hands with his brother, and a moment later they moved together and embraced. There were tears in John's eyes when he faced Is and that made her less ashamed of her own tears. When she looked into his eyes she seemed to be falling forever and ever into somewhere very beautiful, very important. She couldn't tell if the love she felt was something John was feeling for her, or only something precious within him he let her glimpse.
As always he released her without making any further move that would confirm his feelings. She felt confused and embarrassed.
"Please, try to have faith in yourself." Ondre's voice was so kind, Is couldn't resist looking at him even though he would see her tears.
In the morning she was crying again as they packed up their camp. Without a word, Ondre took her in his arms for a long time. Then he touched his brother's hand, just that one small touch, no words. They were that much at peace with each other's decisions. Then Ondre mounted his mare and headed back the way they had come.
Is watched his back and knew she had been entrusted with an enormous gift, Ondre's love for his brother.
They rode the morning in silence. Sometimes Is's tears ran freely, sometimes they cleared. She didn't realize John was crying too until they stopped for lunch and she rode up beside him. He touched her hand and she was quick to return his grip.
The night was colder than it had been on the plains. They huddled close to their small fire. Is wondered if John felt as lonely as she did. She wished he would touch her.
In the morning John was gone.
Is had never heard a thing. Lark was tied to keep him from following. It seemed strange that he had not whinnied a farewell to the mare. Is felt totally adrift. Why would John leave? There was no sign of anything having taken him against his will. In fact there were no signs at all. His sleeping bag was gone from its place next to hers. All of his equipment was gone. She could find no tracks to tell her which direction he had chosen. It was as though he had never been there at all.
Lark wasn't behaving right either. He was not anxious to be off after the mare the way he had been when he'd been left before.
Is had a vague, disquieting feeling, as if she had been here before and knew what to do. But she could not bring it into focus.
Instead of concentrating she sat staring blankly. The air was crisp and still, too cold for insects. Bird songs began slowly. A meadowlark trilled in the distance. After a while it was simply time to go.
Her feet had gone to sleep and she walked around a bit to restart the circulation. She began packing up the camp. She should probably go back to the meadow before the people left, and tell Ondre what had happened.
But when she thought of Ondre, she knew she wouldn't do that. She would try to find John. She tacked Lark and headed out in the general direction they'd been going last night. Lark picked his way leisurely. He gave no sign of knowing which way the mare had gone, or caring to find her.
Their course took them down into a deep cut. It didn't seem odd to run into fog down there, but Lark snorted and hesitated. They moved along to the soft clop of his hooves on the gravelly ground and the rhythmic wuffling of his nostrils, betraying his tension with every step. A crow called harshly once, twice, and the third time sounded too distant for it to have flown that far so quickly. A horse and rider appeared out of the fog, twenty meters to her left.
Lark hadn't seen them yet. Is turned him in their direction, but he still didn't see them. By now Is was certain of who they were. The mare's finely chiseled head was turned toward her and Lark, ears pricked. The man was wrapped in his coat, looking away from them.
Lark continued to edge along, snorting to himself, while Is waited for him to see the mare. John turned and saw her, raising his hand in greeting. Is kept waiting for Lark to snap his head up, pause in surprise, whinny – anything.
He never showed any signs that he was aware of the mare. John was looking in her direction but seemed focused on a spot a distance behind her. The mare also seemed intent on something beyond Is. She did not act as though her best horse friend had come to stand right in front of her. Is's skin began to crawl.
John was undeniably real. "Hello," Is said. But of course he didn't respond.
"Why did you leave?" she asked.
He seemed to be listening intently, looking at something distant, right where she was.
She started to twist around in the saddle, to see what had his attention.
"No. Don't!"
The desperation in his command, as much as the fact that he had spoken, spun Is back around.
"You can speak?" she stammered.
"You have to come back," he said in a perfectly normal voice. "There is only one path. You must make the horse follow that path."
Confused, Is glanced around for the path.
"No!"
The sudden distance of John's voice startled Is into looking at him again. The mare was bearing him away at a rapid pace, but Lark didn't react. There was something wrong with the mare’s movement, not in any gait Is recognized. Instead, she appeared to be floating, or sliding, not trotting.
"Take the left turns,” John called back to her. “All of them, except the third one . . ." His voice faded and a crow cried over his last words, obliterating them.
"Wait!" But it was too late.
Is sat a moment and tried to collect herself. She could sleep, or blink, or look aside, or a crow would call, and the whole world would be different.
She looked around at the meadow they had been traveling through. There was no path, only a narrow rut that was more of a spring runoff than a trail.
When they came to a fork, she guided Lark left.
The third time the path forked, Is went right. Why not? She had no other clue as to what she should do.
She didn't sleep well that night. She kept sensing a presence nearby. She'd catch herself thinking John was in camp, just down at the river or something, and have to remind herself that he had left.
The morning was crisp and cold, no fog, and Is hit the trail early. It wasn't long before she saw smoke, one thin strand of white rising straight into a sky so blue and so distant it didn't look real. The trail seemed to be leading her to the campfire so she stayed with it. Lark picked up the pace on his own and Is began to hope they would find John and the mare.
The man sat at the fire with his back to her, but Is would never mistake him for John. He was slumped forward, sleeping. But even in that position Is could see the width of his shoulders and imagine his height if he were standing. Her heart wanted to stop. The bright morning threatened to go dark. Perhaps he was just a very large man. She glanced around the camp, searching for clues. No tent. No packs. Traveling light.
She spotted the horse grazing downhill of the camp. War horse. There was no mistaking his massive hindquarters.
At that instant Lark whinnied.
The horse's head came up. He turned on ponderous legs. His bridle hung from the saddle he wore, as though the berserker had stopped here only for a short rest to let the horse graze.
Is glanced at the man, but he had not moved.
The horse came toward them. He lifted his knees and hocks high. His huge feet flattened the shrubby bush-like covering that grew on the rocky soil. He carried his head high. His neck rose out of a chest as broad as a small building. His nost
rils flared and his ears were pricked as he tried to make out the nature of what he was approaching. He was taller than Lark and a lot heavier - a mature, fully trained war horse. Is's heart rushed. He was gorgeous, and deadly.
But he wasn't behaving right. He raised and ducked his head as though trying to focus something he was unsure of. Instead of displaying the aggressive posturing Is had expected, he stopped uncertainly like he was having trouble seeing Lark.
Lark wasn't acting right either. He stood alert, head high and ears forward, yet he seemed unaware of another horse. He showed no signs of challenge or intimidation.
The other horse trumpeted a blast through his nostrils. The berserker came out of his doze and onto his feet with impossible speed. Lark never reacted to the abrupt movement, as though he couldn't see the man at all.
Standing, the man was well over seven feet tall and as gigantic as his war horse. His biceps bulged as he gripped a knife that had appeared in his hand. He was looking in the same direction as his horse, but seemed unable to see Is or Lark.
Is began to back Lark down the trail. The other horse snorted and trotted forward a few steps. Is was on the verge of turning Lark to make a run for it when the berserker spoke. His horse halted on the spot.
Is pivoted Lark on his hindquarters and started to walk him quickly away. She watched over her shoulder as the berserker reached his horse and began to put the bridle on, then she pressed Lark with her calves and sent him into a trot. The other horse whinnied once, not as a challenge, but more of a "where are you?" sort of query.
When they had gone a short distance, Is turned Lark off the trail and up among the trees. Before long, she heard the war horse's hooves crunching the gravel as he trotted by below. She gave them a few minutes then dropped down to the trail and continued in the direction she had been going. She didn't know which way the berserker had been traveling before she found him. When she got to his campfire, she'd stop and check for hoof prints that might tell her.
They rounded the last curve at a trot. There was no sign of the berserker's fire. Is didn't think he had taken the time to put it out. Anyway there should still have been signs of it. There was nothing. Maybe it was around the next bend?
Nothing.
She slowed Lark to a walk. No sense risking his stepping on a rock and laming himself when there was no one chasing them. They were as likely to run into the berserker ahead of them again as they were to have him overtake them from behind.
With that thought, Is lost her calm and began to shake, not because she didn't know where the berserker was, but because she didn't know when he was.
He could have been as long ago as Amil's cabin. But Amil had seen them, and the berserker hadn't. Although his horse had sensed Lark, neither horse had seen the other well. Is was sure of that. Did that mean the berserker was from longer ago than Amil's cabin, which even the oldest of John's people knew only as a ruin?
She acknowledged then what she had been hiding from herself about John. They were separated, not by distance, but by time. Somewhere - somewhen - had he awakened and found her gone? But when she had seen him again, or some image of him, he had spoken. Did that mean he had found or would find the Mirror and be cured? Is was suddenly lightheaded. If she never caught up to John again, she could at least believe he had been successful.
That thought sustained her for several hours.