The Bones of the Earth (The Dark Age) (19 page)

One day as they crept through thick brush toward the road, Photius stopped dead in his tracks, his hand out to stop Javor. He held his finger over his lips and pointed with his other hand. Peering between the branches and leaves, they saw something their minds could not accept: a young woman, a girl, really, naked, tied spread-eagle to two rough logs cut and lashed together in an x-shape, then propped in the middle of the road. She was thin with long, light-brown hair that cascaded over her shoulders. They could see her ribs under her small breasts. Javor thought she was probably the same age as he was, perhaps a little older.

It made no sense to Javor: there was no one else around; no guard, no sign of the people who had crucified her. And there was no sign of violence on her, either—no cuts, not even a bruise. Her even, milky skin almost shone in the midday sunlight.

“
What is she doing there?” Javor whispered.

“
It is a trap, lad,” Photius whispered back, shaking his head.

“
We can’t just leave her there!”

“
That’s exactly what they want you to think! Come, let’s get away from here before we are discovered.”

Javor was not listening. He dropped his bow, quiver and pack, loosened his sword in its sheath and crept as close as he could to the road while still under the bushes. He looked up and down as far as he could.
Nothing. Although they could be hiding in the bushes, too.

He took a deep breath and ignored Photius’ whispered, desperate protests, then sprang forward and ran as fast as he could, head down. His shoulder hit the girl’s thigh, making her scream; his arm went between her legs, around the log; the other arm went under the upright part of the log. Without pausing, he wrenched upward, lifting the crucifix off the road and over his shoulder. The girls’ soft body hit his back as he ran into the bushes on the other side. He dropped her onto the ground with a grunt. His lower back hurt.

Photius dashed across the road and squatted in the bushes beside them. He threw his cloak over the girl’s naked body as Javor cut her bonds with a knife—not his grandfather’s dagger. “I am Javor,” he said in Greek. “This is Photius. What happened to you?”

“
Hush, boy!” Photius whispered, lying on his belly and squinting up and down the road. Birds trilled, insects buzzed, the breeze gently moved the leaves, but there was no sign of anyone else.

Once free, the girl sat up and pulled the cloak around herself. She was shaking, even though the day was warm. Javor waited until Photius turned away from the highway. “Who tied you in the road?” he asked in Greek.

“
Thank you,” she said finally. But she said it in Javor’s language, which Photius  called Sklavenic. Javor was astounded that he could understand her.

“
Who are you? Are you from around here? Or farther north?” he asked, excited. Photius, alarmed, warned him to keep his voice down.

“
I am Danisa. Thank you again for rescuing me.” She had an oddly deep voice for such a young woman.

“
Who tied you?” he asked again.

She shivered again. “Rough men. Raiders. They attacked our town and burned houses. They demanded a hostage before they would leave us alone.”

“
I am very pleased to meet you, Danisa,” said Photius in his most formal, accented Sklavenic. “But I think it would be best if we got as far from this place, as quickly as we can.” He gave Danisa his spare sandals from his pack, scanned the road again, and led them across, back into the bushes and up the slopes, deep into the woods. He avoided paths, pushing through thick branches with his walking stick. They got scratched, hot and annoyed until they reached a clear, steep slope which they traversed awkwardly.

As they went, Javor looked Danisa over carefully, not so embarrassed now that she was covered by Photius’ spare cloak. He should have noticed that her hair was remarkably clean and neat for a prisoner of barbaric raiders. He should have noticed that her eyelids were subtly shaded and delicately coloured, that her lips were very red. But he was a very young man, and the first time he had seen her, she was naked. So his eyes were drawn to her soft, rounded shoulders and the shape of her bottom under the cloak.

Photius listened for any sound of pursuit, but the only sounds were the wind, the birds and the insects. Somewhere, a shallow stream sang merrily over a small rapids. Finally, he felt comfortable enough to pause and start asking questions. They settled in the shade of an oak tree at the edge of a clearing. Photius gave the girl some water and a dry biscuit. She took little, delicate bites that fascinated Javor.

“
So, Danisa, you come from a town that was attacked by barbarians. Were they Avars?”

“
I am not certain. I think so.” She spoke only after chewing carefully and swallowing, but she ate only half the biscuit.

“
Why you? Why did they demand you as the hostage?”

“
I am young, and my father is the hetman.”

That seemed reasonable, but Photius wanted details. “What is your town called?”

“
Zvitin. It is west of here.”

“
And what is your father’s name?”

“
Voyko. Hetman Voyko.”

Photius nodded, peering intently at the young woman. “Why did they abandon you, tied to a cross of logs in the middle of a crumbling road?”

Danisa shivered again and looked down the hill. Somewhere below them was the road. “They said it was a sacrifice to their god, who would rise out of the ground at nightfall and consume me.”

“
Really? And we found you at noon,” Photius said. “It seems strange that they would leave you alone for so long before their god came. I would expect them to wait at least until evening, to guard against unforeseen circumstances—like being rescued by travellers.” Danisa just shrugged.

“
Did they… did they…” Javor stammered.
Just say it.
“Did they…rape you?”

She shot him a hot glance, then looked at the ground. “No.” And she pursed her narrow lips until they almost disappeared, a look that Javor would come to know very well.

Photius made them move on again, back under the trees. But they didn’t go far before he chose a campsite for the night. He made as comfortable a place as he could for Danisa, then took Javor to look for food. “Does anything strike you as strange about her?” he asked.

“
Well, the whole situation is strange—she’s tied to logs in the middle of the road? With no one else around? But then, so much is strange, Photius. Monsters, a dragon, a gryphon, me running through the wilderness with a strange old man who talks all the time about legends and ancient empires. So, really, this isn’t much stranger than the rest of my life for the past couple of months.”

“
Well, something else that seems odd is that she was abducted, then left as a sacrifice—without anyone to ensure that the sacrifice actually happens. What if she had escaped on her own?”

“
Well, I don’t think that would be …”

“
Does it not strike you as coincidental that she was left in the road just before we arrived? And did it not seem very easy to rescue her?”

“
What are you getting at?”

“
Do not forget, Javor, that we are being pursued by enemies of many kinds. Do not forget the horsemen on the road. They could catch up to us at any time. Danisa seems to be a helpless victim, but she could also be the bait for a trap. Let us remember to be careful.”

That night, Photius and Javor shared the watch again, leaving Danisa to sleep through. Javor fretted through his shifts. He kept imaging the horrors he had seen already, the creatures from Ghastog’s mountain or the lizard-like thing from the ridge in the rain, creeping up behind him. Every sound, every creak of branches, every hoot of an owl was terror. And now, he was frightened not just for himself, but for Danisa, as well. Then he would look at her sleeping face, the way she held her hand close to her face as she slumbered, and he felt both comforted and vigilant at the same time.

Worst of all were the sounds of wolves howling, sometimes distant, sometimes near. When they howled, neither Photius nor Javor slept, but sat back to back, staring into the shadows until their eyes hurt.

But the daylight times that followed became the happiest time in Javor’s life. The sun rose high, the weather was almost always clear and warm. Walking alongside a beautiful young woman who wore nothing but a thin tunic and occasionally an ill-fitting cloak, Javor could temporarily forget the previous month, the deaths of his family, the horrors of battles and demons. His focus narrowed again until his world was nothing but Danisa and the ground below his feet. Photius would have to touch his shoulder just to get his attention off Danisa.

Daytimes were beautiful with Danisa. She walked with Javor most of the time, and although she didn’t talk much about herself, she asked him a lot of questions. “Where are you going, anyway?” she had asked that first day. Photius had said they were travelling to Constantinople for Javor’s education, and she seemed to accept this.

She asked Javor about his home and the things he had seen on his journey. He was reluctant to say much at first, and she would narrow her lips again when he would not answer directly. Over the hours and days he relaxed and told her details. She seemed interested in his family, especially the few tales he could tell about his great-grandfather. And when he told her about Bilavod, she was entranced.

“
A gryphon and a dragon! But those are fairy tales! You’re just teasing me because I am a girl.”

“
No, it’s true. The gryphon seemed to want to help us, but I had to cut off the dragon’s foot to drive it away.”

“
Oh, come now. Everyone knows you cannot pierce a dragon’s hide.”

“
I know. But I have a magical dagger.”

“
And where did you find a magical dagger?” she asked with a very sceptical expression, her lips drawing thin again.

Oops
. So he had to tell her about Ghastog, about the attack on his village. He wept when he told her about his parents, and then he could not speak for a long time after.

Even though he was happy by day with Danisa, Javor’s nights began to fill with nightmares, of deep brooding dread that he could never remember when he woke. Often, he would waken in the middle of the night, sweat soaking his head, to see Photius sitting nearby, staring into the shadows, and Danisa lying near the dying fire. As he would drop back into sleep, he sometimes felt the ground below his head sucking him back, pulling at his spirit. He fought it, wasting more precious hours of sleep until Photius shook him for his turn to watch.

One night, he woke with a shock to see Danisa’s face, illuminated only by moonlight, inches from his own. She looked worried.

“
What is it?” he asked, sitting up.

“
You were thrashing in your sleep and calling out. It was a nightmare.”

Tendrils of a dream faded from his memory as he tried to call them to mind. He couldn’t remember anything definite, just a feeling of panic that also faded in the soft moonlight. “I’m all right now,” he answered. She nodded and leaned forward to kiss him softly on the forehead. “Go back to sleep,” she whispered.

But Javor couldn’t sleep after that. He sat down beside Photius, who stared into the darkness. Neither of them said anything, but sat together until dawn.

In the morning, Danisa seemed especially attentive to Javor. She kept asking him if he felt rested and how he felt in general. She smiled at him a lot and made little jokes. She laughed and skipped ahead as they walked across meadows. She picked flowers and put them in her hair. Javor was perplexed and very, very pleased. Even Photius seemed to relax a little and smiled at her. That night, she slept very close to Javor; he woke once as he felt her back curve against his chest. He put his arm over her thin body and slipped back into sleep.

During the next few days, Danisa’s good mood continued. And Javor’s mood rose along with hers. They found more opportunities to be alone together, out of Photius’ gaze, even as they continued south. Once, Javor tried to interest Danisa in his favourite activity, climbing trees. Without any warning, he leaped up, grabbed a branch well out of Danisa’s reach and scrambled up. “Come on, it’s great!” he called down to her.