The Shadowy Path - 10. Chapter 10

Josel

"Josel, stay at home. Me and Curtus will come and get you. If you do not hear from us by morning, find baker Mommes in Little Street and tell him my name. He is reliable.

If Paidos is not safe, travel to Ipalos and visit Marta Donthav, whom I know beforehand. She is living in the Merchant's District; you cannot miss the big yellow house.

Destroy the message as soon as you have read it.

With love, Andreuz."

"It's from your father, huh? What does it say?" Zdain wondered.

"None of your business," Josel replied curtly and began to tear up the letter he was reading. The message had clearly been written on the night when the familiar life in Paidos had been shattered. He had no desire to share the last memory of his father with Monteilon.

"I have a right to know, it affects me too," Zdain insisted.

Josel was silent for a moment, trying to resist the urge to punch the other boy in the face. It was because of the Monteilon family's shenanigans that they were stuck in this filthy mess. Still, Zdain was right; it was only fair to tell him. "All right..." Josel began, outlining the contents of the letter.

Neither of them had anything more to say. Zdain hoisted his rucksack onto his back and started walking again. With a sigh, Josel buried the paper shreds in the dirt with the toe of his shoe and hurried after him.

* * *

The trees in the forest were mostly deciduous - lime, ash and beech. The undergrowth was mainly young trees and shrubs, as the ground was too dry or dark for flowering plants and ferns. Instead, mosses lined the ground in thick carpets, covering decaying tree trunks that had fallen to the ground and stones that lay here and there. The landscape was like something out of a painting, the kind you'd like to look at from your living room wall at home - rested and full.

As the day wore on, the boys were still walking. Josel's feet were blistered, but he was not going to complain, not in front of Monteilon. They would keep going, they were both athletes and Josel did not want to be inferior to his rival in this sport either.

During the breaks, Josel and Zdain mostly glowered at each other. There was no talking, and if they said anything to each other, it was strictly practical. For the most part, they just trudged along. Zdain, who had the map to himself, led the way, and Josel, who silently hurled insults at the brown-haired boy's back, was in the rear.

As the evening began to darken, the boys did not want to repeat the previous night's miserable attempt to walk in the dark. Their throats were dry with thirst and the thousands of footsteps weighed heavily on their legs when they finally found a more or less decent place to spend the night. Beneath a low bank was a soft hummock covered with grass. They threw their packs into the ground and took turns emptying their bladders behind the bushes.

When Zdain returned, Josel spread the blanket out on the ground.

"Hey, that was my blanket," Monteilon gasped.

In his state of exhaustion, this was enough for Josel to lose his temper. "Oh, your blanket!" he exclaimed, jumping to his feet. "These are certainly not your blankets, but my father's. I have no reason to let you use either one."

Enjoying the embarrassment on Zdain's face, Josel pulled both blankets over himself. The other boy stood still for a moment, looking unhappy, until he sat down on top of his rucksack a few steps away from Josel.

It was a cool night again. Josel settled down in his sleeping spot next to the earthen wall and buried himself in his blankets. Monteilon was chewing on his lip, still sitting on his rucksack, even though Josel had expected he would get angry and tear a blanket for himself. Josel began to feel that he had gone too far. A pang of remorse prickled his chest. Was he going mad, worrying about Monteilon's bad mood?

Josel tried to lie still and forget about the boy sitting on his rucksack. But nothing came of it. Finally, he pulled off the top blanket and threw it at Zdain, snarling, "There's the stupid blanket for you."

The blanket fell next to Zdain, but he made no move to pick it up. Josel muttered something about ingratitude and turned away. Sleep just would not come.

Veilwood was as spooky as the night before. The wind sighed through the leaves of the trees and the nocturnal animals rustled in the darkness. Josel hoped that the sounds were only of small, harmless animals.

It was hard to tell what was real and what was not. In the Troubadour Kharl stories, the forests were teeming with human flesh-loving snagosts. The old chronicles told of wars against the creatures of darkness. No one took them seriously, or even considered them a reflection of ancient history. Josel had not believed in dusty legends - not until he encountered the dreader.

If the dreaders existed, why not the snagosts as well? What if they were prowling somewhere nearby, opening their deadly, slime-oozing mouths and dreaming of their next human meal? Two schoolboys would be no match for such monsters.

Josel felt cold. He had to peek out of the corner of his blanket to make sure there was no a snagost - or worse - lurking in the nearest bush. Fortunately, the dim moonlight revealed nothing of the sort. Josel could only make out the figure of Zdain wrapped in the blanket a little further away.

At least the blanket was good enough for him, Josel thought, but he could not calm down. Every unfamiliar sound made him shiver and he wished there was someone beside him to hold his hand.

When sleep finally took over, it was restless and full of nightmares.

* * *

The morning was, if possible, worse than the day before. During the night, greedy mosquitoes had bitten Josel's ankles and wrists full of itchy bites. Lack of sleep and dehydration were evident throughout his body: Josel's head ached and he was in a bad mood.

The boys ate two limp carrots in silence. There was no appetite for dry bread because there was no water. Josel saw Zdain moisten his chapped lips with the morning dew on the grass. When the boy looked away, Josel repeated the trick. But it did nothing to quench his thirst.

Still silent, they set off. Step followed another, but the forest remained unchanged. In the same way, Josel's thoughts went round in circles, always ending with the gut-wrenching disappointment: Jolanda had been nothing but a spy. That's how it had to be. And Josel would surely have spilled everything he knew to his lover, if only she would had time to ask.

It was hard to tell how long they had walked since the last rest. Josel put one foot in front of the other. Fatigue squeezed with every step, but at the same time it numbed the mind and somehow made the unbearability of the situation easier to bear.

Suddenly he bumped into Zdain's back. For some reason, Monteilon had stopped at the foot of a small cliff. It took Josel a moment to realise that they had already passed it once, perhaps half an hour earlier.

"So, you have gone astray. Even a blind man can read a map better than the governor's brat," he spat out his bad mood.

Monteilon turned in a flash. "Are you trying to start a fight?" he asked.

"What if I try?" Josel replied, taking a defiant step towards the other boy.

Zdain backed away.

"Are you afraid? You worthless coward!" Josel declared.

Then Zdain knocked him down with force.

Monteilon's brown eyes burned with anger as he shouted: "I've put up with this constant harassing for a long time. Even though you've beaten me to a pulp, and even after that you've been talking shit to my face all the time."

Josel jumped up. "You're the one who asked to be beaten. You think you're better than the rest of us," he barked and pushed Zdain in the chest.

"You son of a bitch!" Zdain roared and punched Josel painfully in the stomach with his fist.

Josel fell to his knees, struggling to draw air into his lungs. "You fuckhead!" he bellowed and lunged at Zdain, knocking the boy down with his head.

They fell on top of each other. The dead leaves whirled in the air. Zdain hissed and reached for Josel's hands to lock them in his grip, but was met with a swift knee kick to the side. Groaning in pain, Zdain tried to retaliate by hitting Josel's head, but failed.

Josel was about to kick Zdain again, but the boy rolled nimbly out of the way. The blows rained down, but became less and less forceful until the fight turned into a wrestling match, with neither boy getting the better of his opponent. Soon they were panting on the ground, holding each other's wrists.

Eventually Josel released his grip and spun out of Zdain's reach. His jaw and side were sore - bruises were sure to come. He glanced at Zdain. The boy was lying on his back, staring into the treetops.

After a long moment of silence, Josel thought aloud, "This is stupid. We will never get to Ipalos if we were at each other's throats all the time." So, Josel decided to try, "Listen, Monteilon... what if we called a truce?"

Zdain raised himself up on one elbow and turned to Josel. "I have been wondering the same thing. Maybe we should try to get along."

Josel sat up and immediately his side stung more. "I suppose we should," he said.

The look on Monteilon's face was reserved but not unfriendly. "But that doesn't mean I like you," the governor's son was quick to point out.

"Same here! As soon as we get to Ipalos, you'll walk in one direction and I'll walk in the other, and we'll never meet again," Josel made it clear.

"Okay, point taken."

They scrambled to their feet. Zdain's stained white shirt had been torn even worse in the fight. Now a large shred hung from it, leaving his right side almost completely bare. The boy looked at the tear with an annoyed scowl and with a single tug yanked the hanging piece of cloth free.

"I liked this shirt, it wasn't cheap," he said, dropping the rag and to the ground.

"I've got spare clothes in my pack, you can get a new one there," Josel mentioned.

"Uh, it's not worth it until I can wash up. There must be at least a pond or something in this miserable forest." Zdain walked over to his rucksack and shook the empty canteen. "Or just a brook would do," he added.

Josel agreed; he too had run out of water. To console himself, he dug two dried plums from his pack and gave one to Zdain. They devoured the fruit quickly, but it was not enough to satisfy their hunger.

"Shall we move on, find a brook?" Zdain asked in a surprisingly cheerful tone.

"Let's look at the map together," Josel suggested, equally conciliatory, adding with a cautious smile: "I won't hit you."

"You'd better not, because this time I'm going to kick your ass," Zdain said with a laugh.

Josel disagreed with the outcome of the rematch, but kept his mouth shut. Getting out of the forest was more important than another duel.

* * *

Examination of the map gave no certainty about their current location. However, the position of the sun peeking through the treetops told them they were heading roughly in the right direction.

Josel and Zdain staggered on in silence. Throats sore from thirst did not inspire conversation, and they were not accustomed to talking to each other any more than was necessary.

Trees soughed in the wind while small birds chirped warning calls in the bushes as two boys passed their nests. The air was warm and the terrain relatively easy to traverse. Still, familiar worries swirled in Josel's mind: the disappointment of Jolanda, the concern for his father, and the cruel fate of Curtus. There was also a kind of longing for friends, home and Paidos in general that weighed on his chest.

The boys took occasional breaks to nibble their dwindling supplies. It was very painful to eat without drinking, but they couldn't find water anywhere. They just had to carry on, even though every step felt like being covered in tar.

They had not quarrelled after the fight. But the irritation of the situation had reached the point where Josel knew that at any moment one of them would say something offensive. Even now, Zdain turned the map in his hand with an exasperated look on his face, searching for any landmark that would tell him where they were.

"Dammit! This is not going to work," Zdain said.

Josel was content to remain silent, there was no point in arguing in this situation.

The walk continued. At some point, Josel started to feel like he couldn't go on any longer. Where on earth did Zdain get his strength from? The other boy was a few steps ahead of him up the hill. Josel stopped and leaned against a large tree.

Zdain walked along for a while, but then noticed that his companion had fallen behind. He turned around and said in a tired voice: "Hey Sandkan, we have to keep going."

"Do what you want! I'm staying here!" Josel snapped more angrily than he had intended.

The reply clearly annoyed Zdain, who announced: "Don't think I'm coming for you." With that, he turned and continued on his way, ignoring Josel.

As Zdain's rucksack had disappeared from view, Josel slumped down against the trunk. What was the point of trudging on through this disgusting forest? Let that bastard Monteilon go...

He sighed and pressed his palms to his face. Veilwood hummed in response, looking even bleaker than it had been a moment ago. Josel lifted his gaze from his hands. He should probably keep going, lest Monteilon get out of shouting distance.

Just as he was about to climb up and catch up with Zdain, there was a loud crash from the top of the hill. Someone or something was coming towards him at high speed.

Josel did not have time to jump behind the bushes to hide when he saw Zdain rushing down the hill. "Sandkan, there's water!" the boy shouted joyously from afar. "There's a pond beyond the hill!"

* * *

The pond was not large, but it was not small either. It was surrounded on the hillside by cliffs that sloped gently down to the shore. On the opposite bank was a marshy, mossy area with a few trees sticking out. The pond had a rocky bottom, which made the water very clear.

As soon as they reached the shore, the boys dropped to all fours and began to slurp water. After quenching their thirst and filling their canteens, they lay down on the sun-warmed rock. Josel felt good for the first time in days. It was impossible to be angry, even in the company of Monteilon, when water source had finally been found.

Stretching his limbs, Josel sat up, squinting his eyes in the glare of the sun. "Monteilon, can you swim?" he asked mischievously.

"I think I beat you in that event a couple of years ago in the Spring Competition," Zdain replied, sounding a little indignant.

"You must be misremembering," Josel said.

Zdain snorted, but couldn't quite hide his smile.

They stood up. Both took off their soiled shirts.

"I've got soap with me," Josel said happily, mostly to himself, and then added to Zdain: "Oh, but do you need it at all? You princes don't sweat and get dirty like us mere mortals, do you?"

"Very funny again," Zdain said and began to remove his trousers.

Out of curiosity, Josel glanced at his companion, who was already stripping off his underwear. Monteilon looked... good, although Josel noticed that he himself was bigger from there. In his thoughts, he let his gaze linger too long on the other boy's naked body.

Of course, Zdain noticed the stare. "Haven't you seen muscles before?" he asked with a wry smile.

"Every day in the mirror."

"Ah, you have a habit of looking in the mirror? Sandkan, no surprise."

Unable to think of a witty retort, Josel turned away and removed the rest of his clothes. Meanwhile, Zdain had already stepped into the water and seemed to be wondering if he would dare to get wet. After a moment's hesitation, Monteilon plunged into the pond with a thud.

Josel went to the shore with a bar of soap in his hand. As he bent down to place the soap on a rock, the water hit him. He cried out in fright, which made the splashing Zdain laugh. Josel shouted a curse and rushed into the water to avenge the cold shower.

A water fight was now inevitable. They splashed each other, laughing and making noise like little children, forgetting how much they hated each other. When they had played and splashed enough, they took turns washing themselves.

"I don't care if it's snobby, but it feels good to be clean," said Zdain, standing on the shoal, rubbing soap into his armpits.

"You're right," Josel, floating nearby, admitted. He was a little surprised that the two of them could have a conversation.

After washing up, Josel challenged Zdain to a swimming contest, which ended in a draw. Occasionally they would go up on the cliff to lounge, and when the sun got too hot, they dashed back into the water in perfect harmony.

Eventually Josel decided that swimming was enough, the sun was already quite low in the sky. Perhaps it was already late afternoon. He swam to shore, pulled on a pair of clean underpants and sat down on a rock to dry off in the sun. Looking at Zdain, still floating in the pond, Josel reflected that he really felt no animosity towards the governor's son at that moment.

* * *

Josel's eyes slid from Zdain to the sky. The sun was still above the treetops, but evening was inevitably approaching. He let his eyes sweep across the sky. Not a cloud in sight...but what was that dark spot? It seemed to be moving.

Josel stood up. The spot was coming closer. It could not mean anything good.

"Monteilon!" he shouted hoarsely, running a few steps to the shore. "Get out of the water!"

The boy swimming in the pond stopped splashing and turned his attention to Josel.

"Why would I do that?"

"In the sky... it's moving this way." The point was indeed approaching.

"It must be a bird..." Zdain called back from the middle of the pond.

The dot grew into a splotch with wings. But no bird was that big.

"No! Come away!" Josel cried out in despair. Why Monteilon couldn't believe it, but start to being difficult again?

Then a blood-curdling scream tore through the sky. A bird made no such sound.

After hearing the scream, Zdain finally realised the danger and began to scoop frantically towards the shore. The flying creature was huge, and it was coming straight for him.

Zdain was almost at the beach when the beast screamed again. It was so close that Josel could make out the huge bat-like wings on its black body.

Then everything happened very quickly. Zdain floundered to the shore and clambered onto the rock as the beast arched over the pond. The animal was at least the size of a horse. It had a beak like a bird of prey, only bigger. Its legs resembled those of a giant falcon, but there was little else avian about the creature. Like bats, its wings were leathery, and its body was covered with fur instead of feathers.

Josel realised that the only way to be safe was to run for the shelter of the trees. He screamed at the top of his lungs, beckoning Zdain to follow him to the edge of the forest. The monstrous creature squalled and darted towards its prey. Zdain almost flew the last few steps and caught up with Josel behind the tree trunks.

The beast shrieked in a horrible way. Branches slammed against bare skin and rhizomes scraped knees to scratches as the boys threw themselves into the nearest hollow. The monster had been unable to follow them into the thicket. It howled its frustration over the pond, flapping its huge wings wildly. Finally, the splashing and screeching subsided and the monster, unsuccessful in its hunt, flew away from the pond.

They lay on a moss-covered ground, almost stuck together. Josel found himself squeezing Zdain's wrist and released his grip. Monteilon gasped for breath, his eyes squeezed shut, still clinging to Josel's shoulder.

"Don't worry...it already flew away", Josel said, touching his finger to the boy's shoulder.

Monteilon cautiously opened his eyes, but did not let go of Josel's shoulder. Frightened and losing his self-confidence, Zdain looked like a lost little boy.

"Thank you...Josel," he whispered, calling his companion by his first name for the first time.

Josel waved his hand to signal that there was no need to thank him. Suddenly aware of Zdain's nakedness, he sat up.

Zdain's hand slipped from his shoulder. Josel struggled to his feet, but the brown-haired boy made no move to get up. Josel noticed that Zdain's body was shaking; he must have been terrified.

"Come on, it's safe now," Josel said, peering through the trees at the deserted pond. The little birds, silenced by the appearance of the beast, were singing again. It was obvious that the horror had flown away.

"What was that all about?" Josel asked, referring to the beast. He wanted to know, even if it meant revealing his ignorance to Monteilon.

Zdain looked worriedly at the sky, but did not put any clothes on. He sat down on a rock and drew up his knees into his lap. When he finally spoke, his voice was weary and cracked.

"My private tutor once told me to read Cedne Usvamieli's chronicle. You know it is a fairy tale from ancient times. I have forgotten most of it, but one passage stuck in my mind. The poem went something like this: 'On the sky of the Bewitched Land flies a fiend wing, a night steed, monstrous. It carries its lord, the dreader, to murder and receives its reward - a meal of blood, a human'," Zdain said, stumbling a bit with his words.

Josel breathed hard and fought against a shudder. "The dreader that killed Curtus...that was its mount."

They had no desire to pursue the matter any further. Josel noticed that Zdain's skin was stained with dirt and suggested a wash. They took turns to clean themselves by the shore while the other stood guard. Neither of them was in the mood for a swim.

There were clean changes of clothes for both of them in the rucksack. The boys put them on without delay and went to the edge of the forest to eat. Repeatedly, Josel's eyes scanned the sky from which the masterless steed of Curtus' slayer had so suddenly appeared. Had it been mere coincidence after all?

* * *