Into the Deep Wood: Chapter 76 - The House With the Red Painted Sun

Chelkalka was a region sitting directly on the border between Nasria and Roska. It stretched across a long valley and into the mountains, where entire towns were built into the stones and landings. Farms had been cut into the hills, using a series of low-built barriers to create steps and shelves filled with soil.

The people had long been superstitious, inheriting so of the North’s culture by proximity. Their beliefs and celebrations were deeply rooted in the worship of various deities.

Hunters from all over knew that sowhere in the hills was a Wound, but no one truly knew what happened in the River Cities, the people hid the secrets of the Western Wound well.

They rode slowly past fenced-in rows of vegetables and slim people in clean linens raking and weeding the rows of berry bushes and patches of cabbage. Each one of them had looked up and stood, not saying a word but watching the horse and its two riders pass by.

A cluster of houses and what looked to be public buildings stood where the slope of the hill began. A steep cobblestone road with two sets of steps led upwards to the rest of the town. Several people gathered at the outskirts and stood silently, watching their arrival.

"Is it safe?" She whispered back to him. She hadn't been able to touch the sense of the Nothing since the cave.

"Yes."

As they neared, Marat stopped Aditi and helped Val off, walking toward them and holding the mare. An older woman stepped forward.

“May providence smile upon you, strangers.” She greeted, but her arms were crossed. Marat had prepared for the less-than-warm reception, but her eyes were not on him. They were on Val, and hers on the woman. He looked back and forth between the two discreetly; it was almost as if they had known each other, even though this had been entirely impossible.

“Well t.” He said reluctantly, trying to gauge the situation but failing. Several of the others had been looking at Val as well, at least those that were not frowning at him.

“What is your na?” As if entirely forgetting about Marat, the older woman asked Val, stepping toward her, her arms falling to her sides.

“Valeria…”

“Valeria.” The woman repeated. “Why are you here, Valeria?”

Val shot Marat a nervous glance, and the woman must have taken it for fear because she snapped her head to him imdiately, her eyes daring him to say a word before Val could.

“We…” Val felt herself begin to stutter. They had not discussed their arrival, what they would say, where they would stay - there was a singular mission, get there. “Are looking for refuge…”

The woman held her eyes on her for a bit longer, then turned back to Marat.

“And you?”

“My na is Marat.” He said, her deanor and mannerisms seeming not to affect him at all. “We were advised here in light of the developing war in the kingdoms.”

“And? Should we take in all who do not wish to remain in its path?” She said, still defiant.

“No. But, she is a special case.” He motioned to Val. “You have no obligation to let

stay, and I will go, but you cannot turn her away.”

“No!” Val let out but the older woman’s hand shot up to her.

“You can stay the night but we are not in the business of being innkeepers. The news of the Northern King spread fast, and the River Cities are closed to outsiders.” She said, still standing in place.

“Thank you, and what should we call you?” Marat’s tone and deanor remained friendly enough, but Val saw that the woman’s tone and mannerisms had sparked his anger.

“Nadia.” She replied shortly. “First Matron. You will have to camp outside, but we have a safe space for this.”

Her eyes shot back to Val.

“Valeria, you will let your companion take the horse and be shown to the stable, but you will co with .” She turned and began walking away. Val looked to Marat again, panic written all over her face. But, he nodded to her reassuringly. It was as if he had known sothing he had not told her. These people, their less than amicable welco, had not seed to shock him at all.

When Val saw the older woman who had stepped forward upon their arrival, she did not doubt that her jaw dropped.

The woman looked just like her. Although well into her sixties, she was slight of build and short - just like Val. Her graying hair blended with the mousy brown that frad her face. Her eyes were light green, and her eyebrows thick. Her age had given her wrinkles and slight jowls, but Val could still see the pointed chin and high cheekbones. The color of her lips receded and they thinned, but the natural redness of them remained underneath. In her youth, the sa blush must have adorned her cheeks. She looked so much like Val’s mother. She was even about her mother’s age, if her mother was even still alive.

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As Nadia walked her through the streets, Val could not believe what she saw—every single person there had green eyes like her. Little girls with golden hair ran from little boys with that of mousy brown. Each and every one had looked like her.

The building they stopped at was larger than the others. The heavy door made of rough logs was fully covered in carvings and drawings depicting animals, seasons, and various plants and flowers.

“Inside.” Nadia motioned with her hand surprisingly invitingly. Val obeyed, stepping into the darker, cooler space.

The floor of the building was swept, but it was mostly tightly compressed dirt. It only seed to have one room, although a latch to an underground cellar was fairly evident near the wall. A round piece of glass built into the roof let in a single ray of light that ford a large circle in the middle. Val saw it had lined up almost perfectly with a painting of a large red sun on the floor. At first, while her eyes adjusted to the darkness, she saw nothing beyond the circle of light. But as her vision cleared, Val noticed an old woman sitting on a bench against the opposite wall.

“All-Mother,” Nadia said, half bowing. Val had been so taken aback by the familiar term that she had nearly forgotten to bow herself. She had not heard that title in a long… long ti, “This is Valeria; she had co with an eastern hunter in the wake of war.”

The old woman stood and, using an unremarkable wooden cane, made her way to the spot of light. She motioned to Nadia, who prompted the girl to approach. As Val stepped up to her, the old woman considered her from her head all the way down to her feet.

“Where are you from, girl?” Her voice was soft, welcoming, and kind. Where Val had expected it to be raspy with age, it felt silky and smooth.

“I am not sure,” Val answered truthfully, “It has been a long ti, and I do not know the way ho.”

The old woman considered this, seeming so deep in thought that Val wondered if she had forgotten anyone was there.

“And your companion?” She asked as if waking up from deep sleep.

“He…” She was not sure what to say. They already knew he was from the East, but she got the feeling that it was not the question being asked. “I cannot go without him.”

The woman nodded knowingly.

“How old are you?” She continued what started to feel like an interrogation, but if this were what it took for them to stay, then Val would answer a hundred of these questions. A thousand even.

“I don’t know. I think… thirty? A few years, give or take.” She guessed. She had never been able to tell. Her face looked so much older the first ti she saw herself in the mirror. A different person almost, with the sa eyes. But, she did not look as old as Marat. At least she had that.

“You do not know?”

“I do not.”

“Hm.” The old woman seed satisfied with that for the ti being. “And your mother?”

This question took her aback.

Her mother?

“She lives, I think, in the village I am from. It has been a long ti since I have seen her.”

“Hm.” The old woman nodded and smiled at Val, a nearly toothless gummy smile. Her gray eyes squinted kindly. “You may stay. Your companion, he may stay too.”

“All-Mother–” Nadia began, but the old woman shook her head.

“It is up to the gods, on whom the curse and blessings fall, not us. The sumr solstice has passed, but the river still flows, Nadia.” She said.

Nadia let her hands down in defeat.

“Yes, All-Mother.” She said, motioning for Val to co along. But the old woman caught her arm before she could follow.

“Avgusta, it is my na.” She told her and then let go.

A man had led Marat to a courtyard by the stables. As they walked, little children would run by them, and then screaming laughter would break out sowhere ahead. It was as if they had made a ga of who could run closest to the stranger and not get scared. And, it was understandably so - Marat stood taller than any other man there and of a much bigger build.

The slender fras of the Chelka people at their tallest reached his shoulders and, on average, his chest. In his weathered foreign clothes, a longbow on his back and hunting knife at his side, it was no wonder they were treating him as such. Their little heads would poke out from behind buildings and bushes, their eyes following him all the way up the hill.

Aditi had been more than happy to find herself in the company of other horses and did not protest as the farr led her inside the stable. Marat dropped their bags in the grass, intending to set up camp. The quiet bustle of the smaller town had felt relieving after the noisy Midtrade City and the silent desert caves. There was life here. The people were standoffish, but he knew this was because they had sothing of value to protect - their way of life. And he did not bla them.

There were strict rules around the River Cities, and he had known that coming here. They were likely to take her in; after all, she clearly had their blood running through her veins.

From the mont he saw her, he recognized the distinct green eyes of the region. Her cheekbones, her small fra, her hair that bleached beneath the harsh sun to be as aged gold. They would let her stay here. Everything else did not matter.

He heard a giggle nearby; it seed it was directed at him, but he ignored it. Then another, by a different voice. He looked up just in ti to see a few adolescent girls leaning over a fence scatter away from it. One slowed, looking back at him twice, her cheeks flushed, before she, too, disappeared behind the wall of a house.

Nadia had shown Val where Marat was setting up camp in a yard.

“Gather your things.” She nodded at their already established humble abode. “You are being put up. The All-Mother has given her blessing for your stay. Valeria will show you where the room is being prepared; we have just co from there.”

He opened his mouth to speak, admittedly surprised, but closed it again.

“You must follow all the rules.” She began reciting every single one of them. “...you must not make noise past sunset, you must not spill water you carry on the upward steps, you must not pick fruit from another’s yard - but vegetables are okay.”

He looked at Val, who shrugged slightly and smiled. They were letting them stay…

“... you must attend every public hearing and celebration of the seasons. This–” She leaned over to ensure he heard the emphasis “-is the most important. You must attend.”

“We will attend.” He confird.

“You must not be at a well at midnight or midday.” She continued, and then her words slowed, strained. “You must not hunt.”

Again, he looked up at her, this ti not replying but trying to understand if it was an accusation.

It was.

“I will not hunt.” He repeated. She seed satisfied when he did not argue.

“Avgusta wants to see you both in the morning,” she finished her speech, “mind that the All-Mother is the reason that you will have a roof over your head tonight, hunter.”

And with that, she turned and walked away. The two held eye contact for a minute, neither one wanting to break the silence that was so thick with excitent and relief.

“Why can we not go by the well at midday?”