Words on Fire Page 2

  I knew the answer. This was a job my mother had asked me to do a week ago, to straighten these wires from where our cow had trampled over them. I’d completely forgotten about this chore … until now.

  “Take your father’s bag,” Mama said. “Take it and go.”

  “No, I can do this!”

  “I’ll untangle myself,” Mama said. “But you must get to the safety of the trees. I’ll follow you.”

  “No!”

  Mama thrust the shoulder bag into my hands. “Keep running!”

  I started to protest, but she waved me away. I got to my feet, but stood there, unsure of what to do.

  “If I can’t … if I don’t follow you, then inside that bag is a package. You must take it to a woman in Venska named Milda Sabiene. Promise me you’ll get that to her. Only her.”

  “Mama, I don’t know where—”

  At that moment, the sound of a loud crash came from our home, followed by the tinkling of breaking glass. I jumped and Mama briefly closed her eyes, then in a low voice said, “Audra, you will obey me now. Run and don’t you stop.”

  This time, I did as she said, though tears were streaming down my cheeks. I was barely halfway across the field, each footstep crushing the tender shoots of potato plants in the earth, when Cossack soldiers burst from our rear door, shouting for me to stop.

  I raced toward the forest, looking back only when I heard my mother call for me to keep running. A few of the soldiers had already surrounded her and were tying her hands behind her back, arresting her.

  The others pointed at me and began to give chase. If I could get into the trees, I would be safe. I knew the area directly behind my home better than anyone, certainly better than these soldiers. I could hide in there, if I was fast enough.

  Before crossing into the forest, I turned back at a sudden whoosh, just in time to see my home explode into flames. What had they done? Had my father been inside? Had they brought my mother back to the home as well? I couldn’t see her anymore.

  My parents could have been inside. What if they were inside? My chest burned with horror and despair … even as my home burned.

  Flames continued to rip through the back of our small wood home, consuming first the corner that served as my bedroom. I had nothing in there of value, but the fire was spreading fast, taking with it my peace, my comfort … my family. Everything that mattered to me in the world was engulfed in flames. I swallowed down the pain that was destroying me, too, then turned again to run, almost blind with panic. Fully aware that the soldiers weren’t far behind me, and that whatever had happened to my parents could happen to me next.

  The Cossacks were fast, but I was more nimble in jumping over the low-hanging branches to enter the woods. I dove into the thicket and took a sharp right toward what I knew was a steep slope down into some dense underbrush. When I was near it, I clutched the shoulder bag against my chest and leapt into the air, then fell through nothing until my body caught up with the slope and I half slid, half rolled the rest of the way to the bottom.

  By that time, I heard the first soldier enter in the same way I had come, shouting orders to the others to join him in the search. I crawled as deep beneath the thick leaves as I could, praying they would see the slope and go around it. Praying one of them wouldn’t accidentally take a tumble and end up falling right beside me. This was a good hiding place but not a secure one.

  I didn’t dare look out, but from the voices around me, I believed there had to be thirty or forty soldiers here now, rather than only ten. It wasn’t possible for there to be so many, I knew my fear was exaggerating their numbers, but what did it matter if there were forty men brushing through the leaves, or ten? They were looking for me. I barely dared to breathe, and before I knew it, thick tears were rolling down my cheeks. It was everything I could do not to sob aloud.

  What had happened to my father, to my mother? Were they even still alive?

  Mama had warned me once that drawing the attention of the Cossack soldiers could cost a person their life.

  Her life. Papa’s life.

  I curled into a ball, burying my head in my arms so that if I did cry out, if I screamed out the pain I felt at what had just happened, no one would hear me.

  By now, my home was surely engulfed in flames, though nothing I could imagine explained why they had burned it, or why they had even come.

  Except that maybe I could explain it.

  My father had hidden a wrapped package inside his shoulder bag. My mother had chosen to pass it to my care rather than to save her own life. I had just lost my parents because of that package.

  Whatever it was, the soldiers considered it valuable enough that they were after me now. I had to deliver it to this woman, Milda, or else my parents’ sacrifice would be for nothing. But once it was in her hands, I wanted nothing more to do with it. Whatever it was, it had just cost me everything I loved.

  I wasn’t sure how long I’d lain in the underbrush, but the soldiers seemed to have left the forest some time ago, and the air around me was dark now except for a partial moon that hung low in the sky. I didn’t know this Milda Sabiene, nor had I ever been to Venska where she lived, but I knew I shouldn’t stay here. The soldiers would return, probably in greater numbers. They would find me. Then I would be captured too.

  Besides, I couldn’t stay here, watching my home, my family, my life turn to ashes before my eyes. I was already broken and empty, hollowed out to nothing. If I stayed any longer, I’d lose the will to move ever again. I would die here.

  Tentatively, I crawled out from beneath the brush, though when I tried to stand, my right foot crumpled, bringing a sting that made me gasp for breath. I must’ve injured the ankle when I jumped off the slope and was only now realizing how bad it was. I gritted my teeth together and hobbled forward. An injured ankle was the least of my worries now … unless the injury created worse problems. Was I headed toward Venska? I didn’t know. What would I do if I got there? I didn’t know that either.

  I limped along for some time before I saw lights in the distance and heard the playful sounds of laughter and music. I froze and squinted at the lights, trying to understand them. Then I remembered what it was and shook my head in disbelief.

  This was Midsummer’s Eve, an all-night celebration for Lithuanians. The night of magic.

  If my father was gone, then magic was gone as well. I wouldn’t believe in it any longer; I couldn’t.

  Nor could I believe that the midsummer festivities were still continuing. Didn’t they know what had happened to my parents? How could all these people dance and sing and laugh with one another on a night as horrible as this had been?

  The voices were coming nearer to me, and once again I ducked beneath the undergrowth, burying myself inside the summertime foliage. I had to. My eyes would be swollen and red from crying, and my clothes were filthy from the tumble I’d taken. I’d stand out from the group for certain. If the Cossacks were still looking for me, I couldn’t take the chance of anyone here turning me over to them.

  I’d no sooner hidden myself than the party filled the clearing around me: what sounded like dozens of happy people without a single serious thought on their minds.

  “It’s not yet midnight!” a boy called. “It won’t do any good to look for the fern blossom now!”

  More laughter followed his statement, with girls calling back that they had plenty of grasses to gather until midnight.

  “Weave your wreaths, then,” he replied. “I will set mine out on the river with any of you pretty girls!”

  They giggled and shooed him away and I tried to smile, thinking of the fun I would have had if the night had gone as planned. At exactly midnight, two people in love would set their wreaths out on the water. If they floated together, the couple knew the fates wanted them to marry. And if the wreaths separated, they were also warned to separate. That was nothing to smile about.

  “Pardon our intrusion,” said a deep Russian voice, “but we are looking for a fugi
tive.”

  I caught my breath in my throat, recognizing the voice of the soldier who had followed me into the forest earlier. I heard the snort of a horse. Perhaps the soldiers had returned to my home for their horses and ridden around the forest to this place.

  There were sounds of more horses, so I knew this soldier wasn’t alone. It didn’t matter how many more had come. I couldn’t outrun a single soldier on my injured foot.

  “My name is Officer Rusakov and I am new to this district,” the man continued. “The fugitive is a blond girl in braids wearing a white blouse and skirt.”

  “Sir, you’ve described most of the girls in Lithuania tonight,” the boy who had spoken before said.

  His comment wasn’t taken kindly. I heard him gasp as he was hit, perhaps with the butt of a soldier’s rifle, and he fell to the ground.

  “This girl was a child, perhaps no more than twelve or thirteen,” Officer Rusakov continued. “She is the daughter of Henrikas and Lina Zikaris. They have just been arrested.”

  My heart skipped a beat as I absorbed his words. My parents were alive, both of them? For the first time since I’d seen those soldiers come up the hillside, I felt a sliver of hope.

  Then Rusakov added, “We wish to see to the safety and care of the girl.”

  I nearly scoffed aloud at that. They had chased after me with weapons drawn, terrified me, and left me to believe that if I did not give up this package in my arms, something terrible would happen. I doubted that had anything to do with my safety.

  “Naturally, we will report her if we see her,” someone said. “But the Zikaris family kept to themselves. I doubt any of us even know this girl.”

  “She will be carrying something wrapped in twine, perhaps inside a brown leather shoulder bag,” Rusakov said. “Her clothes will be dirty from hiding. I am confident that you will recognize her … and can promise you a fine reward for turning her in.”

  Turn me in? Hardly the words someone would use if their only wish was to see to my safety and care. None of the people here should know me, even from the few times I’d been to the markets. I knew how to blend in with the shadows, how to not be noticed. I was more comfortable that way.

  A different girl spoke now. “With your permission, sir, the hour is creeping closer to midnight. We beg you to allow us our traditions.”

  “Your foolish Lithuanian stories,” Rusakov said. “They’ll be gone soon enough.” After a heavy sigh, he added, “But you may carry on for tonight, as long as you do not get in our way. We will remain in the area to continue searching.”

  Slowly, the people who had been laughing and singing minutes ago began moving about among the trees. I was sure all of them wanted to get as far from the officers as possible, but nobody wanted to be the first to leave the area. Maybe they figured they were safer here, together in one group, for it seemed impossible that the officers would attack so many people at once. But for all I knew, they would.

  I looked around me and silently groaned. I was hiding in a thick patch of ferns. Of all nights and of all places to hide, I had made the worst possible choice.

  “Perhaps the fern blossom is here,” a girl said, her voice coming closer to where I was, more quickly than I could figure out what to do about it. “Perhaps … oh!”

  I knew she’d seen me and I turned to look up at her, then silently shook my head, pleading with her not to turn me in. She had every reason to do it, including a reward that would probably be a great help to her family. If the officers discovered that she had allowed me to stay in hiding, my punishment would also become hers.

  She stared down at me, then her eyes darted away as she decided what to do. I recognized this girl. Her name was Violeta and she sold pastries on market day from her father’s bakery.

  “What is it, Violeta?” a friend called to her. “What have you found?”

  “Yes,” Officer Rusakov called, his tone dripping with suspicion. “What have you found?”

  Time seemed to freeze while Violeta made her decision. No matter what choice she made, there would be rewards for it … or consequences. Officer Rusakov would be here soon, and it would be so easy for her to point me out, so easy to gain the favor of the soldiers by doing them a favor now.

  His heavier footsteps crunched over the twigs and old autumn leaves as he came closer, and my heart crashed against my chest. It was possible I was in the last few minutes of my life.

  Almost instantly, Violeta pasted a smile across her face and leaned over. “It’s a fern blossom, I’m sure of it. Everyone come see!”

  My eyes nearly leapt from my head with horror. It wasn’t enough for her to turn me in alone; she wanted half the village to help her do it?

  Excitedly, she motioned to her friends, who came running over beside her, enough of them hoping to see the magical blossom that they seemed to have forgotten about Officer Rusakov.

  One by one, they gathered around the ferns where I was hiding, and one by one, they saw me, their eyes widening as they realized what Violeta had truly discovered.

  I did not dare look at any of them, though I wished I could. It would be harder for them to report me if they saw my face. I only crouched there, wondering which of them would betray my hiding place, which of them would be the first to call out that they had found me and demand their reward.

  I cringed when I heard the first person draw a breath to speak. She called out, “It is indeed a fern blossom, Violeta. Do you feel its magic yet?”

  I peered up at her, just barely. She hadn’t turned me in at all.

  A girl beside Violeta asked, “Can you understand the language of the birds yet?”

  Violeta glanced behind her toward Officer Rusakov, then back at me, saying, “There are no birds out this late. Perhaps tomorrow, I will.”

  The group pushed in tighter around the fern, and a boy said, “Violeta, surely you know all secrets.”

  Her eye fell on me again. “I’m afraid the greatest secrets are still a mystery to me. There is at least one thing about which I have many questions.”

  Then a third person asked, “And what of the third promise of finding the fern blossom? Can you read our thoughts?”

  I finally looked up, and Violeta’s gaze locked on mine. She nodded. “Yes, I can. I know the thoughts of everyone in this circle, and perhaps you all have been touched by the magic, too, for I am sure you know everything I am thinking.”

  Perhaps they did, for the group moved in even tighter around the fern, so many of them that unless the officers forced them apart, I would not be seen. They were protecting me. I almost couldn’t believe it, but in some unspoken pact, they were keeping themselves close enough together to shut out the moonlight and bury me in their shadows.

  “There are no fern blossoms!” Officer Rusakov shouted from somewhere outside the group. “You illiterate peasants don’t know how foolish you are!” Anger was thick in his voice as he issued orders to the other officers still searching in the area. “We’ll search the village, and if we find any of you have taken this girl into your home, you’ll pay dearly for it.”

  The soldiers left with him, and the people around me casually moved about the area, perhaps so they wouldn’t draw any suspicion our way, if the officers were nearby spying on us. When a boy ran back to say that we were safe, Violeta reached into the ferns and offered me a hand up.

  By then, my ankle had stiffened worse than before, and without her holding my hand, I might have fallen. With my other hand I still kept my father’s shoulder bag close against my chest, hiding the package inside it along with its other contents.

  There must have been twenty people around me, mostly older teens or people in their early twenties, all looking me over as if I had leeches on my face. I looked down at my white blouse and skirt, which were so stained with dirt that they were anything but white now. I’d lost my woven sash somewhere in my walk here, and my green apron had a rip in the side.

  “I’ve seen you before, in the market,” Violeta said.

&
nbsp; “What’s in that bag?” a boy near her asked.

  “That’s not our business, Filip,” Violeta said sharply. “I’m sure we don’t even want to know.”

  Nor could I tell them. I merely pulled it tighter to myself.

  “You need to get as far from this village as possible,” Filip said. “You’ll want to stick to the forest. The Cossacks will look for you in the villages next.”

  I glanced up, forcing myself to speak. “Venska. I need to go to Venska.” Then I immediately looked down.

  Filip pointed northward. “Follow the path there and cross the river, then continue for about twenty kilometers; the path will split, one to the left and the other to the right. You’ll go to the right, and eventually it will empty out into Venska.”

  “Twenty kilometers? So far?” I couldn’t hide the concern in my voice. As dark as the rest of the night would be under this thick canopy of branches and leaves, I was likely to wander off the path and never know it.

  “If you need help—” a girl behind Violeta offered.

  “I don’t.” I wanted to be clear on that. Any of them could have been arrested tonight, just like my parents, for allowing me to hide in the ferns. Or it could go worse for them. I knew how much they were risking. I would crawl to Venska on my own before I accepted any more help from these people.

  “Here, take this.” Violeta removed her shawl and wrapped it around my shoulders. Then someone behind Filip passed forward a basket with some cakes in it. With my eyes lowered, I mumbled a thank-you as I accepted both gifts, then hobbled toward the path.

  Minutes later, as the path wound into the deeper part of the forest, I glanced back, hoping to see my parents there, beckoning me home again. When they weren’t there, when filtered beams of lantern light from the party created long shadows among the dark trees, I turned around again. There, I faced thick brush and a winding dirt path that led to a tomorrow I could not predict. One step later, I was officially the farthest from my home that I’d ever been. And I was certain I’d never come back again.