Chapter 33: The End of the Journey

Vesna spent the next day riding west through thick forests, and the day after that riding north. Whenever she was not worried about simple survival she pondered a growing question in her mind: Home ... what exactly was home? After ten years of wandering she was no closer to knowing the answer than when she started her journey. She had seen many places that she would have called home, if only the Path of her Life had been different. There were the men she would have been happy to create a household with, but it seemed that the Destroyer followed closely behind her, annihilating that chance for peace and forcing her to move on.

Possessions had come and gone. She took the things she needed, and parted with them the moment they were no longer needed. The only items she would not part with were the three things she had started out with: her collar, her bucket, and the silver coin given to her by Farmer Orsktackt for that “dire emergency”.

Fortunately she still had the coin, never having been so desperate that she needed to spend it. There were times that she had money and times that she spent it, but never her first silver coin. She had long since convinced herself that, like the collar, the coin had protected her.

Ten years had gone by. It was hard to believe: ten years.

Vesna directed Moonlight northwards for the final hours of her journey, anticipating the moment she’d emerge into the open meadows and could see the town’s familiar walls and steeples. She’d ride up from the south, which meant the aqueduct project would be the first part of her former life she’d lay her eyes upon. She descended one last forested foothill, and noted sunlight shining on the path ahead. This was it ... after ten years she’d finally see what had become of Rika Heckt-nemat.

When she emerged into the open, the first meadow was overgrown with brush and no sheep were in sight. There were no humans in sight, either. The road was deserted and overgrown with grass. The first cottage she approached was abandoned, with its roof caved in. There were other cottages; all abandoned and collapsed except for one. An old man stared at her with vacant eyes, while a growling dog warned her not to get any closer. She held up her cross-bow just in case, but did not challenge the dog.

As she continued her trek northwards, Vesna could see the familiar walls and steeples of Rika Heckt-nemat. The city’s skyline had not changed, but even in the distance she could see nothing but desolation. Even as she got closer, she could see most of the fields had been abandoned. The few people she saw along the road where shabbily dressed and moved quickly, obviously not willing to engage in any conversation.

She ascended a small hill, the final rise before crossing the flat fields leading up to the south gate and the irrigation project. The project had never been finished. It had advanced somewhat from the time she fled, but after ten years, it was not finished. Like almost everything else, it lay abandoned.

Vesna made sure her crossbow was ready. She had her long-bow as back-up. She had her sword. However, she was terrified. She desperately wanted to turn back and leave the ill-fated land of her youth. But she continued on, feeling the city draw her in against her will. The inn where she had sold her apples was abandoned, but she was relieved to see a few people milling around the gate. Finally she’d have a chance to find out what had happened to Rika Heckt-nemat. She addressed a young city guard who seemed somewhat approachable.

“The Plague, Mistress. The Destroyer Beelzebub paid us a visit ten years ago.”

“Ten years ago?”

“Yes, Mistress. Beelzebub killed our people just before harvest season in the accursed year of 1750. The people who didn’t die from the Plague died during the winter from starvation. The people who didn’t die from starvation left in the spring.”

“and you? and the others still here?”

The guard replied listlessly: “Some people always stay, Mistress, and some people always come back.”

“May I enter?”

“As you wish, Mistress.”

Most of the buildings were still standing, but many of them were unoccupied. Even the buildings with occupants were not being kept up. The prosperous, bustling city of her childhood was but a memory. She visited the forlorn cathedral and briefly talked to a Priest she had never seen before. The Priest verified that, during the summer of 1750, three quarters of the city’s population died within a two month period. Another thousand citizens starved to death over the winter, because there was no one to harvest the crops. Of the survivors, half fled in the spring. So ... of the 20,000 people who had been in the city just a decade before, only 2,000 remained.

“We are but a village, living in the walls of what used to be a city.”

“So it was the rat-plague?”

“The rat-plague? What madness are you speaking, stranger? It was Beelzebub the Destroyer’s curse. Beelzebub struck us down. It wasn’t the rats.”

“Why do you say that, Priest?”

“So, you don’t know the tale about the drowned girl, the one who called out to Beelzebub?”

“No,” lied the visitor. “I’d be curious to hear it.”

“Ten years ago, there was a young girl in this city. The old people say she was so beautiful that just looking at her took your breath away. What they didn’t know was why she was so beautiful: it was because she had the blessing of Beelzebub. Anyhow, all the town’s men stopped looking at any of the other women. All they could look at was that one girl. So, and I’m not sure how they did it, the other women convinced the city council to tie her and throw her in the Rika Chorna. The city council picked the three most loyal guards to do the tasking, and even they had to hide the girl under a blanket so her beauty wouldn’t distract them. When they arrived at their destination, they tried to pick her up, but her dark magic made her so heavy that even three of them could barely move her. And yet, they were strong and loyal men, so the Lord-Creator helped them push her into the river.”

Vesna nodded, as she tried to refrain from laughing at the ridiculous details of the guards’ fantasy. Feigning concern, she asked the Priest to continue.

“Yes, so, and all three guards swore this to be the truth, the moment she fell into the water she cried out: ‘Beelzebub! Come save your daughter!’ Then, she vanished into the river. The guards didn’t see her after that. They assumed she had cried out in vain. It was only later that the town realized she had not cried out in vain at all. Too late, the people realized the mistake they made by drowning her and not burning her, because Beelzebub did indeed save her. Then he avenged her. The very next month the Dark One unleashed his full wraith on our beloved city.”

“And how did the guards know she didn’t drown?”

“The townspeople searched for the body, but there was no body to be found.”

Vesna tightened her lips. Indeed, there was no body to be found, but not for the reason you think, you idiot.

In a very cold voice she replied: “Whether or not your people chose to murder an innocent girl had nothing to do with the city dying. It was the rat-plague. Madness or not, that’s what it was. The rat-plague.”

Vesna abruptly left the Church. In spite of the town’s ghostly appearance, she was curious to have a look around at some of the areas she never got to see as a teenager. She visited the fine houses on the north side of the main plaza and the now-shuttered shops that at one time sold expensive items, including nice wedding dresses. Such a long time ago, ten years, not long or very long. Both and neither. Anyhow, it was during a different life.

She took it for granted that her family would not have survived the epidemic. Still, she had to know for sure. With her crossbow ready, she mounted Moonlight and set out for her family’s homestead. The familiar old road was still there, but the side path that led to her house was completely overgrown. She couldn’t even be sure of its exact location. There was not a hint of anyone still living among those trees. Not her family, and not any of her neighbors. All gone and all forgotten.

Nightfall was approaching. Vesna needed to figure out what she was going to do for a place to sleep. It seemed there were no desirable options: if she went back to the city she risked getting sick, if she tried to set up camp anywhere outside she risked attack from wild dogs and roving gangs. She opted for going back into the city. However, as she turned on the road to return to the south gate, she remembered Farmer Tuko Orsktackt. It was unlikely he’d still be alive, but Vesna figured there was no harm in checking. She’d have to pass his farm anyhow, to get into the city.

The farm seemed run-down, but to Vesna’s surprise, it was not deserted. The outer part of the orchard had been abandoned, but the trees closest to the farmer’s house were still being maintained. Could it be that Farmer Orsktackt survived the plague?

Vesna passed the fallen fence and approached the portion of the farm that was still active. She tied her horse to a tree and tossed several apples down for him to eat. She walked the rest of the way on foot. Sure enough, she could see him between the leaves, trimming branches on one of the trees he still was maintaining. She continued towards him, slowly to avoid startling him. She called out:

“Farmer Orsktackt! Farmer Orsktackt!”

When he turned, he dropped his pruning saw and stared at her in utter shock. He looked different. He had aged, obviously, but that wasn’t it. The authoritative way he had carried himself ten years before was gone. He looked weighed down by sadness and futility. He stared at the familiar face, trying to place her. Finally he remembered:

“Peasant, Danka? Danka Siluckt?”

“Yes, Farmer Orsktackt. That’s who I am. Or at any rate, that was the name that I had, a long time ago.” The young woman smiled. “I’m now using the name Vesna, Vesna from Rika Chorna.”

“I’m so glad. At last, a familiar face. Please, come in, Vesna, come in.”

“I need to bring my horse.”

“Yes, please put him in the barn. I’ll help you.”

Tuko Orsktackt helped Vesna unload her belongings from Moonlight and led the horse into a stall. The farmer saw to the animal’s needs, making sure he had hay and water. Both the farmer and his visitor were glad to have their hands occupied for a few minutes. They needed to talk, and they had a lifetime of catching up to do. But ... where to begin? They both needed a few moments to put their thoughts in order.

Vesna looked around. It was obvious that her host was the only occupant of the residence. His family was gone and his servants were gone. He lived alone.

“and your family, Farmer Orsktackt?”

“The same as yours. They died in the plague. All of them. My children. All of my servants. My workers. I buried 36 people. And I never got sick. I wanted to, I mean, get sick and join them, but it never happened.”

“And you didn’t want to leave?”

“I did. But people need to eat. I know how to grow food. So, the Lord Creator spared me, for the others, I’d imagine. I didn’t want to remain in the Realm of the Living, but I’m here, whether I want to be or not. There are times I don’t think that city deserves to eat, but I feed them anyway.”

“Everyone deserves to eat, Farmer Orsktackt. You’re the one who provides the food for the others. One farmer is more useful than a hundred guards. There wouldn’t be anything, or anyone, without you.”

Vesna’s last comment seemed forced, but her intention was to make Tuko realize his life was vital for others and his existence in the Realm of the Living had a purpose. There was an awkward moment of silence, but it passed. Vesna suddenly became overwhelmed with emotion and fell into the farmer’s arms. It was the first time he had the pleasure of embracing another person for a decade. Without warning, and without understanding why, she began to cry.