The Gypsy Queen
Authors: Samuel Solomon
THE GYPSY QUEEN
a novel
by
Samuel
S
olomon
© 201
2
Samuel Solomon
ALL RIGHTS RESERVED
________________________
Dear Reader,
Thank you so much for buying my book. I hope it is as much a joy to read as it was for me to write. Thank you for taking some time with me.
Please, if you enjoy the story,
recommend it to your friends
!
Word of mouth is what I rely on mo
st
. If you liked it, pass it on! Send your friends a link to my website, and get my other books at:
Also,
please do leave me a book review
! Leave a review on Amazon, BN, Goodreads, or anywhere
else you like. Book reviews really help!
They help me to keep writing great stories, and
help
to feed the kiddos.
I
f this
book is pirated, please at least come to my website and donate to one of the charities that benefit from my book sales. Each book has its own designated charity, and I’d hate to see them lose out, whether I do or not. Find out more about the causes my readers and I support at
Again, my children and I thank you.
Table Of Contents-
ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS
Cover art done by Molly Walker.
Special thanks to Kari Cartwright, who not only made this
book possible, but made it fun
to write.
And now, on to the story.
_______________________
The Gypsy Queen
The Gypsy Queen-
CHAPTER 1
- “Tracked”
Yana
se
t her
bare
feet up against the
hot rocks that adorned the edge of the
fire
pit
.
She stirred the embers with the black tip of her stick, and wa
tched it smolder. She pondered
her fire, as she breathed in the countryside air.
It was warm, even as it dwindled. It was something she c
ould always count on
, no matter where she was. As she scattered the ashes and sparks from the glowing remains, she
felt that
she was just as scattered
herself,
sometimes. The fire was freedom, but it was
also chaos. Only the
stones
kept the fire from streaking across the meadows, and held in its warmth.
It was always a comfort, even for the few times she had been burnt. She touched her wrist lightly, remembering.
Yana
was born a gypsy girl
, and
survival itself was a journey
.
She couldn’t imagine living any other way.
She slipped her feet
back into her boots
, as the moonlight took over and the
dim
light
flickered
at her feet
. She looked down the gentle
slope of the hill. The rest of her caravan was lower down, and she could see they were about settled in for the night.
Yana
had come up here with her wagon alone. She knew there were good berries further up, but really, she was just restles
s. Something was afoot.
She wandered up a bit, towards the cres
t of the hill, when
she saw them.
There were five of them. They were making very little noise, which was remarkable for five horsemen, but it communicated to her immediately
what they were up to. Stealth.
She peered into the dark as much as the moonlight would let her. Was that
him
? It couldn’t be.
Chills raced across her skin.
She could sense him without seeing his face
. I
t had been ages since she last saw him.
Yana
was not sure where they might be going, but at this hour
, dressed so black the faint light
revealed almos
t nothing
, and surely armed,
there was only one thing they could be. Assassins.
She had heard of them. Men who travel under cover of darkness. Not even
the jingle of weapons or
supplies could be heard. They had been naught more than a campfire story to her, unti
l tonight. It was early spring;
the air still chilled with the melt of winter,
and
the
wet
ground
was
cool
from the thaw.
Excitement shot through
Yana
as she pulled
her hood over her head
and ran back to her wagon. She slung her quiver of arrows across her shoulder along with her bow, and tucked her dagger into the loop on her makeshift belt.
She went to grab a pouch full of coins, just in
case- but then stopped. The clin
k of the coins would give her away. She would have to go without.
Yana
untied her horse, Kuta, who was stirring,
knowing her friend was restless.
Yana
had all sorts of trink
ets and gear for her
horse, but thankfully, it was all removed for the night. She would go bareback, with only leather reins to guide her. Kuta would have to be quiet too.
She slid up deftly onto her horse, and prompted her in the direction she had seen th
e horsemen
.
Yana
was an excellent tracker, and knew these hills and meadows well. She stayed off the worn trails, a
nd quickly picked up their path, staying a good ways behind them.
It occurred to
Yana
that she may be a fool, just then- that she should turn back immediately, and pretend she had seen nothing, and say nothing. If they really were assassins, they would not want to be tracked or spied. If they caught her, it could go badly.
She was convinced
,
however, that she knew one of the men in the group. She didn’t know how she knew... she just knew.
W
hile she was using all her senses to track the riders,
her intuition was acutely tuned as well.
She could sense him.
Maybe that was what had been
making her so restless.
She f
ollowed them
deeper into the hills tha
n she wanted
to be,
but she did not care
. She knew her people would tend to her wagon, and her curiosity was getting the better of her. She wanted
to know what they were up to,
and she wanted...
she wanted to see him.
Light began to crest the distant eastern hill, as daybreak would soon be upon the land. The riders ahead had descended into a gulley she was not familiar with, but if she was going to remain undetected, she would have to dismount, and go ahead on foot. Her stomach tightened in anticipation. This was dangerous. Without hesitation, she slipped off her horse
anyway
, and tied her up to a little scrub oak.
Yana crept silently down into th
e narrow path
. T
here were many dark shadows and corners, and predators could be anywhere. Her senses were fully alert, and her footsteps...
Turn back,
Yana
.
H
er mind
spoke out against her
, as her instinct to pursue
them
conflicted wi
th her instinct to flee-
a
small
internal
voice that was always right. She stopped. She should turn back
, she thought
. Light was slowly invading the sky, and she would not be unnoticed much longer.
Suddenly she heard shouting, a clash of metal, and then another. It was them, up ahead! A
fight! She ran directly for it
. She drew nearer, as she heard more men shouting, a language she barely knew, and then a voice she knew quite well. She cursed her luc
k. I knew it,
Yana
thought
.
It
was
him.
She peered around a rock, as she was very close to the commotion. There we
re two groups of men- the black-cloaked
riders she had b
een tracking, and another group
she guessed to be Moldavian, from their language. The Moldavians had ambushed the black rider assassins, and two of them lay
still on the ground. The other three
were hostage, as the Moldavia
ns menaced with their
weapons. They were shouting commands, and the hostage in the center was shouting back. The leader.
The one wh
ose voice she recognized
.
She realized that she had drawn her bow
without thinking
. She had to help! Now this really was crazy. This was not her battle, and she would only bring problems for her people, the gypsies.
She could not
let harm befall them... but there was no way she was going to leave and let the black riders be killed
, either
. It would not be the first time
she
helped him
.
One of the Moldavians was holding him at sword
-
point
, and the absurd conversation they were attempting sounded like it was going bad
ly
, b
ecause no one understood the other
...
and the two men were still on the ground, presumably dead.
Yana
decided that she had
to act.
She pulled the cord
taut, arrow already knocked
, and aimed it. She was an expert with it, but she had never put an arrow in
to
a man before. She gauged the situation, to see if she could turn the tables without any real bloodshed. She made her decision, and let the arrow fly.
