The Gypsy Queen (20 page)

  “I am going with you,” Tuvia said.

  “How are you going to be any help?”
Yana
asked. “You’ll slow me down.”

  “Or save your hide,” he replied, standing up and brandishing a blade.
Yana
looked at him, trying to assess him. He held up a small metal box.

  “I have a plan,” he said. “How good are you with that bow?”

 
Yana
and Tuvia approached the camp.
Yana
’s tracking and common sense took them right
to it. The camp was set below an embankment
, and
it
had two small fires going in different spots, and a few torches, otherwise lending darkness and shadows. Hiding places,
Yana
noted thankfully. They took a half-circle around the camp, using
Yana
’s stolen telescope to look closer and try to find Bastion.

  On the far end of the camp, they found Bastion and the other riders. They were cruelly locked in a full iron cage, much too small for five grown men. They were stripped naked. Just next to their cage were many more cages, all full of captives, each overloaded. Most of the slaves had very sparse clothing, a
nd seemed
to be sleeping in uncomfortable positions. Bastion and his men appeared to be wearing shackles, though the other captives were not. Volga’s men milled about the fires, occasionally laughing loud enough to be heard from
Yana
’s vantage point.
Volga
was nowhere in sight.

  “You ready?”
Yana
asked.

  Tuvia reeled backwards slightly, catching his balance and wincing in pain.
Yana
pulled his tourniquet tight, seeing that he was losing more blood. Tuvia righted himself, and set his jaw.

  “I’m ready,” he said.

 
Yana
moved into the camp under her black cloak and the night that lent her cover. She isolated the spot where the men were going to relieve themselves, and waited there. She was short on time, knowing if she took too long, Tuvia might fail. After just a few minutes, one of the traders came to her. He pulled his trousers down and began relieving himself of the many beverages he had indulged.

 
Yana
knocked an arrow and drew the cord tight. She was tempted to drill it directly into his privates, and was close enough to do it. Sticking to her plan, she tilted the arrow upward. She shot the arrow right through the man’s neck. The man clutched his neck immediately, unable to scream.
Yana
moved in and shoved the man to the ground. She thought of all the poor gypsies he had surely sold, tortured, and worse. She pulled her dagger out and cut his throat. Blood shot out from the wound, thankfully away from
Yana
. She retreated to her hiding place, watching him. She had to make sure he was finished. He struggled only a few more moments, and then lay quiet.
Yana
moved up to her next chosen spot, lurking like a sha
dow, just as she had done when she burned
down the castle.

 
Yana
was on the other side of the camp from where Bastion was, and poised herself with a clear shot of the campfire
. Eight men encircled it
, drinking.
Yana
recognized most of them as the men that had overcome them near the cantina.

  She produced another arrow, and pulled the cord tight. She let it fly, and the arrow zipped through the air and struck the biggest one in the neck. It lodged neatly there, just as with the first man. Almost before he could even react, another arrow flew from
Yana
’s shadow, hitting a man further away in the chest. Pandemonium and panic sprouted in the camp immediately. The men that were not wearing gypsy arrows all drew their swords, trying to determine where the arrows had come from. They peered through their own drunkenness and one of them pointed to the spot where
Yana
had chosen. They stormed the shadows, finding only a wagon, a dark corner, and some spilled goods.

 
Yana
was on the move, at her greatest speed. She no longer had surprise, but she still had her stealth. She hid behind two barrels, under her cloak. She popped up and shot another arrow perfectly, into the chest of a man unknowingly running towards her. He dropped to the ground and did not get up. Another man began running towards her, shouting. He had seen her!
Yana
had already drawn her bowstring taut with another arrow, and took an extra moment to get the right shot. She let it fly, and it shot right into the man’s mouth. He dropped right away too, struggling with the arrow unsuccessfully.

 
Yana
moved again, hiding under the cloak. The shouting and yelling intensified, even though there were four less men to do it. The captives began stirring, and
Yana
planted herself in a small mass of bushes, looking for another shot. Men were running by, and she was very good with moving targets, but
it was a bad angle to get a clean
shot.

  She knocked another arrow and pulled it tight, waiting for another shot to present itself
.
If she didn’t see something good, she would have to move again.

  Smash!
Yana
’s face was jolted sideways by a heavy fist.

  She fell unconscious.

 
Volga
loomed over her, rage and evil in his eyes.

  “I would not have guessed that the black riders of
Jedikai
would employ a dirty gypsy girl,” he remarked, grabbing her hair. “What the hell are you doing in Kaffa?”

  Volga dragged
Yana
’s limp body into the camp, towards his tent.

_____________________________

The Gypsy Queen- CHAPTER 12- “pinned”

 
Yana
awoke to the sound of her own body crashing into a table. Dazed, she looked around. The tent was lit with oil lamps, and
Yana
lay in the dirt, excruciating pain throbbing on the right side of her head. In fact, she realized, that table hurt really bad too. She tried to get her bearings.

  She was alone with
Volga
.

 
Yana
tried to push herself up.
Volga
saw her stirring, as he slid a big knife across a stone, dragging the blade to sharpen it. He watched her while he worked the stone.

  “I am going to teach you what we do to gypsy slaves. You are not broken, because you were not yet a slave. You will be broken,” he said.

 
Yana
panicked. She began to scramble to get up, to try to run.
Volga
grabbed her by the neck and threw her back down as though she weighed nothing.
Yana
ached from the pain, but the panic had only worsened. She looked about quickly, looking for some way, some plan. The only way out was blocked by
Volga
.

  “When I am finished with you, I will have each of the men come in here and do as they will, with you. Whatever they want. They will be angry with you for killing their friends, I’m afraid. I am angry too, but I should be thanking you. You came right to me... and now I don’t have to pay the men you killed!” he said with a hearty laugh.

 
Yana
leapt up again, trying to make fo
r the entrance, trying to dart
past the huge slave trader somehow.
Volga
struck her down, swinging his fist at her head, and missing just enough to strike her shoulder. It was effective;
Yana
crumpled to the ground again.

  Volga pressed his face in close to
Yana
’s, and spoke in a voice so sinister it gave her chills, the deepest fear she had ever felt.

  “If you try to run again, gypsy, I will slide this knife into you. I will hold you down, and slide it in slow. You will feel it, but you will not die.”
Yana
’s eyes were wide with fear.

  “Then, I will pull it out, and let you watch your own blood spill out. As your blood spills out, I will slide the knife into you again. You will feel it, but you will not die. You will watch the knife as I push it in.”
Yana
was silent with pure terror.

  “Then,”
Volga
said, “I will slide the knife down here,” he said, sliding the knife between her legs, letting her feel the cold metal and sharp edge move up her thigh. “You will feel it,” he said, “but you will not die. No, not yet...”

 
Yana
was horrified beyond reason. She believed every word he said. She
could have no reaction except ho
rror. She held still, hoping he would set her down. If she couldn’t escape, she would have to
kill him. She looked around
, desperate for some kind of weapon. There was none.

 
Volga
cast her into the far corner of the room. Still sharpening his knife, he took a swig of his drink, and a big bite off a piece of meat he had been enjoying when
Yana
showed up.

  Like a wild animal,
Yana
crouched in the corner,
trembling with fear and fury
. She would have to kill him, or she would have to make sure she died trying. She could not live in a cage, and could not dream of the horrors these men visited on innocent people.

  She waited for the right moment, as he sharpened his knife. She dove for him, trying to shove his hand so that the knife he held would plunge up under his chin. She used all the surprise and strength and agility she had, and gave a tremendous thrust.

 
Volga
was surprised; she had more fight in her than he suspected. The knife did stab into his skin, drawing blood, but not doing any real damage. His eyes grew wide as he gripped her neck, having caught her in mid-flight before she could get the leverage she needed. She struggled harder than a fish in a net, gasping for air.

  “I hoped you would try again,”
Volga
said. “I am going to make you pay for your killing.” He thought about it for a few moments. “I think I will just give you a taste, first. I am not going to kill you until every man in the camp is finished with you. But a little blood won’t kill you.”

 
Volga
tossed her on the ground, this time setting his massive boot on her. He crouched down, and set more of his body weight onto her. She fought to get free, but he was easily three times her weight. She was pinned.

 
Volga
took his knife, and used it to pull back the fabric and expose her bare stomach. He saw it heaving up and down, and his eyes narrowed, as he could hear her breathing, and feel her terror. He dragged the point of his knife across her skin, to add to it.

  Then, he began to push the blade into her. She screamed, and
Volga
cursed himself for forgetting, and put his giant hand over her mouth. He liked the scream, but he wanted to feel her scream into his hand. He gripped her face and pulled it up so she could see what he was doing. He pushed the knife into
Yana
’s midsection, very slowly. The blade pushed into the skin, and blood sprang forth. Yana did scream, and
Volga
kept his hand there to absorb it. He slid the blade into her a little further, maybe an inch or more. She couldn’t move, and she couldn’t breathe. Her chest began to heave desperately and she could feel her consciousness slipping away, as she saw the blood trickle down her side.

  “Unnnhhh!”
Volga
grunted loudly. He rolled over, off of
Yana
.

  Bastion stood over them both, wearing nothing at all.

  Volga slid with a thud onto the ground next to
Yana
, two knife handles protruding from his back. The blades were hidden, driven all the way deep by Bastion’s fury. Bastion shoved his body away and fell to his knees, pulling
Yana
closer, looking her over. He hurried to tend to her wound, pressing into it with the corner of her cloak to control the bleeding.

 
Yana
began to weep. Bastion was getting a wrap and pulled a segment of
Yana
’s garment off to dress the injury so she could move.
Yana
’s weeping turned into hard sobs, as she tried to release the fear that had flooded her. The sobs caused her pain in her side, making it a more agonizing release. Bastion finished the dressing as best as he could, and then set himself on top of
Yana
. He let some of his weight rest on her body, offering whatever comfort he could. The comfort of his presence was all he had. Yana’s jerking and heaving chest slowed after several minutes, and
Yana
gained some clarity.