The Gypsy Queen (3 page)

 
“Oi,
Yana
!” he exclaimed in greeting.

 
“Oi, Di
m
mi
e
,” she replied.
“
We break camp this morning.” His face fell.

  “I don’t want to! I wanted to take you to a field of blackberries I found.”

 
Yana
sighed with resignation. “You can do as you wish, but I am on the move,” she said. Dim
m
i
e
knew there was no point to argue. “Go tell the others. We head southeast,” she said, pointing.

  Di
m
mi
e
smiled.
“That’s where the blackberries are!”

 
Yana
smiled back. “Then you will have your breakfast after all,” she said. “Will you help the pitch?” she asked.

 
“I’ll help!” he declared. “
But why now? I thought we were going to wait.” he said.

  “Just trust me,”
Yana
said.

  “Trust a gypsy?” he said, grinning widely.
Yana
gave him a look that said it all. Di
m
mi
e
blushed and looked away. He bounded off, announcing the break to the people.

 
Yana
looked back to Lyubov, who was sitting at the morning fire. Lyubov motioned for her to sit back down.
Yana
lowered to one knee.

  “What have you done?” Lyubov asked.
Yana
was silent. She
was not sure
how to explain, and they didn’t have enough privacy. Her silence said plenty. She had done
something
. “I saw the break,” Lyubov sai
d. “But I saw something else
. I saw five in black.” She was searching
Yana
’s eyes.
Yana
said nothing. Lyubov nodded. She already knew.
Yana
had seen five in
black as well.

 
“We talk soon
,” Lyubov said.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

 
The rider tracking
Yana
was
certain he had found his target. He tied his horse by a stream, and walked up a hill that overlooked a great valley.
He leaned up against the big tree atop the hill.
To the north, he could see
the tallest
tips of the c
ity. To the east, in the valley below, he could see a gypsy caravan that had just broken camp. They were headed southeast, and he
thought
he might do well to follow them until nightfall
, and allow them to pass the meadows into the forest
. Perhaps he could catch her alone.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

Yana
rode in her wagon, all her earthly
possessions in
that
one little spot. S
he liked to keep her things close, sparse as they were.
Lyubov rode
with
her, and Luba had run on ahead with Dimmie to search for blackberries. Emilee was guiding Lyubov’s wagon,
up ahead,
since
it was a strain for the old woman
to travel long distances.
Yana
was grateful that the
people had broken so quickly. S
he wanted to be as far away from
t
here as possible.
She had been preoccupied with gathering everyone, helping everyone,
and getting the caravan moving...
but now she had a moment, and her thoughts wandered back to the twilight of morning, and the look in his eyes. She wondered if he had survived.

 
Just as she thought it, the hair stood up on the back of her neck, as she knew the answer. Lyubov’s voice rang in her ears, that one word.

 
That name.

 
Bastion.

 
He had not only survived... he was close.

 
___________________________

The Gypsy Queen- CHAPTER 2- “Follow”

  Lyubov looked over at Yana, as
Yana
guided the little wagon, looking sleepy. The wagon once belonged to Yana’s parents, but
Yana
had inherited it and been on her own since she was a child. She was a woman now, but still young, and looked younger than her years. Lyubov looked on her with compassion, as
Yana
’s eyes seemed to be luring her to sleep. Lyubov knew she had not slept all night, and that she had been in some kind of conflict- something that had scared her. There was no way
Yana
could hide such things from her.

 
Yana
’s parents had gone missing one autumn, nine summers ago. They had gone to travel and simply never returned like they had said they would. No word had ever come on their fate, and they were left with nothing to do but press on. Lyubov had done what she could to help the girl, and knew her well- not just for the familiarity of the years, but that Lyubov had a talent to discern things.

  She was a seasoned old fortune teller, and was so
accurate that the townsfolk
she had
encountered along her travels
were often afraid of her. It was not just that she was uncanny in what she knew... but that she did not shrink from bearing bad news, and not everyone’s future was bright. To peek into one’s future was often a far more grave and important business than some frivolity fit for a carnival. She was always careful with children, though, including
Yana
. The younger they were, the more they had to seek out the meanings of the fortunes she told for themselves, lest they know too much, and be too burdened for their youth.

 
Yana
, of course, was another matter. She could play with children and seem as one of them... but when she was alone, or with the elders of the caravan, she seemed as old as they. She was fearless and brilliant, and found herself to be a leader of sorts. Though they had no formal leadership, no office to be elected or appointed, it just happened. People listened to her; people followed her.

  Lyubov reached over and took the reins from Yana, and
Yana
did
n
o
t resist. She spoke in a soft voice,
as a loving mother would.

 
“You rest now,
Yana
.”

 
Yana
shook her head. “I will rest later,” she insisted.

  Lyubov was already holding the reins, and
Yana
’s protest was too weary to be convincing anyway. “You rest now,” Lyubov said.
Yana
’s shoulders slumped in resignation. The tone in Lyubov’s voice was quite final, and
Yana
knew she was righ
t. The horse
already knew well enough just to follow the wagon in front... and she was not only exhausted, she couldn’t get her mind off of Bastion.

  She was excited, because she did want to see him, for what felt like more than curiosity. She was also afraid. She knew that Bastion was no immediate danger to her, as hostility was never their problem. No... she was afraid, because her encounters with him had always had grim circumstance, and that faint feeling of dread accompanied her certain intuition of him. She would see him soon, and she hoped that this time, shadow would not accompany him. She crawled behind Lyubov into the wagon, and under the blanket she usually slept in when the weather or the wolves would not let her sleep outside. The countryside drifted by, as she drifted off.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

  Lightning flashed, as
Yana
crept her way along the tree line. She was a child, searching for her parents that had gone missing. Her people had given up- there was only so much searching they could do, and
Yana
knew she would have to give up too. She was only a little girl, and though she often forgot that as she climbed trees and rocks and conquered her little bits of nature... nature was reminding her that it was, in fact, terribly powerful. This storm would be the last of her search. She would have to endure the coming night alone, and she was already soaked. Sunset was still an hour off, but it was much darker than normal, for the storm clouds. She set about looking for shelter, and decided to head back for good in the morning. She had nothing else to go on. The sounds of pelting rain as it slapped the ground, and the rumbles of thunder both near and distant, made most of her tracking skills useless, but for her keen eyes. Even so, she might not have seen the boy running across the top of the ridge.

 
Stupid to be out in the open in this storm, she thought, the moment she spotted him. She didn’t even finish the thought before jagged lightning lit up the field and struck the boy. She heard no scream, but she saw him drop. Horrified, she stood still. Stupid, stupid, stupid, she thought. Was he dead? She peered through the racing raindrops, trying to see. She saw nothing.

  Well, she had to know. If he was still alive somehow, he would need help. If he was dead, he might have items she could take and use, and maybe even some food. She would have to go check. Knowing she would be in danger of the storm hersel
f, she
scurried towards him
, trying to stay low
. She could not believe her eyes, when she got to the ridge.

  There was the boy, and the last bits of sunlight struggled to barely reveal him. But the sunlight was not needed.

  He was glowing.

  She wiped the rain from her face and eyes, staring. There was a glow emanating from him, and it looked like a mix of red and gold. She was afraid to touch him. She stared in disbelief. She was only a child,
and nothing she knew could inform
her young mind what to do. She crouched low and looked up at the sky. She needed to get to shelter, and not get struck herself. She had to decide if he was dead, a lost cause... or if there was something she could do. She reached out to touch his neck, and heard the sizzle of her own skin on her wrist, as she jerked her hand back. The metal on his chest strap was hot with a heat like she had never known. She instinctively put her mouth on her wrist. That hurt! Then she let the rain strike her wrist instead, as it was much cooler. She looked at the boy fearfully. He must be burnt too, she thought. She reached to touch him again, more carefully.

  He was alive,
she realized. She could tell
that he was breathing, but
there
also
seemed to be something like a slight vibration coming from him. Like a hum, faint but distinct. He was still glowing, but it seemed that perhaps it was starting to fade very slowly. She looked around and surveyed her situation. She began to drag him toward the tree line she had come from, and the slick wet ground looked like it would help her do so, until she slipped and fell flat in the mud. Undaunted, she knew she would have to lighten her load. She removed some of the boy’s gear, still staying low as the thunder punctuated the lightning that was helping her see the meadowland. She took the cloth that she wore around her head, and used it to make sure she would not be burnt, though the metals had cooled.

 
Yana
dug her heels in and pressed on, dragging the boy into the trees. He was unconscious, no help at all, and she spent every last bit of energy to drag him along. She spotted a huge tree that had fallen, and within the uproots it was hollowed out. It was her best- if not her only- option. She pulled him under the overhang of it, out of the rain.

 
Yana
had no way to doctor him; no way to do anything hardly at all for him. She couldn’t even build a fire. He would live or die on his own, this night. She pressed him into the back of their little shelter, and then laid in front of him, lying in the curve of his body. She pulled out her little dagger, in case any creatures came calling. She realized again how vulnerable she was- a little gir
l, ten
years old, with a blade in her hand, alone in a dark forest, trying to protect a boy who might die anyway. Perhaps predators would consume them both. She missed mama and papa badly, and realized she was grateful for the company of this strange, unconscious boy.

  She squeezed his hand to comfort herself, and hung onto it a while to warm them both. She looked in quiet amazement once more, as she could see, he was still glowing just barely... and also, that she was too. Right there at her wrist- it had been burnt, but now it didn’t hurt, strangely, and the mark from the pain had the same red-gold glow that the boy had. She curled up into him, dagger in hand, a
nd
laid awake a while. It seemed like he was still vibrating- that quiet hum she had felt when she checked him for signs of life. She liked it, and took it
as comfort
.  She could hear him faintly breathing.