The Gypsy Queen (47 page)

  Emilee turned around, and crouched with her staff as Nathaniel had taught her. She exuded aggression in her stance, inspiring him. He knew a gypsy fighter like that.

Bastion smiled, for the first time in a while.

  “I will come,” h
e said.

Bastion marched out of the city, with Jaelle and Emilee. He had only his small dagger. No swords, slings or arrows, or black riders.

  “Shouldn’t we get help?” Emilee said, having to hustle to kee
p up with the determined young k
ing.

  “I will not need help,” he said.

  “What if you are killed?” she said.

  “Then my troubles wi
ll be over,” Bastion said
. “But I do not intend to be defeated.”

  “You’re going to need our help,” Emilee said, glad they had their staffs with them.

  “I want you to go back to your caravan,” Bastion said, walking briskly. “I know where they are.”

  “Forgive me, Sire,” Emilee said. “I intend to fight for my Captain.” Bastion had had his fill of arguing with strong-willed gypsy girls.

  “Very well,” Bastion said. “Just remember, some who have fought for me, have also died.” Emilee did not reply, but steeled herself. They followed behind Bastion, and Emilee whispered to Jaelle.

  “Get help, Jaelle,” she said, pointing to the camps. “Hurry.”

  Jaelle broke away, as Emilee still followed. Bastion was unaware, as a punishing, violent storm brewed inside him. He crested a sloping hill north of the meadows, as Draiman’s caravan came into view. He did not break stride. He could see men there, who had spotted him. Their camp was active. He tried to count how many men there were. Perhaps he would kill all of them
. Then
he saw Draiman, as he got within earshot.

  “The coward King!” Draiman called. Bastion walked straight for him. Bastion could see
the fear in his eyes, even for
his posturing.

  “Why have you come?” Draiman said, in a mocking tone. “Have you come for
Yana
?”

  “You know why I am here,” Bastion said. As he said it,
Yana
came from around a wagon. A glass bottle was in her hand.

  “No,”
Yana
said. “Why
are
you here?”

  “I am here for you,
Yana
,” Bastion said.

  “I am not going with you,” she said. “I am leaving
Jedikai
tomorrow.”

  “Good,” Bastion said. “But I did not come to invite you back,” Bastion said. “I came here to do my job.”

  “And what job is that,
gaje
?” Draiman scoffed. Emilee spoke up, behind him.

  “Our job is to strike down bad men!” she said. “
Yana
, come out of there. Come away from there,” she pleaded.
Yana
had no chance to reply.

  “You come to kill me, Bastion?” Draiman said. “Why did you not send your black cowards?” Bastion approached him, and tossed his blade to the ground. Emilee followed, but was afraid. Draiman’s men were all armed.

  “Stay back,” Draiman told his men. “I will kill him myself.” He drew his sword.

  “You are a fool,” Draiman said. He swung his sword at Bastion. Bastion had baited him just enough to get him to lunge, and then turned, smashed Draiman in the face with a fist, and knocked him to the ground. He backed up, letting Draiman get back up.

  “I will kill you!” Draiman blustered, his face turning red. He charged again, swinging his sword expertly. Again, Bastion dodged his swing, parried back around,
and struck him in the face
. He followed by grabbing Draiman’s hand that held the sword, and thrust it so that the sword stuck into the side of a wagon, lodging there. He shoved Draiman to the ground again, and allowed him to scramble back to his feet.

 
Yana
was amazed to see Bastion fight. He moved like lightning. She ran to get her bow. Draiman got back up, and pulled a short blade from the backside of his belt. Bastion circled with him, trying to get a feel for his opponent. Draiman’s moves were typical gypsy fare. He had good enough skill, but Bastion’s training was extensive. He baited Draiman into another lu
nge. Draiman was fighting like he was drunk
, Bastion thought. Perhaps
he was. Bastion grabbed his arm
that held the blade, and punched him in the face a third time. Draiman reeled from the hard punches.

  Bastion h
eld his wr
ist, as Draiman was still standing. He smashed him in the face again, as they stood there. And again. He punched him hard in the gut. Another blow, as hard as Bastion could swing, and Draiman’s face exploded with blood.

  Bastion let him drop to the ground. He was not moving. He looked up, to see
Yana
with an arrow knocked... pointing directly at him. His chest heaved, as he tried to catch his breath.

  The other Ursari men moved forward, to finish Bastion, stopping almost immediately. A group of gypsies crested the hill behind Bastion, as he turned to look. Luba, Dimmie, Jaelle, Kizzy, Nadya, and some others that Nathaniel had trained. They came to stand with the King. All eyes turned back to Bastion and
Yana
.

  Bastion had no armor on, as he stared down
Yana
. He took off his shirt, revealing the scar on his chest. He spread his arms wide, baring his heart to her.

 
Yana
’s hand was shaking badly. He looked so powerful, so terrible, so beautiful. She loved him. She hated him. Either way, she was not going to release her arrow. It filled
Yana
with pain and guilt, to see him this way. She was mortified that she had even drawn an arrow against him.

  “I think your aim is off,” Bastion said. He could see her shaking, as he pointed down to the unconscious Draiman. She pointed the arrow at him, instead of Bastion, and looked at Bastion. Then, she lowered her bow.

  “You should not have come,”
Yana
said. Bastion raised his voice, to the decree of a King.

  “Ursari gypsies!” he boomed. “Every one of you will leave
Jedikai
by tomorrow! You will leave in peace, or you will leave in death, but you
will
leave!” Draiman’s men looked at each other.

  “As for you,” he said, lowering his voice, “you can go wherever the hell you want.” He looked at
Yana
, her face a mess of dust and tears.

  “Damn right I will,”
Yana
said. Bastion loved her, even in her cruelties and confusion. She was right. Love was never their problem.

  “Ya tebya lublu,
Yana
,” he said, and walked away.

 
Yana
watched him go, as her friends withdrew from
t
her
e
as well. She was left with the Ursari, and a mountain of misery. She looked down at Draiman, still unconscious. He looked pathetic. She picked up the knife that Bastion had flung to the ground, and tucked it into her belt. The other men went back to the fire, acting secretive, making sure she did not hear their discussions.
Yana
was grateful they were leaving tomorrow. 

  She took a big drink, trying to feel numb again. It seemed to be working against her this time, making her feel worse. Her thoughts and emotions for her beloved Bastion were more powerful than ever. She hoped they might fade on the road, but this night, they pulsed like a bleeding wound. She felt her wrist burning, from the scar she had gotten the night she met Bastion. She felt like she was burning all over. She remembered the dream she had, when their ship was caught in a
Black Sea
storm. She could feel that feeling, plunging down into the cold sea, burning all the way down, just like in the dream. She sat against a log, looking into the fire in a daze.

“Hey,” Draiman said, coming over to her. “Aren’t you going to help me?” He was blotting the blood on his face, trying to clean up. Evening was coming, and it would be dark soon.
Yana
looked at him with disgust.

  “You don’t need my help,” she said. Draiman scowled at her, and went to tend to himself. After he killed the King, he thought, he would kill her next. The thought of killing
Yana
, and Bastion, cheered him up nicely. He took his men aside, and told them to prepare for the night.

  “Light two fires,” he told them, “right next to each other. We need to signal Otta. Tonight is the night.”

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

  Bastion walked back to the west meadows with the gypsies that had come to support him. He was amazed that they did. He wished his citizens could see what good people most of them were.

  “How is Lyubov?” He asked Luba, arriving at their wagon.

  “I think she is getting better!” Luba said. “I think I have found the right medicine.”

  “Good, good,” Bastion said.

  “I am sorry about everything,” Luba said. “You are a good man. I don’t know what has become of
Yana
.”

  “She is hurting,” Bastion said. “I hope you can all convince her to stay with you. The Ursari will be her undoing,” Bastion said, unaware of how right he was.

  “Bastion,” Lyubov called in a crusty voice from inside her wagon. She came out, stepping slowly down the few steps onto the ground.

  “Bastion,” she said again. Luba helped her over to the fire.

  “You, King Bastion,” the old gypsy said, clearing her raspy throat.

  “Yes, Lyubov. How are you?” Bastion said. She waved him off dismissively.

  “Where
Yana
’s heart?”

  “I do not know,” Bastion said, his face dropping. It was a hard question. Lyubov was not known for pleasantries.

  “You know,” she said. “Where is her heart?” Bastion looked at her, confused.

  “The heart of a gypsy,” Luba explained. “The Alexandrite stone.”

  “It is in the center of my crown,” he said, looking at Lyubov. He looked back at Luba. “What did you say?”

  “The stone she gave you is known as the heart of a gypsy,” Luba said. “
Yana
gave you the most precious, valuable thing she had. Her heart.”

Bastion thought back to the look on her face, as she had given it to him. She had tried to tell him what it meant.

  “Why did she leave me then?” he said.   

  “Where your heart?” Lyubov asked Bastion, ignoring his question.

  “Broken,” he said.

  “No, no,” Lyubov said. “Your heart?”

  “The alexandrite in the other crown,” Luba said.

 
“Da
,” Lyubov said. “Where?”

  “In the center of the crown next to mine,” Bastion said, unsure where she was going. “But I do not have the heart of a gypsy,” he said.

  “Wrong,” she said. “You gypsy.”

  “I am King of
Jedikai
, Lyubov. I am no gypsy.”

  “Wrong.” Lyubov rolled her eyes at him. “You gypsy. Your mother. I know your mother.”

  “You knew my mother?” Bastion said. “How can that be?”

  “Your mother, Kesali,” she said. “Your mother gypsy. I travel with her.”

  “My mother, a gypsy?” Bastion said, incredulous.

  “Kesali, gypsy name,” she said. “The heart in her crown was yours.”

  “What?”

  “Foolish boy,” she frowned at Bastion. “King gave Kesali the stone when they marry. When you born, she gave it to you. When she die, King put it in her crown.”

  “Why... he never told me...” Bastion was in shock.

  “You gave
Yana
your heart, in that crown. Heart of gypsy.” Bastion could not bear the words, indictments upon his soul.

  His mother was a gypsy.

  Just like
Yana
.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

 
Yana
sat drinking at the Ursari campfire. If the drink could not ease the pain, perhaps it would at least knock her out cold. She planned to take her last bottle with her back to her own camp, her own wagon, and her old friends. Her bow and arrows lay next to her, splayed in the dirt.

  She would g
et her faithful horse, Kuta, and her wagon…
and lead her fam
ily away from
Jedikai
, and
never return. She was ruined, everything was ruined, and she wanted nothing more than to flee.