“We need to break camp, right away, this morning,” Yana said. Lyubov nodded.
“Da. We will break. I saw it in the leaves this morn.” Lyubov was good with the tea leaves, better than any that Yana had seen.
“What else did you see?” Yana asked, ever curious.
“Bastion,” she said.
Yana was speechless.
Lyubov looked over to Luba, and instructed her. “Tell the people we break now,” she said. Luba nodded, and went off to tell the people. Yana looked behind her, and saw that one of the young boys had ventured up to them.
“Oi, Yana!” he exclaimed in greeting.
“Oi, Dimmie,” 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. Dimmie knew there was no point to argue. “Go tell the others. We head southeast,” she said, pointing.
Dimmie 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. Dimmie 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 said. “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 city. 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. She 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. She wanted to be as far away from there 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 not 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 right. 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 it
ems 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 herself, 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 girl, 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, and 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.
Yana awoke, dripping wet.
The familiar creak of wagon wheels greeted her. Floating between sleep and lucidity, she could still see the boy’s face. She saw her people tending to him and wrapping them in blankets. How had she gotten home? How had they found her? How was the boy?
“Bastion,” she mumbled. She arose to tend to him somehow... but realized... she was awake. She was in her wagon. Lyubov had the reins. She had been dreaming.
Yana climbed back up into the bench up front with Lyubov, and took the reins. It was afternoon, and the caravan was following the meandering little road into the forest. Sparse at first, it got thicker as they went, and Yana hoped it would lend them some cover. She wanted to see Bastion, but thought that maybe if she managed to avoid him, she could avoid the trouble he would surely bring. They would make it to one of her favorite campgrounds before nightfall, where she used to climb the trees and hone her skills with the bow.
Just as she thought it, her heart sunk. It was the same damn place where they had helped Bastion recover... before returning him to the kingdom. She would see him before sundown, no doubt. Then she was irritated with herself, as she suddenly realized she wanted to change and clean up... and she usually didn’t care about that too much, unless she was going into the townships to make money. She began to adjust her clothes and reached for her good shawl, knowing she was going to look good for him whether she was irritated about it or not.
“You saw Bastion,” Lyubov said, jerking Yana out of her own obsessive thoughts.
“Yes,” replied Yana.
“How did you see?” Lyubov inquired.
Yana knew what she meant. “I saw him twice,” she replied. “I saw him last night. He was in danger, he was attacked, and I....” she trailed off, not wanting to admit the rest. “I helped him,” she confessed anyway. She cursed herself for not having the good sense to stay put and not track the five black riders.
“I am afraid I may have brought trouble for the people,” Yana continued.
“Da,” Lyubov nodded. She was aware of Bastion too.
“I saw him when I slept, too,” Yana added. “I saw the night of the storm, when I first found him.” She touched her wrist again, the faint pattern that looked almost like a rune loosely stenciled in henna.
“We will see him,” Lyubov said.
Yana nodded grimly, saying nothing. Lyubov sensed her apprehensive energy, and reached over to set her hand on Yana’s.
“You don’t fear, Yana,” she said. Yana couldn’t tell if this was hollow comfort, or some kind of insight, but nothing Lyubov said was without meaning.
“What did you see, Lyuba?” using her pet name for her that was nearly identical to the child, Luba. She had been avoiding asking, because Lyubov always liked to tell in her own time, her own way.
“I see danger,” Lyubov said. “I see pain.”
Lovely, Yana thought. She knew better to interrupt, as Lyubov paused.
“I see freedom,” she finished.
“What kind of freedom?” Yana asked, wondering if she had ever even heard her use that word before. They were always free, Yana thought. They were gypsies, after all.
“I cannot see,” Lyubov answered. “It is different...it is big. A different freedom.”
That didn’t make any sense. Lyubov could see Yana’s confusion, but could not offer more explanation. Not yet.
“You don’t fear, Yana.”
“It is your fate.”
Yana leaned back in the bench of the wagon, pondering it. They were approaching the campground, and the afternoon was waning. She didn’t know too much about fate. She had far more questions than answers, and she recalled her fire of last night, feeling scattered. Maybe her fate would bring some clarity. Answers. She had no idea what Bastion might have to do with it, and she preferred to make her own way. She feared nothing. She decided she would consult Luba, the young girl. Maybe she would lend some insight to add to Lyubov’s words.
No matter what laid before her, she relished an adventure... and as much as she had tried to avoid Bastion and put him out of her mind, she had always known she would see him again. She would not bother to evade him further.
She hopped off the wagon as it was slowing, as they approached their camp. A few people already occupied it, and had a fire going. They shouted welcomes, and the sound of a flute leapt into the air, as Yana smiled. She loved her people, and went to go seek the fire and the warmth of greeting everyone.
Before long, the campsite was ablaze with light, splashed with shadow, and decorated with voices. The smell of supper arose, and the soun
ds of stories and laughter abounded to combine with music. Yana walked through camp, to see Luba. She found her with Dimmie and Emilee.
“Luba, will you come sit with me?” Yana asked.
Luba sprung up from the game they were playing, and they headed for the fires. Before long, they were eating the breads and berries that the day’s journey had afforded them, and laughing with the people. Yana was glad to let herself forget the worries and chaos that tried to creep in lately, and this was the perfect time for it.
“Yana,” Luba said after they had finished eating, “I want to see you.” Yana was already sitting right there, but she knew what she meant. Sure enough, Luba pulled out her little round crystal ball from her satchel, and set it in her lap, sliding her palms gently across its smooth surface. Luba did this for a short while, and then handed it to Yana. It was the only item of any value that the little girl possessed, but it was given by Lyubov, and Luba had more ability with it than any child Yana could imagine.
Yana held it a while, clearing her mind, and thinking of Lyubov’s words of fate. Finally, Luba took it back, and began to peer into it by the light of the fire, but using her insight more than any normal sight. She lingered a while, and searched for what she could discern.
Finally, Luba lifted her gaze, and looked at Yana. Yana was curious, but peaceful. Luba looked as though she was at a loss for words, and had a look of concern. She was sure of what she had seen, but not sure what it meant... so she just said it.
“Follow one who pales in your shadow,” Luba said.
Yana looked at her, confused. Luba offered no explanation, but only shrugged her shoulders. Yana knew she would say no more- she was taught by Lyubov, and often just as mysterious. It would be up to Yana to explore what it might mean. She nodded at Luba, and pulled out her own satchel she had brought. It held a harp. Luba smiled.
The Gypsy Queen Page 2
