The Gypsy Queen

by Samuel Solomon

  Obadiah was a giant man, with a friendly smile and lots of whiskers. He reached out in greeting. Yana went to take his hand, finding it not only rough, but so massive she thought he’d probably be able to wrap one hand around her entire head.

  “Oi, Yana!” he said. Yana curtsied, as she had learned to do in her travels to the different cities.

  “You bear the signs of hard work, sir,” Yana remarked. The huge man grinned.

  “I am the city’s builder,” he answered. “but only because they wouldn’t let me play the harp!” he joked.

  “I’d say you are much better suited to stack stones!” the King laughed.

  “Bosh,” said Yana, “I’m sure he’d be delightful in sewing fine silks for the ladies of the court!” They all laughed with the glow of good wine and good company.

  “Obadiah is in charge of the new towers being built,” Bastion said. Yana had noticed them, but had not had occasion to ask.

  “They are like little fortresses built into the city walls, five of them,” Obadiah explained, clearly proud of his work.

  “Will they take a long time to complete?” Yana asked.

  “Not too long now,” he said. “The main tower is almost finished, and we have gathered most of the stone we need. It’s tricky, because the walls we already built for the city are so thick,” he said.

  “Obadiah is a master builder,” Bastion said. “He builds with excellence.”

  “It’s a fine job, sir,” Yana said to Obadiah. “The palace is as grand of a structure as I have ever seen.”

  “I do have a new project in mind, Obadiah, when you think you’ll have the crews ready,” Bastion said.

  “I can spare some men,” he said. “What are we building?”

  “Pardon me,” the Chamberlain spoke up, “but we must depart for the night.” He got up, with his wife, and the magistrate followed suit, all of them bidding goodnight.

  “I will be off as well,” Yana said. “We have a long journey ahead.”

  “Very good,” the King said. “You were brilliant tonight, young gypsy. I thank you. I pray you even greater success on your quest.”

  “Yes sir. And I shall not forget your charge,” she replied.

  Bastion was left sitting with only Uncle Otta, his father, and Obadiah, as the fire dwindled.

  “Bastion, your gypsy girl did well tonight,” the King said.

  “She can hardly be called ‘mine’,” he replied. “Gypsies are not much for being owned.”

  “The crowds tonight will certainly speculate her role in the kingdom,” said Otta.

  “Then let them speculate,” Bastion said. “Yana will do as she wills.” Sadness suddenly hit him like a stone wall. “And she will likely be gone, after we drive out the traders,” he added.

  “Gone where?” Obadiah asked.

  “Wherever gypsies go,” Bastion replied. “Other kingdoms, other countries...” he trailed off. He hated the thought. He had swiftly come to love being with Yana. The effect of her kiss still lingered with him.

  “Unreliable,” Otta said. “That’s what they are.”

  Bastion went to protest, but immediately thought back to when she had charged into a fire against his orders. “Unpredictable, perhaps,” Bastion agreed with reluctance.

  “She would make a fine queen, I think,” said Obadiah.

  “Perhaps she would,” Bastion agreed. “But she would not accept such duty.”

  “Perhaps she needs some persuasion,” the King said.

  “Enough of this talk,” Bastion said. “She will do as she wills. It’s a miracle that she is even serving for this one mission.”

  Obadiah saw the fallen countenance of the young Prince. He could see that Bastion cared deeply for the gypsy girl.

  “Is there anything I can do to help?” Obadiah asked.

  “Yes, actually,” Bastion said, brightening. “What do you know about theatre?”

  ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

  Yana crawled into her overstuffed bed. It smelled good, but was too soft for her tastes. Her thoughts wandered to her caravan and her dear friends, and to Emilee. She intended to find a way to her as fast as she could, when they set out. She should have been sleepy from the wine and dancing, but she wasn’t.

  She blew out the candles next to the bed and laid awake in the dark, the moonlight streaming in faintly through the window. The crickets chirped loudly, and Yana closed her eyes and imagined she was camped next to her wagon, laying with her friends around the fire, listening to the flutes and drums trailing into the night as the caravan wound down. She found herself picturing Bastion there, and kissing his forehead goodnight, laying in the curve of his body. She thought to the night just a few moons ago, how he had tracked her and slept by that fire with her.

  She awoke, unsure if she had even been asleep, or only drifting a while. She was still in her too-soft bed, and frustrated. A restless night was not what she needed. She decided to take action.

  Yana gathered a small blanket around her, and headed for the door. Out in the hall, she had very little light save for the sporadic candles here and there. She traced her fingers on the ornate metalwork that lined the hall, and made for Bastion’s door.

  It was heavy. Yana fumbled with the giant latch, rattling it, making far too much noise. She decided to head back to her room, feeling silly. She couldn’t even get the door open. She turned to walk away, as the door creaked open.

  “Yana?” Bastion asked.

  “Oh,” she said with a grimace. “I came to... say goodnight.”

  “Come in,” he said, and opened the door a little more to make room for her to enter. Yana stepped into Bastion’s room. Bastion said nothing further, but escorted her to his bed. He lifted her up into it, reminding her of when he lifted her onto his horse. He set her where he wanted her, and curled up behind her closely. Ahh, Yana thought. It was exactly what she needed. It seemed like Bastion always knew what to do.

  Bastion leaned over and kissed Yana’s face, first near her temple, then on her cheek. “Good night, young gypsy,” he said with affection. Yana knew she would sleep well, next to him.

  “Goodnight, Captain,” she said.

  ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

  Yana and Bastion exited the palace in the dusky morning, ready for the task ahead. They headed for the King’s livery. Yana was looking forward to spending time with Kuta, her dear horse. She had her bow and a fresh quiver of arrows, and her dagger tucked in at her waist. She wore her gypsy clothes, and brought her black cloak with her.

  She pulled the black cloak from her pack, and Bastion chuckled.

  “You are not going to need that right now,” he said.

  “No? How will we be travelling, then? As peasants? As a battalion?”

  They turned the corner and came around to the front of the livery, where there were three gypsy wagons. One was dark purple, one was brown, and the one in front was forest green.

  “What’s going on here? Whose wagons are these?” Yana asked, walking around them to get a better look. “And why is my horse hitched to one??”

  “We will travel to the Reach as gypsies,” a voice said. Yana looked to see one of the black riders addressing her. “My name is Nico,” he said, introducing himself.

  “Tell me, Nico. Do you really think we will fool anyone travelling in gypsy wagons led by royal horses?” Yana asked.

  “We cannot ride in black in full daylight, and we certainly cannot ride as a battalion. This disguise is our best option for stealth.”

  “People will know these are not gypsy horses,” Yana insisted.

  Nico smiled. “The one in front certainly is,” he said, pointing to Kuta. “The rest of them, well... it is hard to tell from a distance, and we will still avoid direct contact along the way, and avoid the main roads.”

  “Where did these wagons come from?” she asked, inspecting them a little closer. “They are actually quite good.”

  “These wagons belong to the kingdom. The black riders have travelled i
n them many times before,” said Nico.

  Yana raised an eyebrow. “Oh?”

  Nico smiled again “Just don’t tell anyone,” he said with a wink.

  “Your secret is safe with me, Nico,” she said.

  “Some of the riders will ride inside the wagons with weapons, to conceal our numbers.” said Bastion. “The ones who ride up front have to dress as gypsies during the day. I need a volunteer for the lead wagon, Yana,” Bastion said. “Know anyone who is good at looking like a gypsy?”

  ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

  “Pook... look here,” said Gumi. Pook shuffled over. He looked over the side of the outlook.

  “I quit,” said Pook. “I don’t think my eyes work no more,” he said.

  “You might be an old fool, but your eyes are still working,” said Gumi.

  “So,” Pook said, “then I should quit anyway. The kingdom is doomed.”

  “It is a hell of a sight, isn’t it?” said Gumi.

  The two of them were not looking out into the meadows, but into the city, watching three gypsy wagons head for the gates.

  “Is there some kind of parade today?” Pook asked. “Maybe he’s going on vacation?”

  “Maybe he’s turned gypsy!” Gumi said.

  “For a gypsy wench like that, I just might turn gypsy too,” said Pook.

  The two gatekeepers watched as the three gypsy wagons wheeled out of the city, led by Bastion and Yana driving the rig in front.

  Yana guided her horse to pull the lead wagon out the city gates, into the meadow, and toward the edge of the forest. Their caravan of assassins headed for the Lower Reach.

  “How far is it to the castle?” Yana asked.

  “It’s two full days’ ride,” Bastion replied. “But the main roads are not as direct, and the route we will go will get us there a little faster.”

  “We must try to find Emilee along the way,” Yana said.

  “If she is hiding, then we could miss her completely,” said Bastion.

  “Yes,” Yana agreed. “But who do you think taught her to hide?”

  They entered a forest trail, Yana guiding them expertly through. She had always liked the thrill of stealth, and the trees provided excellent cover. On the edge of the wood, two figures watched them enter, from a good distance. Once the wagons disappeared into the thick, the two figures mounted and headed the same direction on horseback, following them. The caravan rode hard all day, not stopping to camp until nightfall.

  ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

  Emilee crawled up from the ditch she had been hiding in. Evening was coming, and she sought to find better shelter to spend the night. She ducked to keep out of sight in the woods beyond Tatu Castle. Slinking further away, she was hoping to find a pixie tree, as Yana called them. She headed toward a grove that she had passed through on the way. Emilee had caught up with the bandits that had caught Kizzy and Nadya, but lost track of them when the fire spread through the forest. The smoke nearly overwhelmed her. She kept her southern heading, though, and it led her back to their trail, and directly to the castle.

  Emilee decided to wait a while longer to see if Yana had been able to get help, before she headed back to Jedikai. Emilee was tired and hungry, and had not realized how difficult it would be to track the traders. She had not even considered the wisdom of it too much; she just knew she had to do something.

  Emilee found a pixie tree, and climbed up into it. It was not as tall as she would have liked, but it would have to do. It had a super-thick trunk, and wide, sweeping branches that reached down almost to the ground, making it easy to climb. Just above the first set of branches, was the best part- the larger branches all split to reach into the sky, but at the base of them was a small landing.

  Emilee climbed up into it. It was not a big space, but it would be perfect for her, and a much safer place to camp for the night than the ditch. She could not start a fire, since she did not want to be discovered, but she had brought two large cloaks in her pack. She had come with no horse, so she had been exhausted all the way down into the Reach. Hiding in the ditch and finding berries had helped her a little, but she was wearing down.

  She set her things in the landing of the tree and set began searching for any other berries or food she could find to get through the night. She did find some blueberries and some ginger root, which was something, at least. She headed back to the tree, to settle in before it was fully dark.

  ROWR! Emilee was knocked sideways to the ground. She scrambled to get back up, grabbing her staff as she did. A wolf was facing her down, growling, poised to leap at her again. She barely dared to look away just long enough to see several more racing directly towards her.

  In an instant, she batted hard at the wolf with her staff. The wolf took the blow but was undeterred. The wolf leapt at her, only to find itself landing onto her small dagger. With a yelp, it dropped to the ground, nearly knocking her off her feet again. Emilee had the dagger in one hand, having pulled it out and dropped the staff in a motion so quick the wolf never saw it. She snatched the staff back up and ran toward her tree as the other wolves had emerged and were flying towards her, pointed lupine ears bouncing towards her in their fluid run.

  Emilee ran up into the tree, jumping on a low branch with a sure foot and wasting no time. The rest of the wolves came straight for her, and the first of them leapt right up on to the branch Emilee had chosen, and ran directly for her. Emilee held her place and allowed for the wolf to pounce at her, and buried her blade into that wolf as well. He dropped off the tree, lifeless. The four remaining wolves growled at her and paced at the base of the tree, looking for a way up. Emilee looked too. There were at least three major branches that swept downward, that they could use to get to her. She would have to fight them.

  Looking over her options, she pulled her blade out and began to sharpen the small end of her staff. She whittled it down as fast as she could. The wolves began hopping and slipping on the branches, looking for a way to get to her. Her blade slipped and cut into her left hand, causing her to whimper and press her hand to her mouth in pain.

  The wolves became more urgent, smelling the blood. Emilee started to cry. She was afraid, she was hurt, and she was angry. She set her jaw and finished her new spear. She tucked the dagger into her waist again, and prepared to fight the wolves. There was no way she would make it through the night if she could not overcome them.

  Emilee stepped carefully down the widest branch, as the wolves growled and yelped into a frenzy. She set herself low enough to tempt them to come get her. A gray wolf took the bait, wanting more than just the scent of her blood. Emilee buried her spear into its chest, but it stuck. The wolf fell, but her spear went with it. It was standing straight up out of the wolf’s body, but Emilee couldn’t reach it from the branch without falling.

  She pulled her dagger out and leapt for it, tumbling to the ground. The three wolves charged directly for her, and the first one got a blade into its neck, and fell to her side. The last two jumped on her and knocked her down. Pain seared into her as the wolf above her bit hard into her left arm as she tried to defend herself. The other one was biting at her face, trying to get a good shot at her neck. Emilee buried her dagger into the wolf’s neck even as he bit down on her arm, and with a loud yelp, it released her.

  Emilee was immediately in a wrestling match with the last one, her hands on its neck, its fangs terrifying her just above her face. It was stronger than she would have thought. The wolf pressed in to bite her, but couldn’t. Emilee fought to throw it off, but she couldn’t. She certainly couldn’t spare a hand to reach for a weapon. Instead, she clamped down all the force she had on the wolf’s neck, and that changed its demeanor. No longer the aggressor, the wolf began fighting for its own life, struggling to breathe.

  Clamping down harder, Emilee grimaced with fear and fury, trying to overcome. The wolf began thrashing itself loose, and Emilee couldn’t hang on, letting the wolf free. In its last gasp of foolish aggression, it made another try for her, and Em
ilee clubbed it with the wide end of her staff. It fell, disoriented, and Emilee expertly shifted the staff to the sharp end, and dispatched the wolf for good.

  Emilee stood gasping, desperately sucking on her left hand, and ignoring the giant bite just a few inches away from it. She wanted to cry, but instead she stared in disbelief.

  “Ruv Mulo! Six wolves!” she said out loud. She looked again. There they were. Six dead wolves. Emilee began getting dizzy. She realized she would have to rest before she passed out, but she could not yet. One by one, she grabbed each wolf by a hind leg, and dragged them away from her pixie tree as far as she thought she was able. Yana had taught her not to camp too close to food that other animals could smell, especially without a fire or a wagon for protection. She hoped that any other predators would be content to dine on the wolf carcasses.

  Once she finished, she collected what she could of the blueberries and ginger root she had found, and climbed up into her spot in the tree. She could see a bit of Tatu Castle from her perch, as the last remnants of daylight succumbed to the night.

  She wrapped her arm and hand with a scarf she had been wearing before the attack. It was in bad shape. Emilee realized she was in trouble. It wasn’t bleeding too much, but it would make a journey back to Jedikai terribly difficult. She took a long drink of water from her zahato, and ate her berries. She curled up underneath her cloaks and tried to get as warm and comfortable as she could.

  Afraid and upset, Emilee could scarcely decide whether she should laugh or cry. She could feel the terror of the wolves upon her, but also the exultant victory in defeating them. She thought of Yana, whose teachings were the only reason she survived. “Thank you, Yana,” she whispered.

  Just then, a peal of thunder rang out, and it began to rain. The canopy of the tree was shielding some of the water, but some of it pelted her cloaks, which would be soaked if the rain kept up all night. She huddled in tight.