Sleep-deprived
~
~ ~
Sometimes, when
you've faced death and you're just on the verge of insanity, you come
up against a darkness. Sometimes this darkness consumes you, leaving
you wallowing in a depression so deep that hell itself seems like a
relief. And, sometimes the darkness becomes a strength. Because
sometimes the darkness is all you have. When they took Jeldhen from
me, I fell into a black pit and smiled. The Shadow Cast considered me
a criminal, they had taken my best friend and my humanity was already
in question. What more did I have to lose?
“Are you leaving
so soon, Krylsorta?”
“I'm heading out
as soon as the sun rises, Mizella.”
“One more day,
Krylsorta. It couldn't hurt.”
“I've waited long
enough.”
“You are not
fully healed.”
“News bulletin,
Mizella, I'll never be fully healed from this. Now, please, tell your
people to cut down the winds so I can leave. I can't stay here one
more day, one more hour. I'm leaving and that is final.”
I could feel her
approaching objection to the notion that her people were keeping me
tied down, but when she spoke, her tone was gentle. “But,
Krylsorta––”
“No buts! I'm
leaving. Jeldhen has been held captive by the Shadow Cast for almost
three months. You can't stall me any longer. All the repairs on
WindSong are done. You've
healed my wounds. I've even traveled with you this far. But the
southern Utah Territories are not Adelaina. I have to carry on.”
“You can't.” Mizella's rich Mediterranean accent had never
sounded so blunt.
“And why the bloody hell can't I?”
“It's not in your contract. It's not in your oath. You have sworn
to protect our secrets. What do you think they'll get out of you if
you're caught? Huh? And even if you aren't, how do you expect to get
Jeldhen out of there without completely blowing your cover.”
“You say that as if they don't already know what I am.”
“Alright. So I cannot convince you to stay. At least take one of us
with you. What about your sister?”
“I'm not taking anyone. Lia needs to stay here with you. I can't
have her getting involved. I've already gotten enough friends into
this and look what's happened. Jeldhen, Fes and Elicith are in
custody of that bounty hunter. Ve is missing and Cadence is dead. No.
No one else is coming with me.”
“That is most unfortunate, but you cannot let the mistakes of your
past push you into a worse one now. Take someone with you.”
“Are you volunteering?”
Mizella shook her beautiful, darkly curled head. “No, I have duties
here. Grandmother is getting very old. We will need a new Chovihano
soon.”
“Whom would you then?”
“What about your friends? The ones that helped us get out of
Chicago?”
“Josh and Gabe? No. I can't get them involved in this.”
“They're not far from here.”
“I don't care. I'm going alone and that is final.”
“I see.” With that Mizella tip toed out of the vardo, leaving me
to finish packing.
Winter had torn by
with all the ferocity I'd come to expect of my recent life. It
wouldn't have stopped me, the storms and the snow. Weather had never
really been a bother to my flying, but when the Romani are involved
in creating those storms... I knew they would be targeting me
specifically. Mizella, my Romani guardian, took offense every time I
implied such thinking. I'm sure they had their reasons, protecting
their own kind. They'd been through so much over the decades, what
with the wars and the persecution. Being forced back into the shadows
was far from the top of their list of desires.
I tightened the
straps on my satchel where it lay on the bed. The majority of my
belongings were still on WindSong,
not that the Romani had allowed me to sleep there. Something about
insulting their sacrifice. I didn't complain. Just being near my
little ship brought back such pain that not even the warm food and
bright spirits of my companions could keep it at bay. The vardos were
warmer in the depths of winter anyway.
Satisfied that all was packed, I took one last lingering glance
around the vardo that I'd shared with my sister for the last three
months. The two bunks on the far side of the little wagon were strewn
with brightly designed quilts and shawls of varying sizes and shapes.
The motif of intricacy spread into the wood framing of the beds and
out along the walls. Hand cravings of delicate flowers and twisting
vines looped and swirled throughout the room, winding their way over
spice racks and cupboards and chairs that seemed to sprout out of the
floor so similar were they to the wood of the vardo.
In the corner by the door, was a little coat rack which seemed to
hold far too many coats and scarves and hats for its diminutive
hooks. On the last peg,
the one closest to the door hung two jackets of such stark contrast
that it seemed impossible to belong to the same person. Both of these
jackets were mine. The first, the one from my old life, was a crisp,
gray, starched dress coat that flowed to below my knees in the back.
Buckles ran all down the back, giving it this rebellious look in
contrast to the flattened French collar and cuffs. I'd loved this
coat for as long as I could remember. Jeldhen had given it to me on
one of our many trips through France. It suited my old life, stiff,
controlled, with just a hint of trouble. But so many things had
changed about me, I suppose that explains the second jacket.
Pulling the first jacket off the peg, I folded it neatly, and tucked
it into the front pocket of my satchel. The second jacket I tugged
off with the love of a girl who found comfort in the little things. I
slid my arms into its soft leather sleeves, let the pliable fabric
settle across the shoulders and move over my skin until it found just
the right way to sit. The tassels swished under my arms and across my
back as I picked up the satchel and slung it over my shoulder.
Mizella made it, intricate, white, hand stitchery and all. The
red-brown die she had used went well with my hair, she had said so
one night when she was washing it. It was some sort of little
tradition of hers, bonding with me by washing my hair. That was the
night I'd insisted that she cut it, against all protestations. It sat
short over my shoulders, only just brushing the collar of my leather
jacket.
With one last hesitation, I glanced up to look at myself in the
heavily embellished, full length mirror. There was something about
the woman staring back at me that screamed feral animal. From the
heal of her boots to the hunch of her shoulders this woman appeared
every bit the cat ready to pounce. Dark red hair tumbled around her
face, casting shadows across her dark blue eyes where a story of
sadness and rage lay hidden just below the surface. What had happened
to me? What happened to the headstrong woman with her posh clothes
and long childish braid? Three months ago I had been enjoying the
warm autumn of the Greek Isles with my friends. Granted, there was a
secret agenda to that visit...
There it was, the answer to all the questions that had haunted me.
Duality had followed my life from the time I knew exactly what I was.
It was slowly killing me, living two lives, one where I was a normal
cargo merchant who pretended not to be in love with her best friend.
Another where I was a fire queen with mad fighting skills that was
losing battle after battle in a long war for her people's freedom. No
wonder I was so brassed.
I shook my head, trying to clear my thoughts before facing the world
that I was certainly not ready for. Slower than necessary, I pushed
the springed door out. The cool wind of a sunny spring day swept up
around me, kissing my cheeks with that last little bite of winter
before dancing off to throw some leaves about. I didn't used to think
of wind in such a personified way, that is not until my winter among
the Romani and their uncanny control over all things weather.
“Good morning, Krys.”
I nearly jumped out of my skin. Leaning against the exterior of the
vardo was Lia, my little sister. She looked taller, more mature, more
confident. Her unruly black hair was pulled back into a knot at the
nape of her neck. Her normal attention to fashion had fallen into the
lax form of blue denim, peasant blouses and long draping cardigans.
That particular day her usual look was accompanied by work gloves and
a felt hat. I guess I wasn't the only one that had changed.
“What do you want?” I bounced down the stairs and letting the
door slam shut behind me. Without waiting for an answer, I headed
toward my ship, my one hope at getting out of this caravan. Lia
followed with an excitedly hopping gate.
“I'm coming with you,” she said with a grin, as she passed me.
“No, you're not.”
She turned around, walking backwards, her hands shoved deep in her
pockets. “Yes, I am.”
“We've been over this, Lia. You're not coming with me. I'm going
alone.”
Lia stepped in front of me, effectively cutting me off. “As if
you're the only one that cares about Jeldhen's safety? Right. I'm
coming with you.”
I made to move around her, but she sidestepped. Left with little
other choice, I moved the other way, but Lia slid in front of me with
a look of mockery. Seeing how that wasn't going to work, I attempted
to brush by her, but Lia, being Lia, wasn't about to take that. She
stuck her arm our in front of me.
“Krys, you've got to let me come with you.”
For an instant, I stopped fighting to get past her. “Why are you so
insistent on this?”
“Why are you?”
“Because I'm not going to endanger any more of my friends for my
own fool's errand.”
“I'm not a friend, I'm family. And I'm worried you're going just to
get yourself killed. Because frankly, I don't trust your crazy
British self not to get you killed.”
Ignoring her evident concern, I insisted on making my case clear.
“You being family only makes it worse! What would I tell your mum
if something happened to you?”
“That I'm fifteen now, which makes me an adult and old enough to
make my own decisions. Besides, Jeldhen is my family too, whether you
like it of not. One day you two are going to get hitched and I'm
going to be your maid of honor and then Jeldhen will be my brother.
And how do you expect me to live with myself if I'm not there at just
the right moment to help you rescue Jeldhen, huh? How am I ever going
to be your maid of honor if Jeldhen is in some messed up prison for
the criminally bizarre?”
I blinked at my sister with baffled gratitude. Leave it to her to
make helping me a selfish thing matter... even if everything she said
was little more than a fabrication of her mind. “Alright, if it
means that much to you.”
I expected her to jump and strangle me with one of her crazy American
hugs, but she didn't. She just smirked in satisfaction. “I'll go
tell the others.”
“Oh no. I'm not bringing anyone. You know what happened last time.”
She looked disappointed, but understanding. “Alright.”
“We take off in twenty minutes. If you aren't there, I'm leaving
without you.”
“You've got it.”
I
fully anticipated her meeting me up at WindSong
with a gaggle of able-bodied warrior women. They wouldn't dare ask
the men to go with us, not with the cultural taboos of mingling men
and women. Either way, I wouldn't have been able to handle more than
the two girls, not after what happened to Fes.
Finally
free of my sister, I plowed through the caravan which had nearly
tripled in size between here and Chicago now bringing the number of
vardo up to forty. If I saw one more person, if I heard one more
voice trying to convince me to take someone else with me, well, let's
just say that all bets were off as to just how fire proof the vardo
were.
Slithering through the tight gaps between the vardo proved more
difficult than anticipated. Most of the wheels came up to my shoulder
height, giving me plenty of space beneath the gypsy wagons to duck
into should someone happen by. I hadn't gotten through the innermost
tangled ring of wagons before I was forced to change course. Tucking
my arm under, I rolled beneath the vardo to my left to avoid making
contact, but the boy was already there, his dark eyes watching me in
the predawn light.
I knew him at once as the same boy that Fes had embraced when we'd
first joined the little caravan. This was Fes's husband, the very boy
I'd been avoiding for three months. Seeing those dark, mysterious
eyes brought back memories of Fes and it became hard to breathe. Her
voice had haunted me since the destruction of Chicago.
The way Mizella told it Fes had been nearly decapitated by one
Commandant Ero Gleilien before being dragged from the smoldering
wreckage of the Chicago library. I had been there, had heard the
screams, had set the building ablaze, but that image seemed beyond
believable. Something happened to Ero that incapacitated her, I
remember hearing her body hit the floor, but my mind was too taxed to
remember.
My fight, from Navy Pier through the Library, drained me beyond the
point of exhaustion. Only vaguely the memory drifted back to me of a
man called Terrance speaking to me, but the consuming fire that had
burned inside me blotted out all details of the event save one: Fes's
voice echoing through the marble halls, screaming my name.
I tried to push the sound of her strangled pleas for help to the back
of my mind as her young husband approached me through the narrow
channel in which I stood. My hands began to shake uncontrollably, my
heart raced. Fear, genuine fear, surged through my veins. Send me the
Seekers and the demons and even the armies of hell, but I could not
face this boy. Not again. I can't explain my fright of him, not fully
anyway. Maybe I felt I needed to give him a decent explanation of
those night's events, of why I hadn't saved her when she called for
me, an explanation I couldn't give. Or maybe it was just that I knew
I owed him a rescue mission. Well, I was about to embark on that
mission and, though I was hell bound on delivering Jeldhen from
horrors worse I'd suffered, I would get him back his wife.
Given that determination and the goals I had in mind, I should have
been able to face him without so much as batting an eye. Our previous
encounters, however, had left me on the bottom side of the sinking
ship that was this boy's mental state. If I had been broken by the
loss of Jeldhen, I could only imagine what it must have been like for
this sixteen-year-old to loose his wife of only a few months.
In a panic, I rolled onto the ground once more, forcing myself to
slither on my belly until I felt I'd reached a safe enough distance
to escape his unforgiving gaze. How I longed to be in the air again,
above the threats of being grounded, of having nowhere to run.
On
my feet again, I ran through the gap between the inner circle and
outer circle of the gypsy wagons. WindSong
was just on the other side and a little to the south. Her
patch-worked metal body, barely visible over the tops of the wagons,
glinted ever so slightly as the sun peaked over the tops of the
looming mountains. The light crept from the far wast of the valley,
bringing with it the brilliance of a new day, and all the drudgery
that came with it.
“Promise me something.”
The boy's strong voice was hard to ignore. The plaintive
undercurrents struck a nerve that I couldn't quite name, but it was
not enough to make me turn around. WindSong
was well within sight, waiting for me. I would have started running,
frantic as I was to get away from my little problem, but his arm was
around my wrist. He'd have to stay in isolation for two weeks for
touching a female, but the look in his dark eyes told me that he
didn't care.
“Let go.” It was a warning more than a command.
“Not until you promise me something.”
“I'm not taking you with me, if that's what you're asking.”
He shook his head, sending dark mahogany curls tumbling over his
eyes.
“Then what is it?”
“Promise me that you'll bring her back.”
It occurred to me then where the cord had struck, where the trail of
memory lead to. I'd taken that tone with Jeldhen all those months
ago, when I'd begged him not to take the assignment that had gotten
him into all those months ago. Once I'd known how it felt, that
overwhelming desire to keep your loved ones safe. That feeling seemed
dead in me, but that didn't stop me from knowing exactly how this boy
felt.
Our eyes locked and I no longer thought of him as a boy. He was
barely more than a year younger than me, yet this whole time I had
thought of him as little more than a child. Fes was his family. It
was his duty to protect her. I'd seen the look on his face when we
brought her home, he loved her. He would do anything for her. There
was little difference between us in that respect.
“What's your name?” It had only just occurred to me that I'd
never asked before. I'd always referred to him as 'Fes's husband', or
'that boy', or 'you', never by a name.
“Temki. My name is Temki.”
“I'll bring her back, Temki. That I promise you.” It occurred to
me then that some part of me wanted him to come with me, the part
that hadn't completely given in to the black depths inside. He could
be an asset, or he could get in the way.
His dark eyes bored into mine with such intensity that the very earth
beneath my feet seemed to temporarily give way. The grip of his hand
around my wrist seemed a choke hold, taking away my strength. The
thought that he needed to come with me intensified until I had all
but spoken the words.
“I know what you're doing,” I whispered. “And it's not going to
work.”
Temki's grip lessened and I could feel him about to let go entirely
when someone walked by and jabbed me in the elbow.
“I thought you said you'd be leaving without me if I didn't hurry
up, sis. Now look who's running late.” Lia continued to walk by,
laughing a little. She had a box in her arms.
Curious as I was about the contents of the box, I didn't bother
asking Lia about it. Instead, I made a snap decision. Turning to
Temki I spoke quickly. “I'm not sure exactly what that talent of
yours is, but I'm sure we can use it to get Fes out. Go get your bag,
tell your family you're coming with us.”
“But, you just said––”
“Forget what I just said. You're coming, just... don't get in my
way, alright?”
Temki nodded once and we released each other's arms.
What was I doing? I didn't know if I could trust him, if his emotions
would get in the way of my mission. What if he had his own directive?
There were too many variables to calculate, too many strings to
attach. He could be a fly on wall, waiting to attack us in the dark
when we slept through fitful dreams. Given what I assumed was his
ability, I knew he had a power over me. I'd have to threaten him,
give him a thrashing. That's the only way to get through to them, the
only way to get Jeldhen back. I had to kill him, Constantine.
“Snap out of it!” The shout came from my mouth, though I didn't
remember speaking it.
“Are you okay, Krys?” Lia called back.
“Yeah,” I muttered as I caught up to her. “Yeah, I'm fine.”
“What was all that about?”
“Temki's coming with us.”
“Okay... So, where's he gonna sleep?”
“Haven't thought of that yet.”
“And what happened to this 'I'm not taking anyone' business?”
“I'm not really sure.”
“Do you wanna tell––”
“I don't really want to talk about it right now, Lia.”
“Alright.”
She gave me a testy look as we
neared WindSong's
underbelly, giving me the distinct feeling that if something were to
go terribly wrong she would wholeheartedly blame me.
