She nodded and smiled. “Yes, I hope you are right. Now, we should probably get going before the sun comes up. We have several longs weeks ahead of us. And a lot of work to do.”
“Indeed we do.” Valian bowed to Malxon and shook his hand.
Belli headed back to her wagon to find her travelmates. They would be driving alongside another wagon that housed four Gypsies. The Gypsies would help Bellithana with the driving, as Prigol had not yet perfected his invention to allow him to control the horses. Two of her fellow Gypsies were male and two were female. All of them had lived in Atina and moved to Rona after it was liberated. The two men and one of the women were siblings. The fourth Gypsy was the wife of one of the men.
Belli walked up to the wagons as they finished bridling the horses. “Everything ready?”
The man raised his head. He had ash-blond hair and a bright smile. Belli could not remember a time she had seen him when he did not have a smile. He also had a slight accent that Belli could not place. “Yes’m. We should be ready to go in just a few minutes. Is all set throughout the rest of the caravan?”
“Yes. We should be ready to move out within the half hour.” She looked over toward her wagon. “Is your brother going to be driving my wagon to begin with?”
“Passo is there now, ma’am. You should head inside and get some rest. You look like you could use it.” The Gypsy winked at her and his smile brightened as his eyes twinkled.
She let a soft laugh escape her lips. “Thank you, Palo, I think I will. I’ll see you later.”
She nodded her head and he gave her a half bow as she stepped around the horses and headed to her wagon. An almost perfect replica of Palo was finishing up with her horses and he smiled her way. Though the brothers were identical at birth, years of wear and tear had given them their own unique appearances. While Palo was bright and friendly, Passo was reserved and quiet. His smile was shy and turned down at one corner where a Jase had ripped through his lower lip. He had a thick, red scar along the right side of his face that went from the corner of his eye to the edge of his jaw. Passo shaved his blond hair close to his head, while Palo wore his long and shaggy.
“Hello, Miss Bellithana.”
Belli turned away from Passo to greet his wife.
“Good morning, Tiana.” Belli smiled at the younger Gypsy woman, who was dressed in muted greens and blues. Her skirts tinkled as she walked due to the little bells she had sewn into the hem.
When she first met the pair, Belli had been struck by the differences between them. Tiana, like Palo, was very outgoing and bubbly. She always held a smile and had no problem speaking her mind. Passo’s quiet demeanor offset her outspoken personality in an unexpectedly pleasant way.
The girl, no more than twenty by Bellithana’s guess, pranced up to her husband and kissed him softly on the cheek. His sad eyes brightened and his grin grew decidedly bigger. They had been married only a year, and in that time, they had suffered tremendously. Passo had participated in the battle at Rona, a decision that Tiana had not agreed with. He earned the gash on his face for his heroic effort, but the stress and fear of losing her husband had cost Tiana dearly. She had been pregnant at the time, though she had not known it. When she heard of his nearly fatal injury, she went into premature labor and lost the child. The event had nearly destroyed them both, but their love was strong and together they were fighting back.
“You should go back to bed, Belli. You look horrendously tired.” Tiana’s teasing smile held a hint of concern as she gently nudged Belli in the side.
“You are not the first to tell me that,” Belli returned, a tired grin tugging at her lips. “Has anyone seen Prigol?”
Two pairs of raised eyebrows made her laugh. “Right, I forgot. Sorry.”
Neither Passo nor Tiana had the gift of sight that would allow them to view the Hidden without one of his specially-designed devices. Bellithana was one of the few who could naturally see the light spectrum in which the invisible beings existed. Saying goodbye to her drivers, she went around to the back of the wagon. Ychthorn stood next to the wagon and she ran her hand along his flank as she rounded the corner.
She was so focused on the feel of his scales against her fingers that she did not immediately notice the figure on the steps, which caused her to jump. He was tall and lanky, almost as if a human had been tied between two horses and stretched. He rose as she approached.
“All ready?” Prigol asked her. His voice was rough and raspy, a trait common to his species.
“I think so. I’ve already put my pack in my room, and it looks like everyone is almost set to go. Where’s Ator?”
“Here!” The voice bubbled down from the roof of the wagon, accompanied by the little orange dragon. He had an excited grin on his face, one Belli was familiar with. He often got such a look when he was going on an adventure. She hadn’t seen it in months and her heart lightened.
She smiled at the creature. “Are you riding up there or inside?”
“I’ll ride up here for a while. Someone needs to be the guard on this wagon!”
The Gypsy woman glanced around at the dozen armored soldiers and dragons with them. “I think we might have that covered, but an extra set of eyes sure won’t hurt. I’m going to sleep for a while. Wake me if anything happens, ok?”
“You got it!” Ator bounced once, setting the wagon rocking and the horses snorting. “Oops. Sorry.”
Belli smiled and bid farewell to Thorn before following Prigol up the steps. He held the door for her and shut it behind them. She leaned against the wall and sighed.
“I’m worried, Prigol. I have a bad feeling.”
“Me, too. There is no logical reason for it, but I fear for this trip.”
The Gypsy nodded and they stood silently for several minutes before she pushed herself away from the wall. “Well, nothing we can do until we figure out why we’re worried. So I’m going to get some much-needed sleep. Maybe now that we are under way, I’ll be able to rest.”
“Sleep well, Bellithana.”
She headed into her small room and curled up on the overstuffed mattress beneath her warm blankets. As she drifted into sleep, the cryptic nightmares that had been haunting her for months found their way to her dreams.
Chapter 6
Veni pulled her shawl tighter about her as they moved through the old, drafty castle. Rivanna’s dirt- and snow-caked skirts rustled in front of her, occasionally sending a whiff of rancid odor back to the girl’s nose. Veni kept her arms wrapped tightly around the bundle she carried, doing her best to ignore the smell. The soldiers surrounding them had tried to take it from her, but she would not give it up, even when Rivanna slapped her.
It had taken them several weeks to travel from their secluded cave in the Ridge Mountains across the frozen plains. They were accosted by a group of soldiers days before they reached their destination and had been traveling with them since. Veni much preferred traveling alone, or as alone as she could get with Rivanna and the dead man as company.
When they had arrived at Aito’s castle, they were forced to spend a day in an anteroom. No food had been brought and they kept themselves warm using Rivanna’s witch magic and several pieces of furniture that Veni hoped would not be missed.
When they were summoned, a fear she did not expect settled in the pit of her stomach. Aito was known to be cruel—crueler than Locke. And the rumors about Locke had been vile. The young girl could only hope that her mistress knew what she was doing and could control the situation.
Beside Veni, the reanimated body lurched. He had a long gash along his left cheek from one of the soldier’s swords. He had been laying in the wagon under a pile of cloth and had startled the men when he rose without warning. It took a lot of convincing from both Rivanna and Veni to keep them from slicing him to bits.
Veni stole a glance at the man. She still did not know his real name. She was not sure he did either. When Rivanna left them alone in the cave, she had tried to converse with him, but it seemed that many of his
memories were gone. And although his speech was getting steadily better, his vocabulary was about the level of a three-year-old child. He had finally started responding to the name Rul after a week.
Rul turned his head her way as she watched him and she smiled shyly. She felt an affinity for the man. He was trapped in a world he did not ask for. He never complained and completed every task given him to the best of his ability, but she could see sparks of life in his dull eyes that hinted of a deeper thought process. She was sure some part of the man he was remained buried inside that dead exterior.
“Get moving.”
Veni stumbled slightly as a soldier shoved her in the back. Rul’s nostrils flared, but he said nothing. Veni apologized to the soldier and picked up her pace, catching up to Rivanna. When she came alongside her mistress, she earned a batted ear for her efforts.
The girl bit her tongue, refusing to give in to Rivanna’s baiting again. She fell back into step beside Rul and felt his hand gently brush hers. When she looked at him and smiled slightly, she thought his lips twitched in return.
“Stay here.” A soldier in front of them held up his spear, forcing them to stop. They were in front of a large, heavy wooden door. Veni guessed it was the commander’s chamber.
She stepped up beside Rivanna. “What if he doesn’t approve?”
“Shh, girl. Hold your tongue. He’ll approve.”
Veni looked at the old woman. The last few weeks had been hard on them both, but they were worse on Rivanna. Her craggy cheeks were sunken and her eyes held a haunted look. They had never eaten very well, but the trip across the frozen plains had taken its toll.
Only Rul fared alright, as he did not eat and did not need sleep. Where he received his energy from Veni had no idea, but she believed Rivanna knew. The witch never allowed Veni to sleep at the same time she did. One of them always had to be awake. On occasion, when Veni awoke in the middle of the night, Rivanna would be staring at the undead creature with a snarl of disgust and fear on her lips. And the woman’s attitude toward the man had turned from one of elation and joy to pure hatred within a week after his rebirth. Veni was baffled by the unexpected change. Never had she seen Rul do anything to earn the outcast Gypsy’s distrust. He only did as he was told without complaint. Veni shrugged mentally. She would never understand the witch and that was something she was just fine with.
“Come.” The soldier had returned.
Together, the three travelers entered the chamber. Veni was right. It was a cavernous room with six fireplaces lining the walls, each large enough to fit three full-grown men standing tall. All were lit with roaring flames and piles of logs were stacked beside them.
Veni followed Rivanna down the length of the room with Rul on her heels. She felt him pull closer to her as they neared the far end. Upon a slightly raised platform lounged a man in a large stone chair. The man had shaggy blond hair and a pinched face. He was wearing the uniform of the former monarchy and a sword was strapped to his thigh. He adjusted it as he sat on his throne, making it easier to remove from the sheath.
To his right was seated another man dressed in similar garb. This man had no sword, but carried a quill instead. Beside his chair was a table with several rolled scrolls and bottles of ink. One of the fireplaces was just behind them, keeping the ink from turning into a congealed, gloopy mess.
The man on the stone throne nodded at the soldier who had led them in. Their escort bowed and stepped to the side, taking up a position with his hand on the hilt of his sword. He watched the trio of travelers warily, despite the fact that they had offered him no resistance in the previous days.
“So you are the witch, then?”
The man’s voice was strong and steady. His gaze danced from Rivanna and her ragged skirts to Veni and her cloth bundle, then on to Rul. She noted a look of unease in his eyes when he saw the dead man.
Rivanna prostrated herself on the ground before the throne. “Yes, my lord. I am Rivanna, the most powerful Gypsy to ever live. They feared my strength and cast me out. But they were wrong to do so and they shall pay. I have come to offer my allegiance to you and with it my greatest gifts.”
She rose and, with a flowery move of her hand that made Veni raise an eyebrow, she indicated Rul.
A silence fell over the room. The commander’s eyes continued to flit between the three visitors. Veni grew uncomfortable and her heart began to pound. She feared the consequences should the man decline.
“And what, pray tell, are those gifts?”
One of the soldiers behind them snorted and Veni could feel the corners of her lips begin to quirk. The commander was clearly baffled by the offer, unsure what exactly it was. He had surely been told about the dead man, but he could not know Rul’s value.
Rivanna stuttered for a moment before composing herself. “First, my lord, allow me to introduce myself a little bit more.” The man’s eyes rolled, but he humored the woman. “I am Rivanna, most powerful Gypsy to ever live.”
“You’ve said that already. Who is this man?”
“This, my lord, is my greatest creation. This is the culmination of decades of work. You remember the battle in Rona? Of course you do. I was there with my assistant. When it was all over, we took several dead soldiers back to my home. You see,” she said, leaning in conspiratorially, “I have done something that many have been trying since the dawn of time. I have conquered death.”
She beamed at the commander. Aito narrowed his eyes at Rivanna. “What do you mean, you’ve conquered death?”
She pointed toward Rul again. “Him. He is dead.”
“That is what my soldiers told me. What exactly does that mean? What can he do?”
Rivanna was stunned momentarily and Veni was forced to stifle a laugh. All the time they had spent perfecting the magic to bring the dead back to the land of the living, and they had never discussed why they were doing it.
“Well, my lord—”
“Enough with the ‘my lord’ stuff. Call me Commander Aito, or just commander.”
“Yes, my… Commander Aito. You see, he is undead. He was dead, and now he is not. He will be very valuable to you.”
“How?” His voice rose an octave, showing his irritation.
Rivanna looked to Veni, terror clear on her face. For all her magical abilities, the woman was not quick on her mental feet.
Veni stepped forward and bowed. “Good day, Commander Aito. I am Veni, assistant to Rivanna. This man, Rul, is unique. As my master has stated, he was present at the battle of Rona. He has retained many of his fighting abilities. We have tested him with sword and staff and he performs very well. In addition, he does not bleed. He does not feel pain. He cannot die. Unless they chop off his limbs or head, he is virtually invincible.”
The commander sat back in his throne, examining the girl and the dead man beside her. “Are you a witch, too?”
“No, sir. I am just an assistant.”
“You cannot perform magic at all?”
“No, I cannot.”
“Shame.”
Veni felt Rivanna’s eyes narrow and settle on her, but she refused to look at the old woman. She had seen the death threat in those eyes before. It was nothing new to her. She kept her eyes on the man on the throne and her peripheral vision on Rul.
“Very well. We will see what he can do. Jase, give them lodging, please. And get the women some food. Does he eat?”
“No, he does not, my lord… sir… Commander Aito.” Rivanna bowed obsequiously.
“Very well. Take them.”
Commander Aito waved a hand and turned away from them. Rivanna attempted to say something else, but they were ushered out by the man called Jase. He said nothing to them as he led them through the labyrinthine halls. After ascending a long, spiraling staircase, they reached a small door. Jase opened it and beckoned them in. Inside were two small beds, a desk, and nothing else.
“I will send a servant with food, and later you will be escorted to your wagon to gather your things. In th
e meantime, you are not to leave this room. Understood?” His gaze went from Rivanna to Veni before settling on Rul.
“You have no right to—” Rivanna began, but Veni cut her off by gripping the woman’s arm tightly.
“We understand. We will not leave unaccompanied.”
Jase nodded once and left, the door making a distinct click as it shut tightly behind them.
“How dare you treat me like that in front of company!” Rivanna’s wrinkled face was turning bright red and her hand flashed out to meet Veni’s cheek.
It stopped a bare inch from her face. Rul’s dull eyes burned with a fire neither of them had seen before and his nostrils flared. Veni could see the skin on Rivanna’s wrist where he gripped her turning white from the loss of circulation. She smiled at the man and rested a hand gently on his shoulder. He dropped the witch’s arm, dark red marks from his fingers quickly blossoming on the tanned skin.
Rivanna held her wrist and gasped, fear clear in her eyes. “You vile thing! I should never have given you life! To treat me as such…” She wandered toward the desk, mumbling to herself.
Veni patted Rul on the arm and walked to the single window. It was barely a foot tall and two feet wide. She looked out, seeing the courtyard below. Their wagon sat to one side and several soldiers were sorting through their belongings. She wasn’t worried. Nothing that meant anything to her was on the wagon. Rivanna had left her possessions there, and some of it was being confiscated as Veni watched, but there was nothing that could not be replaced. She clutched the bundle tighter to her chest and sighed.
Chapter 7
Stinging snow and biting cold cut through the thin fabric Lana had wrapped around her face. She pulled her coat tighter as the wind whipped her hair, momentarily blinding her. For the last three hours she had waited in the dark and cold, observing the training facility that was her next target.
A week before, she had received word from one of her Gypsy allies of a potential attack on this very village. Lana knew of the village from her childhood and had visited there once or twice with her father. The leader was an older woman, not overly harsh, but not kind to the dragons, either. Though many hatcheries and training camps had disbanded willingly after the battle of Rona, the woman had refused to step down. At her command, a barricade had been built around the little town and its stables. Armed guards stood at the only gate into or out of the area and patrolled the streets within. Dragon handlers, dragons who had turned on their race in order to secure their own freedom long ago, flew circles overhead, their eyes peeled for suspicious activity.
Winds from the North: An NA Epic Fantasy (Blood of the Dragon Book 3) Page 3