by Dana Davis
Thad studied Xiath a heartbeat and thought about his dream. “I was attacked, Father Xiath. In the Netherworld. The woman wanted to know where the others were but I didn’t understand. She was searching for someone. She knew I was a youngling.” Though he didn’t know how the woman knew that.
Predula glanced at Xiath, Haranda, Wren and the others who now filled the cottage.
“Who attacked you?” Xiath wiped at his brow. “Did you see who did this to you?”
“Cass.” Thad immediately regretted that when the Gypsies began whispering. “No. She looked like Cass, but that woman wasn’t her. That a fact. And there was another. I didn’t see her face.”
He had never been attacked in his dreams. And he couldn’t pull from this one. Why?
“Youngling? Are you going to be ill?”
“No, Mother Predula. I was just trying to figure out how she held me. I know how to pull away from disturbing dreams.”
Another Gypsy, a true slumberer, could hold him in the Netherworld. His slumbering Energy was slight, so slight in fact, that Haranda wasn’t aware he possessed that aspect of the Energy when she first came across him in the Netherworld. And that was after they had arrived here.
“What did this woman look like, Thad?” Haranda stood next to Xiath, and though she was a tall woman, the father towered over her. “If she had enough Energy to hold you, she would have a Netherworld footprint.”
He hadn’t seen a footprint of any kind. Haranda and Wren had taught him how to see and recognize a Gypsy’s Netherworld print. He wasn’t strong enough in the slumbering Energy to see those of the servants. But that didn’t matter. Gypsy servants couldn’t harness the Energy. A servant couldn’t have beaten him in the Netherworld.
He shook his head. “No footprint, Mother Haranda. No glow around her. She a Gypsy, though. That a fact.” Predula placed tingling fingers on his temples. His eyelids felt heavy and weariness closed in on him like a giant wave. “Who was she?” He didn’t want to sleep. How was he to protect himself?
“He needs to rest.” Predula’s tone didn’t invite an argument from anyone.
“No,” Thad said in a slurred voice. “Can’t sleep. She’ll find me again.” He didn’t want another beating and fought in vain to keep his eyes open.
“You’ll do as you’re told, youngling,” Xiath said.
Thad might have winced at the tone if he had not wanted sleep so desperately.
“We’ll find you in your dreams,” Elder-Mother Siri told him. He even heard the tinkling of her numerous braid bangles. “No one will attack you again. We’ll see to that.”
He heard nothing else and soon found himself standing on the sand looking out to the great sea. The ocean waves crashed against the rocky pier. Panic flooded him when the shadows of three women appeared nearby and he turned abruptly, a knife materializing in his hand.
The white-haired woman’s hands went up in defense. “Thad, youngling, you had better put that knife away.” Gray eyes studied him and seemed to push right through his clothing. A white glow surrounded her and he thought for a heartbeat that she was a specter. No. Not a specter. A Gypsy. Memories became clearer as he saw the Netherworld footprint above her head, something she couldn’t hide. A green cactus. The woman next to her had a yellow daisy above her head. I’m slumbering.
“Haranda?” he said, and the dark eyes went cold. Something else he was supposed to remember. Oh, yes. “Mother Haranda. Mother Wren.” His eyes drifted to the third woman, who stood a ways back, as though she only came to observe. “And Elder-Mother Siri. Apologies.” His knife disappeared.
Haranda smiled warmly. “Accepted, youngling. We brought you here, remember?”
“That right. I remember now. You came here to help me find her. The woman who looks like Cass. She a danger.”
“Yes,” Wren said. “Is this where you saw her?”
“No.” His memories were hazy, as though his mind pushed through fog to retrieve them.
Haranda stepped to him. “Go slowly, Thad. You’re not a slumberer, remember? But I know you’re aware sometimes when you dream. We’ve worked together in the Netherworld, remember?”
“Yes. I know I’m dreaming but the waking world seems very distant.” He tried to remember his past. The beach began to change and soon he sat on a boulder near his childhood home.
“Thad! Thad!” a woman called, and he looked toward the cottage to see his mother. He stood. “There you are, my son.” She took quick steps toward him. She was very tall and he could only wrap arms around her thighs. His hands were small and dirty. She lifted him. “Your father’s on his way from the fields. You can help me in the kitchen.”
He hugged her neck and breathed deeply the scent of vanilla soap and roses. But this was wrong. His mother, his father, they were gone. Somewhere in the recesses of his mind he knew this. Suddenly, he was alone, except for the glowing women. “Muda?” Tears filled his eyes. Arms encircled him and he rested his head on Haranda’s shoulder.
She held him until the tears stopped then took his face in her hands. “My apologies, youngling. I wouldn’t intrude on such a dream but we need to find your attacker.”
Thad stood tall now with Haranda reaching his nose. “Yes.” His eyes went dry and the Tandiar River appeared to his left, running into the distance until it disappeared from sight in both directions. Three glowing women were here. I know them. “Mother Haranda. Mother Wren. Elder-Mother Siri.”
“Yes, youngling,” Wren said. “Please concentrate. Where did you see the woman?”
The woman? Cass. Yes, he had seen her here near the river. She had whipped him until he screamed for bloody mercy. “There.” He pointed to some winter-stricken bushes near a lip of the river. “She stood there.”
“Very good. Now, I want you to recreate an image of her. Can you do that?”
“I don’t want to do that, Mother Wren. No, I don’t want to see her.” The thought of the woman frightened him and soon he stood no taller than Haranda’s elbow.
The Gypsy knelt and took him firmly by the arms, her dark eyes probing his. “Thad. You listen to me. We need to find this woman, the one who attacked you. Now, you grow up and create an image of her.” He shook his head and those eyes hardened. “Do as I tell you, youngling. Grow and show us the woman.”
Thad jumped as a glowing hand swatted his skinny leg and he stared at Haranda. She raised her hand again and he quickly forced his adult mind to work. Soon, he stood as tall as Wren and focused on an image of his attacker. Cass appeared several paces from them with that bloody whip in her hand. For a heartbeat he wanted to run.
“Good, youngling. Hold that image. I want to take a closer look.” She stepped close with Wren on her heels and circled around the figure, her eyes looked the Cass image up and down. “Was there anything else? Anything you’ve forgotten to show us?”
“I don’t think so, Mother Haranda. That what I saw.”
Before he could even react, another image of Cass appeared behind Haranda and grabbed her around the throat. “Thank you, youngling,” this image said. “Off with you.” She waved a hand at Wren and Siri.
Wren opened her mouth but vanished. The Elder stood her ground and began to advance on the stranger who wore Cass’s face but the stranger disappeared, taking Haranda with her.
Thad cried out and started to run toward the fading image but found himself lying in a bed. Predula hovered over him. He sat up, gulping in breaths, and turned to see Haranda’s body quivering on Nym’s bed. “Mother Haranda!” He pushed past Predula and bolted toward her. Xiath stepped in his way and held him with strong hands. He tried to pull away but the man had a grip like a vice. “She in danger. That woman took her.” He glanced at Wren but she looked very disoriented.
“What?” Xiath shook him lightly.
“The woman, the one who looks like Cass, she appeared and grabbed Mother Haranda then disappeared with her. That a fact. Please, I have to help her. Mother Wren?” The woman didn’t answer and Finlor flew
to her side.
Siri was up now and crossed to Thad.
“I need to sleep again, Elder-Mother.” He dropped to the floor but Xiath quickly lifted him to his feet with amazing strength.
“You’ll do no such thing, youngling,” Siri said. “You’re not a slumberer.” She threw open the door of the cottage and called to someone outside. “Get Ved’nuri! Now!”
Thad watched as Predula made her way to Haranda’s still figure, sat on the edge of the bed, and placed hands on the woman’s forehead and throat. “Her body is still untouched. For now.”
Elder Finlor looked up from Wren. “Xiath, take the boy outside and make certain he doesn’t sleep.” His attentions went straight back to Wren.
Predula pointed a short finger at Thad. “You’ll let Ved’nuri handle this. You understand me?” Thad glanced at Haranda then Wren and back to Predula. The short mother stepped close and placed hands on her hips, putting her no higher than his elbow. Her wild hair seemed to fit her current temperament. “You’ll only make things worse for Haranda. Now are you going to do as you’re told or do you need to hear it from Ved’nuri when she arrives?”
That got Thad’s attention and he nodded. “Yes, Mother Predula.” He allowed Xiath to pull him from the cottage and winced as they passed Siri. The Elder stood as tall as Thad and held an unpleasant gaze on him.
The large man steered him to a table and forced him to sit. “Now, you and I will sit here and wait.”
Thad nodded but his thoughts were on Haranda and he couldn’t help but stare in the direction of his cottage. Helpless. A youngling in a grown man’s body.
Chapter 34
The floor was cold beneath Haranda’s bare feet and the wall frigid against her naked breasts. Attempts to change her surroundings with slumbering Energy had proved useless, and all she had to show for her efforts was a pounding headache. She couldn’t get back to her body, could do nothing but hold the Energy inside and wait for whatever was to come.
Wren was gone, had vanished before her eyes. And what of Thad and Elder Siri? The youngling certainly couldn’t protect himself here. His Energy wasn’t even strong enough to create slumbering images. What he did create in the Netherworld came from his own dreams and any middling could manage that. Though Elder Siri was the strongest slumberer, she had done nothing to save Haranda. Perhaps even she was no match for the stranger.
Panic threatened Haranda with each passing heartbeat and she had to concentrate to keep from screaming. She shivered and tried to free her hands but the shackles that bound her wrists were secure and the effort left her sweating, despite the cold. Since she faced a wall, she had to crane her neck to see behind her. The room was so dark she couldn’t make out even a shadow. But someone else was here. Shallow breaths found her ears and she listened closely. She would have sensed someone as soon as she took in the Energy had this been the mundane world, but the Energy worked differently in the Netherworld.
“Who are you?” she said after several heartbeats. “I know someone’s there.” She shivered again and steeled her voice as though talking to a stubborn youngling. “I said who’s there?” Her own breaths quickened but she pulled more Energy into her otherself and forced herself to calm. She still could nothing with the Energy beyond keep it inside. “You had better answer me. Do you know what the punishment is for harming a Gypsy this way?” She stood quiet again, listening, disturbed that she couldn’t see a footprint. She should be able to see one even in the dark.
“Gypsy?” a tiny voice said. Another woman.
“Yes, that’s right. I’m a Gypsy. And you will be punished for what you’re doing to me.”
“Not doing.” This time the voice was a bit stronger. “Please, Gypsy, help me.”
“Where are we? What is this place?”
“Nightmare. Please. Gypsy, help me.”
“I can’t help either of us if I don’t know where I’m or what I’m up against. You must remain calm.” That advice, she took for herself too. “Can you take in the Goddess Energy?”
“No. I’m not Gypsy. Please, they’ll be back soon. Don’t want to be beaten again.” She cried openly now.
Haranda’s heart raced. Beaten? Goddess help me. Where in the Netherworld am I? Why did her slumbering Energy not work here? She held the Energy but any power with it seemed useless. How was she being contained here?
Suddenly, a door flew open with a loud clang, and she whipped her eyes away from the assault of bright light. The woman near her wept and begged not to be taken. Haranda heard a slap and the other woman whimpered.
“Quiet, rat!” another woman said. “I’m not here for you. But if you continue to snivel, I’ll beat you again just for the fun of it.”
The whimpering woman fell silent. Haranda felt her shackles being removed from the wall. However, they remained on her wrists. Someone pulled her toward the door and she yanked her bound hands away, or tried to. Someone began striking the backs of her naked legs with a hard object, a cane perhaps, and she cried out as she fell to her knees.
Strong fingers pinched her chin and hot breath caressed her face. “Do that again, and I’ll beat you until you beg me for death.” Hands hauled her roughly to her feet and she realized there were two people here, not one. Her eyes still had trouble in the bright light, and she was pulled down a corridor and into another room before they began to adjust. Once she had her sight, she turned to see who held her. She sucked in a breath and stared. This couldn’t be.
“Look at me all you want, Gypsy.” The woman sneered at her. Or was it supposed to be a smile? “You won’t see my true face unless I allow it.”
Haranda saw a woman, looking not much older than she did, with cropped, brown hair and piercing blue eyes. Maitlin, a Gypsy servant, a warrior. The woman died long ago. Perhaps this was Maitlin’s specter. No. Specters didn’t attack the living. They didn’t have that ability, even in the Netherworld. This was an illusion, like what Thad saw.
“Why did you choose her?” Haranda narrowed eyes on her captor.
“She came up in one of your dreams.” Her hands plucked at the fringe along her warrior headband. “I like the way she looks.”
Haranda stifled a gasp. This woman had invaded a slumberer’s dreams! But how? Not even Ved’nuri would do that to a full Gypsy. Of course, any oathed slumberer would step into a wayward youngling’s dream to provide a lesson. But the crowned woman would seek out a Gypsy slumberer in the Netherworld, call to her, even order her to allow access, but not invade, unless the slumberer was badly injured or near death. Haranda didn’t think she was dying, and she always protected her dreams with the Energy. She would have felt an intruder. But then, she had been inside Thad’s dream. Though she didn’t know how she could have been so careless.
Another woman laughed behind her and she turned her head but didn’t get far. Her ears rang with a hard slap.
“You will look only at me, Gypsy,” Maitlin’s image said. “Or I guarantee you’ll wail like an infant before we even begin. Do you understand?” Fingers entwined Haranda’s hair and yanked her head back until she groaned. “You would do well to answer me, Gypsy whore.”
“I understand,” she managed. The fingers released her.
“Very good.” A metal pole appeared in front of them and the woman latched Haranda’s wrist shackles to it. Something bound her ankles and she stood naked and helpless against the cold metal.
“Why are you doing this? Who are you?”
“You will find out who I am when I wish it, Gypsy. As for why, well, we needed someone besides a youngling to use as an example, and you were near. You may have noticed that you hold the Energy but can’t use it.”
Haranda nodded and her heart pounded frantically with that thought.
“That’s because Gypsies have isolated themselves so well over the past centuries that you’ve forgotten things. Important things. You shun those you don’t think worthy of your world. But you will pay for that conceit, Gypsy. There are things you know nothing of
when it comes to the Energy, as you are about to discover.”
Before Haranda could ask another question a whip sliced across her back and she cried out. The next struck her buttocks then a third hit the backs of her legs. She sucked in breaths until she was able to speak. “What do you want to know? Why have you brought me here?” She was certain it would be a long while before this torture was over.
“I don’t need to know anything from you just now, Gypsy. You are an example. When I’m finished, I’ll send you back to your body. You will try to understand how I’ve done this to you but when Gypsies finally comprehend, the New Age will have begun and we will hold the reins.”
If Haranda had not been so afraid, this woman’s conceit would have annoyed her. “The New Age?” The woman hadn’t mentioned the ancient name of Teadai Ved’cosima. Perhaps she didn’t have access to copies of those texts. “Who are you? You harness the Energy. You must be a Gypsy too.” If she could distract the woman with talk, she would chatter until her voice gave out. If anything, she might delay the inevitable.
Maitlin’s image spat at her. “We are not filthy Gypsies. Soon, you will become our servants. As it should be.”
“Why? Who are you?” Goddess help her, she wished she could use the Energy! Alter this nightmare. Holding it did nothing to stop the pain either. What in the name of the Goddess was going on? How could the woman seize her like this?
“She has told you what you need to know,” the second woman said, and Haranda had nearly forgotten she was there. At first, she fought the urge to turn her head around but decided that if they were going to beat her anyway, she may as well get a glimpse. Quickly, she snapped her head in the direction of the woman’s voice and saw a short, black-haired figure with piercing yellow eyes before her head rang with another slap.
Fingers entwined in her hair. “I warned you,” Maitlin’s image told her.
“Wait!” the yellow-eyed one called out.