Then Dru exchanged a look with Celeste that had me giving them a questioning look. He explained, “The trail has opened to a well-traveled road. The brush has been cleared, and it resembles the mountain paths of the People.”
I looked around, I hadn't even noticed the trail widening. It did look like a well-traveled hard-packed road now. I could see those tracks from whatever scarred the land over the surface. They left impressions but hadn't destroyed the worn road like the loose soil on the other slope.
I was about to ask some questions when we heard the growling of some throaty beast deeper in the valley. The growl was getting louder by the second, and I wasn't the only one to draw a blade. I glanced around as we heard sharp cracks from the valley and then a man's agonized scream!
I was already charging down the road toward the scream before the others could get in motion. Celeste was calling out, “Laney, slow down, we go as a group.”
My heart was pounding in my chest, my pulse raging in my ears as I slowed, against every instinct pushing at me to go faster. They virtually surrounded me, and I doubted they even knew they were protecting me as we barreled through the forest, Sylvia trailing behind us. She was our most valuable member, being able to heal, so it was pounded into her that she was to stay behind us at all times during the mission.
We exploded into a great field to see four riders on horseback laying on their horses as they flew toward us at breakneck speeds. We saw why. As behind them was a metal monstrosity, not unlike the beasts in my visions, but much smaller and was moving on large wheels instead of tracks like the others had.
It was leaving a billowing black trail of smoke behind it, and it struck me that it looked similar to the horseless conveyances that we had unearthed at the Dig, only this was more crude and boxy. I winced when it ran over a man who was laying in the field covered in blood, a horse wandering nearby. That was unconscionable, you don't defile the body of a downed opponent.
We heard a couple cracks as something flashed in the hands of a man hanging out of the conveyance, and then one of the four riders cried out in agony and fell from their saddle, getting dragged by their horse. What magic was that!?
We gave our horses all the rein we could, and we raced into the grassland toward the enemy. I realized that there had been five riders. We were watching a Greva being ruthlessly hunted down. My blood seethed and boiled, and I could see my magics misting and sparking in my wake, leaving a blur behind me. I could feel the magic of the others rising to meet it, even from Sylvia behind us.
The riders approached us, their fearful eyes wide in disbelief as we went blazing past them toward the enemy, swords pointing, indicating our intent. The metal vehicle came straight at us, and I screamed a challenge. The staff in the man's hand cracked and burped fire, for an instant I thought I could taste metal speeding toward me then there was nothing. Complete and utter darkness, devoid of any sensation then I was gasping on Goliath's back as I snapped back five seconds to my present. I had died! Whatever magic they used had killed the future me in but an instant. What kind of power did they possess?
But I had tasted metal, so it wasn't magic as we knew it. I veered slightly and raised the flat of Anadele's blade in front of me. With an impact that took my breath away and almost tore my blade from my hand, something metal that tasted of lead to me, slammed Anadele into me. I could taste burnt oak as one of the luck charms burned off of my hunting cloak.
Then I understood, they were using some sort of chemical reaction to propel pieces of metal at us. I growled and sped ahead of my protectors lowering Anadele's tip toward the man, signaling my intent again. I was ready this time, and I was able to grab the projectile from the air as his weapon belched fire. I whipped it around me like a sling and politely returned the man's property to him.
With a gurgled cry the man's face erupted into a spray of blood, and he slumped, falling out the window, and his lifeless corpse rolled across the ground.
Celeste was standing atop Canter's back as the vehicle closed on us, when another man popped up from a hole in the roof of the contraption and started using one of those flash sticks, burping multiple projectiles at a startling rate in a cacophony of sound. I pulled the tiny pieces of metal to orbit me as my girl issued her battle cry and dove into the air. Green sparks of magic trailed her as she flipped in the air, her blade gleaming with the mix of the red glow of the setting sun and the emerald fire of her power rippling down its length, her red hair streamed behind her like a bleeding scar in the air itself.
That moment is seared into my memory, as in my mind, I watched a valiant knight of old diving without hesitation to slay a dragon.
With a thud accompanying the horrendous sound of armor plating being rent by her powered blade, and the crunching sound of breaking glass, she landed on the vehicle. Her momentum and strength carried her blade with both hands along the front of the beast and through the front window, embedding deep into the chest of the man who appeared to be controlling it.
She had a wicked gleam in her eyes as she did what she does best. I swallowed, knowing this was why the other knights of Sparo feared and respected my Celeste.
They rolled to a stop as the man atop the conveyance started swinging his flash stick at my girl.
Before I could unleash the swarm of captured projectiles which I had orbiting me upon the man, he went flying backward from the vehicle, a colorful gypsy arrow buried deep in his chest. Two other shafts joined it before the man even hit the ground. I glanced at Dru who had a fierce look on his face as he was nocking another arrow in his bow and gave him a nod. There wasn't anyone faster nor more accurate with a bow than our Alexandru.
We converged on the conveyance as Celeste broke out the glass, and pointed her sword into the vehicle as we started smashing the other windows with the hilts of our swords, not knowing how to get inside. We peered in and saw no other enemies and exhaled as we looked around. We had won the field.
Sheathing our weapons, we waited for the adrenaline of battle to burn itself off. I know it is wrong to take solace in anyone's death, but these men were killing defenseless people. I would bear the link of sin on my chain gladly in this case for the man I had just killed.
We started securing the area as the three riders approached us, their eyes wide in disbelief as the female at their center asked us in archaic Gypsy as they approached, their heads low in respect and their hands wide and empty to show no aggression, “You are of the touched? From Father Stone? Our Grevas made it back to Old Home?”
Celeste pulled the body from the conveyance and tossed it at her feet, not speaking. I knew her bloodlust was still riding high in her and she didn't wish to speak. That left it to me. I nodded solemnly. “I am Sora Laney of the Lupei, we have come from Father Stone to aid you.”
The woman stood tall and proud as a tear rolled down her cheek while the two men just stared at us in complete shock. She was squinting at me and offered as I blurred while I approached her, leaving a wispy trail of mist behind me. “I am Elaineia of the Cristea. Thank Mother Luna you have come.”
We had done it, we had just made contact with the lost band of the People. I swallowed as the three slid to the ground and took a knee in front of Goliath, the woman saying in reverence, “Sora.”
I looked at the tall, slim woman, her skin had a golden brown tone with the dark black curls that most gypsies had. Her slight figure, toned muscles, and callused hands showed she was no stranger to hard work. I liked that about the woman immediately.
Most notably, on her hip was an ancient looking thin curved blade, in the style Gypsies of old preferred. The sheath looked half decomposed, pieces of the leather brittle and flaking away, leaving the rusted and chipped blade exposed. She was a Femeie de Sabie? But the blade looked as if it had not been used nor cared for since long before this woman had been born to this world.
The Gypsy woman's thin lips were pulled tight, and her face was pinched in an odd combination of grief, and overwhelming relief as the th
ree stood.
Sylvia came marching past the lot of us on foot, speaking in exasperation as she went, “Yes yes, Sora Laney... blah blah blah. There is an injured man here, would anyone care to help? I swear, you're all children and have to be led by the hand.”
I had to smile widely at my semi-sister for her comedic timing. I was already sliding off of Goliath, with a little hop as I landed, as the other joined us as we headed to where the horse had stopped with the injured man it was dragging. I called after her, “Blah, blah, blah, Syl? Really?”
She chuckled. “Your Altii colloquialisms have infected me I'm afraid, my dear Laney.”
Celeste and Elaineia headed quickly through the field, which I had just realized was grain, back to retrieve the body of the other fallen Gypsy.
I glanced at the remaining men of the Cristea Greva, who were following me with reverence in their eyes. Mother Luna. I hung my head, preparing for a million questions.
But those could wait, as they seemed to be struck speechless watching silken sheets of wispy white magik explode from my sister healer as she arrived at the injured man, and Sylvia of the Lupei did what she did best.
Chapter 11 – Avalonians
After Sylvia was done healing the Cristea man, she turned her attention to Celeste's bleeding hands that had been cut on all the flying glass and metal shards from her attack.
As my girl protested, a losing battle, I watched as Elaineia and Alexandru wrapped the body of the fallen Gypsy man so very carefully. I could hear them murmuring quietly as they performed their macabre task, Dru then hefting the man to lash him to his horse.
I felt utterly useless and was fending off the questions from the others who wouldn't give me space. It was frustrating, and I didn't know why. I looked at the metal conveyance as I told the men, “There will be time enough to answer all your questions. But right now, I have a task to complete.”
I pulled a shovel that was fastened to the side of the vehicle next to a pick and a red metal can I assumed was water. Then I moved to the side and started digging. The men looked at me with wide eyes then back to Celeste. They protested to her, “But, they are Avalonians.”
My eyes were on the man I had killed while I dug his grave as my wife offered as if it explained the world, “It is who she is.”
I said to nobody in particular, “He may have done great evils in this life, but he was still a person. He may have had friends and family, and may have changed his life for the better if given time. But we will never know, as I stole from him what was not mine to take.” I was digging more and more violently as I spoke.
Then, to my surprise, first Elaineia, then the other two men were on their knees at the hole, helping to clear the rich, dark soil away with their hands. We didn't speak as we dug three shallow graves in the field of grain. The others started bringing stones to cover them once the graves were filled in. Celeste had gone back to the edge of the forest to bring me sticks when we found the men wore no blades. What kind of soldiers were they, marauders who used whatever they could lay their hands on for weapons? Or was it their flash sticks they relied upon in battle? They seemed quite lethal.
With a rock, I pounded the flash stick into the ground in front of the grave of the man I killed, did the same for the second with his bigger flash stick, he must have been the leader of these... Avalonians, having the larger weapon. Then I fashioned an arc with the sticks my Lady offered me and jammed the ends in the ground then hung the weapon belt the third man had been wearing, over it. It held a much smaller version of the flash sticks in a sheath.
I looked at our work, and the dirt on my good hand, my silk glove on the other still clean due to the Gypsy charms on it. That wasn't right. It should be dirty too, killing was not a clean thing, there should be a stain upon a person to show for committing the act.
I said toward Celeste, feeling like I needed to explain, “There should be something to mark a person's passing. To show that they lived. A soldier should always be buried with their blade if his body cannot be returned to his home. Whether their actions were vile or altruistic, they still deserve dignity in death, as we all do.”
Something inside of me must be broken, that it always hurts so much even though those I had struck down were trying to do the same to me and others. I wish I were stronger, like my Lady Celeste.
She wrapped an arm around my shoulders and kissed the top of my head. “Yes, yes they do.”
I took a moment to allow that feeling of strength, of protection that radiated from her to warm the darker recesses of my soul then I looked up at the darkening sky. The last tinges of red were fading into the blackish purple wines of the night. The light of the Three Sisters was now more brilliant. We were late!
As if she could read my thoughts, my red-headed Knight stiffened. “We've missed our check-in.”
We were all heading to our horses with intent as Elaineia called out, “Our village, Aratreya, is but a stone's throw away. You can shelter with us while we try to figure out how to hide their contraption.”
There were so many things in that statement that caused my mind to spin. Aratreya was the name of one of the Mountain Gypsy bands back in Sparo. They had named their village after them? And the fact that they lived in a village was just... wrong. Gypsies were travelers and never settled down in permanent structures, instead opting to watch the world change over the years in their oxen pulled wagons on the trails of the Whispering Walls.
I wondered the hardships the Cristea had weathered once they arrived in a new land. Did they create a village for protection from the wildlife? I wondered what sort of predators lived in the Westlands. So many things may be different for them here, and my curiosity was piqued. Damn my curiosity, one day it will be my downfall, I just know it. I grinned to myself as I added, 'but not this day.'
Celeste was shaking her head as she mounted and started Canter moving back to the forest. “We have protocol, our team needs to get back to camp before they send out search parties in the morning. We can return in the morning with our squads.”
The Cristea woman's eyes widened as my redheaded warrior spoke. “You have more of the People with you? We thought you a Greva.”
Celeste gave her a toothy smile that would make the Avalonian's blood run cold had they survived. “We have a little more than this Greva here. We Lupei represent the Mountain Gypsies of your ancestors here, we bring with us three full squads of Knights of Sparo to your aid.” She expounded, “A group of the Altii, who found Father Stone after the Cristea journeyed out upon their expedition.”
Then she smiled, showing teeth, the smile that meant bad things to come for the enemies of the Cristea. “Twenty four fully armed and armored knights on horseback.”
She didn't react the way we had expected. Her face, while hopeful, looked resigned. “If only that were enough. It was but forty Avalonians who had taken the whole of New Home, and have enslaved all three thousand of our clan, extracting the black pitch for them. They have metal beasts of magic that have slaughtered our greatest hunters as if they were of no consequence. We lost over a hundred and fifty in the first hour of combat, they lost but one man.”
But then she brightened a bit as she looked back at the graves. “You've done what none of us could. You've brought down Avalonians and stopped one of their mechanized beasts with ease. You... are of the touched! The magiks of our ancestors have been lost to us for so very long, we thought it just bedtime stories told to keep children entertained.”
My mind was racing with questions in rapid fire. Just forty of these men? These Avalonians had taken on three thousand people and won the field with but a single loss? There was no magik in the Westlands? Was it truly Father Stone that blessed Sparo with the power of the elements?
And I noted none of the Cristea Greva had a blade except Elaineia. They had bows and hunting knives, but nothing else. And they didn't even wear the light leather armor of Gypsy warriors.
Then it hit me. They were farmers, hunters, and gatherers
and were but a single family. They had no need for warriors here in this crater paradise, as they had no enemies.
My rage seethed and roiled just below my skin, my magic rising. These Avalonians brought war down upon farmers! Had they no honor? It made my heart heavy knowing that a community that had never known the violence that fellow man was capable of inflicting upon his neighbors were now suffering. She had said they were enslaved. Even serfs and commoners had some freedoms in Sparo, we were never enslaved.
Celeste prompted, “Come with us, our camp is at the gap in the ridge, not even an hour to the east. We can travel to your village in the morning. We have so many questions as I am sure you do as well.”
Elaineia hesitated, looking back then toward us and as she started to take a step to her horse, one of the other men, whom I still didn't know their names, gave a single word of worried warning, “Sora.”
We all spun to her as one, my eyes wide in shock. “Sora? You're the Sora of the Cristea, Elaineia? And you're putting yourself in danger on a suicide run with your Greva?”
She almost growled back at me, her cheeks red with a blush over being outed that way, “I will have no others die for us, doing what should be done by those the People look to for answers.” Then she got a sly look as she smiled at me. “And are you not a Sora yourself? Yet you are here to aid us? Putting yourself in danger.”
Celeste chuckled, “She has you there, love.”
I snapped back trying not to smile, “Zip it, SORA Celeste.”
This got the three Cristea men bowing to my Lady, and Elaineia actually giggling. “How many Soras are there in the Old Home at Father Stone?” She looked at Syl and Sara. “I suppose you two are Soras too?”
Sarafine laughed out loud, tipping her head back, then said, “Thank the Three Sisters, no. I have a life of my own.”
Sylvia shook her head in the negative.
I had to pause a moment, Sylvia had actually been the acknowledged successor of Mother Udele once upon a time until I literally and figuratively fell into the lives of the Lupei band and Celeste had accidentally made a blood bond between Udele and our house. So she had been the unofficial Sora of the Lupei at that time. We never spoke about it with Sylvia, but I have wondered from time to time if she ever begrudged us that. But all she and her family have ever given us was unconditional love and support, which we returned in kind.
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