Rogue Beyond the Wall

by Giselle Jeffries Schneider

  She offered him a smile.

  “I’m sorry, by the way,” Manfri resumed, pulling away. “You needed someone to talk to and I got upset. Took your words personally and abandoned you.”

  Isaiah looked about the interior of the wagon, making sure he truly was awake and it was still daytime, and then awkwardly rose onto his elbows with a grunt. His entire body trembled and shivered, and there was sweat trailing down his temples. Then he shook his head. He couldn’t continue on this journey with the gypsies having them believe they insulted him when it had been the other way around. “It is I who should apologize. It is all on me. Forgive me.”

  “My friend,” Manfri clasped his shoulder, “you had all the right to say the things you said. You were upset and hurting in a way I couldn’t understand, which my sister...” He gestured to Theodosia. “… explained to me. Let me make it up to you.”

  He chuckled. It was unavoidable as he should have seen that response coming after four days with the caravan.

  “I had Sabina bake a cake. It should be ready soon.”

  “A cake?” Isaiah looked between brother and sister.

  “It is nothing extravagant,” Manfri explained further. “It is for your birthday and the best we can offer. Then my family wants to do a special circle for you.”

  A sigh escaped, but he nodded.

  Eternity (Isaiah)

  The gypsies grouped around Isaiah as he sat once more in his spot before the fire. There was Sabina, the eldest of the group with her salt and pepper hair, carrying a cake large enough to serve one slice to each person. On either side of the woman arrived Manfri and Theodosia, who Isaiah suddenly realized were the youngest in the group when a few more clustered in who were about his own age.

  “Today is a wonderful day,” Manfri began as the last member of the small caravan squeezed into a spot, blocking the last bit of heat from the fire. “Today is our good friend, Isaiah’s, thirty-sixth birthday.”

  Cheering erupted. Some clapping. Isaiah blushed, never having been caught on the spot like this before. Manfri had simply said cake and a circle, so he assumed it was that thing they did around the fire as they clasped hands.

  “As is custom, we will go around and say one good thing about him.”

  Isaiah met Manfri’s gaze just as the gypsy man grinned wider.

  “I shall start. Isaiah…”

  He gulped, strangely nervous and excited at the same time. It bubbled up through his insides like lava.

  “… you are a very compassionate human being. The most, I must add, than I have ever met in my life.”

  “Isaiah,” Sabina jumped in, her voice like sand, “you are the handsomest man I have ever laid eyes on. It is too bad we didn’t meet sooner.”

  Laughter.

  Isaiah’s cheeks burned a deep red.

  “Isaiah,” Theodosia picked up, killing the laughter slowly, “you are a far greater father than you think. Nicholas is very lucky to have you in his life.”

  “Isaiah…” came the next person in the circle.

  He motioned to follow the pattern, a tightness across his chest joining the nervous and excited pressure in his gut, but then snapped back to Theodosia when he realized what she had said. And that it hadn’t been in her voice.

  “… you are the most…” continued the next gypsy.

  But the words trailed off as Theodosia smiled deep into brown eyes. Not green eyes. And it wasn’t her smile either but Seraphina’s. It took all his strength not to react, and before he knew it he was holding his breath.

  “… the way you desire to set aside everything to help someone else is amazing.”

  Isaiah mentally shook his head, noting the person who finished speaking wasn’t the same as who started, and blinked.

  Theodosia’s eyes went back to green, the gold just visible.

  “Isaiah…” picked up the next gypsy in line.

  He shot around to face the one who spoke this time, it only occurring to him then that no one had used Master, but once more he didn’t catch what was said as his mind wandered back to Theodosia.

  She is not gifted, so what did I witness?

  Then he at last landed on Manfri again, who clapped his palms together and gave them a rub. An almost maniacal expression crossed his features.

  “Now for some cake.”

  Sabina bent down daintily with that and placed the cake on the ground, producing plates and a knife she had hidden underneath. Then she prepared a slice and handed it up. “For our birthday man,” she winked.

  Isaiah lifted the plate and gave the dry cake a whiff, not recognizing it from sight. Unfortunately, smelling it didn’t help, either.

  “Oat cake,” Sabina supplied. “I added cloves and ginger for flavor.”

  That explained it. Isaiah never had oat cake in his life. Never even served it to his own children. It was the dessert of the lower-class. “Thank you,” he answered, nonetheless, and then accepted the slice and took a bite, honestly discovering it to be more delicious than anticipated.

  That was when more cheering and clapping erupted, and Sabina filled the remaining ten plates.

  “I hope today turns out much better for you, friend,” Manfri interjected as he slipped in at his side. Isaiah had no idea when the gypsy had left his original spot. Then the man swooped an arm around his shoulders and gave a squeeze. “There is so much ahead of you. Life will truly surprise you.”

  “I doubt that,” Isaiah replied as he went for another bite and savored the unique flavors.

  Manfri simply blinked. It was a surprise his smile didn’t waver.

  “As a middle-class sorcerer,” Isaiah resumed, trying to swallow and talk at the same time. “I have thirty years left at the most, whereas a normal middle-class man would be lucky to scrape up another fifteen to twenty. Not much more can surprise me in that time.”

  “Aww,” Manfri gave him another squeeze, rocking him nearly out of his seat, “don’t say that. You’ll live on for eternity.”

  Isaiah choked on his next bite, sending his fork clattering, and Manfri slapped him on the back until the piece went down. Then he worked to clear his throat as he gave an aghast look at the gypsy at his side.

  “At least in name,” Manfri corrected.

  His eyes watered as he breathed in, failing to have cleared his throat properly, and adjusted his sight once more to see, as usual, no aura.

  “Think about that. You may die, but your name will live on. Your deeds. Your views. Your son. Your daughter-in-law. Your granddaughter.”

  Granddaughter! His eyes bugged out of their sockets.

  “Or grandson,” Manfri shrugged like it was no big deal. “Big family to carry your legacy. Therefore, you will live for eternity.”

  Now Isaiah didn’t know what to think of Manfri and Theodosia. The gypsy caravan. They weren’t gifted, nor were they magical beings. Yet Manfri seemed to predict the future and Theodosia… Well, Isaiah didn’t know what to think of what he had seen with the sister.

  Eyes just don’t change colors like that. And I had felt like I was looking at Seraphina.

  “Eat up,” Manfri continued as he released him and picked up the plate that had been placed on his lap. “A cake like this doesn’t come by every day.”

  So Isaiah reclaimed his fork, his thoughts on an eternal life. Literal or not.

  It’s Time (Isaiah)

  The gypsies livened up. They were laughing, chattering, mingling. Their true personalities were showing through as the flames lit up their faces in the grey afternoon. Isaiah hadn’t seen much of their customs over the course of his time with them so far, though there were traces of it, so it was pleasant to witness now. Watching them all have fun in such a casual way, in the middle of nowhere.

  Four days closer, he realized then. And now he was just before the border of Roupan. About half a day away.

  That was when a nudge got him in the side and he looked over to see Manfri smiling with
his cheeks full. So he grinned back, teeth showing.

  Finally Manfri swallowed his clearly large bite and chuckled. “I have caught you relaxing.”

  Now he had to wonder if his mood had affected them all.

  Manfri set down his plate and stood up. “You know, I do believe parties require dancing.”

  He cocked his head. “There is no…”

  “Music,” Manfri finished with a chuckle.

  Isaiah chuckled as well, though he was sure his answer had been obvious.

  Manfri gestured to his family. “We all play instruments. He turned to them here. “Family!”

  Everyone stopped and looked as Manfri reached into his cloak and pulled out a flute. “Music!”

  The chattering exploded as everyone reached into their own cloaks and pulled out wind instruments or rushed to their wagons. Isaiah wasn’t sure what to do now.

  “Master Isaiah,” Manfri redirected then with a bow, “what would you like to hear?”

  He spread out his palms and shrugged, every feature on his face expressing how he felt inside. “Surprise me, my good man.”

  Manfri twisted about as everyone took up a position around the fire. “You heard him! How shall we surprise him?”

  “I suggest the song of the ancients!” a gypsy named Vadoma called out from the left.

  “I concur!” Django spoke up from the right.

  Everyone else mumbled their agreement.

  “Then so…”

  “Brother,” interrupted Theodosia.

  Isaiah turned, wondering where the gypsy woman had been this entire time and what instrument she played, and found her clutching a bag to her chest. She looked faint.

  “It’s time, isn’t it?” Manfri responded.

  And the mood fell just like that. It hadn’t even had a chance.

  Not Understanding (Isaiah)

  “Time for what?” Isaiah inquired as he looked back up at Manfri. The gypsy man’s features weren’t that far off from his sister’s – he appeared ready to faint as well.

  No explanation came. Manfri simply looked around at his family, who had frozen where they stood or sat. It seemed to take a lot of contemplation, though. Then he inhaled shakily and let all the air out in billowy plumes that drifted away dramatically.

  “Manfri?” Isaiah ventured further, a hesitation of his own grabbing his gut. Something told him he should be worried.

  Then the gypsy man redirected to face him.

  “I fear we won’t get that chance, brother.” Theodosia’s words repeated in his mind. That was what she had said when discussing not hearing from Nicholas that first morning.

  “I know you are afraid, but we all have a purpose here,” Manfri had responded.

  He watched the gypsy man swallow, chest rising difficultly, and struggle with his next words.

  That is what he meant when he said he let half of his family go to protect them. Something is about to happen, and they know it. And suddenly he, himself, had the desire to vomit.

  “I am afraid our journey together has been cut short, friend,” Manfri finally answered, although flatly. “You will be leaving with my sister from here.”

  Isaiah stood up, not truly thinking the actions through, and found every inch of his being fighting him in every way possible. It hurt to try to fight back, to relax, to do anything at all. “I don’t understand,” his voice quivered noticeably.

  Manfri gulped and licked his lips, but then threw out his arms and leaped forward. There was no time to think about what was happening until Isaiah found himself squished in the gypsy man’s arms. “It was a pleasure to meet you, Master Isaiah,” he whispered in his ears from there. “Father to the Victory of the People. You are a true friend. A true gift to this world. One day we will see each other again.” There was one last squeeze, and then he let go just like that to reveal tears flowing over his face that hadn’t been there seconds ago.

  “Come,” Theodosia attempted to say casually as she gripped his arm. But she was crying, too. “I have supplies for us. We should be able to make it across the border by the end of the day if we move now and don’t stop. A caravan will be waiting at the other side.”

  His chest proceeded to drum as Theodosia somehow coaxed him around and led the way from the fire. From the other gypsies in the clearing. Snow crunched to fill the silence that had fallen.

  Then the trees surrounded them what felt like seconds later. The beginning of a terrifying nightmare where he was sure he would see his son’s lifeless form any moment.

  That was when Theodosia’s arm wrapped around his waist and reminded him that he was awake. Awake in a very real nightmare where he couldn’t speak or think loudly or else they would die.

  That’s it. We are all going to die. I am never going to see my son again. My son won’t even know what happened to me. I should have responded back to his last two letters. Told him what I was doing and how much I love him.

  “Don’t worry, friend,” Theodosia’s voice came low. “You and Nicholas will be reunited. I swear on my life.”

  More silence followed as the gypsy woman guided him deeper, further away from the fire that filled the air. He could smell the wood burning, hear each spark crack. They mingled melodically with the crunching under their booted feet.

  He was waiting for another sound, though. A different sound. What that was exactly, he wasn’t sure. It was something that would either confirm his fears or satisfy his desire to be wrong.

  Then a horse neighed. Several were close behind. Many sets of hooves could be heard thumping the frozen earth.

  That’s nothing. Each wagon has at least two horses.

  “You!” boomed a deep, terrifying voice.

  Isaiah expected the branches to shake and drop snow over them as his nerves jolted and his heart leaped into his throat.

  “Where is that son of yours?”

  Son? He visualized Nicholas casting an illusion charm. These men, bounty hunters or whatever they were, not recognizing him as they searched.

  A mumbled response came quickly and Isaiah strained to listen, but no matter how hard he tried he couldn’t make out a single syllable.

  “You’re a liar! You have one last chance, though! Hand over the young man, and his father, or else!”

  Another muffled response.

  “Burn it all down! Spare no one!”

  His body spun of its own accord. This wasn’t going to happen when he could stop it. Save an entire caravan. A family.

  Except he was jerked back around by a hand a lot stronger than expected and hauled into a run.

  Run (Isaiah)

  Isaiah’s feet fumbled through the snow that had managed to pack within the forest trees. The gypsy woman had a hold of his wrist pretty tight and was moving at an alarming rate. He didn’t think anyone, woman or not, could move like that through such terrain.

  “Theodosia…” he gasped, trying to keep up and not fall.

  “There is nothing you can do,” she responded. “They will kill us if we go back. We must keep going.”

  He slipped, falling face first into the snow, and hollering drifted over. The men sounded to be riding their way, and it sent his thoughts to racing along with his heart.

  Then Theodosia’s hands groped under his arms and hauled him to his unsteady feet, leaving him wondering how Nicholas escaped all alone.

  “Over here!”

  The thumping of hooves reverberated against the trees. The branches shook, sending snow falling as he had predicted earlier.

  “We have to find shelter,” Isaiah pleaded. “We can’t outrun them, and I am not as young as I used to be.”

  It didn’t appear as though Theodosia heard. She simply snagged his wrist once more and took off with him in tow. “They will find us,” she replied, not panting even a little. “We must keep going.”

  Each particle of snow as it crunched and swished and flew was terrifyingly just as loud as the hoof falls. S
o he glanced through the trees for any type of escape… or shelter… to keep from looking back. From ultimately slowing them down.

  But it ended up being Theodosia who finally grunted and dove head first into the earth, taking him down with her and sending him tumbling through a mesh of white and brown. Sparks of gold and red even shot by.

  He looked back with a quick twist as he rose to his hands and knees, the dim daylight hitting everything from their location to kingdom come. The men were just within sight, a fire burning the forest beyond them and sending smoke into the grey sky that was beginning to release sprinkles of flakes. Then he shoved up onto his feet.

  Only Theodosia didn’t follow. She remained face down in the snow, an arrow between her shoulder blades.

  “No!” He shot back down, broke the cursed arrow in half, and turned her over. Then he braced her head as her beautiful eyes danced into darkness.

  “Go, Isaiah,” she choked, taking up his palm before he could brush the hair and snow from her face.

  “I got one!” a man hollered.

  They were much closer. He could feel them in the earth.

  “Go…” And then she was gone.

  Tears spilled, but he pushed away, finding something had been slipped into his palm, and grabbed the bag.

  “He’s running again! Shoot!”

  It took nothing to twist once more, wave his hand, and feel the arrows bounce off his charm.

  Keep going, he told himself. They want you to keep going.

  Only the bounty hunters were on his tail. One of the horses was breathing down his neck.

  “Grab him!”

  A hand brushed the back of his coat, and he fell.

  Didn’t See It (Brida)

  A scream Brida didn’t think she could ever make, dead or alive, burst out. Then her hands flew over her ears and her lids snapped shut. Her thoughts were everywhere – on the gypsies burning without a fight, to Theodosia being shot down, to her father making a run for it. Haven flashed by, the pond at the monastery. Both her father’s and Nicholas’ faces smiled at her despite it all.