Gypsy's Quest

by Nikki Broadwell

  “It must have been around ten years ago. ‘Kafir’ is a sort of nickname—it means an infidel, one who does not believe in Allah or God. It is a very derogatory word in Islamastan. It fits me since I believe in many gods and goddesses and in a power that is far beyond our understanding. There is no label to encompass what the universe contains.”

  “I would have to agree with you,” I said, noticing the darkness that seemed to come over him as he perused the past. I knew nothing of his life beyond the moment he dropped me off along the shores of North Carolina and sailed away. “Where’s Islamastan?”

  “That’s what the Middle Eastern countries are now called. The re-naming happened after relations between nations grew peaceful, that is until resources ran out.”

  I tried to wrap my mind around the idea of all those warring countries getting along. “So, what’s happening now?”

  Kafir shook his head. “The weapons technology is sophisticated and undetectable—tiny nanobots and chemicals placed in the food and water kill quickly and very effectively.” Kafir stared into the distance. “The world as a whole is less safe now than during your timeline. There is rampant slave trade and black market dealing in all the cities, which makes them unsafe for anyone who isn’t heavily armed and a skillful fighter. To be safe people live on small islands or in remote communities. Fell is one of these.”

  I thought of the Iraq war, the continuing conflicts in Africa, Afghanistan, the wars in Egypt, Syria and Lebanon, and the never-ending Israeli/Palestinian debacle. It was strange to think of it still going on so many years later. But then again the world had grown smaller with over-population, global warming and the greed that led to an utter lack of concern for the earth. I had hoped things would change but obviously they hadn’t, despite several nuclear disasters. I felt sick for a moment as the immensity of my situation dawned on me. I was stuck in the future without my child. Without Kafir’s help I might never get home.

  “If we find Gunnar we’ll leave immediately. There will be no time for resting or eating if we are to make it to the southern ruins before dawn.”

  “You said if we find Gunnar. What if we don’t?”

  Kafir didn’t turn around to answer but a slight shake of his head told me he wasn’t as sure as he seemed. “We’ll go on alone.”

  ***

  “Who goes there?” The booming voice seemed to emanate from all around us.

  “It is Kafir, and I travel with a woman.”

  A second later a tall gaunt man appeared, striding quickly to Kafir, his arms wide. Gray hair lay in tangles down his back, a long beard of the same color reaching below his collarbones. He wore a shirt and pants dyed in several shades of green that reminded me of the play of shadows beneath the trees, and around his neck a green snake coiled, its yellow eyes focused on me.

  “What is your purpose here?” he asked, releasing Kafir. “ Ella is with another and the animals are long gone from these parts,” he continued, his puzzled glance going to me.

  Kafir seemed to stiffen for a moment, his eyes flicking toward me. “We search for Gertrude’s child who has been abducted by the sorceress.”

  “Ah.” He nodded, running his fingers through his beard as the snake slithered downward, ending up on the ground where it twined around his legs for a moment before moving into the undergrowth. “The sorceress has recently brought her son back from the dead.”

  “What?” I stared at him.”Brandubh is…”

  He turned his deep-set gray eyes on me. “The father of your child.”

  “How do you know that?”

  When Gunnar smiled it was like looking at a much younger man. “Has Kafir not let you in on my secret?”

  “He told me you were a druid, but…”

  “Yes, and a very old one. There is not much that escapes me these days.” He chuckled and then glanced at Kafir. “I know why I haven’t seen you, Kafir, but it still saddens me.”

  “We’ll have time to talk if you’re willing to do what I ask.”

  “Accompany you to the ancient city of Amalthea.”

  Kafir nodded. “We could use your skills.”

  Gunnar turned away, slipping into the trees like smoke.

  “Should we follow him?”

  “No. We’ll wait here. He’s very private about his home.”

  It was only a few minutes before he reappeared, a leather pack and a bow on his back, a quiver of arrows at this belt and a walking stick in his hand. Beside him was an enormous shaggy gray-brown dog.

  He motioned with a hand gesture, striding away from us, the dog following. Kafir hurried after him, leaving me behind. I tried to hear their mumbled conversation and then gave up, instead turning my thoughts to Rifak, his sweet face in my mind like a beacon shining in the distance. I tried to keep all negativity at bay but it was hard to do.

  We walked for hours, going up and down wooded hills and through boggy meadows filled with mosquitoes and little bugs that flew around my face and into my eyes. The heat increased the further inland we went, the humidity a heavy suffocating blanket. I pulled off my sweater, stuffing it into my pack and wishing my skirt were light cotton instead of wool. Perspiration trickled down between my breasts, itching and uncomfortable. When I stopped to remove another layer of clothing Kafir looked back. “Are you all right?”

  I nodded, glancing through the thick branches at the darkening sky. “Are we close?” I pushed a strand of damp hair behind my ear.

  “Not far now. Gunnar knows a place to stay the night. We’ll eat and sleep a few hours before we go any further.”

  When we finally reached the clearing, Gunnar put his pack down close to the well-used fire pit, reaching in to retrieve three apples, a wedge of cheese and some nuts. “Go catch a rat,” he told the dog, who obediently trotted off into the trees.

  Kafir lit a candle, placing it on the ground between himself and Gunnar and then sat down next to me. “I’m sorry for ignoring you. I’ve been discussing strategy with Gunnar and making a loose plan of attack.”

  “I didn’t mind. Did you bring along the sage?”

  Kafir seemed perplexed for a moment before noticing the swell of my undershirt, nodding in comprehension. “I would suggest expressing some milk. I should have mentioned this back when we first left Fell. After this much time it could be painful. I also have jasmine flowers to add to the tea.”

  I stared at him. Why hadn’t I thought of this simple solution? “You should have been a healer.”

  He raised one eyebrow. “This is common knowledge. It was your timeline with its drug-filled consciousness that crushed out anything natural.”

  “I suppose you’re right but it seems strange to be in the year 2450 and be brewing tea over a wood fire and adding dried herbs instead of swallowing some miracle pill that could take care of the problem in a few minutes.”

  Kafir chuckled. “That was a big part of what led to the demise of civilization—too much reliance on pills and too many chemicals in the water and genetically modified food. In 2030 your country’s government took over the herbal companies, replacing anything natural with products produced by big pharma. I’m sure you are well aware of Monsanto and the rise of genetically altered food. Unless people grew their own, herbs were illegal and impossible to find. Other countries took longer to follow this path but with financial pressure they eventually came around. With big business in control people lost their trust in nature and stopped believing in their inner wisdom, their connection to the divine. Instead they trusted the word of doctors and statistics.”

  “How do you know all this?”

  “Eat,” Gunnar ordered, before Kafir could answer, pointing to the food he had placed on a wooden plate. “We still have a lot of traveling to do tonight.”

  There was silence for a while as we concentrated on our food. A few minutes later Kafir said, “I guess you might call me an historian. Gypsy and I have traveled through many timelines and I’ve kept a lengthy journal.”

  “I know I asked this be
fore, but since we know all this now, can’t something be done?”

  “Anything is possible, but it would take a movement. People go along with things for a long time before they realize what’s happening. Have you heard of the frog in warm water story? If you put a frog in warm water and raise the temperature very slowly it will boil to death.”

  “That’s awful.”

  Kafir nodded in agreement, picking up another piece of cheese as I tried to get that image out of my mind. He was right. People were too involved in their own lives to register small changes. I let the thoughts go, getting up and heading under the trees to remedy my problem. Kafir was right. It hurt so much that I almost couldn’t do it, but at the end I felt significant relief. Tears filled my eyes as I thought about what the milk was for and how it would soon dry up.

  “For what purpose would Adair and Brandubh burn down a village?” I asked Gunnar when I returned. “Ella said they came with their torches and their dogs in the middle of the night. They killed nearly everyone.”

  “I’ve heard the sorceress is involved with Loki. Possibly it was his trickery that led to the burning,” Gunnar answered. “He’s known for doing things without a reason. It could merely have been his desire to see flames.”

  “Who is Loki?”

  “A trickster god who can shapeshift.”

  I saw him for just an instant—huge with red hair and dark frightening eyes. I shivered, my gaze going to the druid sitting cross-legged on the ground, his walking stick next to him. I had a feeling the crooked piece of wood with the intricate symbols carved into the top did more than help him keep his balance. I braided my filthy hair absentmindedly, pulling it over one shoulder to keep it off my sweat-covered neck. “I can’t stand these heavy clothes anymore,” I announced. “Sorry if you think it’s indecent, but…” I pulled off my skirt first and then my long-sleeved top, rolling them into a ball and stuffing them into my pack. Underneath I wore the loose cotton ‘chemise’ that was considered an undergarment here. With the lace-up top and loose skirt hanging to below my knees, it would be considered acceptable summer attire in the States, but here it seemed risqué.

  “I see you wear the sign of the triple goddess,” the druid said. “It is a potent and protective symbol. Where did you get this one?”

  I reached up, my fingers closing around my necklace. “I think Brandubh gave it to me.”

  “Hmm,” Gunnar said, turning back to his cheese.

  Kafir pointed toward the plate. “You need to eat.”

  I didn’t feel hungry but I picked up the cheese, biting off a hunk and washing it down with the doctored tea. It was hard to want food with my stomach roiling with nerves. I knew about mastitis and hoped fervently this wouldn’t happen since there were no antibiotics here. We were so close now—maybe, just maybe we would find him before my milk dried up. Tears welled and before I could stop them they were trickling down my cheeks. Ordinarlily I was not a person who cried easily, but now tears seemed to come several times a day.

  Kafir misunderstood the reason for my tears, leaning over to whisper in my ear. “This man is more powerful than you can imagine.”

  “I hope you’re right.” I lay down next to the fire since the night had brought a welcome coolness. Kafir lay close by but he didn’t touch me. I thought about Ella and how they had spooned, their ruddy skin tone and light-colored hair color so similar. Despite being at least a decade apart in age they looked as though they belonged together. My baby’s father was a horrible man. An enormous sadness enveloped me before I drifted to sleep.

  ***

  “Time to go.”

  Gunnar’s baritone brought me abruptly out of sleep. I sat up rubbing my tired eyes and wondered how long we’d been resting. It was completely dark with no moon and no stars to break up the inky blackness. Kafir’s candle had long since burned out. When I didn’t see Kafir I had a moment of fear. Had he decided to go to Ella and leave me with the druid? But before panic set in he appeared from under the trees. I took his cue, heading away from camp to relieve myself. When I got back the two men were conversing in low tones.

  “What about tea?” I asked.

  “No time for that,” came Gunnar’s curt reply. The druid gestured for us to follow him, heading down a narrow path. The dog had come back sometime after I was asleep and now followed close at the druid’s heels.

  I caught up with Kafir, putting my hand on his arm. “What’s the plan?” I whispered.

  “Once we get close enough we’ll try and draw them out. Amalthea is still several miles away.”

  “And what’s my role?”

  “When the time comes Gunnar will give you directions.”

  I peered ahead to the druid’s straight back. I didn’t know this man, had no intuition about him at all. He seemed emotionless and staid but then again he was four hundred years old or possibly older. I had to assume that Kafir’s trust was well placed.

  Time went by slowly, our footfalls and an occasional screech from an invisible bird the only sound. Climbing vines and thick undergrowth blocked our way, the humidity pressing against my skin the deeper we traveled. Darkness had been replaced with occasional slanting sunlight, and, as if on cue, the bugs rose around us, swarming and stinging. Red welts rose on my arms and legs, the itching intolerable. Every so often I glimpsed the silver shine of something between the branches but Kafir was walking next to the druid now and I couldn’t question him.

  “We’re at the outskirts of Amalthea,” Gunnar whispered a few minutes later. “Follow as quietly as you can.”

  It was another ten minutes or so before we emerged in front of a building at least seven stories high. In the early dawn light I studied the vine-covered towers that rose menacingly above us, obliterating our view. They were similar to what I was used to in any modern city, but these were made of an impervious shiny metal that reflected the green of the trees. Squares of darkness remained where the window glass had been removed, an unnerving contrast against the metallic gleam. Gunnar led the way to a small recessed door in one of the towers, pulling it open carefully. When he and the dog disappeared into the dark I reached for Kafir.

  “Gunnar knows what he’s doing.” Kafir gently removed my hand, his eyes meeting mine for a moment before he disappeared after the druid.

  I looked around at the massive trees, their roots twisting in thick ropes above the ground. Vines covered their trunks, weaving in and out of the branches and hanging down like virescent snakes. There was a feeling of desolation and emptiness emanating from this abandoned place. It took me five seconds to decide to follow Kafir, closing the door behind me with a decisive thump.

  Inside Gunnar had found light because the hallway was clearly revealed. It looked like any other hallway in a modern building except there was nothing left of the carpeting besides a few colored threads among the moldy remnants, trailing vines, lichen and mold criss-crossing the walls. An underlay of chemical came through the smell of damp and decay.

  When I caught up with Kafir I noticed light radiating from the tip of Gunnar’s walking stick. We went through a door and up three flights of stairs before Gunnar headed into another hallway leading us to the end of the hall. Like all the others the circular room was missing windows, but light streamed in, making it seem more welcoming.

  “This is our safe place,” Gunnar announced, pointing his stick out as he turned in a circle. “From here we can observe the movements of the sorceress and her son and decide our approach. If at any time we become separated return here.”

  My stomach tightened. “All I see are trees. How can you…?” but before the question was out of my mouth Gunnar had removed a cylindrical object from his sleeve and was heading toward a window.

  “Kafir, do you want to take a look?”

  I waited my turn but when I pressed my eye against the end of the telescope there was nothing but green. “Where are they?”

  “Not where I had expected,” came Gunnar’s terse reply. “Merlin and I will scout around
.”

  Gunnar and the dog headed out the door and Kafir followed, only turning back to say, “Do not leave these walls.”

  “How long will you be?” I called, but the door had already closed.

  I sat huddled by the window watching the movement of the sun across the sky. I had to pee and to do that I had to leave this room. Finally when there was no more choice involved, I opened the door, slipping into the hall. I worked my way down the unlit hall, opening each door I came to. My eyes had adjusted to the lack of light but when I opened the door into the bathroom and it closed behind me, I panicked, taking off my sandal to prop it open. The normalcy of the stainless steel toilet against the wall was reassuring but I knew the plumbing was long gone. I pressed the handle down anyway, surprised when a whoosh, reminiscent of airplane toilets, took away the liquid. Afterward the sink was tantalizing but when I turned the modern-looking silver handle nothing happened.

  I left the bathroom, removing my shoe and letting the door hiss shut behind me. The hallway looked different, the door to the safe room not where I thought it was. My heart sped up as I opened doors at random, peering inside before closing them again. By the time I reached the end of the hall and hadn’t found the safe room I decided it was the protections that were keeping me out. There was nothing to do but head down the stairs to wait. Surely Kafir and Gunnar were on their way back by now.

  Outside the tower I hid in the shadows below an enormous tree. Once the sun drew nearer the horizon my nervousness grew. I heard things, strange rustlings and calls, the eeriness seeping into me. I felt an anguish that could only be coming from the long ago residents whose spirits still lingered.

  The city ruins stretched in all directions, soaring buildings interspersed between lower ones, all covered in thick trailing vines and a green moss that had a slightly sinister appearance. I headed into their midst as though being called by something, my footsteps echoing on the road made of the same impervious metal. Where structures had collapsed, huge blocks of cement filled with wires and pipes littered the ground, slowing my progress. What remained of the architecture was like nothing I’d ever seen, circular metal domes without seams connected to long hallways that curved and twisted like silver serpents along streets that had originally been lined with sedate trees.