Gypsy's Quest

by Nikki Broadwell

  “Our baby. He’s here and if you behave, I’ll take you to see him.”

  “Behave? I’m imprisoned in a tiny room with no escape.”

  “Follow me and do not make a sound.”

  Brandubh took my hand, leading the way down the stairs. In the room below Foley and Melir and several other men lay sprawled, blankets over them to keep out the damp chill. Brandubh put a finger to his lips as we headed toward the door at the front. Outside I let out my breath. No lights marred the sky full of stars, the blackness behind them stretching into infinity.

  He grabbed hold of my arm.”You need to stay next to me. There are thieves and murderers out at this time of night.”

  I nodded my agreement, my nervous gaze heading into the shadows around the buildings.

  We walked back toward town, skirting along the edges of buildings. I heard occasional screams and laughter, the howl of a cat. When a gunshot rang out I pressed myself against the priest.

  “No one will bother you while you’re with me.”

  “Aren’t you worried about being shot? It’s dark as pitch out here—how would they know you?”

  “Your concern is touching.”

  He pulled me with him into an alleyway. On the road in front of us two men went by carrying guns. “He’s up here,” I heard one of them whisper.

  “Are they looking for you?”

  “No. They’re robbing someone.”

  “Don’t you want to do anything about it?”

  “Not my concern.”

  A shot rang out and then the sound of screaming.

  “Now’s the time to move,” Brandubh said, pulling me behind him across the street. An alley on the other side led upward and I hurried past the dark houses that lined the street. At the top of the hill he stopped. “My house is there.” He pointed toward a lone structure with an unimpeded view of the harbor. The moon was up, casting a line of light revealing the half-timbered building, the windows dark.

  Behind us I heard a scuffle but before I could turn, an arm clamped around my waist. Brandubh looked back, his hand going to the pistol on his belt. When he pulled it out and pointed it directly toward me, I screamed, struggling to wriggle free. Thoughts flew through my mind of Rifak and how close I was to holding him, tears brimming over and running down my face.

  “Please don’t!” I pleaded, but his finger was already pulling back and in the next second there was a blinding flash, followed by a deafening roar. The person holding me was hurled backward at the same time my body was propelled forward. I rose to hands and knees, my eyes on Brandubh who was mouthing something I couldn’t hear, his hand reaching toward me, but a second later someone grabbed me from behind and dragged me away. I fought with every ounce of strength I had, biting and scratching to get away from my assailants.

  Up the hill Brandubh had turned his focus toward the house. A woman came out the door holding a bundle against her chest. Her free hand waved in the air and a moment later Brandubh was down on his knees in the dirt. I screamed, my echoing cries reverberating hysterically. Rifak!

  A familiar baritone hissed in my ear. “Try not to wake the entire town.” Gunnar’s beard scraped across my cheek, his arm uncomfortably tight around my body. “Rifak is gone,” he said flatly. “We need to get back to Gypsy and take care of Kafir.”

  “Will you stay put if I release you?” Gunnar asked once we reached the main street.

  On the ground on my own two feet again I looked around for Kafir, spotting him several yards behind us. “You’re bleeding,” I cried stupidly, my eyes on the red stain spreading across his upper arm and dripping onto the ground.

  “That’s usually what happens when one is shot,” he muttered. He held his left arm close to his body, cradling it against him.

  “Time to get that bullet out.” Gunnar held out his arm for support, the three of us making our way to the southern end of the harbor.

  Once back on Gypsy, the druid carefully cleaned out Kafir’s wound while I acted as nurse, heating water and offering clean muslin and antiseptic in the way of a bottle of whiskey. Kafir pulled it out of my hands before allowing the druid to dig out the bullet, a look of determination on his features as he downed a couple of hefty swigs. I turned away when Gunnar produced a thin metal tool and began to dig. I heard nothing but a couple of grunts from Kafir.

  “Done.” Gunnar wiped a rag soaked in whiskey across the blade before returning it to his pack. “Now for the important part,” he said, his hands poised over the bleeding gash. I watched the wound begin to close, as though invisible hands pulled the flaps of skin together. When he was finished there was barely any sign of where the bullet had gone in.

  Kafir rubbed his arm. “It itches a bit but other than that I feel nothing.”

  I moved to the woodstove to warm water for tea, frantic thoughts making me feel dizzy. I had to get back to the house on the hill.

  ***

  The sun was up before I got my opportunity. The druid had gone off somewhere to meditate under an oak tree or practice magic in a sylvan glen and Kafir was snoring, spread-eagled on the settee. The two men had remained unapologetic about their rescue, saying that whatever I thought I had seen had nothing to do with my baby. When I asked them to explain this neither one of them would answer. I didn’t buy it, and because of my nature I had to discover the truth for myself. The auction was in an hour—Brandubh would be occupied and my baby would be in the house. I barely thought about the possiblility of Adair.

  I dressed in another shirt of Kafir’s, pulling a wide-brimmed leather hat down over the bandana I wound around the tattoo. Luckily Gunnar had left the pram—how he had gotten to shore I didn’t know or care. I tried to make a plan as I rowed to shore. If I did manage to get Rifak, how could I carry him all the way back to the boat without some sort of fuss? After all he hadn’t seen me for nearly a year. I was basically a stranger. That thought did nothing to buoy my spirits and I felt a sinking sensation in the pit of my stomach. I puzzled over ways to get into the house as I tied up the pram and headed toward the back alleys.

  When I went by the auction building I heard someone reciting details about the woman on the auction block. “This one is sturdy and well-endowed,” I heard, followed by a resounding slap. “She’ll clean and cook and carry your load,” he continued, to much raucous laughter. “And she’s young enough to bear a child if this is your desire—so how much will you give me?”

  I hurried by, wondering which one of the women was standing there. It gave me a sick feeling to realize it could have been me.

  The town was strangely empty with the auction going on; I climbed the hill without seeing a soul. Nerves wound through my stomach as the house came into view. I checked behind me before heading along the path to the front door. As I had feared it was locked, but I found an open window and climbed through. The house felt like a tomb, the airless rooms empty and silent. I opened one door after the other and then headed up the stairs, the wood creaking under my feet. But none of the rooms were occupied and looked as though they hadn’t been for some time. Downstairs I searched each room carefully for any sign that a baby had ever been there, but there was nothing but dust. In the kitchen I could find no food, no pots, no sign of habitation at all, only the dirt and dust that had accumulated. Defeated, I unlocked the front door from the inside, but as I was about to leave, my eye was caught by something shiny on the floor. I bent down and picked up a gold sequin.

  ***

  “Calm down!” Kafir shouted, his hands on my shoulders. “I’ve put the problem to Gypsy.”

  “And now what? Does Gypsy know where my baby is?” Tears welled up again and I wiped them away. “This is the closest we’ve gotten and now Adair be anywhere and in any time!”

  “As you well know, Gypsy can cross through time. Give her a chance.”

  My return from the house on the hill had been met with fury from Kafir who told me it was a miracle I had made it back in one piece. Gunnar was calmer but had reiterated that I was luc
ky to be alive. The three of us had then gone to the auction house to search out Brandubh, but he was not there nor had anyone seen him since the day before. The auction was over by then and no women remained. All I could think of was Rifak. Nothing made any sense, my only clue the sequin that I knew had come off Adair’s gown.

  “Is the cargo safely stowed?” Gunnar asked.

  Kafir nodded, his eyes flicking to mine.

  “I’ll be off, then,” Gunnar announced. He picked up his pack and his walking stick from where he had stashed it out of the way.

  “Where are you going?”

  “You and Kafir don’t need me on this leg of your journey and I have things to attend to at home.”

  “But…” I turned toward Kafir, fear rising into my throat. There was something comforting about having a four hundred-year-old druid on our side when fighting a sorceress.

  “I’ll be doing what I can to help you from afar. I’m capable of that.”

  He and Kafir embraced before the druid headed up the ladder. I followed a minute later so that I could see how he planned to get to shore, but he was already gone. “How does he do that?” I asked Kafir who had appeared behind me.

  “He’s a druid.”

  Chapter Sixteen

  The Otherworld-2011

  “Fehin, where are you?”

  There was a giggle and Brandubh turned toward the sound.

  “You little monkey! You’ve been hiding again! Come to Papa.”

  Brandubh reached for his child, his arms wide. When the boy ran to him he buried his head in his son’s dark curls. “I love you so much.”

  “Love ou,” Fehin said haltingly.

  “Do you remember your mother?”

  Fehin scowled and shook his head.

  “Brandubh! What are you filling this child’s head with! I’ve told you numerous times that I am his mother now. Look at me—I could pass for forty, couldn’t I?” Adair pirouetted, her auburn hair fanning out from her rosy face.

  “That would mean I mated with my own mother. You disgust me. I don’t want the boy to get attached to someone like you.”

  “You better mind your manners. I can undo what I did for you--remember that. You could be cold in your grave right now and I would raise this child. Maybe Loki could be persuaded to be my husband.” Adair smirked, reaching for Fehin and pulling him into her arms. “You love me, don’t you, little one? I will teach you to call me Mama. Can you say Mama?”

  Fehin looked from one to the other. “Mama,” he said.

  “Oh, how sweet! It’s been more than fifty years since I’ve been called that. That’s right, my little one. I am your mother.”

  Brandubh watched Adair playing with his child, anger bubbling into his chest. The boy was nearly two years old now and growing quickly. He thought back to what might have been, a knife of pain going through his chest. He had left Gertrude in Glanstgo to go after his mother, had never had the chance to tell her the truth. He was sure she blamed him for all of it. If he could only explain…

  It had taken him nearly a month to find Adair’s hiding place. She lived in their old house in the Otherworld, in the timeline where he had died, so that meant his ability to stay was severely limited. He could come and go, but if he remained for more than a day or two he began to fade, turning into the ghost he’d been before his mother brought him back. Every time he left Fehin he felt sick at heart, his only hope a plan to steal the child away from her, but so far nothing had worked. Her powers were too strong. And his ability to time travel was becoming weaker, as though the ghost of him was growing stronger. The only good thing he could count on was that he no longer aged—he would stay in his early sixties for perpetuity—did that mean he was immortal? His body was strong, his features that of a much younger man. But if he couldn’t be with Gertrude and their child there was no reason to be alive.

  “Come and join us for supper,” Adair called, flouncing toward the house with Fehin’s hand in hers. “You’ll have to leave again by the morning.” She laughed harshly. “It is a shame you can’t stay—Fehin wonders why you leave him all the time. I’ve told him you have business elsewhere.” She turned to the boy who was gazing at Brandubh. “Daddy has more important things to do than hang around here, Fehin. You’ll see him again in a week or two.”

  Brandubh clenched his fist, a feeling of futility moving through him. He had to find a way to get his son back. He hurried after her, hoping to have a moment alone with Fehin before his bedtime.

  The boy was in bed before Brandubh had a moment to say good-bye. Supper had been a dismal affair with Adair planting idea after idea in the boy’s head, painting a horrible picture of Brandubh by recounting stories from the Otherworld and the brutal war that Brandubh had participated in.

  “Your Daddy headed up the army, Fehin. It was he who burned down villages. Why one time the bodies were piled so high I couldn’t see over it—all dead by your Daddy’s hand. You know what dead means, don’t you? Like the crow we found in the woods the other day, the one who could no longer move or open its eyes—kind of like your Daddy would be now if it wasn’t for me.”

  “Mother, please stop.”

  “I think your son needs to know who you are, Brandubh,” she had said, coldly.

  “And what about you, Mother? Should I explain who you are?”

  “I would be careful if I were you, Brandubh. Any lies would put you in severe jeopardy.”

  Brandubh stood by his son’s bed, reaching out to tousle his hair. “Fehin, do you know I love you?”

  The dark-haired boy looked up, his eyes wide. His expression of fear cut Brandubh to the quick. “I don’t leave you because I want to,” he told the boy. “There are things at work, sorcery and magic, that I have no control over. If I could, I would be with you every minute of every day, but I can’t right now.” Brandubh looked around, searching for his mother. When he didn’t see her he went on. “I’m searching for your real mother and when I find her the three of us will be together.”

  “Brandubh, what have I told you about filling the boy’s head with lies?” Adair said, materializing next to him. “I’m warning you,” she said, her eyes narrowing. “If you continue this way you will be banished from seeing him at all. Do you understand me?”

  Brandubh stared at his mother whose face had begun to sag. “Watch out, Mother. You will need another infusion of youth if you dissipate yourself with anger.”

  When he reached for his son, Adair grabbed his arm. “He’s mine now. And I wouldn’t concern yourself with my aging process—I’ve secured a supply. Now get out of here.”

  Brandubh gazed toward Fehin whose face had crumpled into tears. “I’ll be back very soon, Fehin. Don’t forget how much I love you.”

  “Do not lie to the child. I may not allow you to come back after your insolence.”

  “You’ll welcome me, mother. I’m the only person who’ll put up with you.”

  “Maybe Loki will be here the next time we see each other. He’s my new lover.” Adair adjusted the bodice of her dress to reveal her cleavage. “My libido has returned.”

  Brandubh shook his head in disgust remembering Pryderi, the demi-god who had been his mother’s paramour in the Otherworld. Forty years her junior, Adair had managed to seduce him. Now she was with Loki, the trickster god with red hair and black eyes who lived in Jotunheim. Because Loki had been instrumental in the death of Odin’s son, Baldr, he was no longer in the other god’s good graces. Brandubh couldn’t imagine what he saw in Adair other than finding someone powerful who accepted him.

  “I don’t care what you do, but I will eventually have my son.” He felt thin, as though his body was insubstantial. Now when he practiced the ritual that allowed him to move through the ether, he grew weak. If things kept up this way he would be unable to come back at all. Without assistance he would surely lose all connection with his child.

  Far Isle-2451

  Brandubh fell into the trees, their leaf-covered limbs breaking his descent. T
he forest seemed familiar as he stood to brush himself off. Yes, this was the forest near Amalthea. He was very glad he hadn’t ended up in Glanstgo. Gertrude was long gone now, although where she was, was a mystery. The Temple of the Moon came into his mind and he wondered if Dancer might know something. She had been very accommodating the day he’d brought Gertrude to her, inviting him into the courtyard to talk about Fehin and what was going on with Gertrude. Dancer had assured him she would find a way to heal Gertrude and when she was well he could come for her. She had held the baby Brandubh carried with him, commenting on how much he looked like his parents. “Don’t worry about her,” she told Brandubh. “When the time is right you’ll know and the three of you will be reunited.”

  He had gone there several times during the six months but each time Dancer had turned him away. Gypsy wasn’t well enough yet, she needed more time to come back to herself, her sickness lingered. The last time he’d come for her she’d already left with Kafir. Dancer had been distraught, saying that Kafir was the wrong person for her; she needed to be with the father of her child. Brandubh had nodded his agreement, putting the baby into Dancer’s arms for a moment. The priestess seemed overwhelmed by the baby, her eyes filling with tears before handing him back. “I know the three of you will be together. Do not give up,” she said before ushering him out of the courtyard. But that was before his mother had taken control of Fehin.

  Brandubh had a bad feeling before he reached the Temple. The surrounding forest seemed too quiet, the energy charged, so that when he reached the battered and broken down walls he wasn’t surprised. He searched through the rubble wondering who or what could have done such a thing, his thoughts turning to his mother. The beautiful ponds and statuary were gone, as though a giant sledgehammer had pulverized them. But why would Adair feel the need to destroy the Temple? She had the baby, what more did she want? And then he thought of the priestesses and her comment about having secured a supply. She must have had help to break thorough the protections here—they had held people off for more than a thousand years. He had a moment of panic wondering about Dancer, a woman he considered his friend. After searching for over an hour he found her in a back room, her eyes hollow and vacant. “What happened here?” he asked.