1) ITS A ROUGH DRAFT
2) I'D LOVE YOUR INPUT OR IDEAS!
Thank you...
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Yana set her bare feet up against the hot rocks that adorned the edge of the fire pit. She stirred the embers with the black tip of her stick, and watched it smolder. She considered her fire, as she breathed in the countryside air. It was warm, even as it dwindled. It was something she could always count on, no matter where she was. As she scattered the ashes and sparks from the glowing remains, she realized also that she was just as scattered sometimes. The fire was freedom, but it was also chaos. The stones held the warmth well past its time, and kept the fire from streaking across the meadows. It was always a comfort, even for the few times she had been burnt. She touched her wrist lightly, remembering.
Yana had been a gypsy her whole life, and a fighter from the first day she could walk. It suited her. Survival itself was a fight. She couldn’t imagine living any other way. She slipped her feet back into her boots, as the moonlight took over and the light at her feet flickered dimly. She looked down over the gentle downward slope of the hill. The rest of her caravan was lower down, and she could see they were about settled in for the night. Yana had come up here with her wagon alone. She knew there were good berries further up, but really, she was just restless. Something was afoot... and so was she.
She wandered up a bit, towards the crest of the hill, where she saw them. There were five of them. They were making very little noise, which was remarkable for five horsemen, but it communicated to her immediately what they were up to. Stealth. She peered into the dark as much as the moonlight would let her. Was that him? It couldn’t be. Chills raced across her skin.
It certainly was him. She could sense him without seeing his face, and it had been ages since she last saw him. Yana was not sure where they might be going, but at this hour, dressed so black the faint light revealed almost nothing, and surely armed, there was only one thing they could be. Assassins.
She had heard of them. Men who travel under cover of darkness. Not even the jingle of weapons and supplies could be heard. They had been naught more than a campfire story to her, until tonight. It was early spring, the air still chilled with the melt of winter, the ground wet and cold from the thaw. Excitement shot through Yana as she pulled her hood over her head, and ran back to her wagon. She slung her quiver of arrows across her shoulder along with her bow, and tucked her dagger into the loop on her makeshift belt. She went to grab a pouch full of coins, just in case- but then stopped. The clink of the coins would give her away. She would have to go without. Yana untied her horse, Kuta, who was stirring, knowing her friend was restless. Yana had all sorts of trinkets and gear for the horse, but thankfully, it was all removed for the night. She would go bareback, with only leather reins to guide her. Kuta would have to be quiet too.
She slid up deftly onto her horse, and prompted her in the direction she had seen the horsemen. Kuta carried her swiftly, as she tracked them. Yana was an excellent tracker, and knew these hills and meadows well. She stayed off the worn trails, and quickly picked up their path. She stayed behind. It occurred to Yana that she may be a fool, just then- that she should turn back immediately, and pretend she had seen nothing, and say nothing. If they really were assassins, they would not want to be tracked or spied. If they caught her, it could go badly. She was convinced however, that she knew one of the men in the group. She didn’t know how she knew... she just knew. In fact, while she was using all her senses to track the riders, she was also using her intuition. She could sense him. Maybe that was what was making her so restless.
She followed a ways, deeper into the hills than she cared to be, but there was no turning back now. She knew her people would tend to her wagon, and her curiosity was getting the better of her. She wanted to know what they were up to... and she wanted...
she wanted to see him.
Light began to crest the distant eastern hill, as daybreak would soon be upon the land. The riders ahead had descended into a gulley she was not familiar with, but if she was going to remain undetected, she would have to dismount, and go ahead on foot. Her stomach tightened in anticipation. This was dangerous. Without hesitation, she slipped off her horse, and tied her up to a little scrub oak.
Yana crept silently down into the narrow path. She moved forward, not only trying to track the mysterious riders, but making sure she was not careless... there were many dark shadows and corners, and predators could be anywhere. Her senses were fully alert, and her footsteps...
Turn back, Yana. Now her mind spoke out against her, as her instinct to pursue was conflicted with her instinct to flee, a still small voice that was always right. She stopped. She should turn back. Light was slowly invading the sky, and she would not be unnoticed much longer.
Suddenly she heard shouting, a clash of metal, and then another. It was them, up ahead! A fight! She ran directly for it, as she simply could not help herself. She drew nearer, as she heard more men shouting, a language she barely knew, and then a voice she knew quite well. She cursed her luck. I knew it, Yana thought wryly.
It was him.
She peered around a rock, as she was very close to the commotion. There were two groups of men, the black garbed riders she had been tracking, and another group, she guessed to be Moldavian, from their language. The Moldavians had ambushed the black rider assassins, and two of them lay still on the ground. The other 3 were hostage, as the Moldavians menaced with their swords and weapons. They were shouting commands, and the hostage in the center was shouting back. The leader. The one whose voice she recognized clearly.
She realized without thinking that she had drawn her bow. She had to help! Now this really was crazy. This was not her battle, and she would only bring problems for her people, the gypsies. There was no way she could let harm befall them... but there was no way she was going to leave and let the black riders be killed. It would not be the first time she had helped him, she thought.
One of the Moldavians was holding him at sword-point now, and the absurd conversation they were attempting sounded like it was going badly, because no one was understanding... and the two men were still on the ground, presumably dead.
Yana would have to act.
She pulled the cord back taut, arrow already knocked, and aimed it. She was an expert with it, but she had never put an arrow into a man before. She gauged the situation, to see if she could turn the tables without any real bloodshed. She made her decision, and let the arrow fly.
“Yahhh!” screamed the man holding his sword to the leader’s throat, as he stooped down to clutch the arrow she had drilled into his calf. Before anyone could even turn to see what had happened, she stroked another arrow into the next closest man, the one who had an arrow aimed at the riders. His arrow went careening off and his bow dropped, as he shouted at the arrow lodged halfway into his hand. Yana ducked out of sight, and had been so quick that perhaps no one had even seen her. The light was still poor, especially in the shadows of the gulley.
The leader of the black riders had not wasted the opportunity, and they clashed into full battle again. He took up the sword of the one with the arrow in his calf, and ended that man promptly. His two accomplices were engaged as well, as the remaining Moldavian men rushed in. Yana gritted her teeth. She didn’t want to get further involved. Maybe what she had done would be enough. Maybe she could still escape without attracting trouble. She looked out from the rock again, knowing she shouldn’t.
He looked her right in the eye.
Still battling, slashing and clashing with the last two men, just for a split second, he looked her right in the eyes. She cursed her luck again, pulled her hood down further over her face, ducked out of sight, and fled. Back up the winding trench, across the rocks, leaping over the little stream- nearly stumbling into it, she ran frantically, full of panic and speed. She got back to her horse in what seemed like no time, yet an eternity. She could not go fast enough to flee this place. She hesitated for a moment, looking back, just before she leapt back onto her horse. No amount of running was going to help her now. He would be coming to find her.
She tore off anyway, her horse seeming to sense her urgency, as she prodded Kuta to her highest speed. She flew across the meadows, headed back to the caravan. Her thoughts flew even faster. She would have to break camp. Everyone would have to break camp- or maybe she could go into hiding alone. She didn’t want anyone to be in danger for what she had done. Her thoughts raced- had the black riders prevailed? Had she saved him? Why were they on an assassin’s mission? For all her fury at herself, her speed, and desperation to get anyway, she also realized... she still wanted to see him again.
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The black riders did battle with their ambushing enemies, and finally defeated them. The leader took off his mask, and addressed his men. “Is that all of them?” he asked, trying to catch his breath.
“I believe it is,” the one closest to him replied.
“Stand guard,” the leader ordered, as he went to check on his companions. The two men on the ground were slain, and his face showed the sadness of it. These were good men, they had trained together a great deal. This was a terrible loss, as they were intending to be the ones doing the ambush. He stood up, surveying the scene. These Moldavians were the very men they were hunting, so their mission was otherwise a success, even for this loss.
The third survivor approached him with a grimace, as his arm had been cut in the fight. They quickly tended each other, and prepared for what they must do. The leader directed them. “Get these men hidden,” he instructed, pointing to their slain enemies. They were not where they intended to be, as the whole mission had gone awry, but it did lend them some privacy. They had to preserve the greater operation. They found a gash in the dirt wall that had been washed out from flooding, and dragged the Moldavian attackers into it. They were heavy, and the man with the slashed arm was not much help. Once they were finished, they stripped down the horses of the enemies, that they had found not too far away. The enemy had, the leader realized, set a pretty good little trap. For all their skill, they would have failed and met their end, right here, had it not been for her.
He looked closely at the arrows he had retrieved from two of the men. There was no doubt they were gypsy arrows, but he was all the more certain of whose they were. She was the last person in the world he would have guessed to have seen, as he had not seen her in years, and this was not her affair. Unmistakably, however, he had looked into the eyes that once haunted him, and sometimes still did, when he dreamt. He could feel an echo of the electricity that had almost killed him. No question.
He had seen Yana.
He tucked her arrows into the holster on his horse, as they finished up. They removed their own outer clothing- the deep black garments they used in the night, revealing ordinary brown burlap clothing underneath- the kind peasants would wear. This mess would take some care to cover up. Their team was best known as a myth; they could not just walk around in broad daylight. Once they had settled the scene and cleaned up everything they could, kicking dirt on the blood and moving loose brush, they made arrangements to get back. They found an excellent spot to hide. One man was to take the extra horses from their enemies and travel west, as far away from Moldavia as they could get, and set them free. They couldn’t just turn them loose in this region, or someone would piece together the facts. The other man, with the injured arm, would wait until nightfall, and take a roundabout route through the dark back to the great city, bringing along the horses and the bodies of their fallen warriors. The scum they had defeated deserved an inglorious fate, but not their own.
“We must not fail,” the leader told his men. They nodded agreement. “Travel two days west, and get them across the Sardica river, before you free them,” he instructed. He address the other, “Get back to the city through the King’s passage, once you have the cover of dark.”
“I’m going to track the spy,” he said.
He prompted his horse, and departed, in the direction he knew that she must have gone. It was well into the morning now, as they had taken a good bit of time to resolve the evidence of the skirmish. He already knew what direction to head, as he was well aware of the general vicinity of the gypsy camps. Of course, they were ever-changing, but they did have their tendencies and trails. He wondered how she found them; they must have passed by too closely. He chewed on a piece of flatbread from his pack, as he traveled.
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Yana pulled up to her wagon quickly, and began gathering her things. “Yana!” she heard the voice of a child. “I caught one!” It was Luba, her young friend, an orphan that had joined them two summers ago. “Come to the fire and see!” Luba called. Yana smiled, forgetting her hurry for a moment.
“You did? What did you use?”Yana asked.
“I set the trap with the herbs you gave me!” Luba exclaimed, running up to her. Then she paused.
“What’s wrong?” she asked. Yana’s face was giving away her preoccupation.
“We have to break camp,” Yana said, no mirth in her voice.
“Why?”Luba asked. “We were going to wait 2 more days,” she protested.
“We just have to,” Yana said. No way she was going to explain herself.
“Well,” Luba hesitated. “Can you come see the rabbit I caught first?”
Yana smiled. “Yes, of course,” she said.
“Come on then,” Luba shouted, already bounding toward the rest of the caravan, where the people were stirring, and the smoky smell of campfires and hot tea graced the morning air. Yana figured she had some time. There was no way she would be immediately pursued, or immediately found... but there was no way she could stick around either. She walked into the camp to Lyubov’s wagon.
Lyubov was a kind old lady, and Yana loved to hear her speak. Luba, while very young, had taken to her as well, and the two of them traveled together. The wisdom of little Luba seemed far beyond her years, as though she had come from the stars... though she was still just a little girl trying to survive... but that was why she fit so well with Lyubov, the brilliant and wise lady who Yana herself loved to sit next to, and hear her tales. They were so alike, Luba and Lyubov, they almost seemed like the same person, but for their great age difference. They were truly family, to Yana. Yana had been teaching Luba how to trap rabbits, and her favorite gypsy dances.
Lyubov had already cleaned the rabbit and had the fire going. It was unusual to cook this way in the morning, but Lyubov wanted to do something special; so excited was Luba for her accomplishment.
“Here,” Luba said, handing her stick to Yana, with some meat on the end. Yana obliged and took a bite. She didn’t eat meat too much, she always wanted to be light on her feet, though she always enjoyed a good pastry when she could. The rabbit, of course, was tasty, and Yana nodded in approval.
“Well done,” Yana said. There wasn’t that much meat, as it was a scrawny little animal. “Will you save the hide?”
“Of course. I already salted it!” Luba answered enthusiastically.
“What troubles you, Yana?” Lyubov asked her. Bosh, Yana thought. How did she always know? No one knew Yana as well as she did. Yana leaned in close.
“We need to break camp, right away, this morning,” Yana said. Lyubov nodded.
“Da. We will break. I saw this in the leaves this morn.” Lyubov was good with the tea leaves, better than any that Yana had seen.
“What else did you see?” Yana asked, unable to help herself.
“Bastion,” she said.
Yana was speechless.
Lyubov looked over to Luba, and instructed her. “Tell the people we break now,” she said. Luba nodded, and went off to tell the people. Yana looked behind her, and saw that one of the young boys had ventured up behind her.
“Oi, Yana!” he exclaimed in greeting. “Oi, Dimmie,” she replied. “We break camp this morning.” His face fell.
“I don’t want to! I wanted to take you to a field of blackberries I found.”
Yana sighed with resignation. “You can do as you wish, but I am on the move,” she said. Dimmie knew there was no point to argue. “Go tell the others. We head southeast,” she said, pointing.
Dimmie smiled. “That’s where the blackberries are!”
Yana smiled back. “Then you will have your breakfast after all,” she said. “Will you help the pitch?” she asked.
“I’ll help!” he declared. “But why now? I thought we were going to wait.” he said.
“Just trust me,” Yana said.
“Trust a gypsy?” he said, grinning widely. Yana gave him a look that said it all. Dimmie blushed and looked away. He bounded off, announcing the break to the people.
Yana looked back to Lyubov, who was sitting at the morning fire. Lyubov motioned for her to sit back down. Yana lowered to one knee.
“What have you done?” Lyubov asked. Yana was silent. She had no idea how to explain, and they didn’t have enough privacy. Her silence said plenty. She had done something. “I saw the break,” Lyubov said. “But I saw something else too. I saw five in black.” She was searching Yana’s eyes. Yana said nothing. Lyubov nodded. She already knew. Yana had seen five in black as well. “We talk soon,” Lyubov said. Yana nodded.
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The rider tracking Yana was fairly certain he had successfully found his target. He tied his horse by a stream, and walked up a hill that overlooked a great valley. He leaned up against the big tree atop the hill. To the north, he could see the slightest tips of the city. To the east, in the valley below, he could see a gypsy caravan that had just broken camp. They were headed southeast, and he thought he might do well to follow them until nightfall, and allow them to pass the meadows into the forest. Perhaps he could catch her alone.
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Yana rode in her wagon, all her earthly possessions in that one little spot; she liked to keep her things close, sparse as they were. Lyubov rode next to her, and Luba had run on ahead with Dimmie to search for blackberries. Emilee was guiding Lyubov’s wagon, as it was a strain for the old lady to travel long distances. Yana was grateful that the people had broken so quickly, as she wanted to be as far away from here as possible. She had been preoccupied with gathering everyone, helping everyone, and getting the caravan moving, but now she had a moment, and her thoughts wandered back to the twilight of morning, and the look in his eyes. She wondered if he had survived.
Just as she thought it, the hair stood up on the back of her neck, as she knew the answer. Lyubov’s voice rang in her ears, that one word. That name.
Bastion.
He had not only survived... he was close...
