Sleepless (Curse of the Blood Fox Trilogy, Book #1) (15 page)

I
straightened myself in silence and turned back to the open road ahead, but not
before noticing a peculiar shadow. I would not have taken interest in it save
for the mysterious Catherina's warning; it was a literal shadow, a wide boxy
one that did not seem to be coming from anything in particular. I spied on it
from under the brim of my hat as I twisted back around and pretended to rummage
through my bag for something. As we moved it did too, and left silent
wheel-marks behind as we started along the wide dirt road. Magic-users.

I tested
Traken to see if he knew.

“Are we
headed north?” I asked. “Is that where your lord's domain is?” He nodded,
raising his voice to be heard over the sound of hooves hitting hard dirt.

“North-ish.”

“You still
won't tell me?”

“What is
there to tell?” His grin was meant to be ire-invoking. “We're going there, so
you'll know soon enough.”

So he didn't
know... he would have avoided the topic altogether if he had. Perhaps these
magic-users knew how to hide their thoughts and presence on top of the
disappearing trick. That clarified things... if they knew to hide that, then
they weren't after me... but why then had they been asking around for Fox? 

“What?
Content with that answer?” Traken asked after a moment of silence, leaning over
to eye me under my hat. “I had expected more of a fight from you.”

“I know how
to pick and choose my battles,” I said, forcing a grin. Like the one with the
mysterious stalkers behind us. If Traken didn't know they were there, I wasn't
about to let on. I could see the way Traken's shoulders were sagging, and if
his lord's punishment for one encounter with his enemies was that bad, than I
couldn't imagine what he would do for a second one. It seemed best to stay
quiet for now and watch how the situation developed.

I would wait
for them to show themselves, but until then they would have to keep up. I
tangled my fingers into familiar places in my horse’s mane as Traken whistled,
and suddenly we were hurtling at a breakneck pace down the road.

We were only
half an hour out of Gronmid when we were forced to stop. The road, now heading
north, was much more fortified than I had last heard, but that did not save it
from the elements. There was a long bridge before us, spanning over what was
once a wide but calm river. Now, the river seemed to have overflowed its banks
for as far as I could see, and the bridge was set deep in water, as well as the
path beyond. There had been no word of such a blockage in Gronmid.

We sat on our
horses in silence, the obnoxious twitter of pheasants from somewhere off the
road the only sound that pervaded. Traken cursed, studying the problem ahead
while I kept a careful eye on our followers. The boxy shadow had managed to
keep up, and had parked itself a ways down the path behind us. I hadn't heard
anything from them yet, but the hairs on the back of my neck prickled. There
was no doubt that they would try to make a move soon.

“This is
troublesome,” Traken said, rubbing the rings on his fingers. “I could probably
levitate you across, but I can’t tell where the path even returns to normal. We're
already behind thanks to someone's beauty sleep.”

“I did not
ask for it,” I reminded him cheerfully. “This is odd, though... I haven't seen
rain in a while.”

“Yes, not
around here. Perhaps a dam broke.” He let out his breath in a hiss. “I'm going
to need to check down the way and see how far this flood goes.” I saw him
dismount from his horse and quickly did the same with mine. I wasn't about to
argue for a chance to get down on solid ground.

“I'll be back
soon,” he said, and wagged his finger at me. “Don't try going anywhere... I
could hunt you down in seconds.”

“So you say,”
I said, throwing myself down on a rock outcropping from the edge of the path. “I
still have no intention of leaving, though. Go do what you have to do.”

“Don't look
so disappointed, princess. It will only be a couple minutes.”

“I am
not
disappointed about you leaving... or being off those horses,” I chortled,
throwing a pebble at his head. “Go. Be gone. Out of my sight.”

He vanished
with a chuckle before the pebble reached him, leaving just me, two statuesque
horses with no willpower, and the mysterious shadow down the way. I took a deep
breath and stood back up immediately, brushing off my hands.

“Are you
planning to show yourself yet?” I called. “Because now would be the perfect
time, in my opinion.”

The air
shimmered and a plain, large cart appeared in the road, horseless. There were
people standing inside, about five wearing ankle-length robes of browns and
greens with the heavy hoods drawn up, and I could see immediately why the
prickly Catherina had become suspicious. They really did have unpleasant
faces—the two that I could make out.

Each figure
had a golden amulet around their neck, molded into a beetle with feathery
wings. The two I could see clearly were older men, one of them sporting a long
white beard that reached his waist and the other displaying the most lascivious
smile a leathery, wrinkled face could possibly own. The other three were
younger, I think, though I could not tell their exact ages or genders for sure.
It was the bearded man who spoke.

“That is a
shame, actually. It is Traken that we want.”

“Why reveal
yourselves to me then?” I asked, though I already suspected the answer. I
thought I saw a smile through his beard.

“Oh, we are
interested in you too, Blood Fox.”

“Why do you
call me by that name?”

“Do not play
the fool with us, girl. We have been watching you.”

“Since the
Falcons?” I guessed. His old eyes crinkled.

“Yes, she is
perceptive. A couple survivors we found, just alive enough to tell us what they
saw before their fall. Stories they told us, of a being more legend than flesh
that was at our sorcerer's whim. We did not believe our ears, but followed nonetheless. 
We are afraid we lost you in Gronmid... it is a big, busy place.” His voice was
deceptively pleasant, and held a heavy accent that I didn't recognize. “We are
the Le Fam, and though we have no quarrel with you, your companion is quite the
other matter. We thought perhaps, if your partnership was not exactly willing,
we could strike a deal.”

“That is very
kind of you,” I said. “I did see what happened to the last bunch you struck a
deal with, though.”

A couple of
the younger in the back shifted, and I felt quick shivers of energy ripple
through the air. I moved to grab for my swords, but the bearded man held up his
boney hands and the younger ones fell quiet.

“Surely you
will not hold such a small matter against us? They were a wretched bunch, always
hungry for power. What can one expect from thieves?”

“I am not
interested in your poor excuses for murder, or helping you kill Traken,” I
said, careful to keep my voice just as indifferent as his. “I merely wanted to
invite you to leave before you got hurt.”

“She reeks of
the sources,” the other man with the twisted smile said. He had a peculiar,
high voice, and his hands were shaking. “Oh, kin... we can taste it in the
air.”

Their heads
moved in together, as if swaying, and I took an unconscious step back. I had
been confident enough at the thought of facing sane magic-users, but demented
ones were another matter.

“Are you
really and truly the Blood Fox of legend?” the bearded one asked.  

“No,” I said,
and the air rippled ominously.

“The gods’
signs say she is lying,” one of the younger intoned, hands positioned thumb to
index finger. Even its voice was ambiguous.

“What a
pleasant happenstance,” the bearded man said, clapping his hands together
gently. His tone implied that this was a joy everyone present should share in.
“To have found such an interesting creature along with our quarry. Why do the
powers flow through you, haunted one?”

“I absolutely
don't know what you're talking about,” I said. His eyes glittered and shifted
towards the younger who had spoken before, and the hooded figure nodded. The
old man sighed long and wistfully.

“This is
quite tragic. You leave us with quite the temptation in our hands. Your
bounties, you see, would bring quite a lot of funding to our kin and the path
of the gods, but your bounties want you dead. We cannot find out what this
strange magnetic scent is if you are dead, yes?”

“Well, that
is quite the problem,” I said, smothering the urge to sniff myself. We could
have very well been speaking two different languages for all I could understand
from him. Traken certainly hadn't mentioned anything about how I smelled...
except for the sweat. Did I really smell still? Maybe I should have used the
overbearing soaps in the Marlduk.

“He will be
back soon,” the high-pitched one said, standing and sliding down to the road
from his spot atop the wagon bench. “We will have to deal with her quickly if
she will not help.”

“Yes,” the
other said, smoothing his beard. “Yes. Capture is the best course of action. We
can decide later what to make of her.”

“Yes,” the
younger ones answered, bowing their heads.

“Yes,” I
hissed in echo, grabbing my swords. Valentina and Phernado thrummed upon
hitting the open air. “Please come on over and try.”

I had
honestly been expecting them to run at me, not fly. When the first of the
youngest leapt upon me from the air, I only just had enough time to dodge and
let loose one unruly swipe. Phernado hit nothing, and trembled bitterly for it.
The one I had dodged was soon joined by the two others, and they all held up
their hands in unison, fingers stiff and curled as if claws. Small blue flames
erupted on each fingertip.

“Impressive,”
I told them as they pressed forward, trying to surround me. “Very pretty.” I
rolled off to the side and plunged Valentina through the wispy cloak of the
nearest one. She took mostly cloth, but a rigid jerk from the figure told me
she must have drawn some blood. The younger fell back against its “kin”, silent
but affected.

“The swords
sing,” the high-pitched one called, his voice a tremulous warble. “They are
special. We must have them, we must have them.”

My grip on
the blades grew tighter. How could he tell? No one had ever been able to “hear”
Valentina and Phernado before like me, and I doubted there was someone in the
Le Fam who could sense magic that Traken didn’t know about, seeing as he
thought my ability so rare. The younger ones straightened with the man's
sing-songy words. Their fingertips changed from blue to purple, and the light
expanded out over their skin and encompassed their entire bodies.

Their combined
power flustered my nerves, but I had no idea what their magic would do. The key
to fighting any magic-user was close combat, one on one, because they weren’t
generally good with melee attacks and it was important to stop the spells
before they were fully formed. That wasn’t going to happen here; even if I
could take care of these young ones all at once, I still had the two older sorcerers
behind them to deal with.

Gritting my
teeth, I lunged at the tight formation of three again, performing a wide swipe
to scare them back. It did, making them stumble, and for a moment I caught
sight of the blank, waxen face of the one farthest to the right. The eyes I saw
were empty and clear. There was nothing; not fear, hate or confidence. There
certainly wasn't the wisdom of years. It made me hesitate. I had the chance to
kill at least one, but I let the opportunity pass and fell back.

The slim
cloaked figures regrouped, and the lavender aura grew sharper. I backed away
from their approach, finding myself suddenly between them and the older ones in
the cart. It was an unfortunate place, and I eased myself quickly to the side
so I could keep a wary eye on both parties.

“We will be
faster, stronger,” the bearded man said calmly, still atop the cart. “With the
might of the gods, we will advance.”

As if it were
an order, the younger ones jerked their heads towards me and marched forward. I
crossed both my swords in front of me and shot my most worthy glare at the
sorcerers.

“These are not
people,” I said, chilled by the very knowledge. “What have you done to them?”

“We have done
nothing at all,” the bearded one said, clicking his tongue. “Do you think us
beasts? We are kin. The children will protect and serve the elders; they are
our strength.”

“They are
empty,” I said, and dodged as a purple arm reached for me. I lashed out within
the same movement, slashing the arm halfway through and following with a jab to
the leg. As the being fell, I ripped my blades away and moved to the next. It
was an orchestrated attack against their limbs, meant to slow rather than kill,
and it worked. They reeled as I shuffled further away, still racking my brain
for time and a way to end this without leaving myself open to an attack from
somewhere else. Suddenly a hand forced itself, palm flat, into the small of my
back.

“Be still,
fluttery bird,” a high voice whispered in my ear. “There is no reason to fear.”

Heavy tingles
swept through my body from where his palm touched, and just like that I
couldn't move. Everything in me went limp, including my fingers, and Phernado
and Valentina fell to the ground. I started to fall with them, but was caught
in the bloody arms of the injured and empty young puppets I had been fighting.
Their purple auras burned like something close to fire, but I could not escape
as two pulled me up and left me hanging, lifeless, between them.

“What a
catch, what a catch,” the high-pitched one sang. His leathery, sagging skin
brushed mine as he pushed back my hat and drew his fingers across my face. “She
smells so good. We could rip her open and find the heart of the sources beating
under her skin.”

“Now kin,”
the bearded one said, pressing his hands together flat. “All in its due time.
Our first mission is punishment from the gods. He is coming.”

They shifted
me and my head fell forward on its own, leaving me with a disappointing view of
the ground. I saw the ruby flash of Valentina's blade in the corner of my eye
as a hand wrapped in purple fire picked her out of the dirt, and my heartbeat
doubled.

“Yes, bring
that to us, kin,” the high-pitched one said. “Bring us the singers.”

My heart
shuddered with the first scream that ripped through the air, an unearthly
sound, and I caught a glimpse of the twisted smile of the old sorcerer before
me fading as he fell into my view, face frozen in delirious shock as life
gushed, thick and red, from his mutilated body. The younger ones holding me
shifted, seemed to disagree on which way to pull me, and then fell away like
soft butter under a knife. A warm spray of crimson hit what I could see of my
knees, and then I hit the ground and rolled. I landed face down, hat
half-crushed under one cheek and nothing to look at but shadows and dirt.

“We need to
stop,” the bearded man ordered sharply, quickly, but there still wasn't enough
time to react. Valentina cooed a song of sick vengeance through the air, and I
heard a low grunt and then gurgling as a third body fell near my left ear.