Sleepless (Curse of the Blood Fox Trilogy, Book #1) (23 page)

“Decide?” I
asked. Energy hummed and snapped on my fingertips, still waiting on the hilts
of my swords.

“The unicorn
offered you a choice in there, didn't she?” he asked, the colors of his face
colliding into vibrancy. This was the issue, the spark. “What did she ask?”

“She offered
to assist in my escape from you.”

“And so this
is the second, or perhaps third time you have had the chance. Why did you turn
it down? You were given what you came seeking.” The derision in his voice stung
more than I would have liked it to. He pulled himself into his saddle as he
spoke, and I backed towards my horse as well, keeping a wary eye.

“It is not
enough.”

“Of what,
your 'answers'? What misled little bird told you there would be such things at
the end of this? My master certainly didn't.”

I pulled
myself up as well, settling down atop the uneasy stillness of my speckled ride.
I felt less safe on its back now than ever before. It was so a part of Traken
and his magic, it could very well throw me off based on one angry word from its
maker. “An Angelblood gave me the hint. Cryptic fellow, but he was certainly
real enough.”

Traken didn't
move. “An Angelblood?” he echoed. “Is that so? He promised you miracles if you
went willingly, did he?”

“He told me
that if I followed you I would probably die,” I said, sitting stiffly. “I chose
to anyway. I do not see how that hurts your agenda any.”

“My agenda is
beside the point; your actions are senseless, and deliberately endangering.
Why?”

My mind
sharpened under his whetstone words. “Beside the point?” I echoed. Since when
had the oh-so-illustrious assignments from his lord been that?

“Answer me,”
he insisted. I swallowed back a dry retort and stared just as coldly, tingling
with the tension my swords were brewing on my back.

“I am
finished wandering around with nothing to show for it, wasting days fighting
and running and hiding from ridiculous nightmares. I need to know the truth,
and this is the closest I have ever come. If I die searching for it now...
well, I've lived long enough anyway.”

Traken took
that silently at first, his unreadable gaze scathing me.

“Have either
of us truly?” he finally said, quickly twisting his horse away and spurring it
into a wickedly fast gallop. I nearly flew off my own, scrambling to tangle
fingers into the silver mane as the beast shot after him. In that moment of
liquid movement, the world blurring together, I could still see his haunted
eyes.

The sun was a
quarter further along in the sky by the time Traken slowed again, and I was
exceptionally glad I had stolen my chance to eat earlier. We had arrived at a
river, bubbling loudly in the shade of some large, old trees that ran along its
sides, and Traken's mood had not seemed to improve. He slid off his horse as we
neared, amulets tinkling gently in silence.

“Damn
unicorn,” he muttered.

“What is it?”
I asked, climbing off my horse in turn. He squatted on the grass, fingering the
blades, then lifted his nose to the sky and took a whiff. I felt the gentle hum
of his power surge around my skin.

“She put us
out in a different area than I thought. I've never been this far south... it's
going to take longer.”

“South?” I
asked, looking around. Besides the creek, everything near us was quiet and
still. The landscape was vast hills and plains of yellow-green grass, sparsely
populated by trees with twisted trunks that spiraled and bent upwards towards
the sun. Now that I thought of it, I had not seen much else during the travel
here, not a single dwelling. I had counted it as Traken avoiding the
headhunters, as he had said, but that didn't explain the complete absence of
any signs of civilization at all. “Didn't you say this side of Kurdak was well
populated?”

“It is, but
mostly south towards the coast, or north where the road from West Kurdak comes
out. If there were once tribes or villages in this middle section, they have
long since moved away to more profitable areas. This is considered the dead
zone... sending us here was possibly one last jab from our horned friend.”

The easygoing
way he said it did not hide the irritation in his eyes. He swiped his hands
upwards and the horses vanished without their usual theatrics of wandering away
first to do so. Then he nodded towards the creek.

“Drink,
bathe. This may be our last chance.”

My lips were
dry and my canteen almost empty, so I could not hide the enthusiasm with which
I stepped towards the water. It was cool and soft against my fingers as I
dipped them in, testing.

“About how
far will this put us behind?” I asked.

“We'll still
make it in time,” was all Traken said, sitting down at the edge of the stream a
few yards away and dipping in his own canteen. He was being distant, and on top
of that he wasn't looking at me. I sighed. I had never known him to have such
moods of ups and downs.

“Traken? Are
you okay?”

“It isn't
your business whether I am or not,” he said. That smile that really wasn't a
smile slipped onto his face. “But I am fine, Santo.”

The way he
used my given name now, absent of familiarity, gave me chills. “Cold and eerie
doesn’t suit you,” I told him, trying to revive a playful mood.

“That's how I
always am.”

“You don't
know yourself very well if you really believe that's the truth,” I said. He
didn't respond.

I gave up and
prepared to bathe. I discarded my swords and then each and every blade belt I
had on me, the two on my upper arms empty after the fight with the Falcons. I
stripped off both my torn robe and battered pants, leaving just the
under-cloths. At that point Traken, who had grown still, blatantly turned away.
My skin grew clammy.

Turned away?
He was too old a being to care of silly things like decency. He had never once
had a problem with popping in while I was half-dressed, bathing or otherwise,
and I wondered at this new bit of strange behavior as I waded waist-deep into
the creek and dunked my stained and ripped clothing into the cool water.

Many minutes
passed with no noise but the humming of bees and flies, and the occasional slap
of water against my hips or hands. I alternated soaking and squeezing out the
materials, and had many thoughts while doing so... which may have started out
serious and contemplative, but ended along the lines of wondering just how
Traken's blood-cleaning spell really worked, and how he would react to
something completely mundane happening to him, like a bee flying up his nose.

“I never said
thank you,” I said suddenly, that bee daydream loosening the tension in me
enough to talk. He was still sitting with his back partially to me. “You risked
losing your secret when you saved me back there in the forest.”

“It is my
duty to bring you back alive,” he said stiffly. “I would have had to do it
anyway, even if it broke that unicorn’s rules.”

“Yes, yes, I
know. Nonetheless, you did something you really didn't want to do, and I
benefited. Hence, the thank you.”

“It's not
that I didn't want to,” Traken started, and then stopped. He finally turned and
looked at me again, full on, dark eyes flooding with something raw. I stared
back blatantly, determined not to be intimidated even as my skin prickled. “I
wonder though... do I even have a choice anymore?”

“What does
that mean?” I asked, but didn't receive an answer. He didn't turn away this
time though, and his gaze unnerved me to the point that I had to turn myself. I
waded close to a rock at the edge of the creek and started scrubbing my robe
against it vigorously, back to him.

“How would
you feel,” he asked after a couple more moments of silence, “if you came all
this way only to find nothing? What if it was all a lie?”

“I don't
think I believe my ears,” I teased gently. “Is this actual concern? If I find
nothing else... well, don't worry about me. I will not break from failure. I've
had many years enough of it.”

“Death is not
the same as failure,” he said. I shrugged half-heartedly.

“Yes, but if
the death comes true, why wouldn't the answers?”

“I....”
Traken stopped. I heard him shift position, and then his voice finally warped
back into that far-less-interesting cheerful tone that was his natural state of
being. “I'm going to try further down the creek, kitten, and see if the way
ahead is safe. You can never be too careful with all these headhunters around.”

My
temperature dropped again. I whirled in the water, expecting to see anything but
the backside of a large black dog bounding out of sight, following the line of
trees beside the bank. A great silence followed, one I hadn't noticed as keenly
even when he had left me alone to face the Le Fam. It was the complete absence
of all his power and all his being. I had not even noticed it there until it
was now gone, and I felt somehow stranded. What was he doing? Was he planning
to come back at all?

Why wouldn't
he? 

It was only
then that I seriously started to wonder about what awaited me and how I would
really feel if it were all for naught.

Traken did
return after a very long while, and by that time I had moved downstream and was
lying on the bank, basking in the warm sunlight and twisting long blades of
grass together into ornamental designs. I was staring at clouds, my hair fanned
out around me on the grass, right out of reach of the dappled shade of a very
pleasant tree that had winding branches low enough to hang my clothes out on to
dry. I was chewing on my very last Wake-Me-Not root, so as not to give in to
the pleasant drowsiness I was feeling, when I heard the soft padding of his
approach.

I didn't
move, but glanced long ways through the corner of my eyes. He was still in his
dog form, tongue lolling out in a solid pant and rich black fur dazzling in the
sunshine. A pang went through me seeing my old dog's likeness so soon after the
unicorn had renewed his image in my mind. They really did look similar.

“You were
gone a while,” I commented as he passed by wordlessly to lap up water from the
stream. I propped myself up on my elbows.

“Yes,” was
all he said in response. I motioned for him with my fingers.

“Come here a
moment.”

His ears
perked, and he turned to look at me, brown eyes catching the light and turning
rusty gold. His hesitation only lasted a instant before he padded over and sat
down obediently at my side. I grinned, reaching a hand out, and started
scratching behind his ears with vigor. Those scorching, intelligent eyes
widened.

“Sorry,” I
said, holding back laughter. “You look so much like him... those stirred up
memories are giving me strange compulsions.”

His ears
twitched again as he lowered his muzzle and leaned into the pet. It was what
Hino would have done, or any other friendly dog, but certainly not a proud,
arrogant sorcerer. I cackled inwardly, wondering if he even knew he was doing
it.   

“Despite your
lofty words, I really thought you might run for it,” he said after a moment. I
flashed my teeth at him.

“Oh, was this
a test? I already made my intentions clear, Dogboy. Besides, I don't have the
energy after protecting your hide all night long.” I flicked him playfully on
his big black nose and fell back down into the grass, gazing up at my damp
clothes. “Did you see those charms they had in Gronmid that dry your clothes
instantly? I should have bought a few.”

Traken stood
and stretched his long limbs out languidly. Approaching the clothes as if by
his own whim and not my words, he touched his nose to each one. The power in
the air, gentle and warm, tickled my bare skin as much as the long grass. His
tail started wagging.

“They're dry
now,” he informed me.

“Show-off.” I
rolled to my feet, still feeling vague muscle pains but nothing nearly as bad
as before the cold water had done its work. My long hair rolled down my bare
shoulders and ended in the lower curve of my back, shorter than it had been in
years. I did not miss the weight, though I wondered if I had truly broken my
promise with the monks if I had cut it for a good cause. Regardless, their
teachings would not leave me.

“You're lucky
you have a sorcerer with you,” Traken said, sitting primly and puffing his
chest out. I barked a laugh.

“You use that
word a lot with me,” I said. “
Lucky
. I don't think that really describes
the circumstances.” As I reached for my clothes, I heard the splendid sound of
a small bird trilling in the treetops. I looked up, and stopped cold.

“I change my
mind,” I said, lowering my hands. “I may just have the best luck in all of
Kurdak.”

Traken made a
curious sound in his throat as I launched myself onto the low limb holding my
laundry and then used it to climb up to where it met the trunk. Just a ways
above that was my miracle... a small circle, crudely carved and so much smaller
than I had seen in my memories, with words within that had not well stood the
test of time. They were mangled and grown over with fungi somewhat, but I could
make out an “S”, and something that could have once been the imitation of a
friendly dog's paw print. My hand found it and pressed against the bark gently,
reverently; I closed my eyes and breathed in, feeling as if the air itself were
from a different time and place. 

“This is...
this is....” My mouth went dry. I glanced outward from my spot on the tree
branch, over the expanse of the open field and hills beyond the creek. I saw no
rooftops or chimney smoke, and yet I half expected to. “This is my home.”

I jumped down
from the tree and landed in a crouch, startling Traken so badly that he jerked
and scrambled away, paws slipping in the leaves.

“What are you
doing?” he asked, ears pulled back. I didn't answer, but threw on my clothes,
leaving the torn robe open and hanging the sash around my neck. Even in my
haste, I stopped to clip my dagger belts on with tempered patience before I
grabbed my swords and pack. Preparation and caution were necessary.

“What are you
doing?” Traken asked again.

“I have to
see it.”

“There are no
towns near here,” he warned softly, “if you're hoping to find one. Not living
ones, anyway. I would be able to tell.”

I looked down
at him, and felt my eyes melt into a determined coffee color when they met his.
“Understood,” I said, and then charged off at a run through the long,
knee-length grasses. I heard Traken's echoed voice swell up behind me as he
gave chase.

“I didn't see
any headhunters on my run, but that doesn't mean they're not here. Move
cautiously!”

Slowing as he
instructed, I followed old memories down a crude path that no longer existed to
where I knew my village once was. The sky was a vivid blue above, and tracked
my stubborn race up the slight incline of a hill. When I reached the top,
breathless, I saw for a split second the layout of the town just as it should
have been across the rolling hillsides; wooden cabins overgrown with
sweet-smelling vines, pocked fences trailing out as far as the eye could see,
sheep and goats frolicking behind them as trails of smoke danced out of chimney
tops to join the clouds.

But Traken
was right; all it took was a blink, and I realized there really wasn't anything
there at all. The green hillsides and meadows were now empty of human life,
though moss-covered mounds protruded from the dirt here and there that could
have been the old remnants of the town. These mounds, if people-made they
really were, could be all that was left of what had been my only home.