Sleepless (Curse of the Blood Fox Trilogy, Book #1) (27 page)

“You don't know this man,” he said,
shaking his head. “He is much older than me, and much more stubborn. He is also
one of only a few whose mind I cannot listen to.”

“Are you scared, then?”

“Wary,” he corrected quickly, eyes
flashing. “And you should be too. Do not give him any sort of reaction. He
thrives off learning the motives of others and then twisting their desires
against them.” 

We began to walk again, and I raised
my eyebrows at him.

“So it was ‘package’ again. That means
I am not a guest here.”

Traken made a noise in his throat. “We
use the word ‘package’ for anything we retrieve for the master, regardless.”

“That was not exactly an answer,” I
said. His eyes shot to mine for just a moment, and the corners of his lips
stretched.

“No, it wasn't.”

Valentina and Phernado rippled with
unsettled energy on my back, and the only comfort I could give them was silent.
I didn't know myself what I was stepping towards, but it was growing ever more
grotesque in my mind.

Through the lush, pungent scents of
growing crop we continued until we reached the very edge of the fields and found
ourselves on the outskirts of the town. Now I could see up close why the town
had seemed only a dark mass in the distance. Every building was created with
the same shiny black stone, smooth and glossy and shaped into large rectangular
blocks. They were small, simple structures, minimalistic and characterless.
There wasn't a hint of design prowess among them, and what frustrated me was
that it seemed on purpose. The roads, simple dirt paths, were rigidly straight,
and there were no hints of what had become customary elsewhere; mage-globes
hovering above the streets, shops decorated with the earthy, twiney designs of
witchcraft, or even the commonplace charms and symbols lining doorways and
windows.

No, there was nothing here but stern,
unyielding stone. Nothing tickled the part of my mind that knew the sources; I
did not feel their life as part of the town, thrumming beneath the walls and in
the wood of the doorways, singing in the veins of passersby. After so many
miles of flat fields and empty landscape, we had finally come upon true
barrenness.

“It is suffocating,” I said softly.
Traken exhaled as if he, too, were steadying himself.

“That's Partchoo,” he said, voice
heavy with dislike. “It has a quality all its own.”

I couldn't agree more. The alien territory
was playing games with my nerves, and I had the strangest fancy to whip out
both Valentina and Phernado and fight my way out; fight my way out, as if there
were already an army holding me in. Wouldn’t Traken just get a kick out of
that?

The dark soil that made up the
streets, fragrant and clean of horse droppings or cart tracks, made it seem as
if we were walking through someone's newly-tilled garden. There was no inn or
marketplace as we went, no tavern or town hall... no building that looked different
from another, in fact, except one. It was flat and large, a canopy missing
walls on three sides, and had many tables underneath. A lot of the townspeople
were gathered at these tables now, resting away from the high sun. They were
either stuffing down bread and cheese or drinking from large wooden mugs.

As we passed, though we were at least
two building lengths away, the men and women within went quiet and focused on
us with their dark, sleepless eyes and blood-hardened motives.

“These people are not right,” I said
to Traken, brow furrowed. “It isn't just their religion. They are like ghosts.”

“Fascinating, aren't they?” he said,
in a tone that implied he had long since grown bored of them. “They are the
results of my master’s crushing grip on generations and generations of their
sensibilities. Don't let them get to you. They're too cowardly to actually try
anything.”

“Generations?” I practically hissed,
and did not get a reply. Instead, Traken grew terribly interested in his ringed
fingers, and then at a plain building wall that we passed. Something heavy
found its way into my stomach, and I carried it as we continued past those
treacherous eyes and down that ominous straight road.

One piece of elaborateness finally
came into view at the very center of the town as Traken hurried me with his
widening steps. It was a temple made of the same black stone as the rest of the
town, but it was wider than four houses put together and tall enough to cast a
shadow on the few buildings that dared to be in range. It was also covered in
gold-plated decorations. Even from far away I had to squint at the sun glaring
off the expensive rounded turrets.

I almost tripped twice as we got closer,
eyes stuck on that splendor. A low iron gate separated the temple from the rest
of the town, and carved lions sat as guardians at either side of the gated
entrance, gilded manes gleaming. Beyond that, stone people dressed in the sun
itself bowed and prayed before the walls of the massive temple.

Clinging to Traken's shadow as his
pace grew faster, I had to shut my ears to the magi-wards clattering in our
wake. The more I took in our destination, the more curious I became to the fact
that there were no doors to this temple. There was a path leading to an
entranceway. Curious blue orbs as wide as my shoulders, popping with light,
stood on either side of where a door should be, and yet... there was no
entrance.

“That is where my master resides,”
Traken finally said, in case I hadn't guessed.

“It's quite... decadent.”

“A palace worthy of a god,” he replied.

No one was in the streets, but the
magi-wards along the houses nearest the gate pounded against their eaves as we
slowed to a stop near the shining lions. As soon as we did, a figure suddenly
moved out of the shadows of the building and skittered towards us. It was a
little thing, definitely human, but with such thin arms and legs that it looked
like it could be a child. I couldn't tell for sure because its head was wrapped
in a tan bathing cloth.  It seemed impossible that it could even see where it
was going.

 “Master Traken,” the little thing
said, inching forward and sliding down to its knees so as to be even smaller. I
was completely surprised to hear the thick voice of what could have been an old
man creaking through the cloth. I took a step back, but Traken stayed perfectly
still as the little thing groveled with covered hands at his feet.

“Icol,” he said shortly, though with
less disdain than he had with Derk. The small man bowed deeply, clothed
forehead touching the ground.

“Master Traken, I am glad you're here.
The master has been in quite the mood.”

“So I've heard,” Traken said. “You can
tell him that we have arrived. Will he be immediately ready for us?”

“Oh, oh, oh, I do not know. We did
deliver his meal just a moment ago, and he likes to be prepared. However, he
has been exceptionally impatient.”

The little thing was quivering, and as
he did, some of his cloth wrapping slipped off his hands. I could see scars on
the pale skin underneath... swirling, flower scars very similar to the ones I
had seen on Traken. I took another little, imperceptible step back.

“I apologize, Icol,” Traken said, and
even though he didn't sound apologetic, he didn't sound sarcastic either. “Go
ahead and let him know. I'm sure he will be pleased.”

“Oh, yes, yes, yes!” the little man
exclaimed.

Suddenly the hairs on the back of my
neck prickled, and magic swelled around me like a dead heat. I jerked, whirling
around to find the cause. I couldn't see a thing, but the air pressed in even
hotter and stole my breath. Traken's back was slightly to me, still consulting
with the little man. I couldn't even hear what they were saying.

“Traken,” I tried to say, but realized
after I had formed the word that no noise was coming out. I stumbled towards
him, but not even my footsteps made a sound. This was magic, but the magi-wards
were already fluttering at Traken's presence, so he wasn't going to notice what
was happening now. Panicked, I reached for his shoulder.

My swords thrummed angrily as I was
yanked backwards and away. For a moment my stomach was in my throat as my feet
left the ground. It happened so fast; I was still reaching for Traken, and then
the next second he was small and far away, and then he was gone.

Suddenly I was in darkness. As soon as
my feet touched something solid and the magic dissipated, I whirled in place,
whipping my swords off my back. Valentina and Phernado hummed viciously, but
there were no targets. I could see nothing but black.

I fell into a defensive stance, knees
and elbows bent and swords crossed in front of me. I worked myself around in a
slow circle, unsure what I should be facing or what I was up against. Magic
tickled my skin, but did not rear up at me from any angle. There was just
silence.

And then a laugh started from
somewhere.

“I wonder how long you could hold that
pose. I hear sword arms get tired eventually,” the voice said.

It was deflatingly familiar as it
continued.

“I've lifted the silence on you, but
don't bother calling for help. I'm sure our dear friend noticed your absence
the moment that delectable scent of yours was gone, but he isn't the only one
good at hiding.”

“Derk,” I said, and was highly amused
that it came out the same way Traken had said it. Perhaps there was no other
reaction anyone could give to a creature like this.

“Oh, I do not think we are on first
name basis,” Derk said. “Do not fret, though, I will do you no harm. Your
destination has not changed. It will just be me delivering you instead of
Traken.”

“I decline, thank you,” I said,
lifting my blades up further.

“You don't have a choice, but it is
interesting to see that kind of loyalty in a hostage.”

The way he said it made me believe he
really did think it was interesting, and I wondered if I had made a mistake
somehow. Suddenly the shadowed air grew thick with magic again, and this time I
found my muscles sluggishly freezing over. I was still holding my pose, but
could barely move from it without extensive effort. My breath hissed; it was
similar to the spell the Le Fam had placed on me, but my muscles were still
working, just slowly.

Something poked at the open flaps of
my robe, and then at a soft part of my side. I flinched away, but it was like I
was moving through sludge. Derk's voice giggled, and even though he must have been
right next to me and I even imagined I could make out flashes of pale skin in
the blackness, I could not shake my disorientation.

“It is hard to believe anybody could
keep their hands off you with that smell you've wrapped yourself in,” he said.
“Don't think I haven't noticed whose robe you're wearing, however abused and
disfigured. Perhaps something besides bad weather made you late.”

My nose crinkled, but I said, “True,
it wasn't bad weather.”

“Oh, but no carnal urges brought to
light? I can tell in your face. I'm sure he thought about it though... I would
have.”

“I imagine his mind is nothing like
yours,” I said somewhat spitefully, trying to figure out how he could see me in
this darkness. Maybe he was using a spell to see by... but that seemed like such
useless effort when he had me trapped and basically useless.

“Aaah, so there is an emotion there,”
my captor said exuberantly, and I knew this time I had definitely made a
mistake. His excited hot breath blasted against my cheekbones and smelled like rot.
“What is it then? More than loyalty, I think. Desire, perhaps.” There was a
pause, and as I struggled to push my swords forward, hot hands pressed against
my cheeks. “Not desire.  Respect, then. Tenacious respect.”

“Your point eludes me,” I spat through
my teeth.

“Point?” He laughed, and his voice
became conversational. “I am too lived to need a point. But really, to put a
man like Traken in such high regard baffles the mind. You have met him, haven't
you? Quite the odd relationship between the lamb and the lion.”

Compulsion spells
. It hit me when he mentioned the
mind, and I realized mine was just confused.
I'm fine
, I told myself
firmly,
I can move just fine.

“I think you're mistaking who the lion
is,” I said softly, trying to distract him as I tested my movement.

“That's what all the lambs say.”
Suddenly I felt something devilishly pointy and cold against my belly, and his
breath had moved to my ear. My braced swords moved, but not fast enough. His
other arm came up and restrained one.

“That smell isn't on your clothes,”
his voice hissed in my ear, “and it isn't on your skin. It's inside you, and
before I hand you over to our beloved master I am going to carve you open and
find out what it is.”

I am fine
, I repeated quickly to myself, and
found that light was swirling into my vision as well. I blinked, and blinked
again, and a sick realization hit me.

It wasn't dark where we were... I was
the only one who couldn't see.

I focused harder, this time on my eyes
as well, and that twisted man with a head of black hair slowly swam into focus.
He wasn't looking at my face, though. His bleary hand jerked forward, and a
terrible pain exploded in my middle. 

I reeled, and dislodged from the knife
with a backwards movement, causing just that much more pain. My muscles were
listening to me again, though, and I was registering a mostly-lit room with
dark corners, no windows, and one door. I made use of the fact that my swords
were already up and brought them both forward in a sweeping arc, tearing into
Derk's lower abdomen and upper thigh. Clothing ripped, blood splattered, and he
howled and collided against the nearest wall.

Groaning, I stumbled to the side, not
ready at first to follow up my attack. Blood was already spreading out and down
my front, and every movement stabbed me again.

Derk was still holding the knife, and
his thick face and sharp eyes locked onto mine. A sneer creased that mouth, and
he brought the knife towards his face and sniffed.

“Yes... that's definitely the source.”

The air tickled and swelled, but I did
not wait to see what he was planning. I lunged and swiped at him again with
Valentina's sizzling blade. It was a wide swing, and wouldn't have done much
damage if it had actually hit, but it distracted Derk. His magic died down
quickly as he rolled against the wall and tried to edge forward and away. His
injured thigh made him stumble though, and I used that moment to kick him in
the side and send him rolling.

Magic was tricky, but no matter how
powerful a spell he tried to concoct, he had to concentrate to complete it. As
magic swirled in the air again and Derk tried to right himself, I lurched
forward and aimed Phernado between his ribs. He swore and stumbled back, and
the magic abruptly vanished. 

My attack missed, but I was already
following through with another.

“Faster, old man,” I warned with
hissing breath, smiling as he scrambled to his feet again. “I've dealt with
your kind before. You’re really much better at attacking from a distance.”

“You are full of talk,” he growled. I
rushed at him, my wound tearing open further, and threw both swords over my
head as if to attack from above. As he was looking up, power surging, I lashed
out with one leg and yanked his feet from under him. The spell faltered again,
and in that time I stomped on his knife hand to remove his grip from it and
fell quickly down upon him, elbow landing in his chest. He choked, back
slamming against the ground, and before he could recover both my swords were
crossed at his neck. I crouched above, pinning his chest with my knees and
trying to keep our gushing wounds separate.

“Not fast enough,” I told him. “I can
tell when you use magic. Try anything, and I will kill you.”

I felt the air tingle around us
anyway, and I pressed my blades deeper until they had drawn bloody slits in his
skin and were thrumming in my hands with the taste of it. He hissed.

“You
can
tell.” His face was
red, but his eyes were defiant. “Just what are you planning to do now?”

“Wait,” I said, eyes narrowing. “You
won't move.”

“You'll wait,” he repeated in a raspy
whisper, blood leaking down the sides of his throat. “You won’t kill me? You
won’t escape? Have you considered what you're waiting for?”

“Maybe it's your death,” I whispered
tauntingly. My swords hummed along, excited at the prospect. Their blades
tugged slowly downwards, deeper, without my consent.

Power stirred around Derk again, quick
and sharp, and this time I dug my knee into a tender region until he squirmed
and whimpered and the magic dispersed again.

“You really aren't fast enough,” I
told him gently. “You should stop. Traken will be here any minute, I'm sure.”

“I'm already here,” he said from
behind. Rather than being startled, I felt a pinch of annoyance.

“You've been watching?” I asked with
grit in my throat, turning slightly. “How long were you going to sit there?”

He was grinning, practically jovial.
“Watching people fight gives me tingles. Plus, you just don't know how much I'd
enjoy seeing you take his head off.”

“Oh, I'll bet,” Derk spat, his face
that much redder. “But then your little pet here wouldn't survive very long,
would she?”

“I wouldn't let her get hurt over a
miniscule death like yours.”

“Wouldn't let?” the man echoed, and
his eyes lit. As Traken came around to stand above us, Derk's stare became
keenly interested. “You wouldn't, would you? What a strange epiphany.” He
glanced back at me again. “I think I did mistake the lion.”

I couldn't stand being so close to him
anymore. I jumped off and sheathed my blades.

“You can deal with your own people,
Traken.”

Derk scrambled up as well, limping
backwards.

“Deal with me? He's not allowed. Oh
no, that would be against our master's rules.”

“As is interfering with a mission
without being given an order to do so,” Traken pointed out, staring at his own
fingers. “I think he will not be very happy with you, Derk. You have now
delayed him further.”

“Tell him if you like, but I now know
something else he won't be happy about,” Derk said, pulling the collar of his
robe to his neck to sop up the blood. “I doubt even you, his favorite, will
survive the punishment.”

“Punishment for what?” I asked.

“Nothing at all,” Traken said quickly,
and energy formed around him until flames appeared in his hands. “I don't care
for your threats. Get out of here.”

And Derk did, though he had the most unsettling
grin on his face as he disappeared before our eyes. Traken blew the flames out
of his hand disinterestedly, and they tumbled up into the air and disappeared
before they hit the ceiling.

“Theatrics,” I commented, holding my
stomach, and he chuckled.

“Call it what you will. Magic is all
about control.”

I expected him to rush us out the
door, but he remained standing with a ferocious smile lingering on his face as
he stared at me. His brown eyes were enigmatic, and with them he was giving me
his full attention. The moments fled from uncomfortable to awkward, and my skin
started to feel strangely warm.

“Traken... weren't we hearing all this
fuss about your lord's impatience?”

His mouth opened, but it took a while
for words to finally form on his lips.

“Have I ever told you why people
follow my master?”

“Yes, you've already dazzled me with descriptions
of his power.”

“That isn't all it takes. Every good
leader,” he paused and grinned, “or should I rephrase to successful leader?
They are steadfast. Right or wrong is inconsequential. It is their own belief
in what they are doing that draws their followers to them. Those who have no
goal to believe in must at least have someo
ne
to believe in.”

“I do not understand that concept.”

“No, you wouldn't.” His eyes warmed.
“However, it is useful to know. To those with none, someone with a purpose is
terrifying... and fascinating.”

“I will not be seduced by your
master,” I warned, mocking Traken with a wag of my finger.

“The thought hadn't crossed my mind,”
he said, and with a jerky motion he finally started forward. He took hold of my
shoulder and that golden aura appeared above the stab wound in my stomach. The
pain dulled immediately. “What has, however, is that you once again wasted a
perfect opportunity to escape.”

“You still can't believe I'm not
trying to?”

“I am merely pointing out the
astounding strength of your conviction, however foolish it may be.”

“Foolish? I am just ending what you
started.”

“As I said. Never follow my lead,
kitten. It isn't the order of things.”

“I would never turn to you for order.”

Traken let out a lavish snort and
prodded me out the heavy door. The sun blinded me as I stepped out... directly
onto the same dismal road we had previously walked down. Derk hadn't dragged me
all that far. We were past the break house still, and I could see the temple in
the near distance. In fact, I could even see the little creature Icol waiting
nervously at the lion gate.