The Gypsy Queen (4 page)

 
Yana
awoke, dripping wet.

  The familiar creak of wagon wheels greeted her. Floating between sleep and lucidity, she could still see the boy’s face. She saw her people tending to him and wrapping them in blankets. How had she gotten home? How had they found her? How was the boy?

  “Bastion,” she mumbled. She arose to tend to him somehow... but realized... she was awake. She was in her wagon. Lyubov had the reins. She had been dreaming.

 
Yana
climbed back up into the bench up front with Lyubov, and took the reins. It was afternoon, and the caravan was following the meandering little road into the fores
t. Sparse at first, it got
thicker as they went, and
Yana
hoped it would lend them some cover. She wanted to see Bastion, but thought that maybe if she managed to avoid him, she could avoid the trouble he would surely bring. They would make it to one of her favorite campgrounds before nightfall, where she used to climb the trees and hone her skills with the bow.

  Just as she thought it, her heart sunk. It was the same damn place where they had helped Bastion recover.
.. before returning him to the
kingdom
. She would see him before sundown, no doubt. Then she was irritated with herself, as she suddenly realized she wanted to change and clean up... and she usually didn’t care about that too much, unless she was going into the townships to make money. She began to adjust her clothes and reached for her good shawl, knowing she was going to look good for him whether she was irritated about it or not.

  “You saw Bastion,” Lyubov said, jerking
Yana
out of her own obsessive thoughts.

  “Yes,” replied
Yana
.

  “How did you see?”
Lyubov inquired.

 
Yana
knew what she meant. “I saw him twice,” she replied.
“
I saw him last night. He was in danger, he was attacked, and I....” she trailed off, not wanting to admit the rest. “I helped him,” she confessed anyway. She cursed herself for not having the good sense to stay put and not track the five black riders.

  “I am afraid I may have brought trouble for the people,”
Yana
continued.

  “Da,” Lyubov nodded. She was aware of Bastion too.

  “I saw him when I slept, too,”
Yana
added. “I saw the night of the storm, when I first found him.” She touched her wrist again, the faint pattern that looked almost like a rune loosely stenciled in henna.

  “We will see him,” Lyubov said.

 
Yana
nodded grimly, saying nothing. Lyubov sensed her apprehensive energy, and reached over to set her hand on
Yana
’s.

  “You don’t fear,
Yana
,” she said.
Yana
couldn’t tell if this was hollow comfort, or some kind of insight, but nothing Lyubov said was without meaning.

  “What did you see, Lyuba
?” using her pet name for her that was nearly identical to the child, Luba. She had been avoiding asking, because Lyubov always liked to tell in her own time, her own way.

  “I see danger,” Lyubov said. “I see pain.”

  Lovely,
Yana
thought. She knew better to interrupt, as Lyubov paused.

  “I see freedom,” she finished.

  “What kind of freedom?”
Yana
asked, wondering if she had ever even heard her use that word before. They were always free,
Yana
thought. They were gypsies, after all.

  “I cannot see,” Lyubov answered. “It is different...it is big. A different freedom.”

That didn’t make any sense. Lyubov could see
Yana
’s confusion, but could not offer more explanation. Not yet.

  “You don’t fear,
Yana
.”

  “It is your fate.”

 
Yana
leaned back in the bench of the wagon, pondering it. They were approaching the campground, and the afternoon was waning. She didn’t know too much about fate. She had far more questions than answers, and she recalled her fire of last night, feeling scattered. Maybe her fate would bring some clarity. Answers. She had no idea what Bastion might have to do with it, and she preferred to make her own way. She feared nothing. She decided sh
e would consult Luba, the young
girl. Maybe she would lend some insight to add to Lyubov’s words.

  No matter what laid before her, she relished an adventure... and as much as she had tried to avoid Bastion and put him out of her mind, she had always known she would see him again. She would not bother to evade him further.

  She hopped off the wagon as it was slowing, as they approached their camp. A few people already occupied it, and had a fire going. They shouted welcomes, and the sound of a flute leapt into the air, as
Yana
smiled. She loved her people, and went to go seek the fire and the warmth of greeting everyone.

  Before long, the campsite was ablaze with light, s
plashed with shadow, and decorated
with voices. The smell of supper arose, and the sounds of stories
and laughter
abounded to combine with music.
Yana
walked through camp, to see Luba. She found her with Dimmie and Emilee.

  “Luba, will you come sit with me?”
Yana
asked.

  Luba sprung up from the game they were playing, and they headed for the fires. Before long, they were eating the breads and berries that the day’s journey had afforded them, and laughing with the people.
Yana
was glad to let herself forget the worries and chaos that tried to creep in lately, and this was the perfect time for it.

  “Yana,” Luba said
after they had finished eating,
“I want to see you.”
Yana
was already sitting right there, but she
knew what she meant
. Sure enough, Luba pulled out her little round crystal ball from her satchel, and set it in her lap, sliding her palms gently across its smooth surface. Luba did this for a short while, and then handed it to
Yana
. It was the only item of any value that the little girl possessed, but it was given by Lyubov, and Luba had more ability with it than any child
Yana
could imagine.

 
Yana
held it a while, clearing her mind, and thinking of Lyubov’s words of fate. Finally, Luba took it back, and began to peer into it by the light of the fire, but using her insight more than any normal sight. She lingered a while, and searched for what she could discern.

  Finally, Luba lifted her gaze, and looked at
Yana
. Yana was curious, but peaceful. Luba looked as though she was at a loss for words, and had a look of concern. She was sure of what she had seen, but not sure what it meant... so she just said it.

  “Follow one who pales in your shadow,” Luba said.

 
Yana
looked at her, confused. Luba offered no explanation, but only shrugged her shoulders.
Yana
knew she would say no more- she was taught by Lyubov, and often just as mysterious. It would be up to
Yana
to explore what it might mean. She nodded at Luba, and pulled out her own satchel she had brought. It held a harp. Luba smiled.

  Listening to Yana play her little harp was
her favorite music
, and
Yana
would play it to say thanks, and maybe get a little comfort from it too. She set it in her lap, and began to stroke the little strings gently. Her mother had taught her to play when she was barely old enough to walk, and though the only songs she knew were those she invented, her music always attracted anyone who could hear.

  She closed her eyes and played her heart out, not just playing a little tune, but pouring out all her feelings, as long as she pleased. She could hear others, as they were c
oming closer
to hear her play. She played and played, her music almost sounding like a soulful journey, a strident run, an invitation to celebrate. 

  When
Yana
finally finished, and opened her eyes, there he was.

  Bastion. Sitting amongst the others.

  Chills caressed her skin. She had known he was close. He didn’t speak, as the last notes she had played still hung in the air. She realized she was indeed happy to see him.

  She also realized that everyone else who had gathered were now staring, wondering who this stranger was, sitting in their midst. They were naturally suspicious of outsiders; many of them had caused them harm from time to time. They looked to
Yana
.

  “Oi,
Yana
,” Bastion said finally. She smiled at him, unable to hide the smile in her heart.

  “Bastion,” she acknowledged with a nod. He remembered. The small crowd in their midst was both relieved, seeing that this was someone who was obviously acquainted with
Yana
... but also apprehensive.

  They had heard the name Bastion before too.

  Su
ddenly, drums popped into rhythm
in the distance, and Luba perked up immediately. They were gypsy drums. This was the beat of the dance. She looked at
Yana
.

  “It’s the dance,
Yana
! The dance!” exclaimed Luba.

  “Well, by all means, go dance if it pleases you!”
Yana
replied. Maybe they would disperse, and she could speak with Bastion alone. She had a lot of questions, and the look on his face said that he did too.

  Others began to get up and head towards the drums.

  Emilee rushed up to them. “It’s the dance!” she announced. “Come dance,
Yana
!”

  “You dance,”
Yana
replied, though she realized that the drums and the energy coursing through her as she sat looking at Bastion, the young boy, now a man, that she had not seen in years... the drums did call to her. She wanted to dance. It was the dance she had been teaching Luba and Emilee and some others.

  “Come on, Yana, come on,” the girls urged, Emilee tugging on
Yana
’s shoulder. Suddenly all
Yana
’s confusion, apprehension, and uncertainty left her, and she remembered herself. Proud, powerful, and utterly full of mischief. Damn right she was going to dance! She looked Bastion in the eye, and tilted her head, motioning for him to follow. Bastion knew well enough not to speak, and stood up, to come along and see the dance.

 
Yana
knew that Bastion was trouble, to be sure... but there would be no doubt in his mind now-

  Yana
was pure trouble too.

__________________________________

The Gypsy Queen- CHAPTER 3- “Reach”

  The drums thumped succinctly, enticing the gypsies to the sound. Three old men played off to the side of a fire, likely the bigge
st one in the camp. T
wo wagons
were
aligned at an angle, nearly touching each other. Tapestries were draped in front of them both, almost touching as well. The people came to sit by the fire, as the anticipation built.
Yana
had run on ahead of Bastion with the girls, and disappeared into the camp in the direction of the drums, saying nothing.

  Bastion strolled that way too, taking in the smells and sounds of the gyp
sy camp. He had
never forgot his time with them. He sat amongst the others, as they spoke and whispered to each other. The drums beat faithfully, and Bastion’s favorite- the djembe, led them. A big hollow thump it made, if you struck t
he center, and a
higher pitch on the edges. He had one in his private quarters that
he was known to play during
times alone. He tuned in to his surroundings, and let his senses indulge. His stomach leapt just a bit as the girls emerged from behind the tapestries. It was Emilee first, and then Luba. They had castanets in their hands that they clicked along with the beat.  Their hips began to sway, yanking and pulling the skirts that struggled to keep hold.

  Bastion could barely imagine seeing
Yana
dance this way before she promptly emerged too. Moving in unison with the young girls, she moved into the center of them. Bastion had heard of this dance- the belly dance. He was speechless as he took in the sight of
Yana
moving this way, moving with rhythm, her hips singing a song of their own. She wore a veil, and looked over at Bastion for a split second, and winked just as she spun with her companions. Devastating. Bastion could only marvel at how happy he was to see her. He had so much to say, and so much to ask... but for now, he just took in the glorious sight of
Yana
in her dance. She was
unforgettable, for him
... and this moment
was a new favorite amongst
the other moments he had burned into his memory of her.