Sleepless (Curse of the Blood Fox Trilogy, Book #1) (17 page)

“Do not
project your ideals onto me,” Traken said, one side of his lip rising. “Is that
really how you think? What a terrible way to live.”

“It has saved
you
in the past,” I said, turning back to search for Phernado and
Valentina in the dirt. Their crimson and gold hues gleamed from the red-stained
dust like serpents lying in wait. I picked them up, and felt a simultaneous
fullness and emptiness. “This was a waste. I shouldn't have let them follow us
this far.”

Traken's eyes
sharpened. “You knew?”

“Yes, I was
told by another little bird,” I said, and raised an eyebrow as I sheathed the
swords. “You know, the one I helped on the stairs?”

“Don't act
sly,” he said, and his tone was much gruffer than I had expected. “Do you
realize how close you came to dying because you kept that from me? Seeing you
there... it was like that dream of yours all over again. The Le Fam have
knowledge of ancient spells that I have never even witnessed. Your luck really
knows no bounds.”

“I see,” I
said, shaking my head in mock-disappointment. “You can only say nice things
about me when you think I'm dead, is that it?” I sent him a congenial slap on
the shoulder. “I was doing it for your sake, Dogboy. I thought it would keep you
out of more trouble with your lord. I suppose it would have done more good to
know about compulsion spells first, yes?”

“It should
not be your prerogative to protect me,” Traken said, and there was a weird
thickness in his throat. “You seem to continually and purposefully forget the
situation that you are in. I would not do the same for you, in any case.”

“Well, you
would,” I said. “You have to because your lord wants me alive, but it only
seems fair to return favors, even forced ones. I do not see you as a danger,
Traken.”

“That is a
mistake,” he said, sweeping his hands out around him to indicate the bodies
laid out amid the settling dust. “Obviously.”

“You killed
only one,” I reminded him, conveniently leaving out the fact that I had not,
exactly, taken down the others. He cocked his head, and a slight ghost of that
playful nature returned to his eyes.

“You are
provoking me. Why?”

“You are
extremely lively at the moment, and I still feel like a hog that miraculously
escaped the grill spit. It is making me grumpy.”

“Fascinating.
Those manners of yours don’t extend very far past the surface, do they? Come
along, then. When the Le Fam plan an attack, they go all out. These will not be
the only ones hunting us down.”

I picked up
my fallen bag and cast one last look at the empty, sad bodies that were at our
feet. A whiff of the blood stirred my memories, and I grabbed a sleeve of
Traken's robe before he could turn fully away.

“There is
something they said that is bugging me. What does it mean to 'reek of the sources'?
You didn't tell me any such thing.”

I thought he
would pull his arm away, but he went still. Chin tilted, he glanced back at me
over his shoulder and I thought I saw something just as suspicious in his eyes.

“I didn't
think at first that it was really you,” he said. A small breeze tinkled his amulets.
“In Rusuro, I hadn’t actually meant to confront you before the moon came out. I
found you because I was following it... a really strange scent. When I realized
it was coming from you, I thought maybe the moon was just affecting me
.
If
the Le Fam were attracted to it too, though... it can only be coming from you.”

“But what
does it mean?” I felt a thrill crawl across my skin. The idea that this body I
had lived in so long and put through so much might be defective in some way
startled and confused me. I sniffed my arm, but smelled nothing. “What is it?”

“Who knows?
Maybe nothing. A fluke in your body’s make-up, perhaps. I suspect by the way
I've seen others draw towards you that even non-magicfolk can detect it on some
level, though perhaps not as strongly.”

“So... it
isn't a bad smell, then?” I asked. He started laughing.

“Oh, no. Not
to us, anyway. It is the best smell known to any magic-user alive...  you have
a scent that… there is no good way to describe it. We draw from our sources all
the time;
Sola, Teran, Orpheo, Kan.
We cannot feel them, or taste them,
or see them… but if they had a smell, that would be it. It is familiar, and
powerful.”

“Does that
mean the sources are in me?” I looked doubtfully at my hands and Traken
shrugged.

“Not likely. They
don’t exist in physical space, and yet it is almost like your body is saturated
in all four. That would be quite a feat, if you took a turn towards magic-use.
Since you don't, perhaps it finally explains why you can feel the energy of
magic-users so well. I've had to double my efforts to work on subtlety with my
spells ever since I met you, and you can still feel them every time.” He sighed.
“It isn't fair.”

“That doesn't
seem so bad,” I said, dropping my hands. I had been beginning to worry that I
was in danger of bursting into flames. It would certainly go along with my
death sentence from the Angelblood. “This started exactly when the Week of
Colors started?”

“I didn’t
smell it when I met you earlier in the day,” Traken confirmed, snapping his
fingers. His horses came galloping into view from somewhere behind me. I hadn’t
even noticed that they had disappeared.

“Why didn't
you tell me?” I asked, feeling my familiar steed brush up against my shoulder.
I would have almost thought it an actual beast right then, if it hadn't stayed
so absolutely still after it stopped.

Traken's
haughty gaze traveled over across the skyline. “Oh, you know, it never seemed
appropriate. How do you tell someone that they smell?”

My gaze
narrowed. “You liked having it over me. Does your lord know about it too?”

His
expression grew more subdued, hinting at irritation. “I honestly don't know to
what extent he knows of you, but he knows more than me. Or perhaps it would be
fairer to say, different things than I do. He is infuriatingly difficult to get
information out of.”

“So it's a
possibility that the reason he wants me to come with you has something to do
with this… smell?”

“That is
along the lines I was thinking,” he said, pulling himself up into his saddle
with a little less grace than usual. His exhausted gaze turned down to me again.
“If it were, would that change your mind about meeting him?”

“No,” I said
simply, turning away as I pulled myself up as well. When I was settled, I
glanced over and realized he was still looking at me. I smiled. “He still isn't
the sort of person I could follow, though. There was a time, but that time has
long passed.”

“I see,”
Traken said, and jerked his head to the side quickly. The horses followed the
movement without a sound, and ripped us from the sullen scene of bodies and
lengthy puddles, cutting off the side of the road and heading away from the
bridge and flooded path. We followed the line of the swollen river, through the
shallow brush and further and further away from the actual road. Hooves threw
up dirt and mud, and their pace over the uneven rocks and roots made my teeth
chatter.

“What are you
doing?” I called, finding my grip quickly enough. “I thought your plan was to
magic us over the water and continue down the road.”

Traken was
ahead a great deal further than he usually was, but I still somehow managed to
hear his soft voice.

“The flood
was certainly an attack by the Le Fam, which means there will be more traps
from them up ahead. They know where we are heading, and have no doubt there are
more of them lying in wait. We don’t have the time or power to fight through
them at the moment. We'll cut through the Elyssian Forest. It will save time,
at the very least.”

My heart
jumped. The Elyssian Forest was the boundary between West Kurdak and East
Kurdak. “I hate to remind you, but there is a very good reason they made a road
going north rather than east. There is no cutting through those woods.” A
nearby tree whipped across my face and almost tore off the hat hanging from my
neck by its chinstraps. “Why in all the hells are we going so fast?”

He didn't
respond and I was left holding on for dear life, watching the wind whip the
mercenary robe and sash ahead of me, wondering why Traken’s back looked so
solitary and alone.

Traken's
complexion was a worrying gray by the time we reached the ominous wall of trees
that lay at the edge of West Kurdak. What had started as an understandable weariness
was now becoming suspicious. Perhaps his stubborn silence was an attempt to
hide this fact, for not once had he turned back to even so much as smirk at me
since he had diverted us from the flooded path. Nevertheless, there was a fresh
light in his eyes now as he pondered the intimidating fortress of vibrant green
before us.

I tilted back
my rumpled hat to get a better look too. The trees were monstrous, old and very
much alive. They smelled of fresh sap and soil, and their knobby arms twisted
amongst each other far into the air. This jumbled vegetation made it near
impossible to see inside at all. There was no man-made path for us to continue
down either, which was expected, but Traken had ended us before a very
convenient and
narrow
opening. Through this I could make out open spaces
of shaded foliage, small beams of sunlight cutting through the thick canopy
above and highlighting patches of flowers with scarlet petals surrounded by
grass too green to be normal.

“Deceivingly
pleasant, isn't it?” Traken commented, as if he hadn't been ignoring me for the
past hour. “A sleeping wonderland in there. Perhaps the matriarch will not even
show herself.”

“Doubtful,” I
said, taking a moment to recollect all the tales I had heard of this mysterious
forest and its ancient inhabitant. ”Granted, superstitions are not what they
once were, but I have heard terrible things of this unicorn. They say she is
ferociously territorial, and those who see her never come back alive.” I paused.
“In which case, it is rather odd that we know that much at all.”

“Is that fear
I'm detecting, kitten?” Traken's eyebrows shot up in a provoking manner, not at
all in line with his usual confident and flippant style of teasing. I shifted
where I sat in my saddle.

“Not fear,” I
said. “It is not
my
duty to get myself to your master. I would like to
warn you, though, that if either of us dies because of this decision, I am
going to place all the blame on you.”

I expected
playfulness in turn, per usual, but was met with stony silence. In fact, he was
staring straight ahead still, one ringed finger on his chin, and I could have
pretended he had not heard me at all... except that he obviously had. I did not
know what to make of it; my little red book had not taught me anything about
moody sorcerers. 

“You are
being peculiar,” I said finally, when a short length of time had gone by. He
merely clicked his tongue in response to that, and the horses lurched forward
so violently that I had to scramble for a handhold.   

He motioned
sharply for silence as I steadied myself, but he needn't have. A sense of
foreboding took me the moment our steeds squeezed through that opening and into
the Elyssian Forest, breaking across the invisible barrier that separated her
world from ours. The air itself seemed to grow wetter, heavier, as we went. A
vivid picture of greens and browns expanded around us, wrapping me in the thick
and heady scents of tree and forest. The aroma was so strong that there was no
comparison, even from the years I had spent with my nose practically buried in
another forest's soil. It began to feel as if the movements of the horses were
in awkward contrast to the existence of the world itself. This world, this
place, was a living thing, and we were scraps of meat in its teeth, tiny
annoyances in a disinterested giant's mouth. I had stood at the very peaks of
mountains and never felt so small as I did in the grasp of these warm woods.

As for the
horses, in reality their steps barely disturbed what they touched, and yet the
hairs on my skin stood on end and a cold sweat peaked my brow. I felt around
the thick air for the telltale feel of magic, any sensation that could be the
cause of my uneasiness. There was nothing but the soft vibrations of Traken's
power fluttering ominously across my skin. Even Valentina and Phernado rode my
back silently, doing little to lull my worries. It wasn't often that I felt so
completely paranoid when they did not.

A sign that
we had been spotted quickly surfaced. Oddly, it came from the forest itself—the
trees began to shiver from their trunks to the tips of their leaves as if they
were laughing from deep within their bellies. It was the only comparison that
came to mind because there was no wind to move them otherwise. Even through the
rustling my ears picked up another sound; it grew louder over time, and had me
scanning every shadow and swaying blade of grass for answers. It was not hard
to say what it was, though—the unmistakable, four-footed stride of a hoofed
beast approaching.

“Interesting,”
Traken said, bringing us to a stop. His tone was back to being deceptively
airy. “Apparently blocking one’s presence doesn't work with a unicorn. Duly
noted.”

“Was that our
only plan?” I asked, my skin feeling strange and unfamiliar as it itched for
some sort of escape. It was not natural for my mind to be this completely
shaken over an ancient creature of near-myth, especially since I had never
taken much from the fairytales I had heard before. In fact, it made me even
more positive that there had to be magic involved, but no amount of straining
my senses found anything other than the sorcerer by my side.

Just then one
delicate, cloven hoof appeared from behind some vegetation, followed by
another, and she stepped from the dark shades of bark and finely curled leaves
into our line of sight. The rattling trees went still as she approached,
joviality aside, and I didn't blame them one bit.

She was
intimidating.

The beast
before us was as tall as one of Traken’s horses, though much slimmer; she
carried herself like a deer would, cautiously and smoothly, pausing to pose and
stare keenly at us once or twice as she approached. She did not lower her head
like a horse would, but kept it high and proud, elegant neck arching up and the
long horn atop her forehead poised like a sword at the ready. Her coat was
white like a cloud, and her mane dragged through the grass in rich sea-foam,
the same color that ended her lion-like tail. When she came to a stop, ten feet
or so away from our mounts, she tilted her head very much like a human would,
intelligent aquamarine eyes considering us where we sat.

Surprisingly,
an entourage followed in her wake. It quite startled me to see them pour out
behind her, human girls and boys dressed in light, milky gowns, arms and legs
browned from speckled sunlight. They carried all sorts of plants and flowers in
their hands or in their hair, and moved like elves at home in such a
playground, as if this was their world just as much as hers. They formed a
semi-circle around her, quelling their giggles and breathless murmurs; some lay
down at her hooves, chewing at grass stems and twirling bits of her long mane
around their fingers. They grinned up at me, unperturbed, as I stared from
under my crooked brim.

They were all
so young, old enough to walk but not yet within the grasp of adulthood. I was
almost as awed by them as I was by the unicorn herself.

Traken found
his tongue way before I. “Good day, Unicorn. I trust you are doing well?”

His shoulder
nearest me twitched and I covered a snort. Those were the lines I had practiced
aloud so many times from my little book, and on the times he had arrived to
find me practicing such frivolities, he had mocked me considerably. Apparently,
he had been paying attention at least a little.

“Well enough,
human,” the unicorn said, and my saliva dried with the impact of her voice. Her
mouth did not move, and yet words rang through the air like a song, whimsical
and primordial. The sound wasn't displaced and hollow like Traken when he was
in his dog-form; it swelled and moved as if it were a part of the air itself. 
“What is your purpose in my forest?”

I closed my eyes
against the beautiful voice, drunk on it and dangerously lulled.

“Just passing
through,” Traken said. His words echoed in my ears, and I felt for some reason
as if the distance between us had suddenly doubled.

“My forest is
not any forest… you cannot just walk through it. Permission must be granted.”

“Forgive me,
old one. I didn’t know.”

“And what of
your companion? Did
she
know?”

I
straightened at that, trying to concentrate. The world bounced with me as I
shook my head.

“I see. But
as you have already guessed, Sorcerer, it would not have mattered. I do not
easily welcome those who trample through my domain merely because they don't
want to get their feet wet.”

Even in the
haze, my blood chilled. Was she a mind-listener?

Not quite
, her song-voice whispered, crawling
into my locked head as if there was nothing there for protection at all.
Mind-listening
is only a part of the whole piece. There is a richer depth to the fabric of a
mind, places that are not just thoughts. I know and see and feel everything. I
can go backwards into things that you have long since forgotten and forward
into what you hope and fear. It isn't often I get to examine ones so old,
though. I wonder how much you know yourself?

I felt my
mind stir and move on its own. I was still myself, but someone else was there
too, someone with complete control over what I was seeing in my mind's eye. The
images weren't clear yet, but they were starting to resemble something dark
within my memory, something tightly wound and hidden within the folds of things
gone by. I pulled hastily from it as if it were something physical, and almost
tumbled from my saddle in the process.

“Get out!” I
hadn't realized I had said it aloud until Traken leaned across the space
between us and waved his hand in front of my face. He must have seen the rabid
look in my eyes because he quickly pulled back.

How do you
know I’m in your head?
the unicorn's voice tinkled.
Maybe you have breached the gates of madness.
That is what you always fear, isn't it? That everything you are is just a
figment of your imagination, the fantasy of a lunatic. I would volunteer an
experiment. Perhaps I could erase a few of the memories that bother you most. I
wonder, how much would that change you?

“What are you
trying to do, Unicorn?” Traken asked, and his voice in the real world cut
through the air unnaturally.

“Oh, the
sorcerer is getting jealous.” Her trill filled my ears instead of my head this
time, a small mercy. Her children tittered along too, holding their hands to
their faces. “You have wanted a peek inside for so long, haven't you? Do not be
frustrated, child... no human can possess the power that I do.”

A scowl hit
his face around the word “child”. “You're taunting us. Why?”

“I am merely
taking the toll for passage through my woods. There are so few chances to study
humans as of late, much less such interesting specimens. I have always enjoyed
the paradoxical decaying, evolving state that your species lives in, even
long-living ones like yourselves.”

Traken made a
noise, a nonplussed “chh” through his teeth, and I knew that the short-lived
bout of politeness was at an end. “A philosopher, are you? A mighty twisted one
at that. If you can see everything in our minds anyway, why play games?”

“That is a
hypocritical question coming from your lips, boy,” the unicorn sang, flippant
and condescending. “My purposes are far greater than yours have ever been, and
yet I will not share them—the point would be counteracted in the telling of
it.” She paused, and her bright eyes gleamed at him. “You do not like playing
when you are not in control, do you, Sorcerer?”

“I have not
yet found myself to be out of control,” Traken responded sedately, and though
he could have fooled me completely, the Unicorn did not seem convinced. She
stared him down with those knowing eyes, and her tail swished, the fluffy end
catching a child in the face and making him giggle. The high-pitched sound did
not relieve the tension in the air, but doubled it.

“You possess
quite a stubborn single-mindedness,” the unicorn finally said to him, shifting
to one side and then the next as if on the verge of pacing. Her sharp horn
swung back and forth and caught glimmers of sunlight through the trees. “It is
on the verge of collapse, however. What would it take to shatter it completely,
and what would you do with the pieces? Do you know why you are afraid?”

“You are
speaking in pointless poetry,” Traken said, his fingers clenched above his
knees. His weary and ragged expression did not allow for the usual smirk, but I
felt it in his words. “Question and provoke as you'd like, you will not get
what you want.”

“Do not
pretend you know more than you do,” the unicorn chided brightly, fixing her
alarming gaze upon me. My palms grew clammy.  “You.” Her gaze sharpened, and
she took a delicate step closer. “What an invigorating playground of
conflicting emotions. Angry, compassionate, alive... full of stunning
possibilities and crippling insecurities. I enjoy your taste the most.” Then
her voice hit me inside my own mind again.
The scent that surrounds you
tells ancient and long-forgotten tales. If only you had been frozen in this
form younger, my dear, I would take you as one of mine.