Sleepless (Curse of the Blood Fox Trilogy, Book #1) (20 page)

“Again with
the captive bit. Who's the stubborn one among us really?” I drew one of my daggers
and pointed it at him. “I think I've already proven by now that I'm not out to
kill you.”

“That dagger
seems reassuring,” he said, smiling coolly. “Why would I be the one to sleep,
anyway? If the goal is that one of us be fresh in the morning to fight, I am
clearly not the one to choose. Even refreshed, I will not be using my magic.
Besides which, I have a duty to keep you alive, whereas you have no such duty
to me.”

“You are
perfectly capable with a sword,” I pointed out, “and I am used to going longer
without sleep. Besides that, the one who stays awake is going to have to guard the
other from these ridiculous walls. Which one of us do you think is more capable
of doing that at the moment? You look like you’ll fall at any second.”

“You are
injured,” Traken said, glaring at my leg. I blew out a heavy sigh.

“Yes, but
that isn't going to heal with sleep. Your problem will, though.”

He still
didn't move. I closed the gap between us and stood a foot away, staring eye to
eye. He faltered momentarily, but didn't look away.

“I can't tell
the color of your eyes,” he said, as if commenting on the weather. “It's too
dark.”

I knew they
were a determined earthy brown, the color of his own, but I did not share.
“You're being smart, Traken, but I'm being sincere. The unicorn has been inside
both our heads, and she expects my reluctance to sleep as much as she expects
your distrust. If we do the exact opposite of what she expects, it will get us
farther.”

“Whether that
is true or not, it is irrelevant,” Traken said, pale face matching mine in the
moonlight. “I have not lived this long by letting myself be tricked or coerced.
You have no substantial reason to keep me safe.” 

“I would not
harm you, Traken. Not unprovoked, and I think you know that.” We stared at each
other in the dark, unbending, two wild animals facing off against their fears.
I could not sleep, and neither could he. Not like this. A sudden idea came to
me, an old memory, and I latched on to it.

“What are you
doing?” he asked, suddenly wary as I ducked to my knees in the mix of grass and
dirt at our feet. My lips curled.

“You need
certainty, don't you? A definite guarantee... I will give it to you.”

Before he
could respond, I took the dagger I was holding and sliced it across my own arm.
It wasn't a deep cut, but it hurt, and it was enough to draw blood. With
gritted teeth I leaned forward and drew
Semine
, the symbol of trust, at
Traken's feet with the bloody blade. It was a circle with large, looping
symbols knotting in the middle. It was difficult to draw, but it was meant to
be. Gods forbid anyone ever make this symbol by mistake.

Traken stared
down, eyes frozen on me, as I closed the ring and the ground hissed and boiled
where my blood had touched. No magic lineage was needed to create
Semine
,
because it did not run off the magic of the sources, but rather the flesh and
blood of the caster. Anyone could create an oath of
Semine
, and it was
used often enough in official treaties, but flesh magic always required a
sacrifice of oneself.
Semine,
fortunately, wasn't as picky as some. I
was not quite willing to give up any more blood, or any limbs or digits for
that matter, but the oath of
Semine
required something dear to the
caster, and I had that.

“If you have
not guessed before,” I told Traken, “among many other things, I became a monk
during my time at the monastery. I studied many years under the Restful, and
grew my hair long like them. We keep it long in promise. It is an oath to keep
the peace of their teachings within our souls. That promise and their wisdom is
partially what has kept me sane all these years.”

 I flipped my
braid over my shoulder and cut a good six inches of it off, dropping it into
the center of the circle, and raised my eyes to meet Traken's crackling gaze.

“I sacrifice
an important piece of myself, the long hair grown in promise. With its power, I
call on the keepers of
Semine
.”

His breath
hissed. “Idiot, don't—”

Red flames
crackled up, the color of blood, consuming the hair in one moment and dying
down instantly the next. I continued.

“Symbol of
Semine
,
establish trust where there is none,” I addressed it, placing my hand in the middle
of the circle now. Small drops of blood leaked down my arm and into the dirt,
but I kept my voice firm and met Traken’s glare. “I promise through this
sacrifice that I will not let anything harm you tonight.”

“That is an
unbreakable oath,” Traken warned, his breath slightly unsteady. “You are crazy
to offer me that, kitten. If I accepted, I could kill you and you could not
raise a finger to stop me.”

“Always the
instructor, Dogboy. We both know that you are determined to get me to your lord
safely. I assume,” and I smiled, “that you are not planning anything malicious,
or you wouldn't be spending time trying to convince me not to do this.”

“It would be
completely against my orders to allow you to enter into a contract where you
could die,” he said.

“And yet you
won't sleep without it, and we won't survive tomorrow. That is also against
your orders.”

“You are
turning me into the liability among us.”

I sighed,
trying to speak gently. “You have been pale ever since you fought the Le Fam
earlier. I have never seen you this way, Traken, and I'm sure you are hiding
just how much that spell took out of you. Rather than thinking of this as an
insult, consider how much faith I am placing in you. I believe that if you
sleep, we will be fine tomorrow. I am betting my life on it.”

“Is that
supposed to convince me?” he asked, but his voice was shallow and his eyes
would not leave the symbol on the ground. “I did not ask for such faith in any
form, and yet you keep handing it to me freely, like a lamb just begging to be
betrayed. You told me that story of your trust being broken, that man Valin,
and I'm sure it has been broken more than that. How could you have been so lucky
to survive all this time stuck in such a foolhardy loop?”

One corner of
my lips turned up as I brushed the blood off on my pants and stood. “I couldn't
tell you, but don't mistake me for an idiot that believes in others easily.”

“You're an
idiot of some kind,” he mumbled.

“Look, don't
get squeamish. I'm offering you a good deal, and you act like I'm burdening
you. The logical choice is pretty clear.”

He let out an
unsatisfied sigh and leaned across the symbol, grabbing me suddenly by the
scruff of my robe and yanking me forward so we were nose to nose. His angry
breath hit my face. “Alright, you want me to do this so badly? Tell me to.”

“What?” I
asked, shoving him off me quickly. “What's that supposed to mean? I have been.”

“No,” he
insisted, a strange glow in his eyes. “All I've heard are attempts at
persuasion. Satisfy my curiosity... assert yourself. Order me.”

A thickness
rose in my throat. What curiosity would I be satisfying, exactly? What was he
talking about? I wanted to wring it out of him, but I also knew that the power
of the
Semine
symbol was waning.

“Stop being
ridiculous, Traken. Finish the oath.”

“You don't
mean it,” he came back immediately, voice higher. “You're not using enough
will. Order me.”

“Just do it!”
I snapped back, angry and exasperated.

And then an
interesting thing happened. Traken flinched, and his body lurched forward. He
stopped himself quickly, just a reaction of only a split-second, but the
implications burned in my head. It reminded me of when I had yelled at him in
front of Ro.

“Are you all right?”
I asked uncertainly.

He did not
answer. Apparently he had gotten what he wanted, though, because he did not
argue either. His eyes stayed fixed on the ground as he spoke the final words
of the ritual. “Oath accepted, trust established.” The air sizzled as he wiped
my blood-made symbol out of the dirt with his foot. “You had better be fast,
princess. One scratch on me and
Semine
could strike you down.”

“Good thing
we both know I
am
fast. Sleep.”

He nodded
slowly, wearily, but his heavy-lidded eyes lingered. “Just remember, if you
die... I didn't ask for it. You did it to yourself.”

I couldn't
believe my ears; was that worry I detected? I fought back my twitching smile.
“I'll keep that in mind.”

He dropped to
his haunches like a sea-weary sailor finally touching land, planting himself
between the walls and as close to the middle as he could get. I offered up the
folded festival robe from my pack as a pillow, and he shot me one more heavy,
long look before taking it and turning away. He curled up on his side, one hand
gripping the hilt of his short sword, and lay perfectly still.

This was the
sort of situation where anyone would find it hard to sleep, especially someone
so distrustful of others, and yet it wasn't a surprise when his breathing
quickly slowed and the rise of his shoulders grew gentle. He had been seconds
away from dropping from exhaustion hours ago, he just hadn't wanted to say it.
The stubborn jerk was going to get himself killed way before me with pride like
that.

As soon as he
was unconscious, I let out a shuddering breath and shook the dizziness from my
mind, as well as the questions that would just have to wait. I wasn't in great shape
myself—I had hid the damage from Traken's prying eyes, but the constant walking
had cost me a lot of blood as far as my leg was concerned, and now the oath had
taken more, however insignificant. I burrowed through my pack again, and found
bits of saved bread and cheese wrapped in oilcloths. I also pulled what was
left of my Wake-Me-Not roots to the top to keep them on hand, just in case.
Food would at least keep me fueled, if anything were to happen.

So far, I
wasn't quite sure if anything would. The walls were unexpectedly quiet, and so
was the night from outside our prison of bushes. No owls or other night birds
made a sound, and the bugs were a distant hum that I could barely make out. I
crouched on the ground near Traken, a dagger in each hand and a twisted
Wake-Me-Not root sticking out of my mouth. I felt right then the distinct absence
of my two friends, and wondered if the cold steel swords hanging from my back
were really still inhabited at all. What I wouldn't give for their reassuring
energy keeping me awake and aware. As it was, I didn't have the heart to use
them without their consent; it felt somehow wrong.

In my
peripheral, a bush shook. My heart jumped, and I came to the sad realization
that we weren't about to get off easy as a long, thick vine peeked out of one
of the walls and slithered closer to us through the air. It froze midway, and I
eyed it from where I sat, muscles hardening in my back. It shook again in the
air, but didn't move, as if evaluating the situation. I didn't have to guess
its plan; Traken was the helpless one right now. If these bushes were as smart
as I had already seen, he would be the main target.

Sure enough,
I caught a second vine trying to inch out from the other side. I looked at it,
and it froze too. Glancing back, I saw the first one had stretched a couple
inches closer.

“So that's
how it is,” I said under my breath. Traken had positioned himself too far away
from the dead-end wall, but that still left the ones on either side of us. They
were about three feet away in each direction, but I wasn't sure how far the
vines could reach, or how many there were. I flashed my blades up, and raised
my crouch a little so that my weight was on my good leg. I could feel the
tension in the air with my whole body.

I waited.

When the
vines struck, they did so at the same time. I twisted my torso with their attack,
and sliced each one off cleanly as far down as my small blades could reach
without shifting my position. The nubs fell, slithering back into their green
home, and for a moment the bushes were silent again. I breathed in the bitter
taste of the Wake-Me-Not root, a drop of sweat sliding down one cheek. The
bushes shook again, and I shifted to stand directly over Traken, one leg on
either side of his prone form, half-crouched in a way that made my upper thigh
ache. Just as soon as I was positioned, four vines on either side shot out of
the walls, spearing through the air towards us, and the war began.

For hours I
shuffled in a relentless circle, cutting and hacking, thanking every god I knew
the name of that Traken was sleeping heavy, thus not rendering my sacrifice
completely pointless. Pieces of wood and vine stacked up around his body, and I
had to shift my feet rather than lift them to avoid slipping on the mess. The
wall vines were fast, and they seemed to be able to regrow themselves in very
little time. I noticed that the most either wall would attack me with at once
was four vines, but that was plenty to make me worried.

It wasn't
mindless bludgeoning either; the vines had tactics. Besides lunging all at once,
they would sometimes break off into pairs, or feint an attack straight at me
while another vine went in to grab Traken. There would even be breaks
sometimes, maybe up to ten whole minutes of eerie, foreboding stillness, where
I would crouch with paranoid eyes above the prone form I was literally guarding
with my life.