Sleepless (Curse of the Blood Fox Trilogy, Book #1) (21 page)

Very soon I
was envying his sleep. My own mind had become my worst adversary. With sweat
pouring down my brow and a burning ache in my lungs, I had to condition myself
hour after hour to stay on task. Every time my arms grew heavy, I had to remind
them that my life was on the line too. The piercing twinge in my leg begged me
to sit, to stop moving, and I had to force it into obedience with every lunge.
My stomach ached, my tongue grew dry and frothy, and the dizzy lightness that
was hiding right under the surface flowed in and out like an ocean's tide. It
was only by the grace of the bitter roots I chewed that the Dream did not rise
beneath my eyelids. Even the bits of food and water I could ingest during the
small down times were not enough to cure me. I slashed, weaved, twisted and
stumbled mostly on instinct, and the rest of me was fighting just to keep that
instinct going. I began to hate the image of the icy blue moon moving too
slowly across the sky, glowing in its mesmerizing sea of colorful stars.

Slowly, my
speed dwindled. Two vines snaked in beneath my legs, distracting me, while
another lunged straight for Traken's neck. I saw it almost too late, moved
almost too slow, and caught it mere inches from his skin. My heart stopped as
the lifeless wood fell to the ground in front of him. 

Too close.

The next time
I was able to look up, I saw that the moon had fallen out of view behind the
walls of the labyrinth, and there was a faint glow in the sky, outlining the
dark night clouds. I began to count the seconds as I fought, and after each
minute I would glance up again, hoping for more sun. I set a goal: the moment
sunlight hit the tops of the bush walls, I would wake the snoozing sorcerer.

I was
beginning to get sloppy. I still wasn't letting anything touch Traken, but I
was getting very careless with myself. The plants realized this during their
next ambush, and took full advantage. While I hurled myself at the vines
attacking from the front, one shot out from behind and grabbed my upper thigh right
around the bandage. A high gasp escaped my lips... and that was all the
assurance they needed. My saturated wound became an instant target for the
plants. Also, they started to purposely hit me as they aimed for Traken,
digging their splintery, burning sides into my skin. They left scrapes on my
arms and face, and punctured holes in the dark fabric of my pilfered robe,
soaked now in salty sweat.

 By the time
the warm honey sun had finally hit the tops of the bushes, I could barely keep my
stiff fingers wrapped around my daggers. Dried blood, bruises and grass stains
covered every inch of me, and the dirty bandages on my thigh had practically
been ripped to pieces, allowing blood to cover my entire leg. Worse, a grumpy
bitterness had developed.

At the first
lull, I kicked Traken roughly in the side. Now that the sun was up, I was
satisfied that I wouldn't get in trouble for his pain. He was so deep in rest
that the first kick did nothing, and I had to kick him again to even get a
response.

 Finally he
groaned and rolled onto his back, brow furrowed in the morning glow.
Immediately the walls quivered and stopped their attacks. I fell gratefully to
my knees as Traken blinked his chocolate eyes and propped himself slowly up on
his elbows. He looked me up and down with the slow precision of the waking
taking in new events, sparing a glance at the piles of withered plant life
gathered around his sleeping spot, as I took in deep breaths at his side.

“Did you have
a pleasant night?” he asked. My fingers were too limp, or I would have thrown
my dagger at him.

“Really, your
eyes are completely blood-shot. It looks like you've gone half-savage,” he
continued, standing up and over me. There was an annoying freshness in his
voice. “And you ruined my robe.”

“My robe
now,” I said, and those were all the words I could manage. Traken started
laughing, and surprised me by crouching down and smoothing back the wild bits
of hair that had been yanked free from what was left of my braid during the
night. I was still taking in air and breathing out pain, face covered in dirt
and sweat, and all I could do was stare at him. A smile reached his eyes.

“Thank you
for your hard work, my crazy fox. You really do have some strange luck on your
side.”

I couldn't
imagine how this was lucky, but his hand on my head felt warm and somehow
comforting. I wanted to use it as a pillow and go to sleep.

What a
ridiculous thought. My eyes, which had been half-lidded, snapped open. I found
the strength to put my daggers away and push myself carefully up off the grass.
Traken's hand fell gently, regrettably, away.

“I'm hungry,”
I told him when he stood up too. “Really hungry.”

“I don't know
why you're telling me,” he said. He looked annoyingly shiny, and I wanted so
badly to ruin that for him. It didn't even matter to me right then that he was
surprisingly back to normal. His smirk widened. “Oh my, just look at those
eyes. Why ever are you angry, kitten?”

“I want to
hurt you.”

“Oh, is that
all? I'd suggest you eat first, though.”

“That was the
order I was planning to do it in,” I agreed, but glared darkly at him still as
I reached for my pack. I had consumed two more twisted, bitter Wake-Me-Not
roots during the night, and the sight of the ones I had left turned my stomach.
I saw my canteen, and thirst suddenly overwhelmed me. I reached for it.

“Relaxing may
actually have to wait,” Traken said just then, and his tone stopped me cold. I
looked up in the direction he was facing, out towards the bend that led away
from our dead-end, and felt what little hope I had crumble.

“I think I'm
going to be sick,” I said honestly.

The
child-monster was there, waiting only ten feet away as if it had been there all
along. It was blocking our only way out, teeth splayed and gnashing, mucus
dripping from the corners of what should have been a mouth. It made no noise,
the only proof that it was really there at all being the gods-awful stench that
was now reaching my nose. It did not approach, even as we noticed it. I had a
feeling it wanted us to move first. We had expected this, but so soon?

“How do you
feel?” Traken asked me, keeping his eyes on the towering figure.

“You don't
want to know,” I told him, drawing my sleeping swords out slowly and painfully,
begging silently for their strength to course through me. Nothing did though,
and as much as I didn't like the thought of using them like this, I definitely
couldn't use daggers against this thing. I started to hear my old
sword-master’s voice.
You need to tighten your grip. Your posture is
lacking. Lift your chin!
“I think I'm being haunted.”

“Now is not
the time to give in to your delusional side.”

“Says the guy
who thinks he can beat me.”

“Really, I
can't be any more serious. You have to pay attention.”

I caught his
foot shifting to the right, his left hand slowly drawing out his own sword.

“Stop being
grumpy,” I told him, blinking hazily. “I'm with you.”

“Good.”

Without a
signal, we both lunged forward in unison. The monster was unfortunately
unimpressed with the double attack, and not nearly as confused as Traken must
have been counting on. It raised one gigantic arm and swatted at us both. I
ducked and rolled to one side of the child-monster, burying Phernado's golden
blade into the squirming mass of tangled flesh.

No effect.
The insides made a “schlooping” sound and squirmed out of the way, then back
again the moment I removed my blade. My tired mind revolted.

“We can't
stab it,” I shouted, dodging as its long arms came flying back at me again. My
hurt leg buckled finally under the strain, throbbing, and I hit the ground on my
side and groaned.

“Damn,” I
heard Traken shout, probably realizing what I had just tried to share. My
muscles mutinied as I clawed back to my feet, in time to just barely dodge a
fearsome row of jagged, decaying claws. I caught a whiff of something like dead
squid as the arm blew past my face.

“This really
is going to make me sick,” I said, steadying myself on the ground with the
point of one blade. I saw a flash of Traken nearby, rolling away from the other
clawed hand. He was sweating already and he did not seem so cheery anymore. I
tried to concentrate, develop a strategy. I needed to get close and deliver one
good swipe to the head. The brain was clearly the key to killing it.

And right
then, bubbly laughter cut through my being like cold water in the face.

Hello,
little fox. Have you been learning?

I froze. No,
not now. She couldn't do this now. I was too weary and damaged to take the pain
necessary to force her out. She must have been counting on it; I should have
figured from the start that she wouldn't really play fair.

Fair?
Her voice tinkled, soothing me and
scaring me all at once.
Who are you to say what is fair, child, when you do
not even know the purpose of the game? You have played well though. You have effortlessly
broken through barriers that your companion could not. His value is yet to be
decided, but I would like to give you a gift.

Her voice
faded, and my mind immediately felt occupied again. The feeling wasn't amusing
or pleasant, especially as I felt her dig deep, sink into parts of my brain I
could not even reach myself. I sucked in a violent breath, and her voice came
to me again.

It may
hurt a little, Santo, but let it happen. I am going to show you what you most
want to see, what someone else has been hiding from you.

I braced
myself, because I had no choice, and felt agony ripple through my head. She was
breaking things inside me and a part of me, and it felt so wrong that I really
did feel my stomach flip. Just as I was beginning to suspect she was actually
trying to kill me, sharp images appeared before my eyes, distinct pictures that
I had not been able to remember for a long, long time. I saw my home, the one
that was gone, the only one I had ever truly had. It was a small cottage with a
muddy brown roof, and two wooden chairs sitting on the porch that looked like
they would fall apart the moment someone sat on them. The shutters were the
only color to the place, a bright blue. I remembered those shutters... I had
helped paint them.

I saw faces
that I could not have called up on my own, but that I recognized the moment
they flashed in front of me. Neighbors, friends... my father, young and strong,
with a wide smile under his beard and a gleam in those bright turquoise eyes. I
saw him in segments, quick flashes that told entire stories to my straining
memory: there he was helping me tie a fishing line, teaching me how to cook and
prepare wild game, laughing as we played at drawing pictures in the mud. A
grave... that had been my mother. I remembered now as if I had all along. She
had died young, a couple years into my life. I hadn't even known her.

I saw events
through the eyes of a me that once was, chasing pigs with bows tied around
their necks for some festival contest. I saw the day I got Hino, and my
father's dark emerald eyes and wide smile as I hugged the puppy in my arms.
Years later, I was suddenly defending my dog with the beautiful black fur
against a group of children. A boy who had liked me had been the leader; I had
only wanted Hino. Emotions overwhelmed me as I saw flashes of the creek where I
would fish with my father, and where I would sit with Hino, bury my hands into
his soft coat, and talk to him with our limbs dangling in the water, under the
shade of a wide oak tree. I watched myself carve my name into that tree, and my
father's, and then a tiny impression of a paw to represent my dog.

My heart was
squeezing in on itself.
These are what you are looking for, are they not?
The unicorn's sweet voice asked. I could smell, taste, and feel everything
again, as if it had only just happened. There was magic in this, not just
memory. I stumbled backwards, no longer paying attention to the fight. I longed
for what I was seeing, and hated it all at once. Had I really been searching
for this painful light?

Suddenly, in
full, vivid brilliance, I was dancing at the harvest festival my town had held
that fateful night. Music filled my ears, old melodies on flutes and lyres,
people whirling and laughing in a haze, warm mirth spilling from the mouths of
those with content bellies. It was like I was really there again, laughing,
feeding chicken pieces to Hino as I tried to teach him to dance as well. He
would stand on his back feet, letting me hold his paws, and his tongue lolled happily
even though that was as close as he could get to joining in. I was praising
him, showing him off to my older neighbors who were clapping along, their
leather faces familiar and warm and their eyes—eyes that changed colors all on
their own—flashing joyfully.

It had seemed
like a dream when the first scream sounded across the square, and even when the
next couple arose I had still thought it was something minor, like a bull
escaping from one of the fences. My horror when the blood splatter of my
clapping neighbors hit my face had been a mixture of numbness and wonder. I saw
the head of a friend's sister roll across the ground in front of me, mouth
gaping, dying eyes filling with the color black, and relived the queasy shock
that had rolled through my being.

“Stop,” I
whispered to the unicorn, helpless and knowing her true intentions. She was
going to show me what I always wanted to remember, and yet now, in this moment,
I wanted to turn away from it and run. My eyes were filling with black
themselves.

“What are you
doing?” I heard Traken shout. I could no longer see anything but what was
playing out in my mind. I could see the soldiers clearly, the ones who had
stormed in to massacre us that day. They wore black armor, the like I hadn't
seen since, and their eyes held a hard, passionless emptiness. I watched their
swords run through friends and family while nothing else was touched, not the
houses nor the livestock. I must have been in shock, because I wasn't moving
while I watched the scene unfold. I saw now what I had seen walking through the
bodies of our dead that day, untouched by the blood and death around him; a
tall, pale man with no hair in flowing black robes, magic crackling around him
like a shallow storm, fierce eyes thrilling in the bloodshed. I had thought him
a demon, perhaps, or a fallen god. He held a ball in his hands made of pure
smoke, blacker than the night, and it felt familiar and terrifying.

Then one of
the soldiers approached me, and I watched helplessly as my furry companion got
in the way of a sword meant for me. A whimper, one strained note, and his
tongue lolled out one more time in death. My old self broke from her shock,
screaming. I wanted to know what was going on, where my father was; I wanted to
drag Hino away from this horrible place and nurse him back to health. Instead,
I watched as that demon among men slowly turned to me, and a jagged smile crept
across his cruel face. He approached in the fog of my memory, his steps as
smooth as if he were floating across the dead and bloody bodies beneath him,
that globe of smoke writhing and transforming in his hand. Inside and outside
the memory, my body began to shake and shiver.

“No,” I
rasped, feeling myself stumble backwards as if someone else were controlling my
body. “That's enough, I don't want to see anymore.”

You need
to, child. This is a gift, an offering. Don't waste it.

“What are you
doing to her, Unicorn?” I heard Traken's angry voice somewhere far away. “I
know it's you! Is this what you call a fair fight?”

I am
always fair, Sorcerer.
The
unicorn's lilting voice grew prouder, stronger. I was still watching the
carnage of the last moments of my village. The pale man was on me now, pulling
me closer as I tried to get away. Those eyes, so terrifying they cut right
through me, whispered dark things. He was a magic-user of some sort, freezing
me with his spells, and I watched through those stiff eyes as the pale man
laughed, crushing the ball of smoke he held into my chest. Neither cloth nor
skin stopped it; it sank into me, hissing, as the girl I once was screamed.
Debilitating, intoxicating pain. I choked on just the memory of it, my insides
clenching, and stumbled again.

“Let her go,”
Traken shouted; he still seemed so far away. I groped my mind for a sense of my
real body, took in the fact that my swords were still in hand, and hunkered
down in a defensive pose. My breath was trembling out through my teeth.

This is
not her fight, it is yours. She has already proven herself against my test, but
you have yet to show me anything, Sorcerer. You know what is inside, but you
have to show it. What have you learned?

“Learned?”
There was a grunt, and a clang as his sword struck something hard. “I've
learned that we are in an endless maze with an un-killable beast, and besides
taking away my magic you intend to handicap us further. It isn't a true game
when you make winning impossible.”

There was a
laugh.
Impossible, Sorcerer? Never.

The memories,
painful and raw, were clawing a hole through my chest. I could see nothing else
now, but I could feel the distant memory of the horrible, endless pain. In the
blackness of my mind, I thought I smelled smoke, and heard waves knocking
against a dark, smoky dock.

No
, I thought with a chill.
No, I'm
not asleep. Let me out, let me out!

It was
confusion and fear that seeped through the image, old feelings resurfacing, but
I no longer needed to see this. I knew this part, knew it so well it fueled
fear in my every waking hour.

As you
wish
, the unicorn
said, tone imperceptible, and I flinched as she released me from the images and
bright sunlight overwhelmed me just as much as the terrible smell of something
dead and rotting. I blinked and took in the maze again, just in time to see the
set of claws that I didn't have time to dodge coming my way.

Crooked nails
dug into my stomach, and I was thrown back into a tall wall of bushes. Seeing
spots, I tried to sluggishly pull myself up, only to find that the hungry vines
I had been battling all night long had already taken hold. Both swords were
still in my hands, but the layers of vines wrapping themselves around my arms
made it impossible to use them. My legs were likewise stuck, still on the
ground but already losing their grip. I was being pulled in, and I didn't want
to imagine what was in there waiting for me.

I twisted
Phernado and Valentina around in my hands until they were pointing down. Using
only fingers, I swung their sharp blades carefully into the vines holding my
feet. It took a couple tries, but I managed to hack them away, and even though
more surged out to take their place, I had enough time to leap forward and gain
better traction. It was a start, but I needed to figure out how to free my arms
before the plants got a better grip. A lone bead of sweat, possibly the last
bit of liquid left in my body, slid down my face.