Chapter Thirty Five: Music in the air

Within minutes, they reached the one Crystal tree and its accompanying eagle statue. They were glowing brightly under the light of the great Morning trees. But they did not stop to appreciate the beauty. Fifty metres later, they hit the first of the Morning trees. With a sidelong glance, Calin took in the trees of light, some were just ten metres in height and others were monstrous in size as they towered over the canopy, casting their light quite a radius into the normal forests.

But a strange thing that Calin remarked even in their haste, the trees that were shining light were from several different mismatched species.

The oddity only baffled him for a moment when the eerie music became louder; it filled the night with a beat that sounded like it was holding the rhythm to the heartbeat of the forest. The strange flutes were in the wind, as if coaxing it to make the trees sway. It was a beckoning music, one that Calin couldn’t ignore; it frightened him that the very sound of it was penetrating into his muscles.

Though, more than anything it reminded him of his bruised body. Everything was aching and the dull throb of the pain reminded him of his precarious situation.

With a mental shrug he pushed off the thought and moved forward faster. The laughing that echoed hauntingly through the landscape was his hope. He didn’t care for the brush scraping against his sore body.

Though not sure what to expect, he only hoped they could give him something to help survive this thing. To survive that he could, no need to find his lost family. As much to ask a hundred questions that had plagued him over the years than anything, but what he wanted the most was to succeed.

Through it all, his mind was trapped in a conflict about how he would face his parents. The only thing he could do was shake his head.

A way up ahead the others were looking at something down a hill. He wanted to get to them faster, but his body refused and he was only able to walk slowly to them. As he reached the top, he almost asked why they had stopped, but then he spotted the train of seemingly wooden caravans.

The view was enough to make him forget about all his troubles.

His mouth gaped open at the caravans floating more than a meter above the ground. Some a bit more, but it was the fact that they floated at all, with nothing between them and the ground that so completely caught him off guard.

There was not even a chance to begin taking his eyes away from the spectacle, as he dazedly commented. “Um... you weren’t kidding about their name. Floating gypsies, who would have thought...”

A chuckle escaped him as Kara mumbled something of how it was not possible. The girl didn’t buy things easily. He wasn’t sure of what to think anymore himself, but it all was starting to press him into believing there was more to the world than all the knowledge he grew up with the last eight years.

Just then a more substantial pain other than the throb started worming its way through his arm.

With a grunt, Calin held onto the afflicted place, quietly communicating his need to Tyas. The man nodded, but said, “Calin are you sure? The stories of their methods are weird to say the least. It has definitely been the source of a number of nightmares for me as a child.”

Hearing this brought a pause to Calin, but when he looked down the long slope and studied the people who danced and laughed alongside their impossible caravans he let out a breath and said, “I don’t have any other choice, now do I?”

Tyas frowned deeply. “But, they’re crazy—”

All of a sudden Evany came squeezing in between them on Calin’s left. She took hold of his elbow, took one look at Tyas and said, “But nothing. Crazy or not we’ve already decided, so suck it up Tyas and let’s go.”

Calin almost smirked at Tyas’s utter reluctance in the matter as the man muttered on their way down the steep slope.

He started noticing more details of the people who were happily dancing around their Floating Caravans.

In the light from the Morning tree lanterns and their crystal lanterns, he could make out that each one of them had skin as white as snow. Some of the men sported scars and rough marks on their faces and arms, but even their rugged skin was almost a ghostly pale white. It was in shocking contrast to everything remotely dark around them. And strangely enough, neither Jerry with his fair skin and Tyas with his pale skin came close in resemblance.

The only real thing that took Calin’s attention away from the fact was their out of the ordinary choice in clothing.

The women wore open leather jackets with upturned collars, and shirts that were surely something as fine as silk. Calin didn’t have the eye for those kinds of things, but aside from the well travelled look, the gypsies were wearing some very expensive clothing. Expensive? What do I know what things cost in these lands. He chuckled softly while he also gladly became aware of the hilly terrain flattening out under him. Or rather his sore muscles were glad.

Out of nowhere, a shout pierced the air.

“Mictoria! We got company. Stop the caravans. Stop... Qarva seth can’ar!!”

“Qarva!Qarva!”

Within seconds, the twenty caravans lurched to a stop. Some of them drifted close to the ones in front of them, but the gypsies looked practised as they seized control and brought the floating vehicles to a stop.

As the groaning of the craft ebbed off, a relatively short woman, popped up. She jumped from the top of the second caravan to Calin’s great surprise, but instead of injuring herself from the three metre jump, the woman landed gracefully. The ringlets of her thick dark hair fell around her shoulders and the skirt she was wearing was perfect for the feat. It was somewhat short in front reaching two thirds of the way to her knees, with a longer train behind that hung to her calves.

His eyes wide at her leap, she came striding forward with such silent authority that, for a moment, Calin wanted to step back from the intimidating woman.

As she reached their party, she inclined her head slightly at Calin and said, “Nísir, are you lost?”

Calin was still slightly taken aback, as much by the woman’s thick accent as the extreme confidence that radiated from her. He could only mutter, “Um...” at the woman’s question and long seconds followed with nothing coming to mind.

To his relief though, Kara stepped forward and said, “Hello…my name is Kara. We didn’t want to disturb your travels, but one of our number has an infection and needs urgent medical attention.”

The gypsy woman’s delicate pale features scrunched up as she frowned slightly and asked, “Medical? Do you by chance mean medici, Madam?”

Kara looked slightly frustrated, but Calin was infinitely surprised that these people even spoke English, albeit slightly rudimental. He made a mental note to ask them how, the moment he got the chance.

Not wasting any time, Kara said, “Yes, he needs ah ‘medici’ for a festering wound.”

“Let me see the wound and we will see, Madam Kara,” The woman said.

Calin threw back the cap of his hood, and stepped forward clutching his throbbing arm.

The gypsy woman looked him over. Though when her gaze settled on his eyes, she stiffened and gasped slightly. He wondered why only for a moment before the thought was quickly dismissed as he walked closer to her; an irrational fear of the woman scrutinizing him, was forcing its way to his throat.

But as he studied her in return, the fear turned into something more manageable, uncertainty. The lines on the young woman’s cheeks spoke of a woman who was accustomed to laughing regularly. It was a good thing to know.

With much less reluctance, he lifted the cloak to the side to show the gash in his arm. The moment he did so the woman’s eyes got big for less than a blink of an eye, Calin wondered if he had seen the expression at all.

The woman shot a glance to a grey haired man off to their right. The scar on the man’s pale face was pulled tight in a fierce look. The look on her was clear she was worried, as her face showed she was struggling to form a certain sentence, but it did come and she asked, “Nísir, were you bitten?”

“Yes,” Calin answered as his body stiffened. “Though, it was more of a scrape than anything.”

The woman’s shoulders shook slightly and she looked back at the grey haired man with his arms crossed over his leather armour. He was shaking his head. But she turned back and said, “I ... think I can help, but I need um what do you call it?” She rubbed her fingers in the sure way of money.

“Money?” Calin asked carefully and the woman nodded vigorously and said, “Yes. Normally I would offer it without charge, but the herbs needed for this wound are quite rare for these lands.”

A slap of skin against skin drew his attention to Tyas. The man’s palm was against his forehead. Calin glanced back at the woman and said, “Just give me a moment.”

She waved at him with an uncertain smile and said, “Sure Nísir, take your time, I’ll be over there when you’re ready.” The woman walked away from him, her hips were swaying in an odd little way; everything about the woman oozed confidence. Calin just shook his head and ventured over to Tyas.

The man was quick to say, “You see, this is how it starts. They’re going to milk us dry.”

“Tyas if you’ve been hurting like I did, you would welcome any help and I mean any.”

“Fine,” The man said reluctantly, “Let’s just get this over with and don’t, whatever you do, let them know how much we have.”

“But I don’t know?”

“Just!” Tyas threw up his hand. “Let me talk to them okay?”

Easing up, Calin approached the woman named Mictoria. When he came close he realized that she was in a heated argument with the grey haired man with the scar on his cheek. The older gypsy was pointing in Calin’s direction, waving in explanation.

Something bothered Calin about the exchange, but the pain creeping back into his arm pushed the thought from his mind.

As he approached the two gypsies, they stopped talking in their foreign language and Mictoria turned. “Forgive us Nísir, this is Ta-Reen. He is my second in command. You can trust him...” The woman was giving the man a pointed stare at her last words, but the older gypsy was staring intensely at Calin. So much so, that he became uncomfortable and looked back at Mictoria who said, “Are you ready to negotiate?”

From Calin’s side Tyas muttered. “As ready as we’ll ever be.”

After he shot Tyas a glare, Calin said, “Yes we are.”

The man seemed to ignore Calin’s glare as he said, “We are willing to pay ten silver for the medici and twenty if we can catch transport to Moons’ Reach—”

“No we can’t, Nísir, we are only travelling through Yera’s Crossing and then we are going through the east gate of the twelve.” The older man grunted something at her, but she held up her hand.

Uncertain to where that was on this continent, Calin groaned, but asked, “Where is Yera’s Crossing?”

“It’s a few days travel short of Moons’ Reach.” Tyas said while he seemed to be in thought.

Calin wanted to know more, but Tyas turned back to the woman and said, “Okay, fifteen to travel to Yera’s Crossing with you.”

The older man looked like he wanted to demand more, but the woman lifted her hand and said, “Del, or how is it you say it?”

Tyas lifted his hand and shook the woman’s hand and said, “Deal.”

Mictoria smiled deeply. “Ah you must forgive me, but we don’t speak the King’s tongue as often as we want Nísir, we don’t often get the chance to harbour guests.”

This more than anything, sparked Calin’s infinite curiosity in the matter; he was desperate to ask some questions, about the Floating Caravans and how come they could speak English and numerous other things. But just as he was finally going to ask, he was cut short as the full force of the pain, which had been dulled by the injection, returned with a vengeance.

He almost doubled over grunting with the pain. The woman gasped.

“Hurry! Rai’hako! We need to get him inside...”

Calin only dazedly recollected what had happened next. Shoulders pressed under his arms as he was carried into one of the caravans. The odd way of the caravan shifting slightly under his weight caught him slightly off guard as he was hauled onto the retractable steps. All these little things were remarkable, even the way the gypsies spoke their foreign flowing language. Yet, as much as he tried to ask questions, much more so the pain kept him from uttering more than a few words.

Before he knew it, he was inside one of the caravans on a comfy bed. His sore body happily sunk into the mattress. And if it hadn’t been for the pain, he would’ve fallen straight to sleep.

After a moment he tried looking around inside, but it was too dark to see anything.

The caravan’s inside became lit with a small crystal lantern the Mictoria woman held. She didn’t waste time as she threw open Calin’s cloak. He watched her face carefully as she studied his arm. She was frowning. He tried to ask what she thought, but he only got out. “What does... it look—”

The woman silenced him as she said, “Shhh, be quiet Nísir, let me help you.”

It worried him and he glanced back at the wound on his arm, and to his complete dismay, the silver veins of the infection was already creeping up onto his shoulder. He chose to let the gypsy woman do her job and closed his eyes, trying to force the pain and the image of the wound out of his mind as his breath came in faster and faster.

Then something cold shot into his wound. He yelped and sat upright. The woman however didn’t want anything of it. She pushed him down again. “Nísir, try to lay still. This will help.”

Calin bit back a swear word and obeyed her reluctantly. To his surprise the pain disappeared slowly as the cold seeped into his arm. He frowned, but wondered if that was it.

After a minute he was feeling himself again and he rolled his shoulder to shift it into a more comfortable position. To his right, Mictoria busy crushing something with a mortar and pestle.

The four belts, around her middle, rustled with the motions. And the bottom one with the disc-shaped ornaments made little jingling noises. For a while, he watched the woman work and after a minute, he couldn’t help but ask, “What are you making?”

Mictoria glanced in his direction. “Nísir, you shouldn’t move so much. The less you move the more quickly the ice salve dulls the pain.” The woman came over to him and gave him a small bowl with a lid.

“Nísir,” She said; her voice serious. “Listen to me careful now, you’ve been bitten by a Nighthound, were you not?”

The question was more a statement than the former. Calin’s eyes widened. He scarcely even realized the small mistakes in the woman’s English, before he quickly asked, “H-h... how did you know?”

The woman smiled slightly, for a very brief moment, but then a grave look crossed her face as she said, “I’ve seen this kind of bite many years ago. There is only one creature that makes a mark like this Nísir.”

“Ah,” Calin said. “I see, so have you seen a Nighthound before then?”

A look of horror crossed the woman’s eyes. Mictoria shook her head vigorously. “No, Nísir! Just drawings!”

Worry etched its way into Calin and he asked, “What’s the matter?”

The woman cast her eyes down and said, “Nothing Nísir, it’s just that the place where those Rae’keric comes from is not a place many have seen and hardly any to have ever returned. To have one set loose on a blood hunt for you is a terrible curse. They never stop, Nísir.”

The walls closed in on Calin, everything felt pressing as his heart began to beat wildly at the words.

“Never?” He said with an unsteady voice.

The woman must have heard, as she said, “Yes Nísir, never. All accounts of it state it thus. And so we have heard there were rumours of a Nighthound that was seen to the east of the valley. We immediately left that area.” The woman must have seen his panic as she quickly said, “But Nísir, they are so extremely rare that they are almost... what do you say, Legendos. I hope I never have to look into those evil eyes.”

The woman seemed to shudder with the thought. Then something stopped her and she looked up into Calin’s eyes, he almost became uncomfortable with the intensity of her stare.

What would be asked next was almost a certainty in Calin’s mind as he waited for the woman. It didn’t help much in knowing as she asked with gravity in her voice.

“Nísir... I must ask then, the Nighthound that did this to your arm. Is it hunting you?”

The question still managed to lance into his soul as he tried to think of a possible way to answer it.

After a few seconds he shook his head. She had not asked about the other three much bigger creatures that had been hunting him, no... were hunting him.

She had asked about the one that bit him. Yet she might as well have. He tried to drag in a deep breath before he let it out slowly and said, “No it is not, because I killed it.”

The woman gasped and placed her hand on her mouth before she exclaimed,

“Surely not Nísir, I cannot believe it.”

It was an expected response and Calin nodded, completely understanding the woman’s disbelief. Considering what he went through with that thing, and the difficulty Tyas had in finishing it off.

“I know, but it was a baby, quite smaller and I had help of a companion.”

“I see…” Mictoria said guardedly after composing herself. “But Nísir, why would you ever dare go near such an accursed thing?”

The answer to that question seemed so complex now, but he tried thinking of a way so she would understand, finally he sighed and said, “It’s because it would’ve hunted a dear friend of mine.”

The woman looked at him as if he was a wonder. Calin started shifting uncomfortably. A minute passed before the woman, without wasting another second, looked away and reached for the small bowl and lifted its lid. She pushed it into his hands.

“You are a very brave man Nísir, your friend is lucky to have you... Now breathe deeply, we must start the healing.”

Calin leaned forward and breathed the steam that was rising from the bowl. It reminded him of peppermint with a dash of something he had never smelled before. Curious he looked at the woman and asked, “What does this, um medici...do?”

He used the word so she would understand. As he waited he took another couple of deep breaths over the bowl. He quite enjoyed the smell. It sent tingles all the way through his body. If this was medicine, it would make any kid happy to use it. Then the woman said, “Nísir, I cannot say, it will frighten you.”

He stopped breathing it in immediately, and gasped. “What?!”

The woman waved at him and said, “Nísir, breathe, it’s the only way I know how to cure a Nighthound’s bite. It is quick, but it’s not a pleasant experience Nísir... We use it for our ... children, when they become an adult. It is hard to explain what is seen, but there is always the place with the fire and the touch of the fire is your guide. Now breathe and find the fire within, then you will find your way back.”

At first reluctant, Calin didn’t know what to think, but the wound on his arm finally made him breathe deeply. He started feeling light headed as the smoke seemed to flow into his very soul. He almost missed Mictoria’s question next to him.

“Nísir... what is your name?”

Head swaying, Calin fell back onto the pillow and he thickly answered. “My... my name... is Calin...”

His eyes became heavy. A few seconds later he couldn’t help but close them. It sounded far away as he heard, “Heal well, Calin of Saeliedge.”

For an instant he wanted to ask what the word meant, but all that he could comprehend for a moment was the flutes outside eerily playing their tune somewhere through the haze, the drums beating into his heart. Then all was forgotten.

He tumbled into a place of deep waters that seemed inside and yet the distance of it was incomprehensibly far away.