Author's Note Of Apology: I know, I know. I am a heartless little witch (with a "B" where that "W" is in the word "Witch") for having made you wait this long. I swear it wasn't intentional. I DID NOT WANT TO ACTUALLY MAKE YOU WAIT UNTIL MAY. I DON'T LIKE BEING ON THE SECOND PAGE OF JANE AND THE DRAGON STORIES! NO ONE READS MY STUFF, THEN! Haha. (Man...I'm feeling kind of shallow for saying that...) But...meh... these things happen. Very often with me, it seems, too. So for that I apologize.
So this may seem not as long as I had promised. That's because, at first it WAS going to be longer, but then, horrible person that I am (and I do apologize for that...) I found a nice place for a little cliffie. But, hey, at least I found out what's going to happen for somewhere between the next 1-3 chapters, and I even have a vague idea on where it will go after that (and I'll be introducing some characters that may appear in the sequal to this fic- YES, there WILL be a sequal, whether you like it or not. But that might take a few years...), so if I have time to write soon (which chances are I will NOT due to final exams and all that jazz) then at least I will have SOME idea of whatever the heck I was talking about and so once I come back to this, I will be able to write up more and thicken this already thickening plot. Phew.
Hmm...so. Really random, but I really like these characters. Haha. I feel like I'm really getting to know them, and especially for the ones that I've created, there is so much that I want to tell about them but that information doesn't really have much or really ANYTHING to do with the story. Daannnnnnng. Ah, well. C'est la vie.
I should probably shut up now, as I usually tell myself to, huh? I've already made you wait long enough. Thank you again for all the reviews. You have no idea how much I love each and every one of you and how much I LOVE to hear from you- your critique has very much shaped this story and its characters. To the person who asked me when in the name of "DANIEL BOONE'S SWEATSTAINED BUCKSKINS" I would upload this chapter, I must say that you made me giggle very childishly for about twenty minutes straight, and believe this chapter would not be up without you. Haha. I feel like I'm giving some sort of speech like celebrities at the Oscars. Oh dear...-_-
Anyways, I am going to join in the bullhorn rant that started on the comments page (which also made this chapter get its butt out of bed and onto the web. Props to those who started it in those two comments!) and scream at myself to shut up until the end where I will have a nice little end note telling you to review this story and all that stuff.
Cheers! :D
Sight
Dread was a poison, insidiously cruel as it corrupted Jester's thoughts with nightmarish images; thoughts of Jane, beaten and most likely raped, sent convulsive shocks of pain and terror through his already battered heart. It had been seven days now. Maia had promised him at least two weeks, six days of which would be spent in travel. But how accurate could his sister's Sight be?
Please, let Jane be alright, he prayed silently, as he sat shivering slightly in the thin tunic he'd pulled on. Chills of cold fear ran up and down his spine, and he shut his eyes as if to block out the hideous thoughts. His hands were fisted tightly on the table, knuckles white as he fought to control the impatient anxiety that seeped through him.
"Un...ka?" Hart's tiny voice sounded hesitant, as the infant's small hand tugged fervently on a fold of Jester's breeches, in attempts to prop himself up. Jester smiled wearily, picking the child up and holding him in his lap. Blue eyes -the same as my eyes, thought Jester- gazed back at him from his nephew's face, with an unspoken question alight in them. Silently, solemnly, the child patted Jester's cheek as if in reassurance. Jester sighed.
"Un...ka. Je...ta. Dahb... wurd. Dahl ap."
"Un...ka," Jester murmured absently, repeating Hart's nonsensical baby talk, as he waited for the others to arrive for Tiberinus's meeting, "I wonder what you mean, little one..."
With a gust of frigid air, Tiberinus swept into the room, banishing Jester's musings. The lordly gypsy was followed closely by Wymund, a sour-faced Maurus, Maia, Ippolito, a robed man Jester recognized as Père Matthieu, Juliana, and finally Amice and Lucius. The black-haired man sported a fresh slash across one cheek, and his lengthy hair was slick with rainwater and mud. As his solemn eyes met Jester's, he inclined his head.
"I...you... Jane?" Jester's breath was agitated, fearful, his heart thrumming like the wings of a hummingbird as he fumbled over his words. "We must-"
"Peace. Before we rush to arms, we must hear this tale from its beginning so that we might use the proper judgement," Tiberinus chided gently, laying a fatherly hand upon Jester's shoulder.
"I...of course. Forgive me." Jester murmured, biting his lip as he handed Hart to Maia.
Lucius sat down on the opposite side of Jester, his dark eyes displaying for a moment a wisdom that seemed to be of a thousand lifetimes.
"Jester, I understand that this must be a trying time for you," Lucius's deep voice was gentle as he directly addressed Jester for the first time. "I can only imagine what you are going through. If Léon or Cliff, or any other scoundrel for that matter, got ahold of Amice...well, I would want to rip them apart with my bare hands."
Jester nodded, his silence agreeing with the raven-haired man's words.
"To continue," Lucius said, "As you would all know, I had a brief run with Léon's men, Cliff among them, during my evening scouting. I counted a total of sixteen men on the return to their main encampment... as well as two captives."
There was an audible gasp from within the room.
"Two captives?" Jester asked, flabbergasted. Lucius nodded grimly.
"Aye. Two women, bound and gagged. Heaven alone knows how Cliff managed to lay his claws on the second, for I'd think her to be perhaps a merchant's daughter, one with a quiet fire about her." He shook his head sadly, as his wife applied a poultice to the wound across his face. "She wasn't one to simply walk into Cliff's waiting arms, but yet he somehow managed to steal her away. Even from a distance, it was clear her resolve was weakening. I could see it in her eyes; she'd almost given up." He shook his head sadly.
"The other, though, had obviously been putting up a fight. Her spirit was strong within her eyes, even from a distance, and she kept her head held high despite the bruises across her face."
Jester exhaled slowly, hearing his own blood rushing in his ears.
"Jane." He murmured, without the trace of a question in his voice. He already knew who Lucius spoke of, the woman who was hurt but would not give up. Jester almost smiled, thinking of how Jane would be fighting for her life, digging in her heels every step of the way. For, how could she not?
"I would believe so," Lucius said, "for she matched your description perfectly, and the red hair was unmistakable." He shook his head again.
"Moreover, once I had spotted them, I was swift to return to bear my tidings. Alas, that was when I found myself face to face with a seventeenth man. A scout. I managed to notch an arrow, but as it struck his neck he let out a great cry, and so I spurred my mount, Farrad, away. Alerted in the camp, a few gave chase, one of them loosing an arrow which grazed my face. And so I return. I do not doubt that they might break their camp tonight and drive onwards."
Silence pressed down upon the gathering, a heavy cloak.
"Maia," Tiberinus's voice was low and uneven, betraying his worry. "Maia, can you tell us how much time we have?"
"I...I...Oh, good Lord! Forgive me, uncle. I can't see anything. Everything is shifting, hazy. It changes from moment to moment." Frustration edged the blonde's words, and she frowned deeply, the look in her eyes focused on something seemingly faraway.
"We must...Tiberinus, please...Jane!" Jester exclaimed, looking around the table at each of the faces he had grown to love in such a short span of time.
"Jester, I wish I could tell you that we could rush to arms, but we just do not know as of yet. We cannot simply run into their camp blindly," Tiberinus said gently, before turning to Maia.
"Maia, do you know when Godric is to return? We need his counsel on these matters greatly."
The woman blinked, staring at nothing for a moment.
"It...should be any moment now," she murmured, cradling Hart to her.
No one spoke for a moment, the consistent sound of rain rushing to patter on the roof of the caravan tumultuously loud.
"Tiberinus." Maurus was the first to break the silence, and everyone looked up, astonished. Maurus cleared his throat loudly before continuing, his eyes flickering from his father to the door and back. "Godric does not know of this meeting. He left before it was announced. Shall I go out to meet him? To direct him here?"
Jester glanced at Maia, confused, but his sister seemed to be focusing on another place, far away.
"What brings on this sudden surge of goodness, Maurus? T'was not long ago that yeh scorned Jester's presence." Wymund's words were thick with suspicion as he addressed his brother, who shot back a venomous glare.
"If you must know, Wymund, I have merely thought over my behavior. It was...unacceptable. This is simply my way of making things right," Maurus said icily, returning his gaze to his father. Tiberinus sighed heavily, his eyes trailing over every face.
"Maurus has a point, Wymund," the lordly gypsy said at last, his voice quiet with thoughtfulness. "Very well, Maurus, my son. Go out to await Godric's return. He is desperately needed here."
There was a soft shuffle as Maurus got to his feet, the leather of his boots padding heavily across the worn floorboards. Another icy gust of wind, and he was gone.
Jester sighed heavily, his hands clenching and unclenching on the tabletop. The wood was weathered beneath his palms, smoothed by frequent use. Leaning his head atop his hands, Jester was glad for its solidity.
"What will we do?" He murmured, feeling as hope washed away from him like the tide, ever growing and yet ever slipping through his fingers.
"Why, mon fils, we will do what we can. What we must." A gentle hand fell upon Jester's shoulder, and the blond looked up into the wrinkled face of the French priest. Jester felt the deepest awe as he looked into Père Matthieu's face. There was such a peace that radiated from it, like beams of light, and such a love there, that calm immediately took hold of the young man. It seeped through him like a balm upon tired joints and battered bruises. The priest smiled kindly, patting Jester's shoulder. "What we must. I, for one, will pray, and God Almighty will, be it in his will, grant us victory. Do not lose hope, mon fils. There is always hope with God on our side."
Jester nodded, grasping the priest's hand.
"Thank you, good Father," he said, as a candle was lit within his heart. Hope flickered, a small, steadily growing flame.
"De rien, mon fils, de rien." It is nothing, my son, it is nothing.
"This reminds me...to do 'what you can'..." Tiberinus trailed off, before turning to his son. "Wymund, you are in charge of Jester's training. How does he fare?"
Wymund turned to look at Jester, stroking his beard thoughtfully. His mouth was set in a determined line, and his eyes seemed distant.
"Hmmm...well, the lad 'as improved. But 'e can get careless, 'specially with the staff. Th'shortsword, now that ain't as bad. 'E might be able to keep 'is own if 'e is smart about it, an' with a few well placed cuts. But, the lad isn't good enough to be stupid."
Ippolito grinned at Jester.
"That, my friend, is high praise from Wymund," the Italian laughed. "The man does not like to give out the compliments. You must have done exceptionally well within these few days."
Jester grinned back.
"Why, thank you, Ippolito! And you, Wymund, my cousin. The pair of you are too kind!" Jester exclaimed, glad for a playful lull to ease the tension.
There was a slight perplexed pause.
"...Cousin?" Wymund asked, his brows raised. Jester opened his mouth to respond, then shut it, remembering that he had not had the chance to reveal the news that night. Jester glanced at his uncle, and the man stepped in, explanation at the ready.
"Yes, Wymund, my son. Jester is kin to us, the first child of Kassian and Tatiana," the old man chuckled, nodding his head towards Maia, who sat with such an expression of shock that Jester could not help but grin full-out at his little sister.
His little sister...
An elated pride seemed to bubble in his chest. The comfort that lay in knowing he had a family- that he was a big brother, a cousin, a son, an uncle, a nephew, even- struck him deeply, like a perfectly tuned chord on his lute piercing the air on fine summer's night. It was as if a part of him felt whole, and yet in that wholeness there was also a vast void of questions.
"I...I....y-you...what?" Maia half shrieked, her voice rising in pitch. Her eyes were wide, large pools of turbulent water churning with emotion. A mix of confusion, love and pain mingled in her gaze, and suddenly she rose to her feet, handing Amice the child in her arms and moving towards the doorway.
"My...my buh-brother..." she smiled feebly, looking close to tears. "I...please, f-forgive me. I simply ne-need a moment." Putting a hand to her face, Maia turned out towards the tempest. The sting of the icy wind felt good, as she allowed the rainwater to blend with the teardrops that trickled down her cheeks in rivulets, and over the broken smile that slipped across her face.
The ground beneath his feet was thick with mud. Rainwater splashed violently across his vision, blurring tree and stone alike into massive green-grey shapes. He grunted as he slipped onto his back, and violently spat out the taste of mud from his mouth. He had fallen at least a dozen times over the indistinguishable roots and rocks. Mud-spattered and drenched to a numbing point, the figure paused for a shaky breath beneath the dark foliage of a thick copse of trees. He was unsure if he was being followed, and drew his dark cloak closer around himself, glancing about warily. He knew that, should he be caught, he would most likely be beaten, if not killed. But, according to what he had heard, there wasn't much longer to go. If only he could maintain the pace over the rough terrain a little longer, his goal would be accomplished.
Just a little further...
Shaking his hair to rid himself of as much of the rain as possible, his trotted forward, clinging to the shadows and offering up a silent prayer to whatever force might have blocked out the Silver Mother, the orb of the goddess Artemis, that shone from the skies above. Stealth and speed were his only hope, and seemed on his side. As long as they did not recognize his departure a few moments longer, then he knew himself to be safe...
At last, his eyes fell upon his goal, an encampment and with a triumphant cry, he drove himself forwards.
"Tiberinus!" Godric's voice was hoarse, as he stumbled through the doorway, tailed closely by his wife. He was spattered in mud and rainwater, with tiny scratches from branches littering his cheeks. His lengthy brown hair was drenched with water, plastered against his face in rain soaked strands, and he seemed to be shivering.
"Godric!" Jester half-leapt from the table, before finding his seat once more.
Maia clung to her husband's side, her arms wrapped tightly around him, and he leant down to kiss her forehead tenderly while he removed the heavy woollen cloak from around his shoulders. It would take days, Jester noted to himself, for the garment to dry properly.
"Godric, what news is there?" Lucius's voice was grave with concern, his dark eyes piercing as he handed Godric a flagon of mead to shake the chill. Godric sat down heavily on the bench, rubbing his eyes tiredly before answering.
"In brutal honesty, news is not of good humor, my friends." He took a swig of mead. "But, then, it is not as terrible as we might have feared. It seems that Cliff is not willing to travel in this curst weather, which should work to our advantage." He smiled tightly.
"Of our advantages, most of the men are drunkards, indulging in enough drink to make them give up their self-control to Dionysus for hours upon end, and then suffering from the after effects of cheap wines and scanty beer enough to make their minds throb. They are lazy, save perhaps a half-dozen, and for now shelter around their tents, playing dice as they wait out the weather. Their guardsmen are few in numbers, for all that they have been alerted to our presence. Obviously they have not seen us as a threat." He chuckled, low and dangerous. "I should add that I overtook three scouts, separately and without drawing attention to myself. The bodies have been disposed of, and so now their numbers have dwindled to mayhap fifteen known men."
Jester nodded, his hands fisted tightly beside him. If he got his way, there should not be a man left standing among them.
"And of Jane?" Jester said softly. Godric grimaced.
"It appears," Maia's husband said, "that the captives -for there are two women, if Lucius has not mentioned already- are guarded heavily within the center of the encampment. From what I could tell, they were both bound, and the redheaded woman was gagged."
Ippolito grinned at Jester.
"She must have quite the sharp tongue, your Jane," the Italian teased. Jester smiled sadly.
"You have no idea..."
Ippolito clapped Jester on the shoulder.
"Ah, but Jester, I do. Eleonora, my wife, is a fiery little thing of a woman. Untamable temper, that one, and the sharpest tongue I have ever come across." He grinned impishly, and Jester found himself grinning back despite himself.
"That reminds me, brother. Where is the missus?" Juliana teased playfully, poking her brother sharply.
Ippolito muttered something about beauty sleep, pushing his sister's hand away as if they were children.
Suddenly Maia gasped as if in pain, a pottery flagon slipping through her fingers and shattering with a resounding echo. She braced herself against the table, her knuckles white. Her face grew pale, her eyes widening.
"Oh...my...God protects us," she swore mildly, before crossing herself quickly. The gypsies all froze, their heads revolving to where Maia stood frozen, her eyes fixed upon the unseen.
Godric was the first to respond, leaping to his feet and drawing an arm around the slender woman's shoulders.
"Maia...Maia, my love. What is it?"
"I..." She turned her face to her husband. "Godric...I...it's Maurus. He... is gone."
Ippolito laughed nervously, glancing from both Maia to Jester to Tiberinus.
"Gone? Gone where?" He said. Maia fixed him with her ghost-blue-eyed gaze, looking distant and withdrawn.
"He has... gone. To them. I...Maurus...good Lord, Maurus...has betrayed us."
Author's Little End Note While She Cackles Evilly Over This Cliffie: Mwahahahahaa- ...erm, I mean... Heh...Like I said, I'm sorry for the cliffie, but I HAD to. HAD TO HAD TO HAD TO!
By the way, in case anyone didn't understand all that gibberish about "Dionysus" and "Artemis" and...well, I think that was it for these random people: I was using some greek mythology. If you did not know already, as a really brief side note:
1) Dionysus was, in the Greek Panthenon, the Patron God of drinking/wine, and one of the twelve Olympians.
2) Artemis, also known as Diana, Selene (the Titaness) and countless other names, was the Goddess of the moon, fertility, hunting, and a variety of other things.
Ta-da. So I actually do some real research on these kinds of things. Inspired mostly by sites like Wikipedia. Haha. Plus, we were just talking about inserting Greek Mythology into writing during one of my courses this week, so it's kinda fresh in my mind...
Anyways, as always, now that you've read, please review. Even randomness keeps me writing (i.e. Even if you didn't care about the story, saying something weird like "I have a pet rock named Sir Billy Jimmithy Flintsterson" would make me laugh enough to get into a writing mood.) Haha, okay, even flames would keep me writing, for all that I might go cry in a corner. Haha. Just kidding. But, yeah, no, please review. AND ALWAYS SCREAM AT ME IF YOU DON'T HEAR FROM ME WITHIN TWO WEEKS! Yea-ah.
I'll hopefully be back soon with chapter 14!