Seeker of the Four Winds: A Galatia Novel Read online

  “No, no, no…” She shook her head, running back through the play-by-play of her dream. “It couldn’t mean that…Oh, god—could it?”

  “Don’t just lie there like a dolt,” Lindsey said, tossing a full water bottle in her lap. “I took care of filling your canteen for you—you’re welcome is the proper response. Now help me roll up the blankets.”

  Shakily, Josie discreetly pulled up her clothing and mechanically went through the motions of packing. Nausea came up the back of her throat. She ran to the edge of the bushes and vomited. She returned, wobbling like a drunk, tearing a leaf off a nearby tree to wipe her mouth.

  Lars had been rolling up his blankets, when his back stiffened. He spun around to look at her with deep concern. Damn his charisma, Josie thought. There was no hiding anything from him. He had felt her fear, her concern, her horror. But he couldn’t read her thoughts. Would he be able to put it together?

  “Josie!” He rushed to her, trying to steady her staggering footsteps. “What’s the matter?”

  “Nothing,” she said, pushing him away. “I just need a minute.”

  Running back to the bushes, holding a hand over her mouth, she heaved up yellow bile.

  “Are you going to be able to ride?” she heard Loyl calling impatiently from the campsite.

  “Just give me a minute,” she said.

  “Hurry up,” she heard Hogard yell. “Daylight’s a-burning.”

  Lindsey came around the corner. “Good Lord, girl, you look awful. Are you OK?”

  “No,” she said, voice quivering, bewildered. “My pants were pulled down. I didn’t pull them down, Lindsey. I didn’t. I didn’t. So it had to be...it had to be someone else.”

  “The intruder,” Lindsey gasped, then her hand shot to her mouth. “Oh, fuck, Josie, no! No.”

  Josie shook her head and the tears became uncontrollable. She flung her arms around Lindsey, sobbing into her chest.

  “Oh, sweetie.” Lindsey stroked her hair. “Maybe he was just looking for money or hidden jewelry. If he was a rapist, surely he would have went for me over you, so try not to worry.”

  “How do we know that he didn’t go for you first?” Josie asked.

  “Don’t even say that!” Lindsey said with alarm.

  “Tell her to hurry up!” Dante yelled from the other side of the bushes.

  “Would you guys shut up!” Lindsay yelled. “Give us girls a minute to regroup, okay?”

  “Thank you,” Josie whispered gratefully. Her own words sounded far away. “Promise not to tell the others what happened.”

  “I won’t,” Lindsey said. “If you need anything…”

  “You will be the first to know,” Josie said.

  “We’ll get through this. Together.”

  Sniffling, Josie nodded, and the two girls brushed through the foliage to join the group. Josie plastered on a placid expression as she mounted her horse. Suddenly, she wanted to ride—needed to ride—as far away from this place as possible.

  Loyl brought his steed up next to her, eyes a question mark. “Are we ready?”

  “Yeah,” she replied with a shudder. “Let’s just get the hell away from here.”

  Chapter Eight

  Elsewhere...A Few Hours Earlier

  (Magus Mull)

  When he had traveled with the Galatians toward the Promised Land, Magus Mull had only seen Feenie’s less attractive sister from the distance, so he was not prepared for his encounter with her tonight. His sole intention had been to retrieve the floating talisman attached to her wrist. However, when he saw her sleeping there, the thrill of seeing Feenie’s same heart-shaped face, her sloping nose, and slight pout of the lip, had overwhelmed him.

  It had been four years since the so-called wagon accident; two years since his clandestine visit to Windmere; and every fiber of his being longed to touch his lover again. When he had seen her likeness sleeping in the campsite, his body had responded against his will. Zippers—he loved the Galatians’ many wonderful inventions. He pulled Josie’s down and scrunched her jeans and panties down to her ankles. Already naked himself—because the less a wizard weighed, the longer his transport spells lasted—allowing himself this one indulgence wouldn’t take long. He pulled back, ready to thrust, when a large black and brown dog came out of nowhere, knocking him to his back.

  Its slobbering jaws chomped over his wrist. Fangs tore through muscle, scraping bone. The dog shook its powerful jaws and Mull cried out in excruciating anguish.

  “Brilo Dam Deoflat Brutatos,” Magus cried out a spell that exploded intestines of animals. A couple of birds in the branches splattered like wineskins above him, their feathers exploding everywhere, but the mutt seemed to be immune. It continued to tear at his wrist, threatening to rip off his hand.

  When Magus felt the transport spell breaking up, he was relieved and panicked at the same time. He would escape the dog, but he had not yet retrieved the floating pendant. Mull screamed in frustration as his body dissolved back to its originating point.

  Returned to his own camp, two days’ journey away from the squad by foot, he fell to his knees, clutching his damaged wrist. Livid at the irony of almost losing his hand before he had gotten the chance to lop off the girl’s wrist.

  He lifted up his head and screamed at the moon.

  At least he had gotten one of the Bulwark’s boast rings. He wasn’t sure how he would use it against the Red Squad just yet, but a new plan would come to him.

  “Hello, warlock,” a sultry female voice came from the woods.

  Still naked, he crawled to his belt near the fire and slid out a dagger.

  A beautiful woman with golden hair coiled around her head stepped out of the darkness into the firelight. A chain holding a jade teardrop against her forehead circled her skull—the witch’s crown—which symbolized her place as the leader of her coven and helped to focus her power. She wore a semi-sheer teal-green halter top, exposing her slim waist and toned midriff, and harem pants that were tight at the ankle, but flowed generously everywhere else. Golden sandals covered with crystals adorned her perfect feet, while her cornflower-blue eyes regarded him with a smoldering craving.

  Seeing Feenie again made the ache in his groin grow like a funeral pyre, consuming his every thought and desire.

  “My lovely flower,” his voice quivered tenderly. “How I have missed your fragrant charms.” They rushed into each other’s arms. Setting his head against her bosom, she caressed him as he nuzzled her chest with his cheek like a baby. The scent of sweet jasmine, mixed with the tang of passion-weed, lingered on her skin.

  “My sweet warlock,” she soothed. “We left Windmere as soon as I got your message.”

  She took his head between her hands, forcing him to look her in the eye.

  By the stars, how could one already more beautiful than a sunrise become even grander? It was the magic, filling her with power and confidence, radiating from her very soul into the flesh. In Feenie, through her humanity, everything Mull knew and believed had come to fruition. Never had he seen a more powerful conduit than the pure human flesh and bone of the Galatians. Their bodies were mortal, but their immortal souls made them like the gods. Only their ignorance of magic stood in their way of world domination. Feenie’s Coven of Eden, only four years old, was already vying for top position against other covens that had been in existence for hundreds and even thousands of years. Mull couldn’t be prouder.

  Eight other Galatians from the Coven of Eden—three males and five females—stepped out of the forest. The women were dressed in harem pants similar to Feenie’s, but none filled them out in such pleasing proportions. The men wore black trousers, black capes, and shirts of varying bright hues. They deferred to Mull as Master, as their original teacher who had introduced them to the dark arts. In reality, he was just as much their servant as their master. Linked together by the power of the abyss, his power rested in theirs, and theirs in his.

  “Did you retrieve the Red Squad’s talisman, my dear?” Fe
enie asked, running a finger beneath his chin. “Is it time?”

  “Not yet,” he said, taking in a sharp breath at her touch. He held up the Bulwark’s boast ring. “But I am working on a plan.”

  “You know I trust you, Magus,” Feenie purred. “But in this affair, timing is everything. First, I have to convince Barrett that I was an innocent victim of the slavers, that I tried everything in my power to return to him, but his mind-reading mother is going to be a problem.”

  “Our task would be so much easier if Barrett hadn’t sworn off magic, ” Mull said. “As much as I love him, I think he was dead wrong to forbid you from practicing the dark arts, trying to keep you from reaching your full potential.”

  “Our Barrett was willing to give magic a chance, but that night with the Harveys challenged his deepest held convictions. His convictions won out as they always do. As irritating as that can be, it’s the reason we both love and respect him so much—is it not?”

  “Of course, my dear.”

  “And it’s the reason Galatia so desperately needs him. And why we cannot afford to make any more mistakes. When I return to Galatia, we must make our move right away and...”

  “Hush, my flower.” Mull placed a finger over her juicy red lips. “Politics and plots can wait until the morning. The night was made to quench our desires.”

  Grinding his growing girth against her pelvis, he pulled her into a tight embrace. She wrapped one leg around him and arched her back, allowing him to kiss her exposed throat and lick downward between her breasts. As he carried her into his tent, the others watched in hungry expectation.

  “Do not fret,” Mull growled playfully to the rest of the coven. “Go ahead, spread out the blankets, because after Feenie and I get reacquainted, we will love each other as a group.”

  Chapter Nine

  (Larsen Drey Steelsun)

  Next to a swamp in the middle of the Grassland Forest, where fat yellow cattail stalks were going dormant in preparation for winter, Lars built a fire. The core of the cattails remained dry even in the wettest of weather. Their inner layers made perfect kindling, so he had pulled up a few apart and saved a few for later. Not having Josie’s charismatic talent for starting blazes, Lars had gotten in the habit of carrying the same piece of dry board and a roll of twine at all times. After a while—a long, long while of vigorously working the string—curls of smoke started to rise from Lars’s board. He quickly added the cattail fluff to make a tinder bundle and gently scooped it into his hands. The trick was to blow lightly into the bundle until the center began to glow. Once it grew into a healthy flame, it was okay to add sticks and eventually logs.

  Once the blaze was dancing away, he stood back to admire his handiwork. Living off the land wasn’t all bad. There was something about it that made him feel alive, free, wild as a goose in flight. After supper was warmed over the fire, and everyone was lounging around with full stomachs, Hogard and Loyl began to speak fondly of Lars’s father.

  “Yep,” Hogard drawled. “When I met Doc he didn’t know a sword from a hairy ball, but I almost mussed my trousers when he punched a Gargo between the eyes—knocked the son-of-a-dumb-bitch out cold. So, I says to myself, now there’s a fella worth teaching. Never saw a Commoner with so much thump.”

  “Galatians aren’t Commoners,” Loyl pointed out.

  “Ya knows what I mean.”

  “Just how good of a swordsman is my Dad?” Lars tried to wheedle his way into their private discussion. Loyl didn’t seem to mind, but Hogard ignored him and started gnawing on a piece of bone with a little bit of frayed meat left on the ends.

  “Hogard,” Josie yelled as if the Bulwark was half-deaf, “Lars asked you a question.”

  The Bulwark narrowed his eyes, growling at her in the back of his throat.

  “Why are you growling at me?” she demanded. “It was a legitimate question.”

  “Bulwarks of his status don’t fraternize with greenhorns,” Prince Loyl explained.

  “Well, that’s stupid,” she replied, sending Hogard an irritated frown. “Our mayor has more status than anyone and he talks to everybody.”

  “I noticed that,” Prince Loyl said. “You are an unusual people.”

  “I might be green,” Lars said. “But I’m good with a sword—that ought to count for something.”

  Hogard went right on ignoring him until the squad retired for the night. Just as Lars drifted off to sleep, Hogard let out a trumpet blast of foulness, startling him wide awake. When the Bulwark started snoring away like a rooting warthog. Lars contemplated shoving a sock down his throat.

  “I can’t take another two weeks of this guy,” Lindsay said, holding her nose, making a retching sound. “Prince Loyl, can’t you order him to take a bath or something?”

  “Bulwarks smell even worse after a bath,” the prince said. “The problem is that their digestive tracts were designed to eat vegetation, but over the centuries they have become very fond of meat. The foul odor coming out of their pores is their body’s way of eliminating toxins that their organs cannot handle. That’s Simon’s theory on the matter.”

  “The smells coming out of Hogard could make a bag of vomit puke,” Josie said. The Seeker was floating above her wrist. “Where’s that bracelet?” she said, digging through her covers.

  As soon as she moved her hand, the starburst and stone floated up again, straining to move in a southwesterly direction. “To the moon with ya,” she said with a sigh.

  “Would you stop with the annoying clichés?” Lindsey said.

  “If a cliché gets the point across,” Josie retorted, “then it ought to be used.”

  “If something’s trite and unoriginal, it is best left unuttered.”

  “Your attempt at intellectual snobbery amuses me. So put that in your pipe and smoke it.”

  “Argg!” Lindsey flopped back into her bed roll, hauling the covers over her head.

  “I thought you two were going to try to get along,” Lars said, disappointed to hear them squabbling again. “Did you give up on that?”

  “This is how we get along,” Josie said. “We bicker.”

  “Yeah,” Lindsey said. “It adds a little spice to the endless drudgery.”

  “So, you’re friends now?”

  “I wouldn’t go that far,” Josie said, “but I no longer fantasize about smothering her with a pillow in her sleep, watching her convulse, and then go still forevermore.”

  “And I no longer want to gouge Josie’s eyes out every time she opens her mouth, dooming her to walk the world in darkness.”

  “Oh,” Lars said, giving the both of them wary glances. “I suppose that’s progress.”

  Just then another trumpet blast from Hogard’s ass fogged the camp with the noxious odor of a well-aged Limburger. Groans rose up all around.

  “Sweet mother of mercy,” Dante said weakly, bunching a blanket up over his nose.

  The next evening, Lars started the fire, while Loyl took Dante and Josie down to the stream for another fishing lesson. Rolf checked over all of the horses, looking for saddle sores and incipient hoof problems. Lindsey worked the perimeter, foraging for edible greens. Later, after they finished their evening duties, she disappeared with Rolf into the underbrush. Lars’s charisma told him that Lindsey wasn’t nearly as invested in their romance as Rolf. Love wafted from the guy thicker than the smell of roasted garlic.

  It only took Lars twenty minutes to start the fire, five less than yesterday, by which time Josie and Dante were busy skinning trout. Rolf and Lindsey had returned to help. Hogard was still missing in action, but that wasn’t anything unusual.

  Lars stood back to evaluate his crackling fire.

  “Yep,” he said proudly. “I’m a regular ole Daniel Boone.”

  “Who’s Daniel Boone?” Rolf inquired.

  “Didn’t you learn that in school?” Lars teased.

  “What school?” Rolf replied. “On Future Earth, we didn’t have time for all that. The last time I was in school w
as back in the bunker, just before the quake. We were in the process of memorizing the Spaghetti Berg Address.”

  “Spaghetti Berg address?” Lindsey repeated, looking like she was sitting on a laugh bomb about to explode, which only made it harder for Lars to hold in his own snickers. “Oh, my, gosh. That’s so dumb, it’s hilarious!”

  “You guys still don’t get what life was like for the Galatians who came here ahead of you,” Rolf retorted defensively. “Whenever we settled in somewhere, the Alliance would show up with armies spouting warnings about First Rights. Why do you think getting the Blood Map is so damn important?” Rolf’s fist had clenched into a tight ball. “How dare you look down on me.”

  “I…I… Rolf…” Lindsey said, flustered. “I wasn’t looking down on you.”

  “Bullshit.”

  Lars expected Lindsey to ridicule Rolf some more, but instead she bit her lip and returned to cleaning the wild lettuce she had collected. The exchange was forgotten for now as the fish were slapped into the hot skillet. Just as they were beginning to sizzle, the Bulwark returned.

  “Eat them fishies quick, folks,” Hogard said. “Time to get packing.”

  “But I just got the fire going,” Lars whined in protest. “And the fish aren’t ready...”

  “We got a tail. Same tracks as usual, but whoever it is merged with a larger group. I counted fifteen separate prints.”

  “How far behind us are they?” Dante asked.

  “Not sure—somewhere between half a day and a full day. Don’t know what their up to, but I found this.” Loyl took the small pouch and poured the content into his palm. Blue, red, yellow and pink hard candy balls rolled out.