The Hunting Trip
Chapter 34: What Souls Sacrificed

"We should leave now."

Bregus flinched. The chill of his breath caused a shiver to race up her spine. It had been many hours since Bäla had spoken to her, and so beguiled was she in her magical incantations that she had barely noticed anything, let alone Bäla's absence. She had been caught off guard.

"We are safe for the moment," she whispered, trying to ignore his presence. "The Elf may be harmed if we attempt to move him sooner than when he might be needed."

"But you cannot wait. Come morning it may be too late!"

Bregus sighed. She had expected words of the like from Bäla when she had decided to stay in their temporary camp for the night. For the moment, she was intent on brewing this potion, and she really did not care to bandy words about it. Furthermore, his reaction was predictable, especially as the hour drew nearer to what had been appointed his transformation time. She knew he would not be contentedly stalled for another night when his desires were so near. Yet only she could bring them to fruition and she was not about to grant him his greatest wish until she had succeeded in attaining her own quest. Though chagrined he may be, Bäla would have to wait, for accomplishing this task meant slowing her pace. Too much had occurred and at too rapid a rate. She needed to account for the changes in circumstance.

She could not ignore the fact that she was frustrated too. This night had not transpired as she had intended. Nor had the day. In fact, so much had gone astray from her original intentions that all her aspirations had nearly toppled her many times over. She was not about to evoke more complications by acting hasty.

Her mind ruminated over the deeds that had turned her scheme dour. She had thought it so simple. It should have been. Everything had been laid so nicely in place. With very little effort, the Elf and Man had become hers. In her prior planning, this had been the hardest part to conceive, yet they had nearly been delivered to her door, a neat little package contributed by the predictions of Bäla. All she needed do from then was march into the Protected Place and cast her spell. It was a very easy scheme. Uncomplicated and simple. In the planning, it seemed as though nothing could go wrong.

It had, though. With hindsight, Bregus recognized her flaw. It had nearly cost her many times over this day, and truthfully she was surprised she still maintained any control given the slippery path she had traveled because of this weakness. It pained her to think on it, but her failing was this: she did not have it in her to truly imagine all the counter actions of those who opposed her.

No doubt Bäla had intervened on her behalf from the spirit world. Either that or luck was on her side. Although Bregus considered herself a wily foe, circumstances had played to her benefit more times than not this day, and certainly more than she could herself maneuver. Whether luck or Bäla's intervention turned the situation to her favor, she was grateful. Had this fortune not come, she might well be facing the fates tonight.

In the past, she realized, Kattica had been her only real challenge when it came to confrontations. All others she encountered were simple transgressions she might easily control. Kattica, perhaps, was even easier to manipulate, for the mere supposition that harm could be done to any of the tribe usually kept the girl in line. Thus, for Bregus, the difficulties of looking ahead, guessing actions, or reading intentions were never really much of a problem. Her people were malleable and followed Bregus' commands and whims with little question.

But these others . . . ! These strangers had derailed her plans so many times that she could hardly fathom it. She had pulled so many feats to keep them under control, and her efforts ever seemed to fail. What was it with the strangers that gave them such advantage? When the serpentine spell had failed she had thought by relinquishing the four hunters she might have simplified her task. By focusing solely on snaring just the Elf and the Man she thought it might be easier to achieve her plan. There was much less with which to contend when she locked away the Dwarf and the dark-haired stranger. Yet when the Elf and the Man fought her, she had not anticipated their moves. At least not to the extent that she faced. They were not simple hostages. Further they played on Bregus' fears. Soldiers! she thought, frowning with the consideration. The strangers had alluded military force might be about, or had it been her own imagining that brought that revelation? Either way, the thought of armed militia made her stomach turn with apprehension.

It would be difficult, however, to turn back from her goal, even with the threat of real harm. She stood on the precipice of a very magical feat, and it excited her no small amount. The outcome was everything she had ever dreamed and the act would elevate her to a point that no other shuvani had ever achieved. If she succeeded, her power would be supreme, greater than any living mortal, and her beauty too would be unrivaled. Her life would be infinite and all these things combined would be hers. The thought was grand! What an amazing gift. As such, she knew she was poised for either phenomenal success or incomprehensible failure. There was nothing in between. And for that she knew she need act with some caution.

"I know why you speak this way, Bäla. You hope that I might act on your behalf and move at a quicker pace. You cannot fool me," she whispered into the dark.

There was a long silence that followed and she thought perhaps she might have humbled him enough to chase him away for a time. Her focus went back to her brew as she steeped the flower heads into the powdered bark mixture that she had been slowly simmering. She reached into her mind and uttered the words for the potion. "Du' dera i tru-pos svapati. Kesh e lus me hum taibhi tuv'am sov." Then as a froth began to rise to the top of the liquid, she ladled it into a smaller tin. When she collected all there was of the foamy gray concoction, she blew on it and swirled it about in the bowl until it settled into a muddy liquid at the bottom. Crushing the berries of the plant between her fingers, she dribbled the juice into the mixture. Immediately its coloring went from a milky gray to a crystal liquid tinted an earthy red. With this final addition complete, she carefully poured the liquid into a long vial and stopped the top with a piece of cork. She dropped it then into her pouch.

"You are done now. Let us be off!" came the voice. Again it was Bäla.

It was kind of you to allow me to finish, she said in her mind.

"Do not tease me, Bregus. I speak of haste for reasons!" There was urgency in the voice and Bregus took note of it.

"What is it that frightens you, Bäla?" she asked aloud, though with annoyance, for she felt sure his answer would be a contrived thing created to work her into an agitated state.

"Look into your mind. Use your sight," he commanded.

"It wearies me. You know this. Tell me and be done with this game," she answered.

"Close your eyes then and I will show you what is to be seen," he said, and Bregus could feel the pull of the spirit world upon her. It seemed Bäla would not leave her be until she relinquished herself to his whims. She only hoped it would be attained quickly so she might not be too fatigued by it.

She did as he said and immediately she could feel a gust of wind lace around her. A chill ran up her spine as she felt his cold fingers come to her brow. And then she saw what he intended to show her as clouds parted and the visions became clear. In her mind she could see the Dwarf being freed from the chasm, and then she saw the dark-haired man and another whose face remained in the shadows working their way down a stony path. There was a quickness in the steps, and it appeared that he knew what direction he was to take, never hesitating in his pace. Lastly, she saw the Dwarf and Man free, conferring, weapons drawn, a host of soldiers running to meet them, all done within the brightness of day.

And then the vision faded and Bäla again spoke. "They are being freed from their holds, even as you make this pitiful elixir. It will not take long before they come for you with their league of soldiers."

There was no denying that, as much as she felt she could predict Bäla, he had the power to catapult her into a state of fear when he truly desired it. Just by mentioning the idea of armed warriors, she felt her heart race. Bregus' fear of failure was strong, but so too was her fear of hurt at the soldiers' hands. Bregus did not like their kind. Not many of her people did, for they had seen too often the brutality militant might leveraged. In fact, the fate of her immediate family mother, father, brothers had fallen victim to the accusations laid upon them by soldiers. It had been shortly after she and Bäla had wed that the ferocity of policed guardsmen was turned upon them. All of them had died under the iron gauntlet of those soldiers' fists. The accused crime had been one of theft, or more likely for simply being gypsies. Bregus shuddered to think her fate might have been the same as theirs had she not left when she had. And even after that, there was evidence enough for her heart to strike a cord of wariness whenever she met or saw a soldier pass. She has witnessed many lands and many armies, and always the torment of these guards was the same. There were many of her people who suffered and whether innocent or not, if one were Romany they could expect to feel the brunt of steel-fisted blows if captured by military like. A term of imprisonment was almost certain with every encounter, and sometimes it came without ever being given freedom again.

"I can help you, but you must act!" Bäla said, interrupting these thoughts. Bregus gulped at the words. "If you go now to the Protected Place and you act on my behalf, I can hold them off. I can keep them away until your turn comes. And then we can live!"

A burst of laughter suddenly emerged from Bregus like the rustle of leaves on a gusty day. She could not help her amusement, for it was more at the trepidation she had felt than at what he offered that she chortled. The preposterous nature of Bäla's proposal was a given, yet she had nearly been duped. It was the twist of having her restore him first that had given him away however. "Brilliant you are, my love! I should enjoy seeing how your mind works when we meet again. But it shan't be tonight. You must learn to be patient."

"You will do it, though?" he asked, and Bregus was startled by the abruptness of the question. He had never before asked if she would do it. It was always a given, or so she thought. It was a matter of fact, and she had never even considered she had a choice in the matter. Her belief was not entirely true, for though she knew the decision was hers, it was not a choice she could easily deny. Bäla wanted a physical body so desperately, and if it was not given to him, he would find a way, from the spirit world, to give her grief and misery forever. He would make every breathing moment a hell. He too was eternal in his present guise, and if he stayed in that form after having given her the secret that would return her to beauty and long life, he would ever be nagging and prying and tormenting her until it could be done in return, and he could be human again. She indeed had a choice, but she had never taken in the possibility of employing it.

"Of course I will," she said, but she was not really thinking that she would. It was titillating to consider that she might go against him. How thrilling to know that she ruled the event, and what she chose would be what drove their actions.

On the other hand, so much of her desire was exacted upon Bäla's being with her. In a way, it was how she sought revenge upon him for all the cruel moments he had derived when he had truly breathed life. Furthermore, this time, she would be the more powerful between them. A gleeful smile lit her lips at that thought before turning to melancholy again. Far more true, though, and sincere, she realized with an earnest heart that she would not want to live in solitude. That thought gave her pause and made her fully recognize her unhappiness. She was alone now, and she found no joy in it. Though he was wicked and spiteful, Bäla was a greater companion than no companion at all. Of note to the matter was the additional knowledge that Bäla, in his moments of good, was very capable of passion and empathy and kindness. It was therefore foreign to her mind to think that he might not be there. In all her scheming and planning it was assumed he would be. It almost gave her physical pain to think he might not.

But there were conflicts in this argument. The decision was not so much black and white. Her thoughts strayed. The face of her eldest son, Mattias, came to the fore of her thinking and with that fleet moment all her doubts laid before her. What if she failed? With desperate fear, she realized just how difficult it would be to do as Bäla wanted.

Her eyes searched for Mattias across the camp, his face lit up by the fire. Her long memory reached out for his features, picking them at just a glance. He was easily spotted for the familiarity of his face. Since his birth she had memorized every nuance of his form. Were she blind she could know him by touch and sound. Her son was so much a thing of awe to her. Merely looking upon him inspired her for the gift that he was. She shook her head. For the gift all her children were. And in her correction she realized this was true, for there were traits in all her sons that she loved. But for the moment her gaze was fixed on Mattias as she pondered the fate she weighed out for him.

He looked pitiable with his arms wrestled away and tied back, his mouth gagged. A part of her yearned to simply free him and beg his forgiveness, while another part of her knew she could not. He could never forgive. As if casting her own guilt, she projected her self-loathing into his glance, his demeanor. He could not love a demon such as I, she sadly thought, knowing that he could only see her as a monster. Yet he had been hers. Faithful and loving. Why did he stray? Before he had turned, when he was still under her control, she thought it certain that she could never hurt him, even for all the torment Bäla would inflict. At the time though, the feelings needed no exploration. She had Anborn. There was no need to do harm to Mattias. Threats to Kattica she may have made, but she had not really considered Mattias might take Anborn's place. Cursing her fate, she saw the turn of events had occurred when Mattias had been swayed. The look of hate that had filled his eyes when she had confronted him told her more than enough. He had betrayed her. It was then that she knew she could never have her son back. He was torn from her, and she could see that displeasure and deceit filled his heart. He could not love her. Not as he had. Such remorse twisted her heart with anguish. Cold spikes of pain drove down upon her soul with the realization. She was sick at the loss.

Yet somehow, in a twisted way, she thought she might still show him her love if she did as Bäla wished. In the coiled hollow of her despair, she somehow knew that despite any possession by Bäla, a part of Mattias might live on in his body. If he could see how she loved him then . . . If she could hold him in her arms evermore, he might realize . . . He might see then her adoration and maternal compassion still lived if she could only demonstrate her heart to him.

It was a very convoluted ploy, and a part of her recognized that. She knew a mother's love should not come in such a tightly sealed container. It would be difficult to discern a difference in the feelings she might show as a mother and as a lover. Yet she felt desperately lost, knowing her son was no longer one she could count as her own. She was willing to believe anything should she win his affections back. He had been a faithful follower for so long. Bitter tears parted her eyes as she looked upon him. In that instant he glanced up, as if feeling her stare, and fearful shock for the open emotions she displayed made her realize this weakness was exposed. She immediately turned away. She would not allow him to see. The feelings of heartbreak were too brittle, too raw. He had hurt her by denying his love, by shunning her and casting her aside. She could act cold too. She would not allow the bare ache to be exposed. He would not know her pain.

Deep down, though, her heart pounded its agonizing thrum. Could she really do this? The thought occurred to her and she tried to answer it. When it came to the imagining of what life after the completion of the spells might be, she really could not visualize it. So much else could she see, but not the taking of Mattias' soul. With the man, Anborn, it had been clear. So much did that one look as Bäla that it was easy to place her husband's persona upon him and have him speak and act as Bäla would. Those thoughts came easily. But with Mattias, in her mind he ever remained her son, even when she knew he could not be.

Alas! This is misery!

There was no choice.

"I felt you might turn against me," Bäla said, speaking softly, then adding, "for Mattias' sake."

She realized it was frustration that chained her to her fears, frustration which lead to disappointment. Things were not as they were intended to be. She was meant to be in control of the situation as it stood before her. Had things gone as planned, she should have been, at this very moment, youthful, powerful and indomitable. But she was not. She was not! That plan had somehow fallen astray, and all the cursing, vexation and blame could not change the situation. She was as she had been, and she wondered if this were not truly what she was meant to be. Her resolve sank, and she began to doubt seriously the power of her conviction.

Was she wrong in her desire to rule? To win? Was this not the nature of all mankind? To fight? To strive? To bully and cow and maneuver until one came out on top? She thought she was not so wrong, even for the sacrifices she must make to achieve the pinnacle of her goals.

But what of the sacrifices? Mattias would suffer, this was true, and up until this moment, her regrets on his behalf had been there, but understood as necessary. He would be painful to lose, for he was, after all, her son. She could not ignore that she felt love for him, yet losing him was one of the risks she had faced in her quest. Or so she had thought. But now, as she faced the reality of her failures and the inevitability of them should she lose one more time, she wondered if she had not taken the wrong path. She had so blindly followed behind her desperation, she had not truly seen the damage she wrought. Nor had she cared for it before this moment. Yet on the edge of failure or success, she knew she was playing dangerous games with the people and lives that fed her ego. The question came, and it whispered to her soul. What if she was wrong?

It was the fault of these strangers, these brief regrets. Seldom before had she had such consideration of her failures. She supposed it was because so much rode upon controlling them that she had to worry about her access to good fortune. Yet they had proven again and again in such a short span of time that they might gain the better of her. It sent her reeling in self-doubt. It made her wary of her ability for triumph.

She looked up, trying to make out Bäla's form in the shadows. He knew of her doubts and frustrations. Her eyes were filled with tears as she sought him out. She said, "And if I choose not to follow as you deem?"

He spoke in a voice bereft of anger, as if he knew threats would do little to persuade her in this emotional state. "You know what I should do. You know of the demons I will press upon you."

Bregus sighed, "Aye. I do." However, there was no fight in her answer, only something of resignation. Bäla would be merciless. He would not forgive her should she fail. Then her head lifted in thought as she said, "But you you should know. Tell me, how do I resolve this? Tell me the outcome. You must foresee it. Do you know what will happen?"

He was behind her then, his voice whispering into her ear, sadly lamenting, "I know not what will come."

Her brow furrowed with confusion at this, for Bäla was in the spirit world and his vision went far beyond that of mortal beings. "How can this be? You should know. Always do you."

"Not from the Protected Place. I cannot see there, and I will not until you open the door for me. When you speak the incantation, I may come, but until then I cannot see into that hold," he said.

Again Bregus nodded, as if understanding. "You do not know then of the soldiers or if any barricade themselves there?"

"I do not. I can only assure you that if there were soldiers in that cave you might have seen them by now."

She sighed again. Of course, this was logical, and he was likely to be right. It was her fear that had guided her.

She felt suddenly exhausted then, her limbs heavy and limp. The whole of her soul was listless, bereft of her strength. Not knowing the outcome seemed to take away her will to pursue and she thought for that moment she just might surrender her plans. What was there for which to fight if she were only going to face defeat again? She did not think she had it in her to muster strength against the unknown.

Yet there was one more question to ask. She watched the small fire she had been using, letting its warmth soften the pain in her soul. "Why Mattias?" she asked, for she still had not decided what she might do, weighing her heart to see if she had the desire to venture forth despite the odds. She thought it might help her to hear his thoughts on this action.

"You wonder why I am not opposed to doing him harm," Bäla stated. It was not a question, for it seemed he anticipated it.

"Yes," she said softly.

"He is nothing to me. I no longer feel of him as one does a son. I no longer feel anything from your world. What I see from where I live is that you are but shadows that hover about the bodies of reality. I see nothing of whom you are nor do I know anything to love within you. You are spirits that wait to pass and those in passing are the ones for whom I may attach myself. They are the ones I can see, to whom I may speak."

"You have attached yourself to me," Bregus pointed out.

"I have," he said, and Bregus came to see what he meant. She had little to hold her in this world. In its present state, her life was passing. She knew this to be true.

Bäla continued, "Mattias is a tool. He simply looks of me, and that is all I require. I have no other reason for choosing him."

"You loved him once," she said, hoping he might recall. Yet it was her mind where the memories of earlier times stirred. She could remember happier days with all three of her sons, days when the miasma from such poisoning thoughts had not penetrated the body of their lives. When she recalled them, touched them with her mind, she felt then her heart might break for all the love she could lathe upon them. Blankly she wondered what had become of those times. She had relinquished so much of her feelings for her boys since their early days. She had acted the role of mother once, just as any other woman of the camp might do. Somehow, though, that spring of emotional bond had dissipated into something taken more for granted. Putting it together in her mind, tracing back the history of when everything had changed, she realized it had not been them who had committed to other ventures. It had been her. She still loved them all; it was that they had just grown up. Their dependence upon her had shifted. When that had happened, she had begun to focus more and more on herself, thinking they no longer needed her. This pained her, for she realized she blamed them for straying when it had been she. They had only done what they were supposed to do. Yet she knew she had it in her to love them just as they had been when they were but small children, open to attention and very needy for it. She would grant them that place in her heart again if they would only allow her.

Desperately she sought out each with her eyes, assessing the damage there might be in her children because of her negligence. Gordash was nearest and she could see he was tormented by something. Mattias had said something to him and though she knew not the words, she suspected their meaning. His eye caught hers as she gazed upon him. He quickly turned away, face reddening, as if she had found him pondering impure thoughts. He needs to know I will love him, even if he doubts me, for I know that is what stirs his discontent. Yet she could also see his loyalty was with her, though blind loyalty was only one thing she desired of him. How she might muster the courage to tell him she loved him no matter his torn heart she did not know, and she contented herself for the moment by believing his loyalty was enough.

She turned to Curtik who had his knees drawn up and his head bowed into the fold of his arms. Curtik, my child, she thought as she smiled over his weary position. He seemed so forlorn and haunted in these days, ever more so since their return from the fens and their failure to catch an Elf then. Despite his withdrawal, she did not doubt his love. If anything, she realized his concern for her was greater, and she thought she might reciprocate his love by offering him more of herself. At the same time she knew this son was much like her. He had an insatiable thirst, and no amount of time with him would ever be enough. Still, he loves me, and he remains loyal, and I should want the same of all my people. She decided her gratitude might be enough for her to give.

But then her eyes turned to Mattias, and all her prior heartbreak returned. Fond memories of childhood days sprang back at her. She remembered him running and tumbling and playing with his brothers, their laughter lifting her heart. Even in those days she had been distracted with her art black magic had a very strong pull on those who practiced it yet somehow she had found it in herself to give them something of her heart, to share in the mysteries of the world with them, and to love them for their innocence and unrelenting affection. Those had been much happier days. It had been so easy then.

Not like now.

She took him in, digesting his gloom with hungry, yearning eyes. There was nothing of hope in his bearing onto which she might latch. His desolate appearance showed her that he had given up any remainder of his love and he would linger in his despair, not wanting her comfort or absolution. He cannot forgive me! He will never love me again! I have nothing of him. Nothing! she raged. What more may I lose in sacrificing him? He is already lost to me now.

With that summation, her querulous journey found an end. The decision was made. She would steel her heart, and try not to look too far beyond her own healing. The hardship she would face would be hers, and the guilt she knew she evinced would be scathing to her soul alone. She swallowed her resolve. She would do what Bäla wanted come the next eve. She would make the transformation and exorcise Mattias' soul from his body. She would try to see Bäla in her son's face. And she would try to look upon him no more as her kin. She would try. She would try . . .

I know not if I can! Ah, Mattias!

"Act quickly before you change your mind," Bäla advised, as if knowing the anguish with which she fought in her heart.

Forgive me!

Rising she answered, her voice choked with her suffering, "I will set our people about task. We shall leave momentarily." With that, both men and women rose about her as if they heard her silent command.

That action gave her small confidence. It was a minute thing in the course of her goals, yet it was not so easy a contrivance as to be commonplace. She ruled their minds. She told them how to act, and just that little pleasure point was enough to give her impetus to take the next step.

"They will follow you no matter the course, Bregus. They are loyal to you. Your fears are groundless. You need not doubt. If you should show confidence, should you remain unfaltering, it should all come to be as you had hoped."

"Will it, Bäla?" she asked with a whisper. "Will I have everything then? Even you?"

A pause followed and then, "Yes," he answered from a place within her soul, and she contented herself that it might come to pass. She turned her eyes back on her people.

In unison they mustered themselves, and then went about the activities she assigned to them each. She smiled as she watched them. His words were true. Her plans could come to be if she so willed it. She made it her choice.

No further words were spoken, for Bregus had wont of none. The silence was an aid to her. It helped her to shut out the crying misery of her heart and to focus only on her goals, for there she could fall into the trance of her greed and see everything she longed to attain if she only focused enough upon it. She would ignore her frustration, her guilt, and her thwarted attempts at desperate success. She would live despite her sacrifices of kin and blood and sorrow. No doubt reigned in that quietude and she knew that what souls sacrificed now would be regained in this other place for her heart. She was queen to her goals in the solemn calm and her future was more clearly visible in the realm of her mind in that silence. There she could imagine herself as she longed to be: impetuous and beautiful and powerful. And loved. And at her side she saw the man who had always been the one she had desired. His name was Bäla, and though he had the face of Mattias, it was Bäla who walked beside her, taking her hand and ultimately adoring her. Just as she had always wanted it to be. Just as she had hitherto been denied.

Romany translation:

"Du' dera i tru-pos svapati. Kesh e lus me hum taibhi tuv'am sov." Comfort the body with sleep. With this drink I will see thee rest."