Wanderlove Part 15

I couldn't escape them.

And even when I awoke from the dreaming, as soon as my head touched my pillow, another dream began. . .

Part Two.

Flashes.

"Wherever you go, go with all your heart." a Confucius.

SEVENTEEN.

The caravan shook as the explosion of thunder struck the earth, followed by an illuminating flash of white lightning. Liliana Moori and her sister, Eryn Moori both flinched from the noise.

"It's getting worse," Eryn droned. She'd been complaining about the storm for a quite a while now.

"Your perception is astounding," Liliana commented dryly.

Eryn presented her sister with a derisive glare before turning away. Under her breath, she muttered, "G.o.d's teeth, Lily, you can be loathsome at times." Albeit, the comment had been voiced loud enough for Liliana to hear clearly.

Liliana ignored Eryn.

As much as she loved her younger sister, Liliana was tired of listening to Eryn's constant whining. The storm was causing her enough anxiety as it was; they had been waiting it out for over an hour now and it didn't seem to be relenting. It was a testimony of the caravan's fine craftsmanship, which didn't allow the rain to seep inside, and Liliana was extremely grateful for that. Made entirely of wood, with a curved roof, the small caravan served as a little home on wheels. And at the moment, it was the only shelter separating her and her sister from the chaos happening outside.

Their servants courteously left the girls to wait the storm out in a separate caravan. There had been little room left in this one, due to the countless trunks they had traveled with. Liliana knew it had been pointless to bring so many things, but she couldn't bear leaving her beloved books and ancient texts behind. And Eryn had refused to part with all the beautiful fabrics she'd purchased. She was planning to have several new dresses made for her once they were back in Romania.

Home.

It was a word that was known by their kind, but little understood its true meaning. Liliana liked to believe she understood. Home wasn't a place, not really. Home was wherever you wanted to be. Wherever you were needed...wherever your heart was.

For a while, her heart had been in Paris, under the tutelage of a fine school for young ladies. It was a rare opportunity her kind didn't often receive. But Liliana had been fortunate enough to have a family who understood how important an education was, and she was also fortunate to have a family wealthy enough to provide the schooling to her and her sister. Yet now that she had completed the schooling, Liliana longed to be back in Romania with her family and her friends...her tribe. It had been nearly torture for both Eryn and Liliana to stay in Paris for three full years.

Another piercing crackle of thunder suddenly struck, this one more deafening than the last.

Eryn turned towards her now. She was unusually tense and wide-eyed. "Did you hear a gun shot, Lily?"

"No, it's only the storm. Don't worry--"

A distant scream filled the air around them. The sound of the rain m.u.f.fled the noise, but Liliana instinctively knew that she had heard a scream.

Eryn's green eyes filled with terror. "What was that?" she whispered.

Everything grew quieter in the darkness of their caravan. The sound of their breaths grew heavier.

Liliana moved towards the door. "Stay here," she ordered.

"Don't you dare leave me!" Eryn cried.

"I'm just going to check on the others and make sure everyone is alright. I will return quickly, I promise."

"Lily-- no!"

Liliana could see the fear in her younger sister's expression. Eryn gripped her wrists tightly, unwilling to let her loose.

"Go to the other caravan and wait for me there," Liliana commanded. She pulled out of Eryn's grasp and left before she could object any further. She knew her sister wouldn't be so foolish as to follow her. Eryn was too afraid of the storm.

Pulling the hood of her cloak up over her head, she made her way out into the night. A shower of stinging rain poured over her and drowned out all other sounds. Dimly, she could make out the image of the other caravan in the distance. But something caught her eye to the left of the road they'd been traveling. She looked back in that direction. Startled, Liliana realized she was staring at a ma.s.s of glowing, orange flames.

Fire.

How it was even possible for there to be a fire in the pounding downpour of rain was beyond her, but she quickly moved towards it. She didn't even stop to think her actions through. She simply ran to the bright fire at full speed. A gnawing feeling that someone was in trouble rushed her. Branches slapped across her face, mud clung to the bottom of her skirts, but she trudged on.

She didn't even see the body in the midst of everything. She tripped because she'd run right over it, causing her to lose her balance. She slammed down hard onto the muddy ground.

Groaning, Liliana pulled herself up. She was almost positive her knees were sc.r.a.ped and b.l.o.o.d.y underneath her skirts.

Unexpectedly, she heard the low rumble of someone else's groan. She turned to view what had tripped her.

Liliana paled when she saw the man lying on the ground next to her.

Turn away and leave. It's the smart thing to do, she thought to herself.

He was young, though. Perhaps around her own age, maybe a few years older. His large frame didn't move to get up. It seemed the man was severely wounded.

Instead of retreating, Liliana found herself slowly moving closer to the man. Blood trickled from his temple and around his eyes. She knew the mixture of rainwater probably concealed how devastating his wounds were. She wondered how much blood he had lost, and if it might be too late.

Suddenly, the man began to mumble. Listening closely, Liliana attempted to make out what he was saying, but the deafening roar of the storm m.u.f.fled his low voice. The only words she could make out clearly were, "Why can't I see?"

He was speaking in French.

Liliana knelt down and leaned over the young man. She shouted above the storm, "Sir, please do not worry. I have come to your aid!"

Immediately, his arm snaked around hers, clutching her tightly. "Who are you?" he demanded hoa.r.s.ely.

Liliana batted her eyes against the rain, almost paralyzed. She suddenly questioned whether it had been a good idea to venture out into the forest and away from the safety of her caravan and people.

"I am Lily," she finally choked out. "Liliana Moori of Redwood Forest."

The man's grip loosened. He eventually fell slack against the ground.

"Sir, do you think you can stand?"

She quickly scrutinized his body, finding no injury.

When he spoke next, it was softer. He sounded defeated and tired. "I can stand. And walk, if you guide me."

She helped to pull the man from the ground, nearly knocking herself over in the process. He was very large and extremely heavy. It felt like she was trying to lift a brick wall. Liliana soon realized it was due to the huge amount of muscle ma.s.s she felt beneath her fingertips. Good G.o.d, the man was completely solid and likely over six feet of height. She had no idea how she was going to get him to the caravan.

Once he was upright, he slung his arm around her shoulders, but thankfully, he didn't place his full weight against her. Good thing too, because it likely would have toppled her over. Instead, he merely used her body for support and guidance.

"This way," she directed him, leading him back through the forest.

It took three times the amount of time it had taken her to run into the woods for Liliana to return to the caravan with her new guest in tow. She was forced to walk slowly, taking the time to give warning for logs, brambles and other random pieces of nature that got in their path.

Helping her newly rescued companion into the caravan proved to be the most difficult process of all. Without the use of his own sight, the man couldn't find the floorboards and she had to help lift him. Liliana grunted, trying to push him up. By the time they had both climbed inside, she was breathless and soaking wet.

After steadying her heavy breathing, Liliana directed the man towards a padded bench, which had been built into the wall of the caravan. Though it had been meant for several pa.s.sengers to use for sitting, the large frame of the man nearly encompa.s.sed the entire bench while he lied across it.

Carefully, Liliana moved towards him. She looked more closely at his wound. An ugly, inflamed burn stretched across his temple and down along his eyes. She imagined the pain must be unbearable.

"Lady," the man called to her.

"I am here," she spoke softly. "And my name is Liliana. I told you in the woods, remember?"

"I remember," he said. She watched as he furrowed his brow.

"What is your name?" she asked him.

He paused a moment, as if he were debating whether or not to tell her. "Gabriel," he finally whispered, but gave no surname. Liliana sensed the man didn't want to reveal too much about himself.

"Have I gone blind?" he asked suddenly.

Liliana swallowed. She could hear the evident fear in his voice and she wasn't sure if he were asking her or himself that question. She wasn't much of a healer, not beyond the common illnesses anyway, but she still tried to examine his eyes, wondering if there was anything that could be done.

He might have only contracted a temporary blindness, she thought hopefully as she looked him over. It almost seemed like he was involuntarily keeping his eyes closed from the blistering of the burn, but she didn't want to tell him that. After all, she was no doctor. And she certainly didn't want to give him false hope.

"I don't know if you've gone blind, Gabriel. But I promise I will find you a proper doctor and get you patched up as soon as the storm ceases. For now, why don't you try and rest?"

He made a small nod of his head to her suggestion and then leaned back against the bench.

What am I doing? Liliana wondered to herself. Maybe I've gone mad. . .

When she'd been a child, her mother had often admonished Liliana for bringing wounded animals into their camp to look after. Now, it seemed she was bringing back strange, wounded men. Her mother would have hysterics if she knew what her daughter was up to now.

With the dim lighting of the caravan lantern a.s.sisting her, Liliana examined Gabriel's body more thoroughly, looking for broken bones and other wounds. Beneath that burn, the man appeared to be arrestingly handsome. She wasn't sure why, but Liliana was surprised by this. He had a strong jaw line, an olive complexion and dark, unruly hair. His shoulders were broad, tapering into a lean torso and waist. His clothes were tattered from the dirt and rain, but Liliana could tell the fabrics were of high quality. She suspected the man might be a diplomat or a n.o.bleman. He spoke perfect French, but it was strange, he didn't look like a typical Frenchman. She wished he could open his eyes. She had the strangest yearning to see what color they were.

"How did you find me, lady?"

The sound of his deep voice startled her. She a.s.sumed he'd fallen asleep.

"I thought we went over this, Gabriel. My name is Liliana, not Lady."

He only responded with, "Your French is slightly awkward."

Though he couldn't see her, Liliana's cheeks reddened from his comment. "I didn't mean to offend you, sir. I speak seven other languages and two dialects. If you prefer, we can converse in words more suitable to your ears?"

"Settle down, I meant no insult by it. Your French is fine. I only meant that I can tell you are not a native to this country."

"No. I'm not," she admitted.

"Seven languages, eh? And two dialects? That's impressive."

Liliana arched a brow. She wasn't sure just yet if she trusted this man's words to be a compliment.

"Thank you," she eventually offered, for courtesy's sake. The last three years of French tutelage and etiquette had engrained such pleasantries into her daily manners. She hadn't cared for the gaje's proprieties before she came to France, but now it seemed that politeness was a new trait she bore.

"So how did you find me?" he repeated his earlier question.

"I heard a gunshot. I a.s.sumed someone was hurt and I went into the woods to inspect the noise."

"Unescorted?"

The offhanded question aggravated her. She had most likely just saved this man's life- and now he was questioning her conduct?

"Yes, unescorted," Liliana replied, a little sharply. "My escorts happen to be in nearby coach. Had I made my intentions known to them, they would not have let me venture out into the woods."

"They would have been just in their decision. You put yourself in grave danger by venturing out into those woods."

"Why? Who is out there?" Distracted by his fear-invoking words, Liliana pulled back the thickly padded curtains of the caravan's small window, attempting to see something, anything, but it was to no avail. The storm was still violently wreaking havoc. She could see nothing but the rain surrounded by darkness and more rain.

"You don't want to know," he said grimly.

"Of course, I do," was her stubborn reply.

She heard him sigh.

"Let's just say that the kind of men who did this to me won't think twice about murdering someone who gets in their way. I'm lucky to be alive."

"So did you. . .get in their way?" she asked quietly.

"I guess you can say that."

She shifted in her seat. He wouldn't say anything more and she supposed she probably wouldn't want to know, anyway. It terrified her to think that whoever he had been running from was still out in those woods somewhere. She wished to continue traveling immediately, but the roads were flooded. The caravans would undoubtedly get stuck in the mud if they tried to carry on at this point.

"We need to leave," he warned her, as if he were reading her mind. Liliana regarded Gabriel curiously. She'd met plenty of authentic mind readers in her lifetime to know it was possible.

"The roads are wet and the storm is still raging. Exactly how are we supposed to leave?"

"As soon as the rain stops, then. You and your companions are not safe here."