Gypsy Caravan Novels & Stories

Aislinn let her head fall back down as Kara entered the woods and trailed after Rafe and Jenna toward the standing stones. Cullen drove like a maniac. The caravan of SUVs blasted down the highway trying to close the distance between themselves and the Tairneach. Cullen had called in a favor that was owed to him by some friends on the highway patrol and were managing to make it across the state in record time.

"But it’s not iron this time. It’s silk." Rhea squinted at the southern pass. A small caravan was winding its way up the treacherous path. There were no armored wagons, no steam-powered longboats. Instead, six white horses pulled a carriage of polished amber and gold. It was an embassy—a display of wealth and "civilization" designed to make the Silver Bane feel like barbarians. "Marcus, Sela, meet them at the outer ring," Rhea commanded through the mind-link. "Do not let them past the standing stones until I’ve vetted their scent."

"You have to open your heart and let the Holy Spirit-" "Stop right there, Mr. Father-in-Church. I have no intention of listening to your preachings. Just show me where I should stay." I cut him off mid-sentence; the endless accept this, accept that, be with him, believe in blah blah sermons were enough to make me lose it. He didn't say a word this time, only pointed toward a medium-sized cabin. Ohhh... it actually looks nice and big. Just my type. Rawr. I practically skipped my way to the cabin like it was my honeymoon suite. Who knows? Maybe this camp is crawling with gays in desperate need of "conversion." Maybe I'll even meet my one true love here. Wouldn't that be ironic?

It's either they would find it offending or they would take advantage of me. The smell in the third caravan is not that strong compared to the other two, so I guess it's not fully loaded. See if you can hitch a ride. It's the only way to get out from here. "But we don't know the merchant's destination." It's a gamble, Ophelia. You decide. The carriage will leave anytime soon. I'm new to taking risks, but if that’s what it takes to get away and live freely, I am willing to gamble at any cost.

Mason muttered, “this is the most romantic our meetings have been lately.” I clapped my hands once, sharp and loud. “Focus.” The banter faded—but not the tension. We all felt it now. The pressure. The stakes. The knowledge that one wrong step, one missed signal, and we’d be burying more of our people in shallow graves. I wouldn’t let that happen. Not again. --- We moved like a well-oiled blade—fast, brutal, silent. By the time the sun dipped below the trees, the caravans were rolling in from the outer sectors. Covered wagons. Wagons without wheels. Wagons drawn by trembling horses and angry wolves.

he added with a dagger a few centimetres away from my throat. The ride was long but not unpleasant. The caravan’s horses trotted steadily, the rhythmic clop of hooves almost meditative. Dust drifted lazily into the air, soft against the canvas covering the wagon. I let the warmth of the evening and the movement null the tension in my muscles, eyes scanning the horizon for the familiar spires of Aetherion. By night time, the gates of the institute came into view. The driver signaled and I climbed down, brushing off the dust of their wagon from my sleeves. Coins exchanged hands quickly and with a nod of gratitude, the caravan pressed onward.

Elara’s POV The morning at the outpost was draped in a shroud of pale, leaden mist, the air remained biting. As I walked toward the carriage, my boots crunching over patches of frozen slush Then I froze, the caravan had transformed. Tucked into the center of our line were five additional heavy wagons. They were colossal things, their frames reinforced with thick iron plating and draped in layers of dark, waxed canvas. The ropes securing the tarpaulins were pulled so taut they hummed in the wind, and the canvas didn't flutter; it was weighted at the hem with lead bars to keep the contents hidden from even the most prying gust of wind.

Carter looks at me with a curious look. “Did you say something Anna?” he asked guiding the horse to me. “Nothing important,” I say as I grab the horse by the bridle and guide it into the dark tunnels. I take a left and then the second right before entering a towering cavern. At the end of the carven, I see the caravan had made camp. The fighters of the group were on guard as some of the younger men and women were looking for herbs in the meadow at the edge of the lake.

Mateo and Sofia sat quietly in the backseat, his big eyes showing anxiety and curiosity. He whispered, "Where are we going, Mama?" Although it didn't reach her eyes, Sofia grinned. "My darling, somewhere secure. Somewhere in the distance. The caravan finally stopped at an old farmhouse hidden out in the middle of the countryside. Julien knew a former smuggler who owned the house and owed him a favour. When they emptied their baggage, Julien remarked, "It's not much." It's off the grid, though. Nobody will discover us here. With a reserved tone, Xander answered, "Let's hope you're right."

The message is always very clear. We are not welcome. ---------------------------------------------------------------------- ¹ Gypsy carriage. ² Gypsy group that wandered around the United Kingdom in the 18th century. ³ in the 18th century Turkey was known as the Otanamo Empire.