Sleeper Of The Wildwood Fugue (Book 7) (16 page)

“I’ve no problem with her. I haven’t really interacted with Kira enough to consider us friends. We were nice to each other the last few times we met. I guess we could become friends over time.”

“That’s unfortunate, Nyx of Rainbow Tower,” Misrae sighs, getting to his feet and grabbing his sword. He stands in front of the tent’s entrance, his hand on the flap. “The Grasdon family has become our enemy. We are marching to either negotiate the return of our property or declare war before they cause irreparable damage to the region. If you are a friend of a Grasdon then I cannot trust you.”

“Then what happens to us?”

Misrae shakes his head and leaves the tent, whispering orders to the guards. The hum of a spell fills the tent and the brown fabric takes on a darker hue. Nyx snaps her fingers to create a flame on her thumb, holding her breath in anticipation. An invisible hand smacks her in the back of the head with enough force to stun her. She waves the fire away and lays down among the soft pillows, quietly hurling every curse word she knows at her captors.

*****

Dariana stops running backwards and catches the spear swinging for her head. She has several cuts on her body, but no sign of blood on her pristine, white clothes. With a twist of her arm, she yanks the weapon out of her dark-skinned opponent’s hands. The spear vanishes and reappears on the other woman’s back, shrinking until it is nothing more than foot long rod of polished wood. Their wounds are already healing as the pair looks around the empty void that they have been sparring in for what feels like an entire day.

“Thank you, Dariana,” the toned woman says as she attaches a golden lizard clip to her short brown hair. Her right eye sparkles like a sapphire, but her left is swollen shut. “You are a powerful warrior on the mental plane. I never get to spar in here since nobody wishes to damage their precious Palqua.”

“I thought your name was Sharne,” the champion replies while focusing on erasing her injuries. “I apologize for my friend’s tardiness. I thought she would have fallen asleep by now.”

“Your friend is slumbering now, so you can get her,” Sharne mentions while she mends her torn clothes. The red, flowing skirt goes down to her feet from a belt of golden scales. Her matching top has long, wide sleeves and an intricate pattern of polished stone and ivory running from the shoulders to her belly. “You and your friend may call me Sharne. The Palqua is my title within the tribe. It is a name of honor handed down to the child born in every generation with the sight.”

Dariana concentrates and reaches her hands into the ground, circular ripples rolling into the horizon. She slowly draws out the slumbering form of Nyx, a layer of white energy on the caster’s naked body. A fiery shirt and pure black pants appear on the half-elf as her eyes open, their violet light sending beams into the endless sky. Dariana and Sharne stay behind Nyx when she tries to face them, neither of them willing to stand in the projections of raw aura. With a few hard blinks, the beams disappear and her eyes lose their vivid shine.

“I feel asleep and now I’m in a void,” Nyx states in a dull voice. She experimentally waves her hand and creates a throne of living flames. “If I’m going to be in this mental realm then I’m going to be comfortable. Though I’m not sure why I made something this flashy. Who’s this?”

“I’m sorry for not speaking sooner. This is Sharne the Palqua and we’ve been talking since we bumped into each other in our dreams. Well we’ve been sparring,” Dariana replies while aggressively rubbing the left side of her face. Sharne turns in a circle, her swollen eye healed by the time she finishes. “She is the holy woman of the Helgardians. I’ve explained our situation and she believes we are not spies.”

“If you two were talking then my meeting with Misrae was pointless,” the caster angrily growls, her throne flaring and filling the void with heat. “I should probably get rid of this thing before I hurt somebody.”

“I have a request, Lady of the Flame,” Sharne says with a low bow. The holy woman creates a fake version of herself that takes several steps away from the original. “Please destroy this illusion with any spell of your choice. I promise that I will be fine. I simply want to get a taste of your true power.”

Nyx looks at Dariana and gently bites her lower lip, unsure of what is going on. “I’m not sure about this. My magic is very dangerous. I’m a channeler, which means I’ll be more than what you expect.”

“She’ll be fine,” the silver-haired woman assures her friend.

With a tired sigh, Nyx gets off the fiery throne and whips it over her head until it turns into a crackling fireball. The real Sharne moves closer to Dariana as the holy woman stares into the churning spell. Unleashing a small shout, the caster hurls her attack at the illusion and a narrow explosion engulfs the entire void. A bubble of solid wind protects the three women from the spell, but they still feel enough of the heat to sweat. The inferno dies down, leaving scattered pillars of smoke that dot the blank landscape.

“That was impressive,” Dariana whispers in amazement. “I’m realizing that I’ve no clear idea of your abilities, Nyx. No wonder my brother wants to claim you.”

“That’s not really comforting,” the half-elf hisses between her teeth.

“I don’t believe there’s any way to comfort you about him.”

Sharne takes Nyx’s hands and presses her forehead to the other woman’s knuckles. “I recognize your power. You are the champion who will brave the challenges of Helgard. My tribe is named after your temple because our ancestors once called it home. We were the loyal servants of Gabriel and we tended to the guardian beasts. A dangerous monster forced us out and we became nomads while waiting for the time we are called home.”

“I’m confused on what’s going on here,” Nyx admits, gently freeing her hands from the friendly nomad. “All I want to do is return to Bor’daruk and my friends. I don’t want to worry about Helgard until then.”

“I believe Sharne is saying that the tribe will help us when the time comes,” Dariana politely interjects. She senses her friend’s mental anguish and pushes positive thoughts at her. “We will be okay as long as we stay with the tribe. They’re going to Bor’daruk and will reach the city in a few days.”

“They’re marching to a war.”

“Sharne and Misrae don’t want it to come to that.”

“Then what’s going on with the Grasdons?”

“We’ll find out when we get there.”

“I’m all for helping these people, but I want to know what’s going on.”

Nyx and Dariana are pushed apart by a golden light that transforms into a three foot tall scepter. The smooth object has a multifaceted ruby that rises out of a blue lotus. Ancient runes spiral from the bottom of the jewel flower to the rounded base. Strange figures dart within the core of the ruby, moving too quickly to be seen with any clarity. Nyx is mesmerized by the scepter and reaches out to grab it, but the object abruptly spins into Sharne’s hands.

“This is the Scepter of Palqua. It is the symbol of my station, the holiest relic of my tribe, and the only treasure my ancestors freed from Helgard,” the holy woman explains while polishing the beautiful ruby. She gently twirls it over her head, releasing a shower of crimson sparks. “It was stolen a few weeks ago when we were attacked. The bandit we captured for interrogation told us that him and his allies were hired by the Grasdons. Misrae is angry at them, but I think something else is going on. For one thing, only the Palqua and the Tribe King know the truth behind the scepter.”

“What is the truth?” Nyx asks, her eyes still locked on the enchanting object.

Sharne’s eyes turn black and the air becomes shockingly cold. “There are monsters within this scepter. One by one they will escape until the worst of them is set free. Then the desert will burn for eternity.”

9

Stephen takes a bite out of the large turkey leg, his eyes scanning the faces of his three companions. Trinity is the only one to meet his gaze as she drinks from a deep goblet of wine and relaxes on a soft couch. She tries her best to ignore the white and black-skinned hand that is playing with her ebony hair even though she swears there are at least eight fingers touching her scalp. With a tired sigh, the chaos elf glances at the Goddess of Chaos who is standing on the domed ceiling. Yola Biggs smiles wide enough that the top of her head nearly falls off, which causes Trinity to shudder and turn to the brooding gnome next to Stephen. The greasy inventor quietly picks at the sandwich platter in front of him, making sure not to get any on his bright yellow shirt. He already has a few stains on his green pants, they are from a spinach dip that happens to blend into the hideous color. Nyder slides his thick goggles from his forehead to his dark red eyes, but he takes them off a minute later.

“Remind me who is running this operation,” Stephen says through gritted teeth. He flexes his hand, which merges with the table and sprouts dandelions. “I wasn’t going to do anything, Yola. Release me and behave yourself.”

“Nyder told me to negate your vile, putrid temper,” the goddess states, waving to the gnome with her foot. She stretches a lock of green hair to grab some bread and swallows the chunk whole. “This meal is so boring. I remember lavish meals where the food ran into your mouth and worked your teeth for you. A different taste with every bite.”

“That’s how you ate breakfast and it’s because you only chew your food once before swallowing,” Nyder mentions as he sips at his water. With a tired sigh, he rubs his waxy beard and pets a peacock that is resting near him. “I have to agree with Stephen to some extent. We can’t play favorites here. Killing the daughter would deal a major blow to Luke Callindor. If we wait too long then she may become suspicious.”

“The girl is distracted by Sari and the actions of her father,” Trinity points out with a small yawn. Her eyelids droop and she shakes her head clear, chugging a small cup of bitter coffee to stay awake. “She was getting suspicious until we sent her to handle those fake nomads five days ago. It took a while to set that up since our dearly departed General Vile controlled our criminal contacts down here. Now she’s caught up in her love life and won’t realize that we’re saving her for the end.”

Stephen chuckles and reaches for an albino peacock, pulling his hand away when Trinity lances his wrist with a long, piercing nail. The bird hurries into the tropical plants as the man snaps the talon off, enjoying the flash of pain on the chaos elf’s face. With a roll of his hand, the wound vanishes and he grabs another chunk of turkey to devour. The lack of table manners reveals how difficult it has been for the man to maintain his disguise, a task that has left him very little time to eat.

“I say we kill the girl and enjoy Luke Callindor’s anguish,” Stephen declares with a cruel smirk. Noticing that Trinity is holding out her hand to check her broken nail, he snaps his fingers to repair the minor injury. “She’s fighting with her father, so it’s the perfect time to kill her. The fingers will point at the old man and Luke Callindor will attack. Imagine the chaos that would ensue if a champion killed the head of a merchant house.”

“What if he kills himself or goes insane or swims to Cerascent or murders a litter of kittens or storms Shayd to destroy the Baron?” Yola asks at a rapid pace. “Oh my me, what if he comes to kill me?”

“There’s the chance that Luke Callindor will do something unpredictable,” Nyder agrees while he makes some notes on a scroll. He flips down his goggles to get a clearer look at the page and taps the feathered quill against his fat nose. “It’s one of the problems here. The boy has consistently done what nobody expects. Even the gods have been whispering about how he rejected his full power to keep that griffin spirit around. Yet he was still able to injure you, Stephen. Perhaps we should wait to kill Kira Grasdon.”

“The timing is perfect!” the ancient warrior shouts, slamming his fist on the table. His chair transforms into a gelatinous blob that engulfs him. “Yola!”

“Inside voice,” the goddess coos as a long straw appears in her hand. She sucks up the ooze, her belly bloating until she releases a dainty burp. “We don’t want the servants to discover us here.”

“May I suggest another scenario that would appeal to your sadism?” Trinity politely requests with a friendly smile. She licks her lips as the plan swiftly unfolds in her mind. “You want to cause Luke Callindor pain. What better way to do that than to make his fiancée suffer? He’ll feel helpless since these deaths will happen under his nose. Think about it, Stephen. The great hero of the Callindor line failing to protect the family of the woman he loves.”

“I think I see where you’re going with this, your majesty,” Nyder interrupts, tucking the scroll into an oil covered satchel. “And I like what I’m hearing.”

The chaos elf leans over the table, her violet eyes sparking with excited energy. “By the time you strike Kira Grasdon down, Luke will already be near his breaking point. That final blow would destroy him. Even Nyx and that drite won’t be able to heal him if you attack his heart. If he goes berserk and tries to kill who he believes is responsible then that will force the others to fight against him. Still I would bet more on him becoming nothing more than a broken husk that isn’t even worth destroying. Wouldn’t that be more entertaining to watch?”

With a heavy sigh, Stephen walks over to the plants and reaches in to pull a hooded snake out of the leaves. The terrified creature hisses and bares its fangs, but it refuses to bite him. He coils the snake around his hand and wrist, calmly observing the beast as he thinks about his companion’s idea. The temptation to kill the animal is maddening while he touches the vile scar on his throat. Before he loses control, he puts the snake back into the plants and returns to his allies.

“I wish to destroy Luke Callindor for what he did to me. My hatred of him rivals my desire to claim Nyx,” Stephen explains in a slow, steady voice. His breathing becomes heavy and he grips his forearms to calm down. Gentle cracking can be heard as he continuously breaks and heals his bones. “Your plan makes sense and I thank you for keeping my anger in check, dear Trinity. I’m not myself lately and it’s beginning to show in the form I’ve taken here. I will focus on controlling myself, so as not ruin my chances of getting revenge on that irritating, foolish, pathetic whelp of a hero. Within a few days, I’ll break him, feed his body to the demons, and toy with his shattered soul for centuries. Nobody scars me!”

Yola claps her hands and Stephen collapses on the couch next to Nyder. The gnome props the sleeping man’s head up and moves a pillow underneath, shaking warm drool off his greasy fingers. He looks at the goddess with a stern expression before going back to trying different bread and filling combinations.

“You told me to stop his temper,” Yola mentions while on the verge of tears.

“I did, but I fear he’ll be worse when he wakes up,” Nyder says, gagging on the scorpion meat. “What masochist would enjoy this horrible sensation?”

“It’s a delicacy,” Trinity whispers as she swirls her goblet of wine. She stares at the unconscious man across the table from her and smirks. “Thank you, Yola. It’s nice to have a peaceful dinner for once during this outing. You may have saved his life because I’m sick of his ranting.”

The goddess squeals with delight and lands on the couch next to the chaos elf. “See, Nyder, I can do a good job. He thought I was going to make a mistake and cause a big mess that you would have to fix.”

“Flowers are sprouting out of his nostrils, you loopy deity,” the gnome grumbles over the lip of his water glass.

“Oh, that’s just to make him look prettier.”

“How far in do they go?”

“To his brain, so pulling them out would be bad.”

“How do we get rid of them?”

“They’ll fall out when he wakes up.”

“Tell me how to wake him up.”

“He needs the kiss of a dangerous beauty.”

Trinity freezes with a cherry sticking out of her mouth as her friends turn to her. “I’ll go find that snake.”

*****

Sari stretches her legs under the table and rubs her booted feet against the calf of her companion. Quill clears his throat and reaches down to push her away, but finds her limbs impossible to move. She stops teasing the young man and goes back to staring at the menu even though she does not know what most of the dishes are. The local cuisine is like a different language to her and she already made a mistake trying to order a drink that ended up being nothing more than herbal ice water. The other diners continue taking quick looks at the gypsy, her white skin and blue hair making her a curiosity. Enjoying the attention, she moves her hands over her water glass and draws the liquid into the air, forming angular shapes above the table. With a clap of her hands, the liquid explodes into a mist that shimmers like a rainbow in the candlelight.

“That was a nice trick,” Quill softly says, waving to their waiter. He points at a few dishes and takes the menu from Sari, handing it to the young man. “Thank you for coming out with me. I normally wouldn’t involve a foreigner in my affairs, especially one who is involved with my cousin.”

“But the situation has taken away your choices, you find me enchanting, and you’ve noticed that I’ve grown restless in your home,” Sari adds with an impish grin. She leans on the table and licks her lips, making the robed man nervous. “You can also learn more about me through our date. This will only be lunch and a romantic walk. I’m not going to make my life any more complicated.”

“I agree and have no interest in going beyond a meal and conversation,” he responds, reaching for an apple on a passing cart. The piece of fruit darts from his hands and disappears into the rafters, startling him and several nearby patrons. “What kind of spell was that? You didn’t even do anything to cast it.”

The gypsy grabs another apple from the cart and tosses it to Quill, pointing her finger at the ceiling as if to give a warning. “That wasn’t a spell. I brought a friend along for some added protection and to keep me company in case you left me alone. He’s supposed to be a secret, but the little guy loves his apples. Now, how does this work? I only know about the physical side of your traditions.”

“It’s very simple and not unlike the courtship traditions of the north. We talk and get to know each other. At the end of the night, we decide if we shall go further or not. Though, we’ve already agreed to end this at lunch, so we’ll simply enjoy ourselves.”

Sari nods her head and lifts her water glass for a drink, forgetting that it is empty. With a frown, she looks around for a waiter, but all of them are busy. Spotting a sweating pitcher at the distant bar, the gypsy focuses on it and has the ice water snake toward the table. Sari fills her glass and stares at the remaining liquid in the air. Nothing flashy comes to her mind, so she sends the water back into the pitcher. A gentle chorus of disappointed grumbles rolls through the restaurant, which makes her giggle.

“How are you able to do that so easily?” Quill asks, cracking a smile for the first time since they left the manor.

“I’m part naiad,” Sari answers, enjoying the crisp drink against her lips. Her tongue slips out to pull an ice cube into her mouth, the cold running through her parched body. “I’m not enjoying the heat, so this ice water is perfect. So, what issue does your family have with me? I didn’t think there would be any hard feelings if Luke picked me over your cousin.”

“There wouldn’t be, but things are complicated with the current situation. It has created a lot of tension between Uncle Wayland and Kira the last few weeks,” the nobleman says as the waiter puts three plates of food on the table. He waits for the young man to finish and leave before leaning over his cooked pheasant. “My family has a reputation, which is crucial to business. Kira becoming engaged to a Callindor wasn’t the initial problem until my uncle discovered Luke was traveling with no sign of stopping. Also, my cousin was refusing to test her relationship. This happens more often in my generation, but Uncle Wayland is old-fashioned. I believe you’re aware of her time with Caspar.”

“I had the pleasure of meeting him,” the gypsy admits while chewing a piece of steak that melts in her mouth. “I wasn’t very impressed with him. From the sound of things, he’s not a good example of your people.”

“He’s an egotistical lout,” Quill snaps, unable to hide his distaste of the man. “You have to understand that Uncle Wayland was threatening to publicly denounce the relationship. That would have embarrassed my cousin. It’s like if someone asked a parent for permission to marry and was rejected in front of a packed arena. Personally, I think Kira picked Caspar to anger her father. Though, she’d never admit to it to the family.”

“They fight a lot?”

“Ever since Aunt Brea passed away during an outbreak of the serpent’s kiss, Uncle Wayland and Kira have argued over her future,” the young man replies, picking at his food. He smiles when Sari reaches over and wipes a tear from his cheek. “This situation with Luke and yourself has become a headache for the family. The idea that a Grasdon might lose to a common gypsy doesn’t sit well with the older generation. We youngsters are merely concerned for Kira because we don’t want to see her get hurt. So, it isn’t a personal issue towards you, Sari, but one must support family.”

“I understand and admire that in people. It was the same within my clan, but we were more physical in our defenses,” the blue-haired girl states, her voice choking up from the rising memories of her murdered family. She puts a few scoops of yogurt sauce on her food, watching it mix with the meat’s juices. “So what’s different? You talk as if their fighting and the situation with Luke has changed.”