Legends of Windemere: 02 - Prodigy of Rainbow Tower

by Charles E Yallowitz

  “Thank you for bringing my belongings at so late an hour, master,” Nyx says, bowing before Cyril puts a hand on her shoulder. He is about to lead her away when an invisible form lands on her head. Something dangling from the creature falls down the back of her shirt and tickles her. Nyx barely holds back a startled shriek when a small, purple dragon’s head leans down from her head and looks her in the eyes.

  “The hell is that and why is its tail down my shirt?” Nyx gasps, watching Fizzle flutter in front of her.

  “Me Fizzle. Me drite. Me sorry. You friend?” the happy creature asks while he zips around Nyx. Cyril almost smiles at the childish display of the drite and the equally childish glee that grows on his apprentice’s face.

  “Wow. I’ve only read about drites,” Nyx gushes, reaching out to tickle Fizzle’s belly. “I know you said that Luke and his friends worked with one. I didn’t realize that you meant this little guy would actually be coming with us. He’s so cute! I have to add him onto the list of magical creatures that I’ve met. I don’t even know what questions to begin with. He’s just so cute!”

  Fizzle looks at her oddly and lands on her shoulder. “Intr . . . Int . . . Name nice.”

  “I don’t understand,” Nyx sheepishly admits.

  “Fizzle learned our language from a child,” Luke explains with a smile. “So, he has trouble with big words. It won’t take long for you to figure out what he means. For now he wants to know your name since introductions are necessary when meeting new friends.”

  “Oh. I’m sorry,” she apologizes, “My name is Nyx and it’s nice to meet you.”

  “Why are you nice when meeting Fizzle and not us?” Fritz asks.

  Nyx glares at the gnome and flexes her hand, small sparks flying off her nails. “He’s cute and magical. You guys aren’t.”

  “Fair enough,” Fritz responds, backing away.

  Luke is about to say something when a cloaked figure steps out of the shadows and taps him on the shoulder. Luke cautiously turns into a powerful hug that spins him in a circle. It is during the savage hug that the hood of the cloak falls away to reveal Kellia. Her freshly brushed, black hair is down to her waist instead of her shoulders and her sapphire eyes hold a glimmer of well-bred elegance. Luke notices that her nails have been painted a subtle orange and she is wearing silver earrings. It is hard for him to believe that the noble standing before him is the same girl who repeatedly punched him in the face at the academy.

  “You look different,” he says. She punches him in the arm with enough force to make him cringe in pain. “It’s still you.”

  “I have to look and act the part of a noble now. It won’t be all bad, though,” Kellia claims, her cheeks uncharacteristically red. “As much as I love being a warrior and getting all that exercise, I missed some of the comforts of nobility. Mostly, I think I missed my long hair. It took two hours for a local caster to get my hair back to this length. Fizzle wanted to try, but I took the safer option. Now, who is Fizzle playing with?” She notices Nyx out of the corner of her eye and gently nudges Luke out of her way. The two women stare at each other as if they are on a battlefield.

  “My name is Nyx, an apprentice of Rainbow Tower,” the half-elf announces after a few seconds of silence.

  “I am Kellia Solomon, the daughter of Duke Solomon. I’m the one you will be escorting to Gods’ Voice,” Kellia casually states. She extends her hand to Nyx who politely takes it without delay. Luke can hear Kellia squeezing Nyx’s hand at the same time steam rises from the shake. They finally break contact and step away from each other.

  “Almost burned me,” Kellia mutters under her breath.

  “Could have crushed my hand if I didn’t cast that heat spell,” Nyx grumbles, faking a coughing fit.

  Fritz beckons for Luke to bend down. “Did she just singe royalty without a second thought?”

  “In her defense, Kellia has a nasty handshake,” Luke replies, watching both women eye each other. “I guess they were testing each other. At least, I hope it was only a test. I didn’t think that Kellia and Nyx would have issues.”

  “Great. Now, we have to worry about Nyx and Kellia as well as you and Nyx,” Fritz whines, massaging his aching temples. “I didn’t join you guys for this much stress.”

  Luke pats him on the shoulder and smiles warmly. “Don’t worry, old gnome. Nyx and I have come to an understanding.”

  “Talked it out?” Aedyn interjects.

  “Not exactly. We had fun beating up five goons and realized we make a good team,” Luke reveals, glancing at Nyx who is cautiously eyeing Kellia. “Friendship might appear at some point during the voyage. At least, that’s what we think. If not, then we’ll go our separate ways once we finish this adventure.”

  Aedyn and Fritz stare at their friend in open-mouthed confusion. Finally, they both say, “You are so odd.”

  “You two need to stop spending so much time together,” the forest tracker claims, returning their gaze with an equally stunned expression.

  “We will be leaving in twenty minutes! Say your good-byes and get on board!” hollers the captain.

  “Yes, Captain Higgs! We’ll be right there!” Kellia quickly shouts. “It was pleasant meeting you, Nyx. I cannot begin to tell you how happy I’m to have another woman on this voyage. I look forward to learning more about you and your training. You have my apologies for the rough handshake. I like to make sure that those who are escorting me have some strength to them. Now if you will excuse me, I need to have some words with Luke.”

  “I understand, your majesty. I will see you on board,” Nyx replies with a small bow.

  Kellia smiles before heading toward the gangplank. She grabs Luke by the arm along the way and drags him on board. Nobody can hear what she whispers to him as they move to the far side of the ship. Aedyn picks Nimby up by the waist and follows Fritz to the ship where they disappear below decks.

  Nyx is about to climb aboard when Cyril puts a hand on her shoulder. “I wish to speak with you. Come with me to the edge of the pier. Fizzle may come too.”

  “Yes, sir,” Nyx says obediently.

  “Call me Cyril. I believe our time as teacher and apprentice has ended,” the powerful caster whispers, leading Nyx through a shadowy portal.

  *****

  The world has turned gray around them after Nyx, Fizzle, and Cyril pass through the portal. Neither of the casters pays any attention to the change in their surroundings. Nyx waits patiently for Cyril to start talking.

  Fizzle glances back at the ship and notices that nothing is moving. The drite realizes that the portal that they stepped through was a complex time vortex spell. It would be as if the three of them walked down the pier and returned a few seconds later instead of entering a temporary pocket just outside the passage of normal time. Fizzle is amazed at Cyril’s power until he remembers that he can do a better version of this spell. Still, the small dragon is impressed that mortals can gain so much power within such a limited lifespan.

  Curled up on Nyx’s head, Fizzle takes a deep sniff of her hair. The scent of her aura immediately makes him feel light-headed and euphoric. As impressive as Cyril is, his apprentice is on another level of power. Her aura smells rich with magic that she has yet to access, but it is brewing just under her surface. Nyx’s presence on this adventure makes Fizzle proud of his decision to follow Luke. The drite yawns from boredom and silently wishes Cyril would start talking.

  “I am happy that you have come to terms with this voyage,” Cyril proudly admits.

  “It wasn’t like I was given a choice. You and Willow made it clear that I was going no matter what I said,” Nyx contends, trying to hide her anger. She stands rigid and stares ahead of her like a trained solider. It’s almost comical with the drite curled on her head puffing hallucinogenic smoke from his nostrils.

  “Given your rebellious nature, we would not have been surprised if you tried to hide until the ship had departed. I believe you were considering such actions after dinner last night.
You always found a way to retaliate when forced into something,” Cyril says, clasping his hands behind his back. “I still remember when you were fourteen and you merged a minor lightning spell with the dance floor during a nobleman’s gala. You shocked half of the guests off their feet all because Willow made you wear a pink, frilly dress.”

  “I didn’t hurt anybody,” Nyx declares, casually running a hand through her hair. “The worst that was done to them was that their shoes and their hair were ruined. Is there a reason you’re reminding me of this?”

  Cyril takes a deep, cleansing breath and examines the laid-back body language of his former apprentice. “I request that you do not turn away from these friends. They could become powerful allies and you will need such things beyond these walls. A dark energy has begun running through the ether of Windemere. There is a strong chance that you will encounter threats more dangerous than the chaos elf that you faced in the arena. I have faith in your casting abilities, but you need to work with others. You will find that many situations require a caster to have others standing by his or her side. This is the only lesson that I feel you have not understood during our sessions. I pray that you will understand the importance of having allies during this journey.”

  “It isn’t secret that teamwork and allies are necessary,” Nyx scoffs, turning her back on Cyril.

  “Then, why have you always turned away your fellow apprentices and done things on your own?” Cyril inquires, knowing the type of answer he will receive.

  “Simple. My way was always the best way,” Nyx defiantly says. “Besides, my fellow apprentices kept me at arm’s length. If you paid attention to more than my studies, you might have noticed that they were leaving me out because I was your special student. My title as the prodigal apprentice of Cyril has always been in my way.”

  Fizzle suddenly pipes up, “Like Callindor. Luke name alone no good.”

  “Interesting comparison,” Cyril mutters. He moves to face Nyx who simply turns her head away. “I doubt your status was the reason for having no friends. Though if that was the case then you might have found a kindred spirit in that forest tracker. You two are similar. He is only eighteen, yet he possesses a great amount of skill with the blade. You are only twenty and possess more power than many casters who are twice your age. One could go so far as to say that you two were destined to fight alongside each other. I would not be surprised if that is the case since your meeting is coinciding with the darkness that I sense.”

  Nyx stomps her foot and faces him. “Again with the darkness? What does this have to do with me?”

  “It is what we have been waiting for,” Cyril whispers, stepping forward to put his hands on her shoulders “Ever since you were delivered to us, Willow and I have expected you to leave Gaia. The caster in red told us that you were an important child and that your fate was linked to the survival of Windemere. I know nothing more than that and have promised your rescuer to not look into the matter. In fact, Willow and I have sworn to not get involved in what you will face unless you need safe haven. It is not easy for us to continue our promise. Your life will be in danger and we will be unable to come to your rescue once you set foot on that ship.” Cyril stops as his voice begins to break. “This is why I ask that you befriend these people. They can help you survive and will help put my mind at ease.”

  Nyx rolls her eyes before breaking away from her teacher. “You really know how to lay it on thick. Now I have to keep an eye out for some darkness trying to kill me. If you expect me to fret about it then forget it. I won’t worry about this darkness, mas . . . Cyril. When it comes after me, I will blast it to Ambervale where the gods can deal with what’s left twitching. You need to have some faith in me, old man.”

  “Your determination and willpower have always been unmatched among the apprentices,” Cyril says with an uncharacteristic smile. “The time that you went after the Weapon Dragon attacking the farmlands without our permission proves that. Not many girls your age can say that they have stood in the mouth of a dragon and sent a storm of fire into its lungs. You are a very special woman, Nyx.”

  “I have to get going,” Nyx claims with a sigh. “I don’t want to be in this vortex much longer. I guess this is where we say good-bye.”

  “Willow sends her regards. She did not want to cry in front of everyone, but she is watching from home,” Cyril reveals to Nyx, uncomfortably clearing his throat. “Remember that you will always have a home at Rainbow Tower. I have not said this since you were a child, but you are the daughter that Willow and I always wanted. Please take care of yourself.”

  “I will. Tell Willow that I say good-bye,” Nyx requests, shifting her weight from foot to foot. “I promise to visit whenever I find myself back in Gaia. It isn’t like I won’t be coming home at all.”

  Cyril reaches out to embrace the slender half-elf that has been his daughter and pupil for sixteen years. His stoic face melts into sadness, but he refuses to shed a tear. His face remains dry even after he considers that it could be the last time he sets eyes on the girl whose defiance and temper kept him on his toes. He is mildly comforted when he finds Nyx holding him tight as well and crying in silence. Cyril remembers her as a girl of twelve who proudly swore she would never cry in sadness. He sees it as a sign that she is no longer the foolish child and is the strong woman he always knew she would be. As his eyes begin to tear up, Cyril kisses Nyx on the cheek and vanishes along with the time vortex.

  “Bye, Dad,” Nyx whispers.

  5

  Two pairs of eyes watch the ship leave port and make its way to the shadowy mouth of the L’dandrin River. The eyes, two violet orbs and two red slits, quietly watch the sleeping city of Gaia from the top of the arena. Trinity sits calmly on the edge of the structure and strokes the ancient, magically preserved stone as if it is a long lost pet. She can sense the impatience of the Hellfire Elf standing behind her. It is almost palpable as the demonic assassin taps its armored foot and snorts its dissatisfaction. The chaos elf hums and watches the clouds part to reveal a full red moon, a green half moon, and twinkling stars.

  “Your agent has failed, yet we remain in this city,” the demon snarls.

  “He didn’t fail. My agent did exactly what I wanted him to do,” Trinity states, getting to her feet. She paces on the very edge of the arena. Her grace and balance are superb every time she pivots on her heeled boot.

  “He was supposed to die after a public attempt at assassination?” the demon asks with a hint of mockery in its voice.

  “Fine, he didn’t do exactly what I wanted him to do. I always knew that he was full of pride, but I didn’t think he would be so foolish. Still, he accomplished his part of our plan. I have seen the strengths and weaknesses of these children,” Trinity says. She stops her pacing and runs a hand through her hair. “Though, I do wish that the Callindor fought in the bar, so I could have seen his swordsmanship. I will have to make some assumptions about his swordsmanship by using the information you have given me. It should not be a problem since you gave me a very thorough assessment of his abilities. At least, my deal with those drunks paid off. I should probably remove them before they remember me.”

  The Hellfire Elf rubs at its missing shoulder spike and takes a few steps toward the edge of the arena. It pulls out its hideous longbow and sniffs the crisp air like a wolf. He whistles into the western wind and waits patiently for a few minutes. The assassin gently flicks the gray bowstring and four black arrows appear in the air around him. The demon takes one of the arrows and aims into the air before firing. It repeats this process until all of the arrows have been fired. It is not long before Trinity can hear four gurgling screams erupt and die in the night air.

  “They have been dealt with,” the Hellfire Elf declares.

  “Thank you. I can see that you’re very efficient when it comes to the labor part of your job,” Trinity states before a thought occurs to her. “I must say that your actions are unusual for a Hellfire Elf. The few that I have had dealings wit
h have always been stoic and noble. They would never jump into battle or hold a grudge. If they lost and survived, they would continue their contract with more caution and preparation. After all, fulfilling the contract is more important than revenge for your kind. You seem to be filled with rage and wounded pride. Why is that?”

  The Hellfire Elf grinds his teeth, making an ear-splitting screech. “That youth has a part of me.”

  “I don’t follow,” Trinity quickly admits.

  “My last battle with the youth resulted in him acquiring one of my shoulder spikes. The runt took it as a trophy, but he failed to realize what it truly is,” the demon explains, his eyes falling on the stump on his shoulder pad. “Our armor is a part of our bodies. My missing spike would be equivalent to one of your small digits. Both are rather useless, but are deeply missed if lost. I cannot be whole until I regain my spike from the Callindor.”

  Trinity shakes her head before stretching her arms over her head. “That’s even stranger. Hellfire Elves are supposed to be able to regenerate any wound after a few days of rest. Just grow a new spike and stop trying to get yourself killed in pursuit of the old one. I don’t want your battle fervor getting in the way of my plans. I’m already using more money and contacts than I would like for this job.”

  “I am too young to do such things,” the Hellfire Elf sheepishly mutters.

  “Too young?” she inquires.

  “Yes, my people gain the ability to regenerate our armor only after we have reached our five-hundredth year. By that time, our dark power has festered and grown to the point where we have full control of it,” the Hellfire Elf answers, avoiding the curious gaze of his companion. “I can regenerate my soft flesh like all demons, but repairing my armor requires that I have all of the missing pieces. My master is the one who repaired as much of my armor as I could find after my last battle. I was forced to take the form of a worm while I searched the battlefield. It was horribly demeaning.”