“How do you know what level of experience we have?” Nyx questions, her voice slightly edged.
“Just look at you two. Not a scar or sign of battle on you. These bandits are up to something and I have evidence of them using trolls. That’s very bad news,” says the knight, his voice mellow and kind. “By my honor as a knight of Hero’s Gate, I cannot allow you to come along. Please move along, so we can get our advance underway.”
Luke and Nyx exchange glances as the warriors around them begin a steady march toward the north side of the city. Most of them have passed the statue when Luke shoots an arm forward to grab Lord Highrider by the wrist. The half-orc glares at him until Luke releases his grip and silently bows to the larger man.
“You aren’t giving up,” he chuckles as Luke looks up at him again.
“What if we could prove that we aren’t useless?” Luke suggests, clearing his throat and standing at attention. “I’m a graduate of Hamilton Military Academy and this woman is an apprentice of Rainbow Tower. Surely these credentials should allow us to join your hunt.”
“Don’t overact,” Nyx mutters under her breath.
“Sorry,” Luke hisses.
Lord Highrider smiles and nods at the bickering half-elves. “The Hamilton Military Academy is a fine institution, but I do not believe I have heard of the other location. From the look of your ally, I can see that she has a warrior’s spirit. It’s a fire in her eyes that many men lack. I wish the looks in her eyes and your credentials were enough to put my mind at ease. Unless you can prove your experience, I must refuse to take you along.”
“Then, I challenge you to a fight,” Luke snaps before he lets the thought fully form in his mind.
“Such action could result in both of us being injured,” the knight states as he turns to leave. “Your mouth betrays your youth and recklessness.”
“Wait. What about this?” asks the forest tracker. He undoes his shirt as quickly as he can to reveal his bright scar. Lord Highrider raises an eyebrow of interest at the obvious battle wound.
“Stripping in public is your last defense?” Nyx groans in embarrassment.
“That looks like a mark left by a magical blade. Did you get into a bar fight with someone?” the half-orc jokingly asks.
“I wish. It’s a present from a Hellfire Elf wielding a Chaoswind blade,” Luke says, buttoning his shirt back up. This news catches the attention of a few other warriors who stop talking in order to listen.
Lord Highrider nods his approval before admitting, “I can believe the part about the magic sword, but not your claim about a demon. I would request that you prove it if such a thing could be proven.”
Luke silently reaches into a side pocket on his pack to pull out the shoulder spike of the Hellfire Elf and holds it a few inches from Lord Highrider’s eyes. A sickly white hue covers the knight’s face as he examines the spike. He pushes it back to Luke without another word and breathes a sigh of relief when it is pocketed. A blind wave of his hand sends the loitering warriors ahead while Lord Highrider eyes Luke and Nyx thoughtfully.
“Can we come along now?” Luke asks with a grin.
“I believe you,” Lord Highrider replies, his face still slightly pale. “I must ask your names, so that I can put them on the official record.”
“I am called Nyx,” she says, giving a stiff bow.
“My name is Luke Callindor, son of Ilan Callindor and the grandson of Talos 'Doubleblade' Callindor," he announces with pride.
“I see. It seems that I have a hero in the making on my hands. May I ask what brings you to this town?” Lord Highrider asks, immediately putting up a hand to stop Luke from answering. “I apologize and retract my question. It isn’t my business and it’s rude to ask. I will put you in one of the flanking groups. I see that your friend is a crossbow fighter, so she can stay in the back with our archers. No offense to your possible talent with that mourning star, but I feel that a solid range attack is essential in these kinds of fights.”
“Wait a second!” explodes Nyx, whose patience finally breaks. “Why does he have to prove himself and I get brought along as an archer? Am I not worthy of a test? Who said I was a warrior in the first place?”
“I meant no offense,” the half-orc swears, a hint of confusion in his voice. “I merely assumed that being with someone like him meant you were also a capable warrior. I promise that it won’t happen again, milady.”
“You’re damn right it won’t happen again,” Nyx snaps. Lord Highrider glares at her before she hops onto the sign-in table and looks him in the eye.
“Your boyfriend must have a god’s patience when dealing with you,” the half-orc quips with a friendly smile.
“He is not, and never will be, my boyfriend,” Nyx proudly declares, ignoring the mortified look on Luke’s face. “He is my adventuring partner. Now, follow me and I will show you just what you have on your hands.”
“Let’s just go and you can prove yourself during the battle, Nyx,” Luke quietly begs her. The furious look from Nyx makes him stop talking immediately.
Nyx cracks her neck and storms off toward the front gate. Lord Highrider and Luke follow her to the front of the gathered army of warriors. People are whispering to each other and pointing as Nyx stands at the front of the army, her arms across her chest. A few knights try to move ahead of her and she starts to motion for them to move away. They ignore her until she angrily curses at them and points to the army behind her. Lord Highrider gives them a signal to obey her before they willingly move away.
“You better have a good reason for being so disrespectful to the knights and warriors who will be protecting you,” Lord Highrider says sternly.
Luke nervously looks at the crowd of irritated warriors. “Can’t you just tell him, Nyx?”
“This way is more fun,” Nyx mentions with a glimmer of joy in her eyes. “You said something about trolls, Lord Highrider.”
The knight clears his throat, determined to regain control of the situation. “Our scouts reported that the camp is of some newly arrived orc bandits. There are signs that they have recruited trolls. It will be a challenge for us to defeat them due to their regenerative and chameleon abilities. Destroying the heart is the best hope we have since none of us have magical weapons and the city paladins are busy with an undead threat to the east.”
“With all due respect, your plan for the trolls is flawed. First of all, a troll’s ribcage is thicker and tougher than platemail. Getting to the heart would require that you immobilize the creature and risk breaking your normal weapons to get through the bone. With their regeneration, this feat would be impossible before all other enemies are destroyed,” Nyx carefully explains, her voice magically traveling across the open area. “Second, you will have to find the trolls if they are hiding, which means getting close to them. This puts you in range of their claws, which cause icy numbness. I spent a month studying troll physiology and I have found that you can only use two strategies with a high chance at success.” Everyone is quiet and listening to her with their undivided attention. She stops to look at Lord Highrider who is as stunned as the other warriors.
“Please continue,” Lord Highrider requests with a beckoning wave of his hand.
Nyx smiles sweetly before continuing. “For warriors without magical weapons, you need to forget about the heart. It’s the brain that controls the powers of a troll. If you stab through the eyes, you will damage the front of the brain. The monster will be confused and disoriented. Regeneration will be slowed since the front of the brain is what controls the rate of recovery. It would have to fix the brain before repairing any other damage that you inflict. Blending into its surroundings will also be limited because of glands behind the eyes that help with this ability. Without these glands, their chameleon ability only works flawlessly when they stand completely still. Otherwise, they resemble large blotches of heat haze when they move. I hope everybody is paying attention.”
“Ingenious. What is the other strategy?” the h
alf-orc curiously asks.
“That one is reserved for me,” Nyx claims, a mischievous sparkle in her violet eyes.
“We might have other archers that can copy you.”
“This isn’t an archer thing.”
“What do you mean?”
“It works off the naturally secreted oils of trolls, which are flammable.”
“Fire arrows are not too advanced for these men.”
“I’m not talking about fire arrows.”
“Then, what are you talking about?”
“I guess I’ll stop teasing.”
Nyx grins wide as she turns to the wilderness around Hero’s Gate. She shakes her arms and stretches a little while letting her eyes scan the area. Many of the warriors pretend to yawn while others hurl mocking comments at the caster. She turns to them calmly before raising her hand to the air. A small glowing dot in her palm catches the attention of a few observant warriors while the rest continue laughing at her. They are all silenced by the eruption of fire from her hand that licks at the sky. Her other hand weaves a web of protection around her, which turns into a dripping shell of acid. The fire continues to spew from her hand, which is the only body part that sticks out of the deadly cocoon.
“I should have mentioned that Rainbow Tower is a caster school in Gaia,” Luke whispers apologetically.
“That would have saved us some time, but this display is not a waste of energy,” Lord Highrider insists. With a small smile, he watches Nyx drop her acid shell and stop the geyser of fire simply by closing of her hand. “The men will be much calmer and braver with a caster of her power on their side. Psychology is very important especially when rallying a group of volunteers. I’m deeply honored that she is willing to fight with us. Choose whatever position you like, Lady Nyx.”
“I will go with Luke and a group of ten or eleven warriors. We will handle the trolls,” she promises, the fire in her eye steeling the courage of everyone who looks at her. “There can’t be more than three of them. Otherwise, the monsters will get territorial with each other.”
Lord Highrider nods in agreement before turning to the rest of his attack force and yelling orders. Luke slips behind him to get to Nyx and pulls her aside. He can already see a redheaded barbarian staring at them cautiously. The man looks to be in his early twenties and stands out from the others because he has no armor aside from some chainmail stitched onto his leather pants and forearm bracers. A beautiful great axe with a tiger-stripe colored head is strapped to his back. He stops looking as soon as Nyx notices him.
“Did you have to cause that big a scene?” Luke asks.
Nyx rolls her eyes in annoyance and leans in close to whisper, “It’s for their own good. There could have been trouble if nobody knew that I was a caster. Warriors who are unaware of a caster being around have a habit of running into the area of spells. The last thing we need is for my magic to accidentally kill one of these guys.”
“Good point,” the forest tracker admits, already thinking of ways to adjust his fighting style to account for Nyx’s magic. “Just stay near me during the battle. You’ll be in trouble if the bandits knock you out and nobody notices.”
“If it helps keep your male ego in check, I will stay near the big, strong forest tracker,” Nyx coos. She makes her lip quiver and her eyes start to water as she gazes up at him. “Be my hero, Luke.”
“That’s just creepy,” Luke mutters, trying not to laugh.
“Do I embarrass little brother?” she jokes in a childish voice.
“Yes. Now, behave yourself before you draw more attention to us,” Luke urgently whispers. He peers back at the army to pick out who is keeping an eye on them. “That barbarian is looking at you again. Last thing I want is to find out he’s a spy for Trinity and be forced to fight him. That axe is finely made, like my sabers, and I have a gut feeling that he could overpower me without much trouble.”
“You could just outmaneuver him. You have speed and agility going for you. The guy is huge and built, but he doesn’t look like he is much of a speed fighter,” Nyx says, attempting to calm Luke’s fears. “Just don’t worry about him. We have the bandits and trolls to worry about. Concentrate on them and we can handle everything else later. With these bandits using trolls, I think you were right about this being part of Trinity’s trap. I doubt they wandered into a deadwood region to recruit such beasts.”
“Formation! March!” Lord Highrider shouts.
Luke and Nyx let a few fully armored knights go ahead of them before moving with the mass of armor and weapons. They are hidden among the larger warriors as they make their way down the dirt road. Luke is calm as he walks in silence until he notices a solitary crow fly from a tree and disappear into the forest.
“You feeling okay? Your face just turned red and you’re grinning,” Nyx mentions.
“I have a feeling this fight will be a lot more fun than I expected,” Luke says, licking his lips in anticipation.
*****
The five hundred and seventy foot tower is the central point of the western wall. From a distance, it stands out against the white stone wall because of its dark red coloring. The tower is shaped to look like a sitting dragon facing the farmlands to the west. A pair of green eyes watches over the farmers with a soothing gaze that puts their mind at ease while they are beyond the safety of the city. On the city side of the wall, the stone tail of the dragon makes a wide circle that cuts off the caster’s property from the rest of the city. It is difficult to climb this wall due to the slippery coating of the stone. If a thief were to make it over the wall, they would find themselves among a grove of dead trees and dry dirt. Creeper moss is the only flora that thrives in the courtyard and it moves along the ground as if it is hunting for trespassers. This dead land is avoidable if a person simply knocks on the green painted, wooden door found between the tip of the tail and the city wall.
“You sure he won’t be mad?” Fritz asks.
“Fizzle sure. Leafy dragons kind. Unless mad,” says the drite.
“Not helping,” the gnome mutters.
“Sorry,” Fizzle whimpers, his lip quivering.
Fritz gently knocks on the door and waits for an answer. Minutes pass without any sound from inside the tower. Fritz knocks again and puts more force into it. A cough comes from the highest part of the tower and small form looks down at him. The form looks to be hopping up and down before disappearing beyond the tower’s ledge. Fritz is about to knock again when a rope materializes on the front of the door.
“This looks like a trap,” Fritz says, nervously shifting from foot to foot.
“Why trap you?” the curious drite asks.
“Isn’t it obvious? He wants to cage me and use my incredible knowledge to make magical and technological wonders,” Fritz says, unnecessary panic settling into his mind. “I must give him credit for his vision, but I do not work for any master. Fritz Warrenberg is a free thinker! You hear that! You cannot cage a mind like mine!”
“We pull rope?” Fizzle asks.
“No . . . That’s what he wants us to do.”
“How you apol . . . ap. . . say sorry?”
“I’ll send a letter,” Fritz declares, breathing a sigh of relief. “Yes, that will be the best course of action. This trap will be easily avoided by my gnomish intellect. I’m not some simple halfling who will fall to instinctual curiosity.”
“Fizzle will,” the drite whispers before he pulls the rope with his tail.
“I really should have seen that coming,” the gnome quietly mutters.
A metal grinding starts underneath Fritz’s feet, which causes him to jump. A seven-foot area around the door begins to shudder and separate from the rest of the ground. The wooden door opens when the gnome backs against it and Fritz turns to see four thick cables retracting into the solid stone. He recognizes the grinding sound of an engine, which pulls the platform up to the top of to the tower. The angle is steep and Fritz looks back to see the courtyard is already two hundred feet below.
He is terrified of falling off when a strong wind rocks the platform.
“The mechanical construction is great, but I think he needs to add something to stabilize the ride,” Fritz states as they slowly rise toward the top of the tower. “Maybe more weight on the sides although that might make the platform too heavy for the engine to lift. I might have to suggest our host put some railings on here for passengers to hold onto for safety.”
“This odd caster,” Fizzle mumbles.
“I wouldn’t call myself a true caster. Being a dragon means that I do not have to practice magic,” says a voice from behind Fritz. “So, I have taken an interest in technology. Such an amazing hobby once you put some thought into it.”
The elderly gnome from the bar is standing at the edge of the platform. His face and hands are covered in oil and dirt, but his green robes, with gold and black trim, are spotless. A wide grin is on the gnome’s wrinkled face as he reaches out to shake Fritz’s hand. The force of the shake rattles both gnomes and rocks the platform. A popping noise and a trail of smoke from the tower signify the death of the engine. The elderly gnome continues to hold Fritz’s hand as his face turns red.
“Oops. The engine could not handle my weight. I might look like a gnome right now, but my weight is still that of a dragon. I will be with you in a minute,” the gnome says before vanishing in the blink of an eye.
“Suddenly, I really like this dragon,” Fritz whispers. The sound and vibrations of a clanging hammer ripples down the cables.
“Fizzle think he like you,” says the drite.
The engine starts up again and the platform is flush against the top of the tower within minutes. Fritz walks through the open doorway and steps onto the head of the dragon tower. His feet have barely touched the ground when his new draconic friend tackles him. Still in gnome form, the dragon is hugging Fritz with more force than one would expect from such a short creature. Fritz struggles against the titan grip of the dragon until he is finally released.
Legends of Windemere: 02 - Prodigy of Rainbow Tower Page 21
