Trinity puts a leg out to stop him. “Where do you plan on going? I hope you aren’t going back to your false friends.”
“If I go back to them then they might sense the magical poison. I will be staying with Myilia until we do this,” Nimby answers with a wistful smile across his face. “Maybe I can get a final day of happiness before I betray the Callindor. The boy deserves a better way to die than magical poison.”
“Heroes usually do,” Trinity casually states.
Nimby glares at her before smacking her leg away from him and walking out to the street. He is numb to the noises and activities of Freedom as he wanders over the Scar. A group of kids rush past him, which breaks him out of his trance. A little girl waves happily to the halfling as her friends disappear into a building with crimson ivy hanging from the roof. Nimby lets a sigh escape his lips before continuing on his way to find Myilia. Only a handful of people take note of him as he wanders through the streets.
“Excuse me, sir. Are you okay?” asks a young woman.
Nimby looks up at her with a friendly smile. “I’m fine. Why do you ask?”
“Sorry. I saw you were crying and assumed you were in trouble,” the woman replies, her cheeks blushing. “My apologies for interfering. Have a good day, sir.”
The halfling stops and watches the woman continue on her way. For the first time, he feels the wetness on his cheeks. It is a useless reaction that goes against his training and proves to him that his friends are making him weak. From the beginning, Nimby knew he would have to kill Luke and disappear. That is always how this adventure would end. A young hero of Windemere will die and another glory-hunting warrior will rise to take his place. Nimby half-heartedly chuckles at the ridiculous cycle of heroism and is ashamed that he has fallen into it over the last couple of months. He reaches to his cheek and brushes off one of his tears. He stares at it quietly before flicking it off his finger and continuing on his way.
*****
Mugs of foamy ale clash together and drunken songs rattle the windows of every tavern in Freedom. The guards and mercenaries revel in the warm confines of the barrooms during the citywide celebration of victory. Sailors join in the festivities even if they were hiding inside the city at the time of the attack. An occasional joke toward these celebrants is the only way to tell them apart from those who stood on the wall. Every tavern near the wall is filled to capacity, so those who want a more relaxing atmosphere are forced to find drink and merriment farther into the city.
“We finally found a tavern that we can breathe in,” Fritz says, taking his wooden mug from the bartender.
“I know. It was looking like we’d never find a place to get a seat,” Luke agrees with his own mug already half empty.
“You think Nyx is going to be okay?” Fritz asks.
“I think she’ll be fine,” Luke lazily replies. “After saving Freedom from pirates, I doubt that fireskin would try to harm her.”
“Good point. Now, let’s enjoy this party before we have to hang around those noble stiffs tonight,” Fritz suggests, holding up his mug. “A nobleman party to welcome Kellia can’t compare to a tavern celebration. On the positive side of things, we do get to stay in the mansion. We should drink to that.” The two friends bang their mugs together and drink.
Luke sheepishly grins. “I’m not really looking forward to the party tonight.”
“No taste for high society, Luke? That might cause some trouble down your road,” Fritz points out.
“How so?” Luke curiously asks.
“Don’t be ignorant, kid. You and Kira are a fine couple, but you still have to come to terms with your different upbringings,” Fritz explains while sipping his ale. “She comes from high society where galas, culture, and business are important. You come from a family of heroes that are known for succumbing to bouts of wanderlust. There is going to have to be sacrifices by both of you. She can’t tame you and you can’t make her wild. A compromise will have to be made. You understand what I’m saying?”
Luke stares at the ceiling and sighs. “That really isn’t something for me to think about now? Until I finish all of this business with Kellia and Nyx, I can’t be with Kira. It would put her in danger. Maybe I won’t mind being in high society when all of this is over.”
“That’s a lie and you know it.”
“Kira and I never got around to discussing this stuff.”
“Want some advice from an old gnome?”
“Sure.”
“Kira will always be wealthy and you will probably become wealthy from your adventures and any post-adventure business ventures you get yourself involved in. So, eventually, your worlds are going to merge and you will have to find a middle ground in order to survive,” Fritz casually explains. He finishes his ale and wipes his mouth with a handkerchief. “I recommend that you build a house that will suit her tastes in an area that allows you to roam. Nyx can make a teleportation item, so Kira can visit the big cities at her leisure. This way you both get what you want.”
“That’s a possibility,” Luke admits. He waves to the bartender who nods and has two more mugs of ale sent to their table. “Being in business would mean a lot of traveling for the two of us. I might have to get used to spending time in the desert though. Not sure how I’m going to like the heat and endless sand.”
“That’s called a trade-off, kid. I never found a relationship where there wasn’t a trade-off,” Fritz declares, grinning in amusement. “I’m sure you’ll do fine when the time comes.”
Luke gives him a worried, curious look. “You sound like you won’t be around to see it. I know you’re old, Fritz, but it isn’t like you’re dying.”
“There is no way to truly tell where our paths will go and how they may end,” the gnome announces in a voice that catches the attention of a few guards at the next table. “I might not continue on with all of you after Gods’ Voice. Selenia’s school will probably need me back by the time this is over. Though, I’m sure we’ll meet again even if we part ways. You don’t erase Fritz Warrenberg from your life with such ease.”
“I wouldn’t have it any other way,” Luke laughs, raising his mug to the gnome.
A slender hand touches Luke’s shoulder and he turns to see a young woman standing behind him. Her green dress is tight around her curvy frame, which is only slightly more interesting than her warm, crimson smile. She gently sways on her feet from all of the ale that she has consumed. Her brown hair cascades over the side of her face before she brushes it out of the way.
“So, were you involved in the battle?” she asks with a drunken slur.
Luke blushes and quickly puts down his mug. “I was on the wall during the attack, but that’s only because my friend here ran up to look at the weapons.”
“You seem like a very nice young man,” the woman whispers. She flutters her deep, hazel eyes at Luke and blows in his ear.
“I get told that a lot,” Luke stutters. She lifts her leg and wraps it around his waist before curling a lock of Luke’s hair around her finger. “My friend here is much nicer though. Maybe you two can spend some time together.”
“I’m not into gnomes. I like pretty men with pointy ears,” she coos.
“The story of my life,” Fritz sighs.
“I’ll trade you,” the forest tracker nervously mutters.
“Are you not into women?” she asks disappointedly.
Luke looks across the table at Fritz, who discreetly runs a finger across his throat. “No, I mean, I like women, but I’m just not interested in being with one at this time. I’m kind of . . . engaged.”
“You’re lying. I don’t see a ring on the proper finger,” she whispers. The woman takes Luke’s hand in order to seductively lick his ring finger. He looks at her in confusion and then turns to Fritz in hopes of getting some help. The gnome shrugs and goes back to nursing his drink.
“Guys don’t wear rings when they’re engaged,” Luke says, politely wrestling his hand away. “Besides, I’m on the road a
lot and I could lose the ring in a fight. You know us wandering warriors. We’re always losing a limb or a digit in some battle. Most of my money goes to regeneration spells.”
“You’re so funny,” she giggles. The young woman is about to nuzzle Luke when a strong, callused hand pulls her away. Luke finds himself surrounded by four of the five mercenaries that he met on the wall. He is not sure if he should be thankful for their interruption or worried about their cold stares.
“I see the brute, the man in black, the two-weapon guy, and I can’t quite tell what your role in this group is,” Luke mockingly says. The largest of the four mercenaries grabs him by the shirt and lifts him to his feet.
“Don’t waste the lady’s time,” the man growls with a gust of ale-soaked breath. “You did nothing during that fight, except save your friend. Get out of here and let the real fighters celebrate.”
“Beat him up good, Tavris,” snickers the man whose purpose Luke couldn’t discern. His face looks weasel-like and a scimitar hangs loosely at his side. A chainmail shirt can be seen peeking out from beneath his light blue tunic.
“Oh, you must be the annoying sidekick. Now, put me down,” Luke demands, grabbing Tavris by the wrists. The big man grins until Luke puts enough pressure to cause him some mild pain.
“Put the kid down and walk away, Tavris,” demands a familiar voice from behind the men. Luke cranes his neck to see the young bored-looking mercenary sitting at a table. His feet are on another chair as he chugs down a mug of mead and snaps his fingers for another.
“Stay out of this, boss. We want to have some fun,” grunts the man carrying two broadswords.
“You’re saying no to your boss? You guys must be drunk and stupid,” Luke says, feeling the large man’s grip loosen slightly. “At least, show the guy some respect since he has to put up with you four.” He props his feet against Tavris’s chest and pushes out of the big man’s grip. Luke flips in the air and lands on the table without spilling any drinks.
“Impressive. Seeing as none of us saw any action on the wall, I think we should have a little exhibition match,” Tavris says, his eyes already sizing Luke up. “We have a bag of practice weapons with us, so let’s settle this in the street. A sparring match won’t get us into trouble with all of the guards watching.”
Luke looks over at their leader. “Are you just going to sit there and let them do this?”
“Eh, it would be too much of a hassle for me to stop them,” the young man replies after a large yawn. “Besides, I already warned them and there’s no sense repeating myself. Maybe I’ll step in later if I feel like it. Enjoy the beating, boys.”
The four mercenaries hand their weapons to the dwarven bartender before returning to their table. A large duffle bag is pulled out from under the table and dropped with a thud in front of their leader. He lets out another bored yawn as Tavris starts handing out wooden weapons. Luke is slightly surprised at the size and amount of weapons that are pulled out of the bag. He can only assume that there is a minor space enchantment on the bag. The two-weapon fighter pulls out a pair of wooden longswords, which he hands to Luke with a smile. The forest tracker takes them and hands his sabers over to Fritz.
“I say we do this proper,” the large man announces, tightening his leather and bronze bracers. “My name is Tavris. The man with two broadswords is Gerdo Rintz. Our fast fighter dressed all in black is Scorpion. Don’t ask because he won’t even tell us why he took that name. Finally, the so-called sidekick is Pelo the Swift. He killed an entire band of giltris by himself. Do you have a name?”
“You aren’t drunk, are you?” Luke asks, his confidence beginning to falter.
Tavris laughs loudly and beats his chest. “It just smells like I am. It takes more than five mugs of ale to knock me down. Now, about that name.”
“Luke,” the half-elf says, leading the way out of the tavern. The mercenaries follow with everyone else trailing behind them. Luke notices that the mercenary leader is the last one to leave the tavern and join the crowd. The lazy warrior drops a wooden broadsword and a shield on the ground in front of him. He calmly leans against the wall of the tavern and slides to the ground.
“There a last name that comes with that?” Pelo asks with a grin.
Luke smiles back at the weasel-like man. “Beat me and find out. What’s the name of your boss?”
“Unimportant for now!” the young man yells.
“The rules are that you fight until you can’t go on,” Tavris announces to Luke and the gathered crowd. “Time for the show! Get him!”
Gerdo charges at Luke while Scorpion and Pelo run to the sides and come around to corner forest tracker. All three of them are amazingly fast and more cautious than Luke expected. A backwards roll at the last second gets Luke out of the way and he comes up blocking the rapid slashing of Pelo’s scimitar. Luke begins his own attack against Pelo when Scorpion hurls a wooden dagger at him. A stunning hilt strike to Pelo’s temple gives the half-elf enough time to catch the dagger on his sword and launch it at Gerdo. The lanky warrior ducks the projectile, but is quickly tripped by a sliding sweep kick from Luke. Catching their breath, all three mercenaries regroup and come at Luke together.
Biding his time, Tavris slowly inches toward the fight until Luke breaks through the other mercenaries and sprints at the large man. Tavris’s wooden broadsword shakes as Luke strikes the weapon with more force than the mercenary expected. The large man shoves Luke away before he steps out of the half-elf’s reach while shaking his aching hands.
“You’re stronger than you look,” Tavris says, moving with more caution.
Luke smiles before leaping into the air to avoid Scorpion’s stab. He lands on the ground and blocks the other two warriors who are coming in from both sides again. Gerdo’s other blade comes in low to strike Luke on the back of the knee. The half-elf begins to kneel forward, which gives an opening for Tavris to rush in with a huge upward slash.
“Always with that damn upward slash,” Luke growls, feeling a nervous twitch along his scar.
Even the mercenary leader raises an eyebrow as Luke flips onto the sword and lets the attack launch him into a wide arc. Scorpion is rushing to get to where Luke is about to land, but he is taken down by a hurled longsword to his temple. The masked man crashes to the ground a foot in front of where Luke lands. Pelo and Gerdo are already charging him in hopes of catching the forest tracker with only one weapon. Tavris holds back and is about to call off his friends when he sees his boss give him a signal to keep quiet.
“You can’t be much trouble with only one sword,” Pelo claims with a proud sneer. Luke dives out of Gerdo’s way and flips over Pelo, delivering a gentle, half-hearted kick to the back of his head. Whatever Pelo is going to yell is cut short by a flurry of jabs to each of his joints. Pelo topples backwards with his limbs feeling like lead weights.
“How did you do that?” Gerdo asks with genuine curiosity on his face.
Luke cautiously bends down to pick up his other sword. “I was trained in elven martial arts. I figure the joint-locking strikes could be done with a wooden sword since it doesn’t pierce the skin. He’ll be fine in an hour.”
“Sword and unarmed combat combinations. You’re very well-trained,” Gerdo whispers with a small bow to Luke.
Tavris runs at Luke from behind and slashes down only for the attack to be blocked. Luke’s shoulders and back muscles strain to keep his crossed swords against the large weapon when he sees Gerdo coming in. He waits until Gerdo is in range and juts out his leg for a trip. The sudden movement gives Tavris the chance to slightly lift his weapon for another overhead strike. In the same second that the large man attacks, Gerdo falls over Luke’s leg and the forest tracker rolls backwards between Tavris’s legs. The result is a devastating strike to the upper back of Gerdo who is knocked out of the fight.
“Tricky little bastard,” Tavris snarls.
“You’re being made into fools!” his boss shouts.
“Shut up, boss!”
>
“I’d be careful!”
“Why is that?”
The young man grins as he points out, “Because you’re still in the fight.”
Tavris turns around in time to feel a painful blow to his knee and then another shot to his wrist, which sends his sword clattering to the ground. Luke spins his blades calmly as he circles the large mercenary. It becomes a game where Tavris moves slightly and Luke immediately smacks him with the side of a sword. No matter what he does, Luke is fast enough to hit him before he completes his movement. The large man finally puts his hands up and crosses his wrists in defeat.
“No point in continuing this,” he begrudgingly admits. “You win, kid. Guess you’re a lot tougher than you look.”
“Thanks for the fun. I don’t get to spar that often,” Luke says, spinning the wooden blades in his hands.
“If you were rusty then I couldn’t tell,” Tavris laughs in tired amusement. “Mind if I get a name from you? A full name that is.”
“You fought well enough to earn that. My name is Luke Ca-” starts the half-elf. He stops talking when he instinctually turns around to block a solid attack from behind. The smiling mercenary leader is at the other end of the parried longsword and his shield is already pressed against Luke’s counterattack.
“Sorry, but I got bored. Mind if I step in?” he asks.
“I was hoping to get a shot at you,” Luke answers, a challenging smile on his face.
The mercenary gently taps at Luke’s blades. “I hope you aren’t tired.”
Splinters fly off their weapons as the two warriors enter a fight that takes them all over the street. Luke flips away from a slash and dives in at the mercenary, only to have his attack brushed aside by the shield. The spinning block of the mercenary is the beginning of a slash that Luke ducks under. A downward strike comes at him, which he blocks and then runs his blade down his opponent’s sword. Luke is surprised when the mercenary lets go of his weapon to duck the attack. The young man spins around as he crouches and masterfully grabs the longsword before it hits the ground. The forest tracker leaps backwards to avoid the fast slash to his legs.
Legends of Windemere: 02 - Prodigy of Rainbow Tower Page 35
