Legends of Windemere:
Sleeper
of
the
Wildwood
Fugue
Copyright 2015 © by Charles E. Yallowitz
Kindle Edition
All Rights Reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system without the written permission of the author, except where permitted by law. Reviewers may quote brief excerpts in connection with a review.
This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.
Cover Design & Illustration by Jason Pedersen
Legends of Windemere
Beginning of a Hero
Prodigy of Rainbow Tower
Allure of the Gypsies
Family of the Tri-Rune
The Compass Key
Curse of the Dark Wind
Dedication
To everyone who has entered Windemere
And left their mark upon its soul
Table of Contents
Prologue
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Prologue
Baron Kernaghan rubs his eyes as he sits on his throne, the ebony wood appearing to squirm as his mood plunges into darkness. The rest of his furniture is splintered and dashed across the stone floor, a minor annoyance since the ancient warlord can repair them within minutes. He adjusts the high collar of his crimson shirt and flicks a piece of lint off his pants, but neither action silences the incessant ranting before him. A thunderous storm erupts outside with several bolts of lightning lancing through the open windows, but the show of power has no effect on his complaining agent. Glancing at Trinity, the Baron flashes an apologetic smile at her and gestures toward the arm-flailing display they are being forced to witness. The Queen of the Chaos Elves rolls her violet eyes and goes back to rubbing a soothing lotion into her dry, cobalt skin. The immortal nobleman scowls when he sees the bruises and cuts on her body, the injuries disappearing swiftly as she applies the silver healing ointment.
Shifting in his seat, the Baron looks across the room to where his pet is playing with its favorite toy. Raksha purrs as she circles a girl made entirely of metal, the beast’s bladed tails harmlessly smacking the child’s skin. The large, striped cat leaps onto Melanie’s head, which causes the girl to giggle and reach up to tickle powerful paws. Raksha jumps to the floor and stretches with a yawn, its tails beckoning for the girl to continue playing. In their own world, the pair chase each other around the long curtains of the decimated throne room in a giggling game of tag. With every booming step of the metallic girl, the crazed speech grows louder and more high-pitched.
“That Callindor is going to pay when I get my hands on him,” Stephen rants, his black hair a mess from pulling on it. A crazed glint is in his blue eyes and he scratches at the pink scar across his neck. “Months and I still can’t heal this wound. I’ll make him suffer every torture that I can conceive of. Physical, emotional, mental, and whatever else comes to mind until he’s dead. Then I’ll bring him back and do it all over again while Nyx watches and I break her spirit.”
“He mentioned Nyx, so I guess we hit another ten minute mark,” Trinity interrupts with a taunting smile. She stretches her arms over her head and wiggles her fingers, the purple gems in her palms twinkling in the candlelight. “Thirty more minutes and you’ll hit a personal record for wasting time, little warlord.”
Stephen appears with his hand around Trinity’s throat, but his fingers are immediately pried open by an invisible force. He looks at the Baron, who is casually staring at him with eyes of swirling ash. With a small chuckle, Stephen lets go of the chaos elf and adjusts his dark green tunic. The furious noble cracks his knuckles and searches for another target for his unrelenting fury. He turns his attention to Raksha and Melanie, but he barely takes a breath before a burst of wind yanks him off his feet. A scream slips between his clenched teeth when his limbs are twisted in unnatural ways, the sound of bone echoing throughout the chamber. With a quick flick of the Baron’s wrist, Stephen is slammed into the floor with enough force to crack the blackened stone. Before he can get to his feet, the tip of an elegant rapier presses against his throat and keeps him on his back.
“I believe your tantrum is at an end, young man,” the Baron calmly states, his blade gently tracing the ugly scar on his son’s neck. He takes a handkerchief out of his shirt pocket and dabs at the beads on his forehead, revealing that his temper is coming to the surface. “You have destroyed my property, broken my floor, and injured my dearest Trinity. I draw the line at you attacking my pets, especially since Raksha was a gift.”
“I apologize, father,” Stephen groans as his limbs repair in an instant. He still cringes in pain from the phantom sensation of broken bones. “I promise to hold my tongue and temper when in your presence.”
The Baron sheaths his blade and lifts the young man up by the embroidered collar. He brushes the dust off his son’s shoulders while staring him in the eyes. “You know I do not like it when you lie to my face. I know your temper is growing and you are frustrated about receiving an injury that you cannot heal. I also know that you have taken some of this aggression out on Trinity. That will end.”
“As if you’re one to talk,” the young man snaps. The strike across his face makes him stagger and spit blood, a tooth bouncing on the floor. “You have treated women the same as I. That’s part of the reason certain goddesses despise you.”
“My poor fool of a son. You speak of something that only two people know the truth of and neither of us are talking,” the ancient warlord explains in a soft voice. He waves his hand and Trinity is gently whisked to his side, the chaos elf unable to hide her startled yelp. “Women are beautiful creatures and should be treated as such. I understand that it is exciting to find a fiery one like our dear Trinity and this Nyx. The capture of such a woman’s heart is exhilarating, but they are still delicate of flesh and heart. If you plan on overthrowing me and ruling then this is something you must understand. Cruelty has its place to keep people in line, but you must never rely on it as the only way to get what you want.”
“What if I enjoy causing pain and being cruel?”
“Then I will make sure to kill you once I no longer have need of your services.”
Stephen shivers and takes a half-step away from his father, who briefly gives off a wave of bloodlust. The Baron’s face is stoic, except for a tiny twitch at the corner of his mouth that appears every few seconds. The younger immortal feels an icy hand envelope his heart, which stops for a terrifying moment. Filled with fear and anger, Stephen helplessly shakes where he stands until he uses his own powers to calm down. With his locked eyes on the Baron, he takes Trinity’s hand and kisses it, a look of disgust on his face.
“I apologize for my past transgressions and will strive to treat you better,” Stephen whispers while letting go of her hand. Out of habit, he
takes a big sniff of her intriguing scent and licks his lips. “Is that to your liking, old man?”
“Yes and I hope you stand by your words,” the Baron casually answers, turning away from his son and returning to his throne. He settles onto the emerald cushion and takes a drink from a silver goblet, the sweet wine washing his remaining anger away. “Now I trust your plan in Bor’daruk is going smoothly. I would hate to learn that your grudge is placing you on the same path as Tyler. Though you do not have anyone pushing you along that road like he did.”
“My disguise is perfect, so the champions will never notice me,” Stephen happily reports as he approaches the throne. He reaches into the remains of a broken table to grab a bronze cup, which fills with a bitter ale. “I’ve found an interesting tool that may take some time to put into action. The champions may arrive first, but I can send something to delay them. Even a few hours would give me the time I need. Do you remember the Beast of Palqua from just after the Great Cataclysm?”
The Baron stares at his son as if the answer should be obvious, but decides to humor him. “I know very little about the outside world, so you will have to enlighten me.”
“You should remember this because I told you about it several centuries ago. I guess even immortals forget things as time goes on,” Stephen says with a victorious grin. He clears his throat at the sight of his father’s furrowed brow and moves to put Trinity between them. “Soon after the Great Cataclysm, one of the champions attempted to create a monster to defeat you. The others that had emerged at the time went along with the plan even though Gabriel sent visions that it would fail. The Beast of Palqua went wild and destroyed the town that is its namesake before being sealed by a band of nomadic shamans. I’ve tracked its cage down and am working on freeing the creature to use against our enemies.”
“And this won’t reveal you?” Trinity curiously asks, stepping around her companion to claim a pear from a toppled bowl.
“I’ve used a scapegoat with no connection to myself,” he whispers in her ear, enjoying the smell of her skin. A shudder runs through her body, which brings a fire to his eyes and he struggles to avoid running a hand through her ebony hair. “I may have started a small war though, but it’s not between anyone important to you.”
“Try to use it in your plan as a distraction,” the chaos elf suggests, cutting off the Baron. She nods her head to the warlord, who returns the gesture. “Speaking of the plan, I should be getting back to my role. It’s almost morning in Bor’daruk and I don’t want to risk suspicion. Though it would be easier if I knew the details of your plan instead of acting as a basic spy.”
Stephen kisses her soft cheek and vanishes, leaving Trinity to find her own way back to Bor’daruk. She is heading for the large double doors when the Baron snaps his fingers, the sound wave making her muscles feel weak for a second. With a pained expression, the chaos elf turns to face her master and obediently stands at attention. She turns into a puff of purple smoke when Raksha and Melanie’s game of tag comes too close, the beast’s tails slashing through her incorporeal form. Drifting on a stale breeze, she solidifies next to the Baron and casually leans against his throne.
“I hate it when you beckon me like that,” Trinity mentions, curling a strand of her black hair around her finger. “I’m going to be nice since you helped me with your son. I hope that will force him to behave for a few weeks.”
“I wish he would stop these childish games and act like a gentleman. I blame that half-elf who has caused his mind to get twisted by his own libido,” Baron Kernaghan says, taking the young woman by the hand. He moves her to stand before him, but refuses to release his gentle grip. “I have sensed something from you since you arrived with my son. Now I see there is a question burning in your eyes. Ask it before I give you a new assignment. Stephen already knows about this change and has set up a defense for your absence.”
Cautious about the ancient warlord’s request, Trinity moves away and rubs the enhancer gems in her palms. Her black clothes made of polished leather seem to lose their luster and her anxiety rises. She accepts the cup of wine that the Baron offers and sips at it, enjoying the taste that she so rarely gets to savor. Searching for the safest words to use, she moves to the window and stares at her hard-working people below. They are toiling in a small ruby mine, a fresh seam that has appeared from the bowels of the desolate continent. All of the chaos elves are covered in dirt and their ragged clothes are torn, which pulls at Trinity’s heart. The sight of a demonic taskmaster lifting its barbed whip to strike a stumbling young man brings a cruel smile to her face. With a flick of her wrist, a javelin of acid streaks through the air and strikes the demon in the head. The body topples out of view and she waves to the startled workers, who cheer and go back to their tasks with renewed energy.
“You confuse me, master,” Trinity admits with some venom in her final word. She sits on the window sill, forcing the Baron to loudly turn his throne around. “My personal issue with you is that you keep my people as slaves living in squalor. We retain some of our old culture, but there is no wealth to call our own. Shayd is filled with deposits of gold and gems, but we keep none of it. It is a cruel life that you keep us in even though it is within your power to change things for the better. All it would take is a little compassion and my people would happily support you. Why keep us in such a horrible state of being?”
“I believe that is a problem for our dear Ambrosine. After all, you still pray to her for salvation,” the Baron bitterly replies. His voice softens when he sees the fury growing in his servant’s eyes. “My apologies, but you know what I mean. I do what I can without letting your people gain everything they want. Think of my position, dear Trinity, and realize that I cannot risk losing the chaos elves. I give them their freedom before I earn my own then I have no guarantee you will remain on Shayd. The squalor and promise of a better life is the only leverage I have over your people. Their plight is the only thing I have over you, so you can see where I am coming from.”
“And that is what confuses me,” Trinity points out, approaching the throne and putting her hands on the arms. She leans as close as she dares to the Baron, her body quivering with nervous fear and something that she barely recognizes as primal excitement. “I’ve seen you display compassion as well as cruelty. You’re not a monster like the world believes, so why do you persist in acting the part? Don’t let Gabriel and his prophecy force you into this position any longer. Free us and-”
The Baron presses his finger against Trinity’s lips, a jolt of raw power locking her body. “I am kind and benevolent to those I have a use for such as yourself. If it makes you feel better, I will create an orchard for your people and give new clothes to the children. I do this to keep you happy, but make no mistake about me. I am a monster, dear Trinity. Gabriel does not force me into anything and he has reason to fear me. The entire world does because the moment I am free, your people will be the only ones who are relatively safe from my wrath. So I request that you no longer mistake my kindness towards you as a sign that I am anything other than the ancient darkness that history has forgotten. Do you understand?”
“Yes, master. What is the new assignment?”
The ancient warlord moves his hand to caress his trusted agent’s chin and stands while pushing her back a few steps. He mutters a few words in a demonic tongue, which causes one of his ebony hairs to turn gray and drift to the floor. A crackling portal that resembles a stained glass window appears before him, the angular image showing the edge of a misty forest. Raksha charges forward to investigate, but the lanky cat is sent scurrying away when the Baron blasts the floor before it with a fist of fire. Melanie hurries to catch up to the beast, her booming footsteps echoing down the red-carpeted hallway.
“The spells that Stephen and you created in the woods have begun to weaken,” the Baron calmly explains while swirling the drink in his goblet. He reaches out to extend the portal, showing part of a river that is cloaked in mist. “It was only a matter of
time, but I do not believe she is ready to enter the game again. Please reinforce the spells and report to me if such actions are impossible. There is the chance that Gabriel sent Isaiah to get involved, but it could also be her. I always underestimate her abilities, so this could be due to her struggles. The last contact she made was unexpected and troublesome.”
“It is nearly the Day of Darkness, so I’ll have to take shelter upon arrival. I won’t get very far if I’m busy fighting undead. It gets really messy around Rodillen because of all the bodies that the thieves hide around the area,” Trinity says, conjuring a bag of supplies in her hand. Her shirt bloats until it takes the form of a thick, brown jacket and rolls down to encase her legs in downy warmth. “Is there anything else I should know?”
“Only that the champions are in the area.”
“So I’ll be punished if I fail.”
The Baron chuckles and places a firm hand on her shoulder, casting a soothing wave of warmth through the young woman’s body. “On the contrary, I do not care if you succeed or fail. If she is about to enter the game then so be it. I am sending you in the hopes of beating destiny. After all, she made such a mess last time.”
“That was before my time.”
“Not really,” the warlord states, staring forlornly at the portal. He reaches out to touch the face of the spell and pulls back the hand when his fingertips dissolve. “You were only a child and still being trained when the last set of champions was destroyed. I am sure Stephen or Nyder would be willing to fill you in on that event, but it is unimportant.”
“Then I don’t believe I’ll waste my time asking. Do you have anything else to tell me or am I free to go?”
“Only that I say hello and wish her luck.”
Trinity takes a deep breath before stepping into the prismatic portal, which ripples and creaks at her touch. She freezes when her leg merges into the stained glass picture, a panicky jerk of the limb showing that she cannot back out. With her eyes closed, the caster leans into the portal and gives in to the sensation of her body being crystallized. The feeling nearly robs of her of breath, but she forces her mouth to open with a crack to take in a gulp of sharp air. Fighting the urge to pass out from the pressure on her aura, Trinity finishes passing through the portal and her body swiftly reverts back to flesh. The Baron watches her walk toward the misty forest before veering to the left and out of sight.
Sleeper Of The Wildwood Fugue (Book 7) Page 1
