“Do you want me to share or let them learn on their own?” Nyx asks, sitting up with twigs in the back of her hair. She turns the tiny sticks into ashes and watches them drift on the breeze, a few needing to be wiped from her shoulders. “I’ve been examining your memories since Stephen left, so I know your story, Dariana. I also know you left some things out, but I don’t blame you. After all the previous champions treated you terribly, so I can see why you wanted to open yourself up to us. Though I’m surprised you tried this again considering what happened the last time. Trust me when I say none of us will do that to you.”
“Keep her secrets, Nyx,” Delvin requests, holding up his hand to silence Dariana. He smiles at her for the first time, which becomes a frown when she looks away. “I prefer to learn about you the old-fashioned way. That should make this easier to handle and make it feel more like a friendship if it can get that far. Does everyone agree?”
“I just want to know why Gabriel chose her,” Luke states as he hears distant voices in the forest. “I’d appreciate it if you could explain it quickly. The victims of the curse are wandering around out there and they seem scared.”
“It’s simpler than what Delvin said,” Dariana softly answers, her mind searching for the confused people. She gingerly coaxes all of them in the direction of the road where they will gather and wait for the adventurers. “The Baron and Gabriel are ancient enemies from when they were mortal. Me being turned into a champion is one of the few ways the Triple God can strike at my father. It’s petty and causes me pain, but I’m nothing more than a weapon in this game. It hurts my mother too, but I’m not strong enough to speak of her now.”
“Perhaps we should have this conversation in a tavern,” Timoran suggests. The barbarian fingers the Compass Key dangling from his neck and looks at their new ally. “Are you able to see this?”
“Yes and I know it has been hidden from my father’s agents.”
“In that case it appears you truly are on our side”
Nyx pulls a spare cloak out of her bag and brings it to her new friend, stretching to put it on the taller woman’s shoulders. “I agree with Timoran about the tavern. It doesn’t help us to be paranoid about Dariana. She’s one of us and there’s no question about that. By the time we get to a town, we’ll have more questions and we can talk over real food and ale.”
“I don’t drink,” the silver-haired champion announces.
“Then you and I have even less in common,” Sari quickly claims, turning on her toes and walking away. “I’ll behave, but I’m staying on guard.”
The gypsy leads the way into the forest and the others follow, but Dariana hangs back with Fizzle on her shoulder. She finds it hard to move when she sees Luke take the lead and start playfully arguing with Sari. A wave of happiness washes over the telepath, but she knows it is nothing more than the emotions of others. Her own heart is still gripped with fear and sadness, the memories of her past threatening to rise to the surface. Dariana puts her hands in her pockets, nearly pushing the loose clothing down to her knees. Her muscle tone is gradually returning, but the baggy clothes hide how emaciated she really is.
“Why were you quiet?” Dariana asks the drite.
“Fizzle sense you sad. Not make worse. Fizzle stay neutral while listen. Trust Nyx too.”
“I wonder why she trusts me.”
A stern cough makes the woman jump and her head jerks up to see Nyx waiting a few steps away. With a warm smile the caster states, “Welcome to the family, big sister.”
*****
Luke and Nyx lead the mob of confused wanderers down the southwestern path, knowing that it will take a week to reach the nearest town. After a few subtle conversations with the collection of farmers and travelers, the champions learn that two days have passed since they were drawn into Dariana’s mind. Most of the people only remember entering the forest at the first sign of sunlight, but there are a handful who admit to having waited a day or two before braving the mist. The only survivors from the Day of Darkness is a quartet of barbarian warriors, who agree to spread out around the edge of the mob in case they are attacked by predators or bandits. A handful of lost children have claimed Sari as their protector, never straying more than a few steps away from the story-telling gypsy. One girl, who could not be any older than two, has a tight hug around Fizzle, the drite wrapping his tail around her waist. Timoran and Delvin move through the crowd to answer questions and check on the elderly and injured that they have placed in the middle. Eventually, the group of forty falls into a steady pace and their anxiety shrinks into a faint tremor in their whispered voices.
“She’s still hiding in the back,” Nyx mentions as she looks over her shoulder. She can barely see the top of Dariana’s head beyond the rest of the group. “We made a really bad first impression with her. Well a really bad real world impression. I’m not really sure how this works with . . . whatever she is.”
“Don’t you know what she is?” Luke asks with a wide yawn. “After all, you have all of her memories in your head.”
“That doesn’t mean I understand her and I’m not going through all of them,” the caster admits, frowning at one of the barbarians who is harassing a calico woman. She catches the large warrior’s attention, causing him to stop his unwanted advances. “As far as her birth, childhood, and powers go, I’m in the dark. I sought out her life as a champion and I’m going to ask her to remove the memories when we reach a village. The only reason I kept them was because I thought she would be hurt by all of us giving her gift back.”
“It was a strange gift, Nyx.”
“I agree, but I don’t think she’s very good at dealing with people.”
Luke turns and walks backwards to see Dariana, who is hanging even further back from the other travelers. He notices one of the barbarians glaring at her, but he abruptly turns his attention to helping an elderly halfling get over a puddle. As he watches Dariana, Luke becomes aware that anyone who looks her way is immediately distracted by something else. The only people able to focus on the silver-haired woman are the other champions.
“I think she’s using her powers to avoid people,” the forest tracker says as he faces Nyx again. He examines his yellow feast ring, the images of a goblet and cooked chicken clearly etched upon the metal. “I’ll use my ring to give us some food in a day or two. For now, we can hunt and find fresh water in the forest. I’m still afraid people might get worried and panic once the sun goes down, especially the kids. Maybe you should talk to Dariana about finding a way to keep people calm.”
“Her going into people’s minds would cause trouble,” Nyx whispers, her voice tinged with annoyance. She moves closer to her friend, fearing that someone might overhear them. “She’s a living being. Not some tool we can use whenever we need her. Dariana has been through a lot, so we need to be gentle with her.”
“I should point out that she’s already using her powers on people,” Luke replies, staring down the other half-elf. He lets out a long, slow breath and goes back to listening for trouble. “I never said she should use her powers. I meant that we should get her involved in things. We have a week of being on the road, so we can’t wait for a tavern before we interact with our new companion.”
“Good idea. I’m sorry I snapped at you, little brother. It’s just that we were so cold and mean to her.”
Luke watches for the source of a rapid heartbeat to his right. He relaxes when a yellow hummingbird flits out of the bushes, curiously darts around the giggling children, and returns to the forest. The animal vanishes quicker than he expects, making him wonder if it was real to begin with. He is about to make eye contact with Sari, but his keen eyes catch the flicker of a smile on Dariana’s face.
“I know and I feel bad about it, Nyx. I’m sure the others do too. Still you can’t blame us for being cautious and distant. We all have a lot of questions. Why has the Baron kept her alive and shown an interest in her? Does she know why the other champions failed? Why is Dariana immortal an
d who is her mother?”
“I think I’m going to talk to her before I get tempted to read more of her memories,” the caster quietly says, wrinkling her nose when Luke tussles her hair. “Though I think the Baron is interested in her because she’s his daughter. In her memories, there’s always a sense that he genuinely cares about her wellbeing and is upset that she’s been pitted against him. I’ll find out more after I chat with her. Not like I’m any good as a forward scout, so I might as well make myself useful.”
Nyx moves to the side of the path and rests against a tree while everyone walks by her, Sari and the children stopping to say hello. They move on after she creates a tiny deer of light in her palm and has it jump around the kids. With a beaming smile, she watches them continue walking, their excited talk of the magic woman echoing through the trees. A minute passes before Nyx falls in alongside Dariana, who is several yards behind the crowd. She takes the other woman by the arm and tries to drag her closer to the others, but they never appear to make any progress.
“Why are you hiding back here?” Nyx asks in frustration. “I take it you’re not used to crowds, so this makes you nervous.”
“When I was a child, I had very little control over my powers. Crowds were a source of anguish because I couldn’t block their thoughts and energy. Accidents happened, so I was cloistered in the Zarian Monastery,” Dariana explains without looking directly at the caster. She shivers when a few strong emotions slip through her defenses. “I learned to maintain shields within my mind, but they’re still regenerating from my long slumber. They don’t always work when I sleep, so I apologize in advance if I wander into your dreams. I might sleepwalk too, so I’m sorry if that causes trouble.”
“Stop with the apologizing,” Nyx hisses, putting an invisible hand of force over Dariana’s mouth. “For the love of every god on Windemere, would you wait until you make a mistake before you say you’re sorry? Don’t even think of saying what I know you’re tempted to say. I’ll cast a spell on you that makes you laugh for an hour.”
Dariana stares at the half-elf, unsure if she should speak or move away. The hand over her mouth disappears and she is about to apologize, but clamps her jaws shut. A curious calico looks back at the women, turning away when Nyx politely shoos him. They continue walking in silence and let the mix of voices wash over them. A violent shudder runs through Dariana’s body, which stops when her companion strokes her arm.
“I think you’re better suited to be the older sister here, Lady Nyx.”
“You’ve been around for a few centuries, so you’re stuck with the title,” the half-elf whispers, gently releasing Dariana’s arm. “So Luke and I were talking about this journey. He thought the two of us should discuss a way to prevent people from panicking. Food and rest might be an issue as well as figuring out where the children will go. I haven’t seen anyone step up claiming to be their parents.”
“One man was going to, but he’s a slave trader,” Dariana timidly states, nodding her head toward a tall elf with ebony hair. He has a dazed look on his face as he scans the forest, his glassy eyes searching for butterflies. “I . . . changed his mind and reminded him of his love of insects as a child. As for the children, I took the liberty of scanning their minds for images and names of their parents. None of them appear to be orphans, so I plan on asking Sari to help me with drawings. I can give those to someone of authority in the distant village and the children will be reunited with their families.”
“Sari can’t draw.”
“No, but I can guide her hands, which are more nimble than my own. At least that is what I will tell her.”
“What about Luke?”
“I thought this would be a bonding event for myself and Sari,” Dariana answers, fearing that she has made a mistake. She glanced at the gypsy, who is trying to convince Delvin to carry one of the little boys on his shoulders. “I sensed the most amount of hate from her, but it stemmed from being protective of everyone else. My lineage makes me a potential threat in her mind, which is understandable after her dealings with my brother and what happened with Kayn. I don’t believe the others will be as easily accepting of me as you are, Nyxie. Why are you trusting me so quickly?”
“First, only Sari calls me Nyxie,” the caster explains with a friendly smile. She snaps her fingers to hide the rest of their conversation from the ears of the curious crowd. “I read a thought within your memories that carried over the years. It was always there. You fear that you were born to be a weapon, so this prophecy is the only reason you exist. No dreams for the future because you don’t feel . . . human enough to get the chance to live a simple life. Every use of your powers and every event that deals with your destiny makes you question who or what you truly are. I feel the same way.”
“I sensed that about you, but I don’t see why you feel that way.”
Nyx sighs and rubs her amethyst necklace, the smooth facades an odd comfort. “I’ve been told of my destiny since I was a very small child. No matter what I did, I thought about how my path would be affected. I focused on combat magic and being tough because I knew I would grow up to fight. Every friend was kept at a distance because none of them could follow me. At least until I met Luke and drunkenly made him promise to help me. Look, Dariana, we might not be identical in background, but both of us have matured into the same mentality. If you can even call it maturing. Anyway, it’s only recently that I started believing I could dream beyond the final battle with the Baron. You can do the same.”
Dariana flicks Nyx’s nose, which removes her memories from the half-elf’s mind. With a swift wave of her hand, she catches the rising spark and rolls it in her palm. The energy spreads into a small pool and flows up the woman’s arm, slipping beneath her tattered sleeve and reappearing on her neck. The liquid memories go into her ear and she mumbles as if having a private conversation with them.
“It appears you took very little advantage of my memories. Are you like the others and scared to learn about me? Did you really only keep them for this long because you didn’t want to upset me?”
“It felt wrong looking through your life instead of hearing about it,” Nyx answers, nervously running her hands through her hair. She lets a few trails of fire roll through her short locks, the display earning her a few curious stares. “I know that previous champions refused to learn more about you once Stephen revealed your lineage. That was very cruel of them. Yet the answer isn’t to make yourself an open book since you did nothing wrong. It was our predecessors who were in the wrong. You’re a living creature who needs friends, so share your story with us as we travel.”
“I will try my best,” Dariana promises as she scans the crowd. A few powerful emotions strike her mind and her mouth goes dry, the taste of iron appearing on her tongue. “Something is wrong. The barbarians are gone. All five of them. I’ll catch up.”
“Good luck,” Nyx says while she watches the silver-haired woman sprint into the forest.
*****
Timoran catches the stone maul by the handle and casually tosses the blonde barbarian to the side. His great axe is still strapped to his back and he refuses to draw it while his armed enemies circle him. The heavily scarred man with a notched broadsword fakes an attack to draw the adventurer’s attention, but the older warrior does not take the bait. The swordsman’s companion does not realize their plan has failed and continues his sneak attack. Timoran steps aside and pushes the charging spearman ahead, using the youth’s momentum to knock him off his feet. A black-haired barbarian in chainmail anxiously watches and waits for an opportunity to strike with his sapphire axe. Every time he thinks the veteran is distracted, he inches forward and stops when Timoran whirls around to face him.
“I do not wish to hurt you,” the redheaded champion says as he turns to watch all of his enemies.
“That makes our job easier,” the axe-wielding barbarian states with a grin. “We weren’t sure it was you until we heard that warrior say your name. Now that we know, we can claim the
bounty on your head.”
“And we only need the head too,” the spearman jokes, chuckling at his own joke. He frowns at his armored leader and holds out his hands. “Why aren’t you laughing, Alanik?”
“Shut up, Ralgin.”
“Ralgin and Alanik. That means the other two must be Sentrent and Banton,” Timoran says, his hand falling to the handle of his great axe. He sees the swordsman and maul fighter nervously glance at their leader. “What reward could four deserters claim? You would be arrested upon your return to the tribe.”
“He’s right, Alanik,” Sentrent says, letting the tip of his sword drop toward the ground. “I think we should forget about this. Besides, we were never able to beat Timoran in the sparring sessions. He’s legendary.”
“At least he was before his exile,” Banton points out, his voice gravelly and deep. He swings his maul over his head and slams it into a small tree, knocking it over. “I say we stop being nice and take his head. The reward didn’t say we need to bring him in alive.”
Ralgin chuckles and spins his spear in anticipation. “That’s what I said.”
“Will all of you shut up?” Alanik angrily growls. “Timoran has a point. We’re as wanted as he is, but bringing him back alive would help us gain some forgiveness. Killing him makes us mindless mercenaries. Alive shows we’re interested in justice, which would appeal to King Edric’s honor. Aim for the limbs or try to knock him out.”
The barbarians start to close in, but they are paralyzed after a few steps. Their attempts to speak are thwarted by lockjaw and their muscles quiver with impotent rage. When Alanik tries to back away from Timoran, his body is freed and he signals for the others to do the same. The snapping of a twig draws their attention to Dariana, who tosses the broken branch to the ground at Ralgin’s feet. The silver-haired woman looks uncertain as to what she should do next, so she rubs her temples with her knuckles.
Sleeper Of The Wildwood Fugue (Book 7) Page 10
