Being the closest to her, Banton drops his maul and rushes forward with his burly arm out to grab Dariana. He is surprised when she leans to the side and delivers a quick jab to his armpit. The force of the blow numbs his limb, which he stubbornly swings like a fleshy club. Dariana effortlessly dodges the haphazard attacks, backing toward Ralgin who readies his spear. He stabs at the woman, but his muscles painfully lock a few inches short of hitting her. Banton freezes in mid-flail and growls as the champion steps out from between the two barbarians.
“I’m sorry, but I need to ask a question before continuing,” she says with a small bow to Timoran. Deciding to make a show of her powers, she snaps her fingers to free Banton and Ralgin from their paralysis. “I’m not sure what this is about or why you refuse to truly fight back. I will fight in your place to relieve you of the threat of killing your kinsmen. Do you wish for them to die, be injured, or simply knocked unconscious?”
“You’re not going to hide behind this woman, are you?” Alanik mockingly asks, tossing his axe from hand to hand. Being smart enough to know the stranger is some kind of caster, the man’s dilated eyes reveal his fear. “Do you know you’re helping a criminal?”
Dariana meets the deserters’ leader with a confident gaze that sends a chill through all of her enemies. “He’s my ally and I know him to be a good man. I don’t know the details, but I sense this is a complicated situation. Still I will side with my companion.”
“She’s not normal,” Sentrent whispers to his leader. “Let’s run away.”
“Shut up, Sentrent!” Alanik shouts, throwing a rock at the cowardly warrior’s head. “We outnumber them and she’s so scrawny. Even if she froze us, we know where they’re going and will catch up easily. After all, we won’t have a herd of farmers slowing us down.”
“Magical paralysis would be a blessing after I’m done with all of you.”
Timoran laughs at the primal fear on the barbarians’ faces and takes a seat in the middle of the circle. “My hands are tied because I swore to never shed the blood of my tribe. Even these deserters are protected by my oath. All I ask is that you keep them alive and in a condition where they can travel to the village.”
Dariana sprints at Ralgin and lands a flying kick to his chest, sending the larger fighter crashing through a full grown tree. Banton and Sentrent rush forward with their weapons held high, slamming them into the ground where their opponent once stood. The nimble woman swings out of the branches and gracefully lands behind the swordsman. She delivers a powerful kick to the back of Banton’s legs, flipping him off his feet. Before he lands, she drives her elbow into his stomach and knocks the wind out of his lungs. Sentrent cautiously moves away from Dariana as Ralgin erupts from the forest with another roaring charge. Leaping at the enraged barbarian, the champion grabs the spear and hoists him off the ground. Spinning on her toes, she hurls him at Sentrent, who dives to the side and lets Ralgin slam into a boulder. With a lightning quick kick, she sends the swordsman rolling through some thorn bushes and into a stump where he remains whimpering and holding his jaw.
The sound of a blade moving through the air causes Dariana to spin around, catching the throwing axe an inch from her face. She drops the weapon and moves to step out of Alanik’s way, frowning when the black-haired barbarian stops short. His tight swings are met with precise bare-handed blocks that hit the axe head with the same amount of force as its owner. A few stiff kicks strike the armored warrior, but Dariana is unable to use her full strength as she maintains a protective coating on her hands. Dropping her defenses, she lets one slash come narrowly close to her chest, the edge nicking her shirt. With a fluid motion, she grabs Alanik’s wrist and yanks him off-balance. The silver-haired woman’s leg shoots up to ram her bare foot into his jaw and fill the area with a painful crunch. The cursing warrior crumples to his knees and spits out several teeth, his dominant arm hanging useless at his side.
“We should return to the others,” she tells Timoran, a sense of urgency in her voice.
“Let us make sure they are out.”
Dariana stomps her foot, sending a wave of energy that shocks the fallen warriors into unconsciousness. “It will be twelve hours before they awaken and regain muscle control. The predators of the forest will stay away thanks to my residual aura. Now we really must return to the group.”
Timoran follows his companion into the forest, pushing himself to keep up with the faster runner. He clambers over a fallen tree that Dariana leaps over like a frightened deer, the woman landing without a sound. The barbarian gradually closes the distance with his ally, but he soon realizes it is because she is slowing down. Her movements are labored and her limbs spasm, which makes her stumble and start to fall. Timoran catches her by the shoulders and is surprised at how her body collapses beneath his touch. He cradles Dariana in his arms and continues running toward the road.
“My body is not as strong or as fast as you think,” she whispers in a dreamy voice. She reaches out for one of the shining butterflies that flitters on the edge of her vision. “My powers are of the mind and aura, so I use them to enhance my physical traits. It wears me down if I keep it on for more than ten minutes. This is why I’m more formidable in the mental realm. Are you okay, Timoran?”
“I was never touched. How long do you need to recover?”
The gentle snoring and abrupt slackness of Dariana’s body worries Timoran until he hears her voice singing in his head. Holding her tight against his chest, the barbarian runs as swiftly and softly as he can.
6
“Why are we with her?” Sari asks as she examines the wall of dresses. She is amazed that a small village like Lumb has a clothing store with such a selection. “Nyx and Timoran are the ones that like her.”
“We’re the only ones who are free,” Luke replies, keeping his voice low. He grimaces at a large hat with two puffy feathers coming off the left-hand side. “Nyx is bringing the lost kids to the guards while Delvin finds us a boat that will take us to Bor’daruk. He wants Timoran to stay near him in case those assassins return. I’m surprised General Vile had a bounty on the big guy and this is the first we’ve heard about it.”
“You’re so adorable when you’re gullible,” the gypsy coos as she spins over to the half-elf. She stops herself from giving him a kiss and slips around him to check a rack of sleeveless tunics. “As I was going to say, there’s more to what happened. Timoran has a secret and Dariana knows it. If he trusts her to keep it and go along with an obvious lie then they’re free to do so. I just don’t see why we couldn’t let her buy supplies without an escort.”
“She has no money.”
“Like we do?”
“You have a small fortune in your skirts.”
Sari stares at Luke, fighting the smile that pulls at the corners of her mouth. “So many ways to take that comment.”
“How is this?” Dariana calls from the other side of a black curtain.
With a nervous smile and a stumble, the tall woman steps out of the changing room wearing a low cut dress that barely reaches her knees. The skirt is tight around her legs, which look very pale against the bright red fabric of the clothing. Blue silk gloves run up to her elbows, both of them already showing signs that they are going to roll down to her wrist. A white cape with a fur trim trails behind Dariana, the golden clasp pressing against her throat. She has trouble walking in the high heels that squeeze her feet and crush her toes.
“I guess this answers your first question, Sari” Luke whispers. He grunts when his companion elbows him in the side. “That was unnecessary.”
“Go look at belts or something, hero,” the gypsy hisses, shoving him away. She circles Dariana, a look of intense thought on her face. “This is . . . all those years and nobody taught you how to shop for clothes? Red is not your color until you get some sun, those heels are beyond your ability, the gloves are ridiculous, and don’t even get me started on the cape. What have you been wearing all these years?”
“Th
e clothes you found me in,” Dariana timidly answers. She stares at her feet, which are already swollen and aching. “I thought my combat training would help with the heels. I trained using stilts to help with balance, but these shoes are too awkward and painful.”
“What about the cape and the tight dress?” Sari asks, afraid to hear the answer. She waves the shopkeeper away, flashing a threatening glare to stop the young man from laughing. “I can’t even figure out what to describe you as because this is all over the place. I think the cape is what really confuses me. Without that, I’d go with expensive brothel girl and escort. How is this even battle effective?”
“You have the skirts.”
“The flowing colors and layers work as a distraction,” the gypsy swiftly responds. Standing on her toes, she puts her hands on Dariana’s shoulders and turns her back toward the changing room. “Go back in there and take all of that off. Stay behind the curtain while I pick out a new outfit. What weapon do you use and what’s your favorite color?”
“White and I am the weapon,” the silver-haired woman replies, her hands already undoing the clasp of the cape. “Thank you for helping.”
“Thank me if I can salvage this.”
Sari wanders around the store, occasionally checking to make sure Dariana is staying behind the curtain. The blonde shopkeeper waves for the gypsy to move toward a back corner, the young man busy with another customer. Following his directions, she finds a collection of closed-toe flats and takes a black pair with gold embroidery along the sides. Returning to the middle of the store, white pants with strings to tighten the cuff around the ankle catches her attention. She frowns at the large waist until she finds the hidden clasps to adjust the size. Spinning on her toes to take in the entire store, Sari searches for a shirt that will work for Dariana. She knocks Luke out of the way to get at a white shirt that crosses over the body and ties on the side. A red mermaid is on the front, helping the gypsy know which flap goes on top.
“That looks strange for a shirt,” Luke mentions, startling Sari with his silent approach. “It reminds me of a fencing jacket, but softer and more formfitting. The collar seems flexible enough to allow head movement.”
“I think the style is from one of the Cerascent Islands. It’ll make her stand out, but everything else looks too loose or restrictive,” Sari explains, holding the shirt in front of her for a better look. She runs her thumbs along the smooth fabric that feels like silk, but has a strange resilience when she applies pressure. “It’s like cloth armor in a way. Bring these to Dariana and I’ll see if they have any more. We’ll get enough for the trip to Bor’daruk.”
Luke takes the clothes without question and hurries to the changing room. He slips the clothing behind the curtain, averting his gaze in case Dariana is standing in view. Her hands are warm as they take the shirt, pants, and shoes from him. Letting out a long held breath, the half-elf waits by the curtain in case she needs anything else. He watches Sari follow the shopkeeper to the back, the pair negotiating prices as they go.
“I think I need some underwear to go with this,” Dariana says as she steps out in her new clothes. She adjusts the ties on her side, shivering at the cool fabric on her skin. “Aside from that, this shirt is very comfortable and I can move freely in the pants and shoes. Maybe black would be better since my hair is so bright, but my brother is fond of that color. That is why I was surprised to see him wearing dark green. I’m concerned that I will ruin the shoes in my first fight.”
“Nyx can enchant them to make them tougher,” Luke suggests as he steps back to get a better look at the silver-haired woman. “You look good, Dariana.”
She blushes and takes a look at herself in the mirror, silently realizing that she should buy something to clean her hair. The sound of something being dropped behind her makes Dariana whirl around. The pile of clothes between her and Sari is nearly up to her knees, the gypsy handing a few diamond spheres to the shopkeeper. Simple undershirts and pants are mixed within the tops that are similar to the one she is wearing. Each of the tops is a different color and has a unique chest pattern ranging from wind-like swirls to a roaring dragon. Three pairs of shoes are buried under the new wardrobe, one of them a set of heels that Dariana looks at with doubt and fear.
“We’re going to practice,” Sari says as she picks up the intimidating shoes. “We’ll put all of this in Luke’s magic bag. Nyx can make you one of your own during the trip to Bor’daruk. All we need now are basic supplies for you.”
“Thank you for taking the time to help me buy things,” Dariana says, taking Sari’s hand and gripping it tightly. Her face is flushed and her breathing is heavy, making the gypsy fear that she is about to pass out. “Neither of you two had to help me, especially together. I know how uncomfortable you are with each other. It must be so painful to be close to the one you love and not be able to show that emotion. Then again, both of you are conflicted and feel guilty about what you have already done.”
Sari grabs Dariana by the arm and drags her into the changing room. She pushes the woman against the solid wall and watches her sink onto a small bench. The forest tracker is about to enter when the gypsy draws a dagger on him, pointing at the clothes with her other hand. He gingerly backs away and taps his ear, signaling that he will be paying attention with his sound sight. The blue-haired girl shakes her head and casts a silence spell around the changing room, which gives the curtain a soft, yellow shimmer.
“Never go into my mind again!” Sari shouts at Dariana, looming over the cowering woman. A layer of ice begins creeping up the walls as the gypsy rants. “If you want us to be friends then respect my privacy. So the next time you poke around in my thoughts, I’ll have you running naked through the marketplace.”
“You act like I have a choice,” Dariana snaps, jumping to her feet. She leans down to be nose to nose with Sari, a fire in her eyes that puts the gypsy on edge. “My powers are always on. They cannot be sheathed like a weapon or restrained like magic. The best I can do is keep the ambient thoughts out of my head, but anything strong gets through my defenses. If I’m around such emotions for too long, I feel them and I get confused. I pry deeper to find the cause and to convince myself that these are not my thoughts.”
“That doesn’t explain-” Sari begins before Dariana growls. It is a noise that she can tell is more of passion than anger. “Oh . . . it can’t be that bad. Luke and I agreed to keep things friendly until we talk to Kira.”
The stronger woman pins Sari against the wall, her eyes rolling back into her head. “At least twice a day, you two come close to kissing. Whenever you pull back, there’s a surge of desire that floods my mind with what you’ve done. I get hit by love, passion, guilt, and a mess of so many emotions that I can barely control myself. It’s maddening and has me wanting to get to Bor’daruk more than you two.”
Sari sits on the bench and stares at herself in the mirror as the frost evaporates from the pristine surface. She glances at Dariana, who closes her eyes and tries to push the overpowering thoughts from her mind. Without a sound, the gypsy stands and gently takes the silver-haired woman by the face, delivering a strong kiss. The muffled resistance from Dariana stops as a spell drifts into her mouth and calms her down.
“I’m sorry about the situation,” Sari whispers while gingerly adjusting the other woman’s shirt collar. “My emotion purging spell will work for a bit. I’ll talk to Nyx about a permanent solution.”
“I once had a ring that blocked these thoughts and feelings, but Stephen stole it during our last encounter,” Dariana answers in a dreamy voice. She touches her lips, which tingle from the sensation of Sari’s kiss. “He placed it either in the Garden of Uli or Helgard because those temples had the weaker defenses. We are heading toward the second location, which is a desert volcano. Once we purify Helgard, we can search for the ring. If we don’t find it there then we can travel to the Garden of Uli using the doorways. Before you ask, the memory of the route to Helgard has been purged from my mind. My f
ather and brother make sure I remember very little about the temples to make things more of a challenge.”
“Your family really messed you up. Let’s get out of here and finish our shopping.”
When they step out of the changing room, Sari and Dariana find Luke trying to convince a young woman to wait. She pushes him out of the way and marches behind the curtain, making a rude gesture at the flustered warrior. He is about to say something when Sari grabs him by the ears and kisses him, her fingers tickling the sensitive tips. Luke collapses, but he is held up by the gypsy’s immovability.
“We’ll share a room on the boat and talk,” she says, moving away from the forest tracker. She takes Dariana by the hand and pulls her toward the exit. “One kiss per day to take the edge off and we stay clothed when sleeping. Cuddling is permitted to keep my nightmares away. Do we have a deal, Mr. Callindor?”
“Yeah,” Luke numbly answers as he follows his friends. He sees the shopkeeper staring at him with a confused look on his face. “Don’t ask. I’ve given up trying to figure out what I’ve gotten myself into.”
*****
The sailors watch the bare-chested figure in the blue moonlight as he practices his strikes on a crude sparring dummy. Delvin’s wooden longsword hits the padded figure with dull thuds that echo along the deck. Several times he pretends to block with his shield and quickly counters with whatever would work against his imaginary foe. His hair sticks to his sweaty forehead and a few drops get in his eyes, forcing him to stop and grope for a nearby towel. A gentle round of applause comes from the friendly crew, so he takes a small bow and immediately whirls around to point his sword at approaching footsteps. He relaxes when he sees Dariana standing with her hands up, her flannel pajamas too short to cover her midriff and calves.
Sleeper Of The Wildwood Fugue (Book 7) Page 11
