“I guess it’s my turn,” he says with a sigh. He dabs at the sweat on his body, shivering at a stiff breeze. “You might want to buy new pajamas when we dock. Borrowing from Nyx was a bad idea. You’re at least six inches taller than her and it shows.”
“I felt I had taken enough of Sari’s money, so I didn’t remind her about this. I have my old clothes to use after I clean them,” Dariana replies, remaining out of the warrior’s reach. She rubs her cool belly, the growing tension making her consider going back to her room. “What do you mean by your turn?”
“For you to talk to and find a way to befriend,” Delvin replies with a broad smile. He scratches his back with the wooden blade, wincing when a splinter pierces his shoulder. “You won Fizzle and Nyx over immediately somehow. Then you saved Timoran from those assassins, which I’m still confused about. Mostly because I always assumed our enemies kept their business internal, so a public bounty makes no sense. As for Luke and Sari, you used guilt to soften them up. To be fair, Luke was on the fence with you from the beginning. I’m impressed at your progress in such a short time.”
“You believe I’m manipulating everyone with my powers.”
“It crossed my mind.”
“How can I prove otherwise?”
“I don’t know.”
Dariana rubs her knuckles against her temples while Delvin takes a drink of water from a nearby barrel. She briefly considers telling him how Nyx really feels about his advances, but rejects the idea because of the line it would cross. Her eyes fall on a wooden pole that has been left on the deck. She flips the makeshift weapon into her hands and spins it to get a feel for its balance. It takes a few minutes for her to remember the basics of staff-fighting that she learned centuries ago in the Zarian Monastery.
“I can spar with you while we talk,” she offers, letting the pole slide through her hand. It thuds against the deck, nearly missing her toes. “I’m not very skilled, but I can give you more of a workout than your shadow.”
“Why are you so desperate to make friends?” Delvin asks as he approaches. He makes a quick feint to her side, causing her to jump away. “I can tell that you don’t want to do this. So, put the stick down and go back to bed.”
The warrior turns his back on Dariana to get more water, but swiftly gets his shield up when he hears her swing. A loud crack fills the air as the staff strikes and skitters off the wooden buckler. The former mercenary flips it over his head and flicks his practice sword at Dariana’s hands, smacking her knuckles. She drops the staff to suck on her bruised fingers, earning a few boos from the sailors.
“I won’t get a challenge from someone using an unfamiliar weapon,” the brown-haired warrior states as he takes a step toward his companion. He leaps back to avoid a blurry kick to his head, feeling her toes graze his nose. “Impressive, but I don’t want to fight you. There’s no reason to do this.”
“You’re exactly like the previous champions,” Dariana angrily says, throwing a punch at Delvin. Her fist hits his shield and cracks the wood, earning her a stiff kick to her exposed stomach. “They wanted me to fight to prove my power. If I could defeat them then I was a useful tool. You have no desire to be friends, so I won’t bother trying. I beat you and that proves I have a reason to stay a champion.”
“I guess you’re not reading my mind,” Delvin mutters as he jumps over a sweep kick. The warrior drops his weapons and puts up his hands, staring at the fist a few inches from his face. “I don’t care if you beat me in combat or not. It won’t change anything because I’m not the type of person you think I am. Strength and usefulness is nothing without trust, which is what you have to earn.”
“How do I do that?”
“You do it over time,” he sternly replies, returning to the damp towel and water barrel. “So far, you’re failing with me. Go back to bed and behave yourself for the rest of the trip. I have a feeling things will get bad in Bor’daruk.”
Dariana puts her hands in her pockets and stares at her feet as she goes below deck, feeling Delvin’s eyes bore into her back. He waits several minutes to make sure she does not return and takes a seat against the foremast. The faint click of claws on the deck catches his attention and he blindly reaches out to pat Fizzle on the head. With a chirp, the drite appears and nuzzles his palm, pushing his arm away.
“Why Delvin mean?” Fizzle asks, hopping onto his friend’s knee.
“Because one of us has to be,” the warrior explains with a crooked smirk. He slides off the mast and lets his sore body slump to the floor. “I don’t like being the bad guy here, but we can’t trust Dariana right away. Not with her lineage and the fact that she’s been kept alive by the Baron for so long. I was hoping Sari would be stubborn, but that didn’t happen. I promise I won’t go too far.”
“Fizzle will help. Be in middle,” the drite offers, petting Delvin on the head. “Fizzle keep champions together.”
“That’s why you’re our secret weapon.”
Feeling drowsy, Delvin stares at Tavon the blue moon as it nears the end of its dominance of the sky. He can already see a sliver of Canst the green moon on the horizon, showing that spring is only a few days away. The tired warrior blinks to get the sleep out of his eyes, but he falls into a gentle slumber instead. Fizzle curls up on his friend’s stomach and gives off an aura of warmth to keep Delvin warm through the brisk night.
*****
The balmy wind is a jolt to the adventurers’ system after having been on the windy sea for a week. Long piers run off the floating dock to where the ships sit in the deeper waters, safely anchored away from the sandbars. The distance gives travelers a clear view of Bor’daruk with its dome-roofed buildings made of dark yellow stone, a few of them painted around the eaves and corners. Every structure is topped by a majestic vane that spins in the powerful wind that whips off the ocean. Spikey trees can be seen among the smaller houses and the quick forms of colorful birds dart among thin-leafed foliage. An impressive wall of dark red granite protects the city from sandstorms, the thick structure towering above everything else. An occasional spout of sand erupts from the desert side of the defensive barrier, a vent opening to release one of the piles that has accumulated on the top. The arch-shaped wall stops at the shoreline where several metal rings hold the taut ropes that keep the dock tethered to the city. The top of a small wall can be seen in the beach behind the crates and tents of the shipyard, all of which are sealed to protect the insides from the whirling sand.
Bells ring as the small vessel moves close to an open pier, the sailors rushing to throw mooring lines to the bronze-skinned dockhands. A sudden swell makes docking more difficult than they expected, so one of the bare-chested Bor’darukians calls out for all docked ships to raise their anchors. They let the adventurers’ craft drift further away as the wall ropes slacken and two masts are erected to power the movable network of piers. A man and a woman can be seen steering the dockyard, their movements in perfect unison as they maneuver closer to the bobbing vessel. The dockhands quickly lash the mooring lines and signal for the dock to be brought back to shore. Within minutes, everything is steadied and all of the ships have dropped anchor again.
“Strange place,” Nyx says with a yawn. She leans on Dariana and Sari as they help her get onto the undulating pier. “I’m okay. Just worn down from making that bag. I’ll feel much better when I get on solid land.”
“Watch your step, ladies,” a young man says with a charming smile. “Welcome to the heat. You might want to get lighter clothes if you’re staying long.”
“Thanks, but we came prepared,” Sari responds, patting her pouch. She wipes the sweat from her brow before removing her sleeves and rolling up her shirt to expose her midriff. “Still, I do plan on doing some shopping and Dariana needs pajamas. Are there any stores that you would recommend?”
“If you want cheap then there are the stalls at the end of the dock,” the man answers as he tightens the mooring line. He takes a quick drink from a canteen that he keeps on
his hip, making sure none of the precious water is wasted. “There’s also the marketplace if you want variety. If all else fails, you can pay extra at the Grasdon stores. They usually have sales going on, but things are chaotic after the incidents.”
“Incidents?” Dariana asks as the dockhand walks with them.
“It’s not my place to tell, but there have been several attacks on the family,” he replies, turning to face the three women. He notices the three warriors and Fizzle joining them, his eyes lingering on Luke for an extra second. “I’m sure you’ll find out soon enough. After all, you have that poor bastard with you. Wayland Grasdon is not going to be happy to see you, Luke Callindor. You caused a lot of grief in his world.”
The forest tracker groans and rubs the sand from his eyes, the action making them more irritated. “I forgot about meeting Kira’s father. You wouldn’t be willing to give me a hint about what I’m walking into.”
“No clue, sir. Down in the streets, we don’t have to deal with foreigners mixing with our traditions.”
“So we’re not going to get propositioned every time we go out?” Sari asks, wincing when Nyx smacks her upside the head. With a wave of her hand, she sends a burst of water into the half-elf’s face. “Don’t mess with me when we’re near the ocean.”
Nyx sputters and gags on the horrible taste in her mouth. “That’s salt water!”
“Your point?”
“I hope you get hit on so badly that you never get a moment’s peace.”
“Ladies!” Delvin shouts from behind them, jerking his thumb to the insulted dockhand standing next to them. “I apologize for my friends. We know very little of your culture beyond the relationship Luke has with Kira Grasdon and rumors that I’m sure are incorrect. It appears we insulted you and for that we’re very sorry.”
“Thank you,” the black-haired man says with a small bow. He wrinkles his nose at the sudden smell of sulfur on the breeze coming out of the desert. “Contrary to what foreigners believe, we don’t walk up and proposition people. We strike up conversations with those that are not of our culture, but many will not go further than a nice dinner or romantic walk. In truth, it’s seen as disrespectful for a Bor’darukian to perform the testing traditions outside of the city. Of course, the exception is if they’re betrothed is a foreigner, but even then it is to be done with respect and dignity. The only reason any of you think it’s about sex is because that’s the easiest way to explain it to outsiders.”
“Kira did say it was more complicated than she made it out to be,” Luke sheepishly admits from the back of the group. He nearly chokes on the foul taste in the air before he recognizes a putrid scent. “I think we get a rematch, Nyx. Not the same one from Vorgabog, but definitely the same kind.”
“Vorgabog?” the caster says in confusion. Her eyes go wide and she rushes ahead of the others, Luke right on her heels. “Clear the docks! A Spurge is coming! Stop what you’re doing and run for cover!”
A small figure approaching from the northern horizon swiftly grows into the clear form of the powerful demon. Stone wings with veins of lava sends gusts of sand-filled wind at the city wall, the waves harmlessly exploding against the barrier. Four powerful arms are spread out, each one holding a weapon of poison-dripping metal. People scream and run for shelter when a roar erupts from the wild-haired monster’s mouth, which is filled with deadly teeth. Originally heading for the city, the demon changes course when Nyx fires a plume of crackling flame into the sky.
The dock shakes and the piers rise from the water when the enormous Spurge lands among the crates. It smashes the boxes with its swords and clubs, a furious rage having consumed its mind. Anyone too close is cut down by a weapon or a large chunk of their body is removed by the demon’s teeth. The Spurge flaps its wings to take to the sky, but it is knocked down by a fist of force that repeatedly pounds it into the splintering dock. It hurls the spell away and gets to its clawed feet in time to meet the charge of Luke, Timoran, and Delvin. The demon has trouble figuring out who is the biggest threat and is confused even more when one of Sari’s daggers strikes it in the nose.
Delvin is the first to get knocked away by a powerful swing that he blocks, the force sending him flying through a pile of crates and into the water. The Spurge uses its wing to shove Timoran off the dock and turns its attention to Luke. With a hungry grin, the demon races after the half-elf who effortlessly dodges its attacks. His midair direction changes keep him out of danger as he leads the Spurge down an empty pier and away from the city. A blast of lightning from Fizzle slams into the monster’s back and it stumbles forward, swinging at Luke as he jumps onto a pylon. The monster’s sword slices through the weathered wood and the forest tracker makes a desperate leap to the pier. He lands on his side and rolls away from the Spurge, ignoring the splinters that stick into his body. The demon is nearly on top of him when Dariana lands between them and knocks the Spurge back with a powerful kick to the chest.
“I remember this thing being tougher,” Luke gasps as he is helped to his feet.
“It’s possible that you’re stronger,” Dariana replies, rushing forward to knee the demon in the face. She frowns at how easily its teeth snap against her leg, none of them able to pierce her flesh. “Then again, you never attacked it, so you’re only faster than before. Something isn’t right here.”
The dock lurches and the pier dips from the demon shaking its arms, causing a wave to slosh onto its legs. Steam rises into the air as the water evaporates and the Spurge screeches in pain. As if waking up from a trance, the creature looks around at the ocean surrounding it and roars at the churning waves. Hair rises from its back and the lava veins in its wings bloat, leaking the demon’s acidic blood onto the wood. The Spurge wraps its arms around its stomach, which is becoming distended and glowing a sickly orange.
“Someone turned it into a bomb,” Dariana says, dragging Luke toward the shore. “I don’t know if it’s far enough away from the city. If it’s too close then the explosion will destroy the first few streets and the air around Bor’daruk will be made toxic.”
The long pier is turned into splinters when the Spurge flaps its wings and struggles to get off the ground. It tries to fly into the city, but the pain wracking its body forces it into an awkward, jerky path. A burst of sound and heat draws everyone’s attention to where Nyx has launched off the dock. The half-elf is propelled toward the demon by a powerful updraft, her hands holding cracking orbs of lightning. Unaware that the Spurge has been enchanted to explode, she lifts it higher into the air with a force blast and continues on her way to slam her spells into its pulsating belly. The caster is too far away to hear the voices of her friends and her mind is too focused on the demon to sense Dariana’s telepathic warning.
“I’m sorry, Luke,” the young woman whispers as she flicks her fingers at the forest tracker.
Taking control of his body, she uses his wind powers to give herself an extra boost when she jumps toward Nyx. The few people who stayed on the docks watch as the silver-haired champion rockets toward the caster. Dariana grabs her friend by the ankle, but is unable to stop the half-elf from delivering her attacks. Flipping to wrap her arms around Nyx’s chest, she makes the caster create a thick, defensive spell around them. The force from the exploding demon shakes all of Bor’daruk and the weaker structures of the city collapse. Being so close to the Spurge, Dariana and Nyx are sent hurtling into the desert, the shield spell shimmering until it vanishes over the horizon.
“Grab some waterskins and let’s go,” Delvin orders while he turns to help Timoran get onto the dock. “The quicker we move, the easier it will be to find our friends. Once they start walking, they might go in the wrong direction and we’ll lose them.”
“At that speed, they could have landed in the southern jungles,” Sari casually mentions while grabbing several bags of water. She leans away from the warrior when he gets in her face, but she refuses to be quiet. “I’m worried too, but I’m only saying it’s a possibility. Tha
t was a big explosion and they were right there. I don’t even know how Nyx got such a powerful defense spell up in time to keep herself and Dariana alive. Let’s think and plan because we don’t want to get lost out there too.”
“I’m sorry, but all four of you must stay within the city,” a guard announces as he approaches the champions. He is dressed in black clothing with only his eyes visible through a slit in his facial wrappings. The adventurers notice the blades sticking out of his leather gloves, each one sharpened to a keen edge. “Bor’daruk is locked down due to aggression by the Helgardian Nomads. They have already taken the lives of several esteemed members of our society. We ask that you let us escort you to Grasdon Manor where you have been granted food and lodging.”
“I’m not going to sit here and leave Nyx out there!” Delvin snaps at the guard.
“Same here,” Luke chimes in.
Sari stands between the warriors and happily says, “Me too.”
With Fizzle perched on his head, Timoran gives a silent nod and puts his hand on the head of his great axe. The barbarian only has enough time to arch his eyebrow when he hears the sudden burst of air from several blowguns. Four small darts hit him in the neck while his friends are each hit by one, but it still takes a minute longer for Timoran to collapse from the potent sleeping drugs. He is about to tumble into the ocean when Fizzle catches him by the arm and lowers him to the ground.
“Fizzle go quietly!” the drite announces, holding up his hands and tail.
7
Sari is the first to wake up and she is surprised to find herself sitting at a long, finely crafted table. Her reclining chair is very comfortable and she has no stiffness in her body from having been left to sleep against the plush cushions. Her vision clearing, she can see Luke and Delvin waking up in similar chairs on the other side of the table. Timoran is next to her, the big warrior sprawled on a wide sofa and covered in lacey, embroidered pillows. The large chamber has three crystal chandeliers hanging from the domed ceiling, which has been painted to depict the busy marketplace of Bor’daruk. Paintings of the Grasdon family adorn the light yellow walls, one of Kira as a child hanging across from Sari. The smell of tropical flowers is on the breeze, emanating from the hanging plants that are in the open windows. Bronze pitchers of water are spread along the table with a goblet of polished wood placed before each guest. The ache behind her eyes forces the gypsy to take a small drink, the powerful herbs in the water clearing her head in seconds. Smacking lips bring her attention back to the table where Fizzle is eating an apple among the platters of fresh fruit.
Sleeper Of The Wildwood Fugue (Book 7) Page 12
