Sleeper Of The Wildwood Fugue (Book 7)

by Charles E Yallowitz

  *****

  Delvin peeks out the back door to see if anyone is in the narrow alley between the wall and the main building. He has to wait for a cook to finish throwing trash into a bin, the thin man taking as much time as he can. Once the alley is clear, the warrior slips out of the storage room and eases the door back. He pauses every time the hinges creak and wonders why a wealthy family does not bother to have them oiled. With Fizzle on his shoulder, Delvin hurries in the direction of a servant exit that he stumbled upon a day ago. He slows down when he hears a strange noise that reminds him of wooden canes tapping on stone. Pressing against the warm building, he inches toward the alcove where the sound is coming from. Even though he keeps a calm face, his heart leaps into his throat when he looks around the corner.

  A twelve foot tall bird with long legs and massive feet is furiously pecking at two oddly shaped piles. The creature has four heads, three of which resemble brightly plumed storks. The fourth head has a shorter, glossy beak and a boney crest on the top, which it scrapes against the walls. Ruffling its black feathers, the bird reveals its wide wings that uselessly flap at its sides. As the crested head hisses at one of the others, the creature stomps on one of the piles and bends down to tear flesh from within the remains of what was once an elegant dress. Enjoying the sound of snapping bones, the bird kicks both piles a few times, which gives Delvin a clear look at the remains of Quill and his fiancée.

  “It’s one of the monsters,” the warrior whispers to Fizzle. He carefully draws his sword and adjusts his shield as he slips out of view. “Go tell Timoran and Sari. I’ll keep an eye on this thing.”

  “Fizzle no leave. Monster too dangerous. Delvin need magic.”

  Unwilling to argue and risk being noticed, the warrior nods and peeks around the corner again. He watches one of the bird’s long-beaked heads swallow Quill’s entire arm while two others crack open the dead fiancée’s skull. It takes Delvin a second to notice that the one with the crest is no longer in view. A brief haze appears in the sun, revealing the stretched neck of the missing head is going over the rooftop. Predatory hissing rolls from behind Delvin and he whirls around in time to take the bird’s attack on his shield. The crested head appears to weave through the air on an invisible neck, which makes it difficult for the warrior to anticipate its strikes. He hears the rest of the creature cawing and screeching as it lumbers toward him.

  “First rule of mercenary work, never be afraid to run for better ground,” Delvin says as he smacks the monster’s head to the side. He dodges and parries the other beaks that come at him from above and behind. “Or was it stand your ground because you’re getting paid? I could never get the hang of those rules.”

  Spinning on his heels, Delvin avoids a peck to his side and slams his shield into one of the colorfully plumed heads. The dazed creature stumbles to the side, giving him a chance to sprint for the nearest exit. With a furious shriek, the bird turns around and charges into the narrower part of the alley. Its feathery body is squeezed enough to slow it down, but it is still dangerously close to the retreating warrior. He repeatedly turns to slash at the heads that come within striking distance, his blade skittering off the beaks or harmlessly slicing off feathers. Delvin can see the end of the alley coming, knowing that the beast will be more dangerous with room to move. He considers holding his ground until two of the heads lance forward to ram his shield and sends him skidding away.

  “Fizzle make you go poof!” the drite declares as he flies backwards. He fires a disintegration spell from his tiny horns, but the crested head swallows the attack. “Fizzle no like you!”

  “I never heard of a creature that could eat magic,” Delvin admits, knocking a garbage bin over to slow the bird down. “I doubt that will do anything. I hope the mourners have left the courtyard because we’re coming to the exit.”

  Rushing out of the alley and turning toward the garden, Delvin curses loudly at the sight of the gathered crowd. Everyone looks at the intrusion as Wayland opens his mouth to yell at the warrior, none of them appearing to have heard any of the battle. The merchant snaps his mouth shut when the bird emerges from the alley and viciously strikes at Delvin. All of the attacks are blocked by his shield or sword while Fizzle smacks at the creature with his tail. The screams of the mourners draw the beast’s attention and three of its heads turn to face the fresh prey that are attempting to escape. Delvin lunges at one of its necks, but is kicked with enough force to send him crashing through a hedge. Refusing to stay down, he leaps back to his feet and charges forward with his sword held high. His sword misses a wing and another kick sends him rolling toward the others, the bird’s talons snapping a few links of his chainmail.

  “I’m afraid of the answer, but have you seen Quill?” Asher asks as he joins Delvin. The two warriors separate to avoid a quick strike and deflect a flurry of attacks. “I saw him go into the alley with his fiancée. That was nearly an hour ago.”

  “I’m really sorry,” Delvin replies while fending off the crested head. It rears back and slams against his shield, cracking the wood. “Your cousin and his fiancée were dead when I got there. Maybe you should run since these things are after your family. You, Kira, and your dad are who it’s after.”

  One of the plumed heads whips around and takes Delvin’s legs out from under him. Still on his back, he kicks at the hissing bird’s belly and jams his shield into the approaching mouth. The monster pulls him into the air and whips him around in attempt to bat Fizzle away. He cuts the straps of the shield and drops to the ground to drive his sword into the beast’s foot. With a screech of rage, the bird kicks Delvin away and the crested head rams Asher in the chest. The noble can feel two ribs snap on impact and a few more break when he lands against the stone rim of a fountain. Fizzle tries another attack spell, which is devoured as the monster charges at the downed noble.

  The chain wraps around one of its necks as Kira runs and slides between its legs. She pulls with all her strength to bring the thrashing head toward her, causing the bird to trip over the extended neck. Luke quickly darts in to chop the trapped head off and expertly blocks the barrage of attacks from the remaining ones. Kira’s sickle slams into the bird’s back and she sprints back between the legs, dragging the weapon down the bird’s spine. Flicking the blade free, she whips the blunt end of her weapon at the crested head to drive it away from her unconscious brother. It swings back to attack the heiress who presses the chain into the monster’s mouth and turns it aside before stabbing it in the eye. Luke’s sabers send a plumed head flying into the fountain, forcing the beast to back away and hiss threateningly. It only makes it a few steps before its body tenses and it collapses, the crested head leaving a dent in the ground when it lands with an echoing thud.

  “I’m not in the mood to play with these bastards any more,” Delvin says as he sheaths his longsword. The warrior picks up the remains of his shield, but tosses them to the ground in frustration. “Take care of Asher. I’ve got something to do and maybe I’ll put an end to this along the way.”

  “Wait!” Luke shouts as his friend heads for the nearest door in the wall.

  “Let him go and help my brother,” Kira pleads, making her way to the alley. “I’m going to . . . gather the rest of Quill and his fiancée.”

  She stops short when Timoran steps out of the alley, the barbarian looking like he recently lost a fistfight. He blocks her from going in and nods to Sari, who is groggily stumbling across the garden with healing potions given to her by Eileen. The maid is busy trying to calm Wayland down, the portly man lividly ranting on the other side of the courtyard. Luke notices bruises on his friends’ faces, signs that they were attacked, which explains why they missed the fight. A rage grows in his chest and erupts when he hears the door close behind Delvin.

  “I have to take care of something,” he says to Kira as he storms by her.

  *****

  City guards are hurrying through the streets to attend to the screaming crowd stampeding out of Grasdon Manor
. They are so busy handling the increasing panic that none of them pay any attention to Delvin slipping out of a door that clangs shut behind him. He calmly walks across the street and takes the first turn he finds that is not a shadowy alley. When he can no longer see Grasdon Manor looming over the other buildings, the warrior stops to rest on a crate. Fizzle lands next to him and puts his head in the bottomless pouch to grab an apple.

  “Nothing’s broken, so I won’t slow us down,” Delvin says as he touches his bruised sides. The pain is already fading away and he rolls his shoulder to test its movement. “Full range of motion with only a dull ache. I’ll need to replace the damaged links in my armor, but I won’t be wearing this once we get into the desert. Lost my shield again, which was never a problem until I met up with all of you. Finish your apple and we’ll head out, Fizzle.”

  “You’re actually going,” Luke states, stepping out of the nearby alley. “After what just happened, you’re heading into the desert. Not only you, Delvin, but Fizzle too?”

  “Fizzle protect Delvin. Nyx gone too long. Need Nyx to stop monster.”

  “You’ve no idea where she is,” the forest tracker argues, not looking away from the stone-faced warrior. “Even with Fizzle’s help, you’re going to get lost out there. We’ll have to waste time and manpower to rescue you. If Nyx shows up while you’re gone then she’s going to go back out searching for you. This is a mistake.”

  “If that’s your worry then don’t come looking for me. Keep Nyx here if she shows up and I’ll turn back around in two and a half days if I don’t find her,” Delvin contends, hopping off the crate. Sensing the confrontation brewing, he unstraps his longsword and puts it in his pouch. “Of course, I’ll grab supplies then head back out there to search in another direction.”

  “We have a crisis here,” Luke claims with a wave toward Grasdon Manor. “You saw how much trouble that last monster was. The Felcri took longer to kill, but that bird killed two people before they could make a noise. We can’t afford to lose someone like you to a wild search in the desert.”

  The former mercenary’s punch connects with his friend’s jaw, knocks the half-elf off his feet. “You selfish bastard! You’re only concerned about protecting Kira, which has made me want to punch you in the face for days. Nyx was crazed when you were dying of the Dark Wind curse. She would have fought demons and gods to cure you. Now that she needs your help, you won’t even worry about her much less go into the desert. I’m betting the griffin could have found her and been back within our first day here.”

  “This is a different situation.”

  “Because you leaving would get you in trouble with Kira?” Delvin asks in a mocking tone. He watches his friend stand on shaky legs, the half-elf’s fists clenched in anger. “Nyx’s life is in danger and she needs you. This mess you’re in will be waiting for you when you get back. I’m sure you would search that desert until you passed out if Kira was the one out there. Don’t even try to say that she needs more protection than Nyx. We rescue the ones we love when they’re in trouble.”

  Luke massages his jaw while he walks to the crate to put his sabers next to Fizzle. He returns to Delvin, who braces for a strike that never comes. Instead, the half-elf circles the warrior and runs his hands through his blonde hair. With a growl of frustration, Luke grabs a rock and hurls it down the road, startling a flock of seagulls.

  “I’m not the only selfish person here,” the forest tracker states, cracking his knuckles and fidgeting with his fingers. “All you’ve thought about is going into the desert without a plan. It isn’t for her own good though. It’s because you miss her, you worry about her, and you’re too blind to realize that Nyx isn’t alone out there. What would you do if you found Nyx, but Dariana was still missing? Would you go looking for her or does your compassion only go to the woman you’re in love with?”

  “Everyone keeps saying Nyx will be okay,” Delvin says with a nervous chuckle. Not wanting to stop once he leaves Bor’daruk, he removes his chainmail and replaces it with a yellow cloak. “None of you saw how shaken she was against Stephen. She isn’t an unstoppable weapon that knows no fear. Nyx is a living being with weaknesses like the rest of us. She’s in trouble and needs someone to put his life on the line to bring her home.”

  “Fizzle think friends stop fighting,” the drite interrupts, noticing that a small crowd is gathering on the street. “Nyx strong and missing. No idea if safe. Dariana still new. Best to look for her.”

  “Exactly,” the brown-haired warrior proudly declares. “Since her best friend is unwilling to return the favor he owes her, I’ll go and do it.”

  Luke gets in Delvin’s face and drives his elbow into the warrior’s chest. Another punch meets the half-elf’s jaw and he stumbles back, leaping forward to kick his friend in the side. Forgetting finesse and their training, the two rain fists and feet on each other. Neither bother to block, so they are bruised and bloody within minutes. Using the last of his strength, Luke rushes forward and delivers a swift kick to Delvin’s stomach. The forest tracker stands over the gasping warrior and waits for another strike. Instead, his friend rolls onto his back and stares at the cloudless sky, refusing to continue the fight.

  “I’m done listening to you claim I don’t care,” Luke says in a strained voice. He wipes blood off his upper lip and drops a clean rag on Delvin’s chest. “I’ve been worried about Nyx this entire time and hate that I’m stuck here. Imagine what would happen if I went to find her and Kira was killed by the next monster. You see, no matter what I do, I have someone I care about in danger.”

  “Then why stop me?” his friend whispers as he gets to his feet. “I could have taken the pressure off you and handled the Nyx situation.”

  “You’re not a tracker and you’re going in without a plan.”

  “I’d find a way.”

  “You’d get yourself killed.”

  “So you were saving my life by containing me?”

  “If you want to look at it that way then yes.”

  Delvin pulls his sword out of his pouch and straps it on his belt, adjusting it until feels comfortable. “You can’t stop me from going. Nyx has been gone for too long and we haven’t seen any sign of her trying to contact us. Keeping me here is pointless because I’m unfocused and distracted. I could get someone killed.”

  “Fine, but I won’t be able to save you until things are finished here,” Luke states while gathering his swords. He pets Fizzle on the head, taking some quiet comfort in the fact that the drite will be going too. “The nomads will be here any day. With any luck, you’ll be captured by them and brought back as a prisoner. It’ll keep you out of trouble.”

  “I still think it should be you,” the warrior says while he dabs at a cut over his eye. “I love Nyx with all my heart, but I admit you’re the better tracker. Though, I see what you mean by you being damned no matter what you do. Now would be a terrible time for you to go. A real mess you made here.”

  Luke scratches Fizzle on the head and cringes at the pain in his arm, bruises appearing from the hits to his forearm. He can already feel one of his eyes swelling up to alter his vision. With the brief fight over, the curious citizens of Bor’daruk walk by while giving the battered warriors sideways glances. Most of them head for the sound of the guards handling the looming riot caused by the latest monster attack. Their staring makes Luke feel even worse about what he is about to say.

  “I’m well aware that I’m letting Nyx down after what she did for me,” the half-elf explains in a somber tone. He rubs the hilts of his sabers, revealing his nervousness. “When dealing with the Dark Wind, Nyx knew how to help me without sacrificing other people. I can’t figure out how to do that here, which makes me think I shouldn’t call myself her friend much less her brother.”

  “I wouldn’t go that far,” Delvin says with a crooked smirk. “Maybe this is how it should be. Each of us is expecting the other to help protect his loved ones, which is causing friction. We can’t ignore either situation a
ny more, which means I have to go into the desert and you have to stay here. It’d be easier if Kira and Sari were out there and Nyx was being targeted by monsters in the city.”

  “Guess our enemies planned this better than we realized.”

  The brown-haired warrior scratches his chin and nods. “You know, I never considered that this was part of Stephen’s plan. All this time I thought the situation with Nyx was luck, but maybe he wanted her in the desert at a time where you couldn’t follow. Good thing Fizzle is coming with me and Dariana is out there. Watch out in case that bastard is prowling the city because you’re the only one here who can hurt him.”

  “I’ll stay alert. Be careful out there, Cunningham.”

  Luke ducks into the alley and sprints back toward the manor, leaving Delvin and Fizzle to make their way to the iron and wood gate of the city. The drite casts a spell to make himself and the warrior invisible as they approach the only way out of Bor’daruk. They startle the guards with rapid knocking at a low point on the door. Fizzle creates the hazy illusion of a lost child on the desert side of the wall, prompting the guards to swiftly open the gates. The illusion fades away like a mirage as Delvin slips through the opening and trudges into the desert.

  13

  Timoran keeps a vigil at the window while Eileen moves around the room with a stack of clay plates. She places them around the well-furnished bedroom, leaping onto the furniture when setting one on a high shelf. Standing in the middle of the room, Kira spins the chain of her weapon and runs her finger along the Dwarven runes on the sickle’s handle. When the maid puts the last plate above the door, she hurries to the balcony. Crouched on the stone, Eileen urgently gestures for Timoran to join her. With a tired sigh, the barbarian steps outside and leans against the open door. He adjust a blue curtain, which is hiding a box of vases and paintings that used to adorn the room.

  “Does she do this a lot?” he asks the calico.

  “Only when she’s upset, which has been rather common lately,” Eileen answers, her tail twitching in the air. Her tufted ears stick up at the gentle whine of Kira’s weapon, the sickle shattering two plates in one swing. “My mistress is not happy that Luke has told her to stay in her room while he goes on patrol with Sari. She knows it’s for the best, but she doesn’t want to be left out. It doesn’t help that Asher has been sent without an escort to the city guard to ask for help.”