Sleeper Of The Wildwood Fugue (Book 7)

by Charles E Yallowitz

  “It was a human with a longsword, but no shield,” Sharne answers, gasping for air as she tries to keep up.

  “That just means he found trouble in Bor’daruk,” the caster states while she breaks into a sprint. “This guy and the drite are two of my friends. If they’re in the desert then something happened to the others.”

  “We don’t know that for a fact,” Dariana contends, slowing down to help Sharne. She lets Nyx run ahead and eases the holy woman to the ground. “I’ll help Sharne! Please don’t cause any trouble!”

  The excited caster charges at the main tent, which causes the startled guards to draw their weapons. They get out of her way when she grows fiery snakes out of her back. Nyx cancels the spell as she pushes the tent flap open, startling Misrae and his disheveled prisoner. She stares at Delvin who is tied to a chair and smiling at the sight of her. His skin is slightly darker than she remembers and there is sand in his hair, but the glint in his ice-blue eyes warms her heart. Nyx tackles the warrior, both of them crashing to the rugs covering the ground.

  “What are you doing here?” she asks, sitting on her friend’s stomach. “Where are the others?”

  “They’re still in Bor’daruk,” he replies, trying to get comfortable on the solid ground. “I came to rescue you.”

  “This is a terrible rescue.”

  “Well I have Fizzle with me.”

  Misrae clears his throat and raises a finger to interrupt. “If you mean the drite, he flew away when we captured you.”

  “Fizzle did escape,” the tiny dragon announces appearing above the nomad. Misrae jumps back and draws his weapon, calming when the creature bows. “Fizzle sorry. Follow you to protect friend. Fizzle promise to stay visible.”

  “Told you I had help,” Delvin says, shifting to find even a tiny bit of comfort. He finds it impossible considering he is tied to a chair with a half-elf sitting on his gut. “I had everything under control.”

  Nyx gets off the warrior and burns his bonds to ashes with a touch. “What if you got lost out here and I arrived at Bor’daruk? I’d have to go back into the desert to find you. Dariana and Luke would have to help too. You should have stayed in the city where it’s safe.”

  “I was worried about you,” Delvin says, hugging her tightly. The young woman relaxes in his arms, so he decides to drop his restraint and be completely honest. “I love you and was going mad knowing you were missing. Besides, I would have walked into the nomad camp and been brought back.”

  “Actually we found him walking south,” Misrae interjects with a wide grin. He can barely hold back his laughter as he backs to the exit. “If our keenest guard didn’t notice the glint of his cloak’s clasp in the setting sun, your friend would have gone into the harsher region. There are many large scorpions and one of the more brutal tribes of the desert. He would have been dead before dawn.”

  The dark-skinned nomad leaves the tent, chuckling at the sound of Nyx screaming and cursing at Delvin. He whistles to the guards and points at the silhouette of her shaking the warrior by the shirt. The men laugh when it looks like she is poking him in the forehead and all the warrior can do is hold up his hands in apology. The nomads dive out of the way when Delvin is sent hurtling through the flap and skids across the sand, coming to a stop at a water barrel. Nyx cracks her vibrating knuckles as she steps outside, Fizzle comfortably perched on her shoulder. Dariana and Sharne are waiting nearby and she takes her silver-haired friend by the arm to lead her back to their tent.

  “I missed you, Ms. Masterson!” Delvin shouts, remaining on his back.

  “I missed you too, Mr. Cunningham!” she replies with a smirk that only Dariana and Sharne can see.

  14

  The guards keep their weapons trained on Timoran who is calmly sitting on the floor with his great axe across his lap. He is amused that they are more concerned with him when the real threat is shrieking and hurling random items at the door. Kira’s voice hits an octave that the barbarian did not think possible for a human throat as she throws a clay doll. A few guards turn to Eileen, their gazes hinting that they want her to get the heiress under control. Instead, the calico lazily stretches and scratches her ears, making no attempt to leave the soft couch. When a swordsman musters the courage to approach Kira, she whirls around and grazes his nose with a kick that would have knocked him out if it struck.

  “All of you will leave my room at once,” she growls, fixing the armed men with a stare that sends chills through their spines. “I will get ready to go into battle with my father, but I will not do it with you in here. Timoran and Eileen will make sure I behave.”

  “Your father ordered us to-” starts a spearman. He stops when a pillow hits him in the face.

  “Next time, I throw something sharp,” the heiress promises, her green eyes turning to a cheese knife. “You have to wonder what will happen if I get violent. Will my father understand you using force against his daughter or will he have you arrested? I really don’t want to do it this way because I respect all of you for protecting my family. So are you going to give me privacy or will this get messy?”

  “You are your father’s daughter,” says the swordsman who she tried to kick. He sheaths his weapon and gestures for the others to follow him. “We’ll be right outside and there are men posted below the balcony. Use the knock your father showed you to let us know you’re ready to be brought to him.”

  The swordsman rapidly knocks on the door five times and kicks the bottom, causing the guards outside to let their friends out. All of the warriors file out of the room, nodding their heads to Kira as they leave. When the door closes and locks, the heiress grabs her enchanted kusari-gama and clumsily hurls it off the balcony. She watches the weapon fly through the air and fall into a fountain, the guards already hurrying to investigate.

  “I refuse to use a weapon my father gave me,” Kira states before the others can question her actions. She kicks open a nearby footlocker and pulls another kusari-gama out from under a few folded dresses. The chain and sickle are heavily dented and lack the shine of her previous weapon. “Timbre sent me this while I was at the academy. Would you be able to sharpen it for me, Timoran? I would do it myself, but I’m so angry that my hands are shaking.”

  “I would be honored,” the barbarian replies, accepting the weapon. He grabs a whetstone and points at a bowl of water for Eileen to bring him. “I am unclear as to why you are angry with your father. He is taking you to the battle like you had hoped he would.”

  “You make it sound like a trip to the marketplace,” Eileen mentions, scowling at the large warrior. She goes to the wardrobe to bring her mistress a suit of leather armor, the dark red material showing very few signs of use. “It will be dangerous out there, so don’t feel pressured into going. I know you wish to help Asher, but there’s no shame in staying in the manor where it’s safe.”

  “I’ve already been through a few battles, so I’m not scared,” Kira argues as she starts stripping out of her clothes. She remembers Timoran is behind her so she slips behind a partition before taking her pants off. “My problem is that my dad said I would be part of his escort. The man isn’t a warrior, so he’ll be going to a high vantage point to watch. This is to keep me out of the battle. That’s not even the real reason I’m so angry.”

  “Then what is your reason?” Timoran asks, checking the sickle for nicks.

  “My father is keeping Luke and Sari locked up as potential spies,” she answers in an exasperated tone. She peeks around the partition, making sure her body remains covered. “We all know how ridiculous that is. I don’t know what they overheard when they visited my father, but we need them for this battle. The only reason he could have for locking them up is because of their relationship to me. With Luke in the fight, I’m more inclined to enter the battlefield. Same thing with Sari, but it would be to prove I’m a better warrior.”

  “Not everything is about you, mistress,” her maid politely points out. She blushes and steps away from Kira’s piercing
gaze. “Though it’s curious that those two are in prison and Timoran is being sent to Asher’s position on the wall. Then again, your father has not been of sound mind these last few weeks. I’m sorry if I overstepped my bounds, but that’s something I think you should take into account.”

  “Trust me, Eileen, I have.”

  Kira finishes donning her armor and steps out from behind the partition, her ebony hair tied up with a plain clip. She happens to look out the door to the balcony where she sees a strange dot in the sky. It is steadily growing as it comes closer to Bor’daruk, but it vanishes in the blink of an eye. By Kira’s best guess, the object disappeared over the city wall, but she has a bad feeling that it is still stealthily approaching. Cautiously, she walks over to Timoran and reaches out for her weapon, her eyes never leaving the sky. Spinning the weighted end of the chain, she waits for whatever she saw to reappear.

  “What did you see?” Timoran asks, taking a position near the balcony doors.

  “I don’t know,” Kira whispers, not wanting to alert the guards. “It was small, but I know something was there. Maybe it’s another monster and I happened to look in the right direction at the right time. A few of my relatives saw them coming.”

  “Fizzle protect you,” the drite declares from above her head. He darts away from the flailing chain and dives under the bed. “Fizzle sorry he scare Kira. Not do again. Delvin, Nyx, and Dariana say hi.”

  “For the love of every god, Fizzle, don’t do that to me,” the heiress gasps as she falls to her knees. She extends her arm to coax the drite out, the tiny dragon scampering over to lick her fingers. “So Delvin found Nyx and Dariana? Are they outside the manor?”

  “With nomads outside city,” Fizzle says while sitting on his haunches. His red wings flutter, shaking off a thin layer of sand. “Delvin send Fizzle to talk. Monsters from stolen scepter. Guard real monster. Only one left and then it escape. Nomads think Kira family take scepter. No know why they use beasts on self.”

  “We wouldn’t, but an enemy would,” the heiress replies. She gets an apple for the drite and rolls it to him while she paces from Eileen to Timoran. “Something isn’t right here. If someone stole the scepter and knew how to summon the guardians then they would know about their purpose. Using such a thing to attack a business rival would be foolish because of that final beast. Maybe it’s a crushed rival or a fired employee.”

  “Or perhaps it has nothing to do with business,” Timoran suggests as he places the drite on his shoulder. “Do you know anything else about the guardians? According to Luke and Kira, the Felcri and all monsters prior to it appeared to be indestructible for a time, but the bird did not have this ability.”

  “Holy lady tell Fizzle guardians pure,” he explains while spitting chewed apple onto the floor. “They no be killed until take mortal life. Once they kill, they can die. Kira family used as . . . not sure should say word.”

  “The word is sacrifice,” the heiress bitterly states, her face flushed with anger. “This isn’t about my family’s business. It’s about using all of us to awaken this monster and distract the nomads from the real thief.”

  “Why would this person pick the Grasdons?” Eileen asks in a cracking voice that betrays her anxiety. She calms down when her mistress puts an arm around her, but her breathing still comes in ragged gasps. “Your family is so kind, Lady Grasdon. Even those who dislike your success wouldn’t go this far. One would have to be a real monster to do this. Whoever it is must be enjoying the anguish it’s causing your father.”

  Kira moves away from Eileen and walks to the balcony, her fingers rapidly tapping on her lips. She hops onto the railing and looks around the courtyard, the animals wandering around as usual. The guards move to watch her and sheath their weapons in case they have to catch the heiress. A warm breeze caresses her face as she closes her eyes and struggles to think of an answer to the mystery. While not a fool, Kira has yet to master the concepts of strategy and seeing through deflection outside of forging trade agreements. She has tried to study the subject ever since she returned to Bor’daruk, but she has always been better at raising her own facades than breaking those of others. Yet she knows they have been chasing phantoms this entire time and her mind continues shifting back to Luke.

  “We already switched our focus to my family’s destruction being the main goal of whoever is doing this. So maybe this isn’t about making my father suffer,” Kira explains while she gets off the railing. She hurries into her room and closes the balcony doors behind her, flicking the lock shut. “If these monsters have been used to destroy my family then it makes no sense to leave myself, Asher, and my father for the end. So the three of us are needed for that great beast to be unleashed. My brother is the family’s best warrior, so he would be the most likely one to kill the beasts. I’m connected to Luke, which means I could be used to bring him and the rest of you into the fight. The champions would be used to kill the monster that is used to eliminate Asher and myself. Imagine what Luke would be like if I was eaten by one of those beasts. Unless I’m needed for another part of whatever this ritual is.”

  “What about your father?” Timoran asks, unsure of where Kira is going with her train of thought. “What purpose would it serve to let him see his family die? That would only drive him into madness.”

  “If that was the case then he would lose his business,” Eileen points out, struggling to contribute even though she is very confused.

  “That’s not it,” Kira states, grabbing her weapon and rushing to the front door. “My father has been going on about my mom since this whole thing started. He’s suddenly protective of me after letting me fight the monsters for weeks. I think it’s clear what’s going on.”

  She knocks on the wooden portal the same way the swordsman did and she hears the click of the opening lock. The moment the door opens, she leaps forward and spins the blunt end of her kusari-gama. In less than a minute, three of her opponents fall unconscious to the floor while the others back away to draw their weapons. They are not sure if they should attack, which gives her enough time to knock out a few more of them. Any courage they have is erased when Timoran lumbers into the hallway with Fizzle on one shoulder and his axe on the other. The guards drop their weapons and put up their hands, moving against the wall.

  “Take care of these men, Eileen,” Kira orders, gesturing for the barbarian to follow her. “I’m really sorry about attacking all of you, but I’m in a rush.”

  “Fizzle confused on Kira dad’s plan,” the drite admits as he takes flight.

  “My father is behind all of this,” she replies, sprinting down the hallway. She skids around a turn and vaults down the stairs toward the dungeon. “That last beast might be able to resurrect my mother and he’s going to use my body to do it. Luke and Sari must have overheard the plan, which is why they’re locked up. So we’re going to break them out and get Asher to stop the battle with the nomads.”

  Guards turn toward the sound of running feet and draw their weapons at the sight of Kira and Timoran charging down the hallway. Assuming that there is a threat within the manor, they swiftly file in behind the pair. Nobody questions what is happening and the armored warriors yell for servants to hide in the nearest room. By the time the procession reaches the stairs to the dungeon, there is a small army behind Kira. The guards are very confused when they follow her to find Wayland and his elite guards blocking the entrance to the jail.

  “Out of the way, dad,” Kira demands as she keeps her eyes on the five warriors behind her father. She puts up her hand to stop Timoran from stepping forward. “I know you’re behind the monsters and are sacrificing us to resurrect mom. I’m willing to let you run away from Bor’daruk while my friends and I clean up your mess.”

  “What are you talking about?” Wayland asks while adjusting the rings on his chubby fingers. “I would never sacrifice my family to bring my Brea back. She would despise me for doing such a thing.”

  “True, but . . . damn it!” Kira shouts, r
ealizing her father is right. With her momentum gone, her voice loses some of its edge. “Then why have you been acting so strange? Why do you have my friends locked up when they can help us? You have to know that we’ve been set up against the Helgardians. Somebody is playing both sides for some reason.”

  “Don’t worry about things that you wouldn’t understand,” the portly merchant says as he approaches his daughter. He places a gentle hand on her shoulder and smiles, the expression reminding her of the warm man who helped raise her. “Just know that everything will be taken care of. I won’t lose you and Asher like the others. Your mother won’t let that happen. As for your friends, they are a threat to our victory. Like you, they believe me to be behind this, but I’m only doing what is right for our family.”

  “You’re right, dad. I don’t understand.”

  “Then come with me to the battlefield.”

  “Do you have the Helgardians’ scepter?”

  “I don’t understand what that has to do with anything.”

  Kira wipes a few warm tears from her eyes and takes a deep breath before looking at her father’s face. “It’s a simple question. Look me in eyes and tell me that you don’t have the scepter. Remember that mom wouldn’t like it if you lied to your only daughter who reminds you of her every day. Do you have the scepter or not?”

  “Yes,” Wayland says without turning away. “I’ve had their scepter this entire time.”

  With an enraged scream, Kira wraps the chain of her weapon around her father’s neck and yanks him off-balance. She spins him around and puts her sharpened sickle to his throat, her tear-filled eyes watching the elite guards. She can hear the soldiers behind her shift uncomfortably as the whispered truth runs through the crowd. Even Wayland’s bodyguards hold their weapons loosely, uncertainty etched on their face.

  “Let my friends go, so we can stop this war,” Kira demands as her pent up anger and grief surges through her heart. One of the bodyguards steps forward, stopping when she draws a trickle of her father’s blood. “I swear I’ll kill him if you try to fight me. After all, he got my entire family killed. Why shouldn’t I be able to return the favor?”