Legends of Windemere:
The
Merchant
of
Nevra
Coil
Copyright 2015 © by Charles Yallowitz
Kindle Edition
All Rights Reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system without the written permission of the author, except where permitted by law. Reviewers may quote brief excerpts in connection with a review.
This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.
Cover Design & Illustration by Jason Pedersen
Legends of Windemere
Beginning of a Hero
Prodigy of Rainbow Tower
Allure of the Gypsies
Family of the Tri-Rune
The Compass Key
Curse of the Dark Wind
Sleeper of the Wildwood Fugue
Dedication
To everyone who has entered Windemere
And left their mark upon its soul
Table of Contents
Prologue
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Prologue
The entire continent of Shayd quakes and rumbles, sending stones plummeting into the ocean that licks at its sheer cliffs. Several watchful eyes peer from the churning waves, waiting for a chance to return to their craggy homes. The occasional thrashing can be heard as a predator from the deep takes advantage of the floating creatures and devours a startled snack. On the mainland, chaos elves cower in their damp caves and hold their children as if the world is about to end. Their terror rises when they notice that the demon taskmasters are nervously watching the distant castle, the monsters’ barbed whips hanging limp at their sides. Green lightning flashes through the stormy sky, the energy briefly taking the form of a screaming woman. A few seconds later, a high-pitched shriek of rage erupts from the darkness and shatters every piece of glass on the continent. In the wake of the most powerful earthquake yet, cracks form in the ground and release bubbling acid that threatens every inhabitant of Shayd. The destruction ends when a burst of white magic washes over the land and transforms the deadly liquid into a flood of aromatic loaves of cinnamon bread. The continent falls into a state of anxious silence as a protective shield covers the castle and contains the rampage inside its ancient, ebony walls.
“I will not be left out!” Yola Biggs screams at the top of her lungs. The Goddess of Chaos yanks at her green hair and removes it in thick clumps, her exposed scalp blistering. “Even Tyler is part of this and he’s dead! I have never been so insulted in my life. Maybe. I think. There might have been a few times when I was younger. I’m still mad!”
“What is going on here?” Baron Kernaghan asks as he ducks a marble statue flying for his head. He casts a quick spell to protect Nyder Fortune from a set of knives that appear out of thin air. The deadly blades explode into warped pieces of strange, smooth material that the Baron does not recognize. “I have enough trouble with my son’s outbursts. Please tell me that I do not have a mad goddess on my hands as well.”
“I don’t know what set Yola off,” the bald gnome admits, hurrying to take cover behind a couch. His hiding place abruptly hurtles through the ceiling and the falling stones turn into fuzzy caterpillars as they hit the floor. “I heard her screaming and came to see what was going on. All I can figure out is that she thinks she’s been insulted and left out of something. She’s cursed about the champions a few times too.”
“She wasn’t acting any stranger than normal after returning with the last two priests this morning,” Trinity mentions. The chaos elf turns into a cloud of mist, letting a spear pass through her and slam into the wall. “I’ve never seen Yola this angry before. Does she even know we’re here?”
“You’d like to think I’m ignoring you!” the goddess shouts, her black and white skin swirling in a nauseating display. Yola dives at Trinity, hugging the black-haired caster so tight that a rib snaps. “I’m sorry. It’s not your fault. You didn’t have anything to do with this travesty, my blue-skinned friend. It’s them who did this to me. Those insulting, ignorant bastards out there.”
“What are you talking about, Yola?” the Baron politely asks, cautiously easing Trinity out of the hug. He repairs the young woman’s injury with a gentle squeeze, his crimson eyes never leaving the pouting goddess. “If you need our help with something then ask. Otherwise, I will have to contain you until your tantrum has ended.”
Yola’s eyes widen to the point where they take up her entire face, causing Nyder to scramble into the corner. The gnome hits a button on his lime green shirt and stands still as a jeweled casket grows around him, a faint hole open near his mouth. Ignoring the inventor, sparks fly from the goddess’s eyelashes as she reaches out to stroke her dark master’s face. Her fingers touch his neat beard, turning the hair orange and then back to its glossy black. She runs her hands down his crimson shirt, which ripples like water as the Baron uses his power to prevent her from transforming his clothes. Yola moves away and wanders to the other side of the room, kneeling to touch a pile of odd stones that sit among the shredded remains of a painting. The smooth orbs melt into a foul-smelling puddle that hardens into a tan disc, which Yola hurls through the broken window. A startling pop is heard as the projectile pierces the castle’s defenses and the shimmering barrier deflates like a punctured balloon. The sound startles Nyder, who drops his jeweled armor and runs for the door. He slams into the wall when the exit rolls up to the ceiling like a furled sail.
“I can handle these problems on my own. Even the gods can’t stop me from righting the wrong that has been placed on my head,” the proud goddess declares, walking toward a window on the other side of the room. She snaps her fingers to freeze her allies in place, leaving only the Baron able to move a single finger. “I promise this won’t come back to you, master. I know how to be discreet. After all, I’m a goddess of stealth and cunning who has avoided capture for centuries. Take care and I’ll bring you back some wine. Maybe some furniture for this room because it really needs to be redone. Not sure why you wanted it to look like a troll threw a fit in here, master.”
“Do not do anything foolish,” the Baron growls, his voice appearing from the air instead of his mouth. The warlord strains to talk against the goddess’s magic, cringing when his attempt breaks his jaw. “You are safe from the gods because you stay with me. They would never dare to attack you on this continent. Leaving Shayd puts you in danger, especially if you’re heading off to cause trouble. Stay here and let someone else handle whatever has upset you. I am sure Nyder has an invention that can solve this.”
“I love you too, Arthuru.”
The Chaos Goddess transforms into a large flock of ebony moths that remain in the shape of her body. The furry insects flutter out the window and disappear into the black clouds before the paralysis spell dissipates. Trinity sprints to the window and stares into the sky for any sign of her friend, enhancing her violet eyes
to see through the eternal gloom. All she can see is the blue and white of the pristine sky that exists beyond her homeland’s borders. She curses under her breath and turns to Baron Kernaghan, surprised at the brief look of embarrassment on her dark master’s face.
“Are you . . . flustered, sir?” Nyder bravely inquires, pulling out a notebook to catalog the damage. He scratches his bulbous nose with the ink-tipped feather, sneezing when he accidentally tickles his right nostril. “I always wondered if you had a special place in your heart for Yola, but I never thought your feelings would run so deep. To be blunt, I didn’t even think you were interested in such emotions. Not that you’re incapable, master, but more that it was a frivolity.”
“She is a powerful and attractive pawn. I may be ancient, but I can still appreciate beauty when I see it,” the Baron responds, adjusting his leather gloves. He claps his hands and a shockwave spreads across Shayd, repairing the damage Yola caused to the landscape. “Bring her home, Trinity. We will continue your training upon your return. That is if you feel it is needed because you have taken to your channeling powers better than I could have imagined. I’m truly proud of you, your majesty.”
“Thank you,” the chaos elf says with a bow. Her tight sleeves roll down to her wrists and her shoes become cuffed riding boots. Trinity reaches into a pouch to extract a billowing, ebony cloak with a glistening sapphire lining. “I’m taking one of the bone wyverns. Unlike you and Yola, I can’t travel across the ocean without exhausting myself. I promise to send the beast back before I reach the coast and drift the last few miles. That way nobody will see it. I’ll contact you once I catch up to her and figure out what she’s going on about.”
The Baron nods and pats Trinity on the shoulder before she heads for the door. With a tired sigh, the immortal warlord takes his first real look at the decimated room. Every piece of furniture has been shattered and the once beautiful paintings have been smeared with a glossy, tan material that has hardened over the ancient art. A fancy tea set that he remembers being a gift from his eldest daughter has been embedded in the back wall, the porcelain remaining unharmed within the solid stone. The Baron begins to mumble a spell to repair the damage, but stops and gestures for Nyder to follow him into the hallway. The sound of a falling chandelier is heard when the doors close behind the pair, causing the tired ruler of Shayd to rub his eyes. For the first time in centuries, he feels old and wonders if the game he has been playing is worth the headaches.
“It seems things are going differently this time,” Nyder mentions with a smirk. He can sense a growing rage in his master, so he swiftly bows and holds his hands out. “I don’t mean that in a bad way. Simply look at the events that have occurred with the current champions. Dariana has been accepted, Stephen has been severely wounded, channelers have returned to the world, and Yola Biggs might enter the actual fight. I know I haven’t been around since the beginning, but it feels like something is . . . changing.”
The Baron strokes his bearded chin and eyes the gnome, a smile appearing on his handsome face. “I think you are right, my trusted adviser. Maybe my old friend is tiring of this game and these are the final champions. They have done more damage than any of their predecessors and have proven to be very dangerous. I need them to survive a little longer to guarantee my glorious return. Such a twisted trick on all of us that my greatest enemies also hold a central piece to my resurrection. What do you suggest we do with this revelation of finality?”
“We keep it to ourselves and stay the course,” Nyder answers while he wipes some dirt off his ugly shirt. He frowns at the streaks and puts a few drops of amber liquid on the mess to evaporate the stains. “You’ve lost too many agents so far. Acting like this is your last chance can lead to recklessness and cost you the game. Unfortunately, your remaining agents are currently in bad situations. Yola has rushed off to get herself in trouble, Trinity is trying to rein her in, and Stephen is a violent mess.”
“How many mind seers have we gone through?”
“He killed the tenth one yesterday and it wasn’t pretty. Raksha made off with the man’s face and we think Melanie is keeping his ribcage as a xylophone.”
“Let us hope that the healing path has an effect.”
“The final pieces are being installed now.”
The sound of metal scraping against stone can be heard from around the corner, causing the two men to pause. Bladed tails waving happily in the air, Raksha drags Melanie into the open and drops the metal girl at the Baron’s feet. The slender pet sits on its haunches and pins its durable prey with its powerful paws. With a territorial hiss, the orange and black cat stares at Nyder and moves to pounce on the gnome. She stops when Melanie locks in a tight hug and rolls across the floor with the panicking, acid-spitting beast. With a screech, Raksha scrambles out from under the heavy girl and sprints down the immaculate hallway. Melanie looks up at the Baron and oily tears appear in her vacant eyes.
“You did nothing wrong, dear,” he whispers, kneeling before the child and using a handkerchief to wipe her tears away. “Raksha does not like being the prey, but that is her nature. Continue having fun and do not forget to feed her. There is a basket of fresh fish in the western kitchen, which has her name on it.”
“Yes . . . master,” the girl stutters in a gear-grinding voice. She runs after the cat, her steps sounding like hammers falling onto an anvil.
“Removed from history because the gods consider him the most evil man to have ever existed. Yet he is excellent with children,” Nyder mentions with a chuckle. He breathes a sigh of relief when he sees the hint of a smirk on the warlord’s face. “You will eternally surprise me, master. Well you would if I was immortal too.”
“A true leader knows when to be cruel and when to be compassionate,” the Baron whispers, watching the girl disappear into a room. An idea forms in his mind and he turns on his heels, his cape becoming a curtain of darkness that envelopes him. “I have something important to do in regards to our dear Yola. It is only a quick message that I must send, so I will meet you at the top of the healing path. Do not release Stephen until I am there. As you said, I have lost many agents and I do not wish to add you to that list.”
Nyder Fortune can feel a strange warmth spread through his chest at his dark master’s final words. Unaware that he is feeling pride and joy at the Baron’s concern, the gnome sets off to follow his orders. With a slight skip in his step, he heads for the end of the hallway and peers out the arched window. Slipping a pair of leather goggles over his eyes, Nyder focuses on the top of a nearby plateau where a glowing path runs down the eastern side of the landmass. Shadowy forms wander around the light and the eerie archways appear to squirm with every throb of raw energy. Even though he cannot see the man, the cautious inventor can feel the palpable rage and insanity of Stephen flowing from the area. He touches the doorknob and his mind goes blank, the void warning him that death is waiting for him if he continues.
“I think I’ll take my time getting there, master,” the gnome whispers as he walks in the opposite direction. “In fact, this is the perfect time to take the long way around the castle. Yes, I think a casual walk is just what I need to unclutter my mind.”
*****
Nyder refuses to look directly at the horrific path as he climbs the plateau, the chorus of muffled pleas for mercy falling on his uncaring ears. Strapped to each of the curved archways are followers of Neberith the Medicine Goddess. Their naked bodies glow as they fight against the chains that bind them to the polished metal. A pile of holy symbols are burning nearby, giving some warmth to the morose chaos elves who are dividing the healing potions and herbs to be distributed among their people. Nyder watches them for a few minutes, marveling at how the miserable creatures continue to cling to their lowly existence. Compared to the resilient hope of the chaos elves, the whimpering prisoners are pathetic and proving to be wastes of the gnome’s attention. He jogs the rest of the way, but the exertion leaves him gasping for air by the time he reaches the
top of the plateau.
“I hope you have a good reason for being late,” the Baron says from a chair made of blackened wood. He points at a small stool to his right, which Nyder obediently takes. “I told you to get things prepared while I handled some other business.”
“I know, master, but there was a void when I started on the quickest path,” the gnome whispers, a chill tickling his spine. He jumps when a flock of crows erupt from a gnarled tree, revealing its leafless branches. “I took the long way and inspected the end of the path to stall for time. Your son would have gone on a rampage and killed me if I arrived first.”
“Then I apologize for doubting you.”
A high-pitched laugh of cruelty makes the Baron turn toward the grinning madman standing several yards away. Once a figure of handsome menace, Stephen Kernaghan is covered in self-inflicted cuts and his black hair is a greasy mess that is starting to cover his sapphire eyes. Blood seeps from a few open wounds on his forehead, signs of his most recent attempt to gouge his fingers into his brain. The silver ropes around his naked body hiss and steam, their fibers sapping as much of his immortal strength and time powers as they can handle. Stephen licks the trickle of blood that comes near the corner of his mouth and hungrily eyes the shadowy figure standing next to him. The ghostly creature pulls its robe of mist around its thin body and drifts closer to the Baron and Nyder. The wispy-haired being takes a more solid, human form for a brief moment before returning to its ephemeral state in response to a dark thought from the barely contained immortal.
“I sense that your son does not take this seriously,” the mind seer whispers in a faint voice, one of its yellow eyes flowing to the side of its head to stare at Stephen. “He believes that he is fine and you are trying to cripple him. It is proving difficult to get through the shattered parts of his psyche, which we hope the healing path will repair. There is no way to be certain he will come out completely healed. All I will say is that it is best to be careful until you know he can be trusted.”
The Merchant of Nevra Coil (Legends of Windemere Book 8) Page 1
