“These dolls are threatening the curse?” Nyx guesses, trying to hide the disbelief in her voice. “They’re harmless toys made from a strange material, fancy mechanics, and some minor spells. I don’t see how they pose any danger to the work of a god.”
“It is the most complicated curse in history and it grows weaker as more people remember the Baron,” Gabriel carefully explains as if he is talking to a child. He gathers the remains of his illusions and casts the strings around the rim of the basin, turning them into replicas of the figurines. “These toys are starting to cause a backlash. People are getting curious about your purpose and some of them are unintentionally snapping themselves out of the curse. If whoever created these things put some false stories behind them, it would have been less traumatic to the world. Instead they shared your actual adventures, which were always meant to slowly spread through bard tales and handwritten tomes. As in the past, that method would have created some distortion to protect the curse, but now common citizens have the pure tales.”
“We’ve been trying to figure out how the creators gathered so much information,” the channeler admits as she grabs a bar of soap. Her leg gingerly rises from the dark water and she scrubs the thin layer of dirt off her skin. “Then again, the pamphlets that came with the toys only go as far as the invasion of Gaia. There’s nothing about the temples, the Dark Wind curse, or anything involving Dariana. It seems there’s a limit to what the creators know and their information network focuses only on our adventures in the big Serabian cities.”
Gabriel scowls down at the bathing half-elf, the irritable god having private issues with her slipping back into a casual tone of voice. “It is enough and the more curious of your kind are hunting down the stories that involve the temples. Learning about the true purpose of those places is what causes the backlash. A few people have been reabsorbed into the curse or saved by Isaiah. Most of the victims have fallen into madness, which has required that they be sent to Zelacryd for containment. Still, the situation is steadily getting out of hand. At this rate, the curse may be shattered and the Baron will return within a few weeks.”
Nyx leans back in the basin and stares at the ceiling while imagining what would happen if their enemy arrived early. The thought of her friends getting killed without being able to put up a fight makes her blood boil. She can see the battle coming down to her and Sari since the others have yet to find their temples and Luke rejected his true power. Even with their combined magic and abilities, the Baron is supposed to be a force of pure evil and destruction. Nyx is confident that he is stronger than anything they have ever faced, which says a lot about his abilities considering some of the past threats that the champions have struggled to defeat. Her mood continues to sour as she realizes that Trinity, Stephen, and any other surviving agents of the Baron would be a factor as well.
“It has always been that you eliminate his pawns before he steps on the battlefield,” Gabriel says, reading her thoughts out of impatience. “I am prevented from telling you who is behind these dolls. In fact, I am still trying to come to terms with the fact that my power has been underdone by . . . toys. I cannot even openly suggest what you should do. My only reason for being here is to tell you about the danger and set you on the path. Now be a good little weapon and make sure Windemere does not fall into our enemy’s hands.”
“I understand, sir. We’re going to leave Gods’ Voice as soon as Dariana finishes her trip into the city,” Nyx explains, fighting back a few tears from being called a weapon. She gets out of the basin and grabs a robe, wrapping the soft cloth around her slender form. “My friends and I will discuss a plan to minimize the damage to the curse. There has to be some way to prevent the spread of information or block it without resorting to extreme measures.”
“We need to create misinformation,” Sari announces from the far side of the room. The gypsy is nervously standing against the doors, her eyes locked on the imposing deity. “I’m sorry for interrupting, but I had a nightmare and went looking for Nyx. So I was listening outside in case she needed some help.”
“Maybe I should have brought this up with the multi-talented weapon instead of the blunt one,” Gabriel whispers to himself. He taps his chin with a gloved hand, the sound echoing throughout the chamber. “What did you have in mind?”
“It might be a little messy for us,” the gypsy replies as she approaches the basin. An impish smile plays across her lips when she sees the worry etched on Nyx’s face. “The people want the champions, so we should present ourselves to them.”
“I don’t like this. Is there-” the half-elf begins to ask until she realizes that Gabriel has disappeared. “I hope he enjoys the show you’re about to put on, Sari. I know I won’t.”
3
The marketplace is busier and louder than Dariana had expected to find during the midmorning hours. Taking a deep breath, the anxious woman rubs the clear ring that keeps the ocean of teeming thoughts out of her vulnerable mind. She stops several times to grip Fizzle’s tail and telepathically thank the invisible creature for accompanying her. The champion’s plain clothes and simple cloak help her blend into the crowd, but it is the drab, brown wig that makes the disguise perfect. She considers herself lucky that Sari bluntly pointed out that silver hair, while pretty, would make Dariana stand out like an ogre at a halfling festival. The only problem with the wig is that the nervous woman wants to scratch a blossoming itch. She keeps trying to convince herself that it is a figment of her imagination, but every scrap of attention seems to make the sensation worse. Out of desperation, she turns off the nerves in her scalp before she loses control and reveals herself to the bustling citizens.
Being careful not to stare at anything for too long, Dariana counts the toy stalls as she walks among the shouting merchants and customers. Each of the shops has a colorful sign announcing that a new set of Champion Dolls is coming out in a week. A quick mental scan of the crowd helps her recognize the faces of Selenia Hamilton and Kevin Masterson, which flank the gaudy displays. Listening to the excited whispers, she learns that the toys will include former mercenaries and several monsters from the Caster Swamp. A handful of citizens talk about wanting Dawn Fangs in the next set and Dariana picks up that a few of them are vampires themselves. It amazes her that creatures known for such brutality and violence have been swept up in the trend. Her attention is eventually drawn to one of the smaller stalls where a group of children are innocently playing with the display items and the storeowner is putting out more of his wares.
“Excuse me, sir,” Dariana says as she approaches, bowing to the portly halfling. “I’m new in Gods’ Voice and I was curious about all these toys. What are they and where did they come from?”
“Not sure what you mean by that first question,” the bald merchant answers as he finishes stacking a display of Sari dolls. He catches the hand of a small girl, moving it to one of the higher items that she can remove without knocking the others down. “These are nothing more than toys and collectibles. Customers enjoy them because the people they’re based on are alive and adventuring right now. At least the champion set. The upcoming ones are rumored to be retired or dead mercenaries with some monsters thrown in for fun. I’m rather surprised Selenia Hamilton agreed to this considering her reputation. Then again, I don’t know for a fact that she knows about these things. They might not have reached her academy yet.”
“So these toys appear out of nowhere?” Dariana asks, confused by the children laughing behind her. “I’m sorry if I said something foolish. I’m from a very small village to the south, so this is all very overwhelming.”
“Toys don’t appear out of thin air, lady,” an Elven girl proudly replies as she holds a Nyx doll to her chest. She makes its eyes glow and happily spins, releasing the sparks in a halo around her body. “Gnomes arrive with boxes that hold the toys. Then people like Mr. Coret sell them to parents. Then kids play with them until they break and our parents buy new ones when we’re no longer in trouble.”
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br /> “Thank you for answering the young lady’s question, little one,” the storeowner tells the girl while patting her on the head. He gives the child a few pieces of candy, which she slips into her pocket before the other kids notice them. “The truth is that we don’t know exactly where these toys came from, but we know they’re safe. Rumor says the factory is in the north, which would make sense since they’re spreading south. Again, we don’t know and nobody can recognize the material or the craft sigil.”
“I’m sorry, but I don’t know what a craft sigil is. I looked at one of these yesterday and I didn’t see any markings.”
“Hey, kids! Go use your figures in the Gaian Arena set while I talk to this nice lady,” Mr. Coret says, gesturing for the children to leave. He watches them hurry to the other side of the wide stall before facing Dariana again. “You’re lucky you got me when it was slow. This place is going to be a mess in an hour. Now every handmade item that’s sold in a marketplace has a craft sigil, which allows us to keep track of the profit cut that we send to the artisan every two to three weeks. Unlike food and raw materials, finished products are bought by merchants with a little money upfront and a cut of the final sale. For items that require a certain aesthetic, such as these toys, the identifying mark is hidden in some fashion. Gnomes love putting layered illusion sigils on their inventions. You have to look through the spells, but they shift and regenerate rather quickly. Try it on this doll by staring at the bottom of its foot.”
Mr. Coret tosses the curious champion a Delvin figurine that looks like it was run over by a wagon. It is missing all of its gear and the dented head is stuck facing backwards. The pathetic sight makes Dariana feel sorry for her friend who she knows is already unhappy with the plainness of his replica. Pretending to have trouble dispelling the subtle magic, she gingerly turns the toy upside down and focuses on the feet. Her noses scrunches and her brow furrows, earning a few giggles from the nearby children. Illusions swiftly peel away before her eyes to reveal an engraved symbol that resembles a coil-shaped ‘N’ surrounded by a cloud. The craft sigil fades away after a few seconds, so she hands the damaged toy back to the halfling.
“Thank you for answering my questions, sir,” Dariana whispers, pulling a few silver coins out of her pocket. She hands the money to Mr. Coret and takes a Sari doll, the figure dressed in a blue top and yellow skirt. “Good luck with your business today. May you sell all, but your shirt and shoes.”
“Was that one of the old world merchant greetings?”
“I come from a very traditional family and the ancient phrases have been passed down,” she nervously replies, pretending to rub her shoulder while really stroking Fizzle’s tail. Blushing and fiddling with the Sari doll’s box, she slowly backs into the crowd and bows her head. “Thank you for your help. If I have any more questions or want any of the other dolls then I promise to visit you again. By the way, is there a new villain coming out in the next set because I’ve heard a few people wondering about that? Like an ancient evil or something more menacing than a Lich and a Hellfire Elf.”
Mr. Coret rubs his bald, shiny head as he thinks about the product list he received this morning. “I’ve heard the same rumors, but the closest thing we have coming are Krypter toys. I think I saw something about an evil gypsy too. Guess we have to wait until the champions reach the end of their path before we get that ancient evil toy. Have a good day, ma’am.”
Nodding to the halfling, Dariana disappears into the crowd and weaves her way to a distant alley. Sensing that nobody is lurking within the narrow passage, she hides behind a stack of crates and focuses on scanning the citizens. Her father’s name is on the surface of the entire populace, but is not in their conscious memory yet. Dariana is about to break contact when she feels the information slip away from every mind at once. Entering a trance, the telepath probes further to follow the elusive thought until she is forced to pull away or risk getting lost within the dense web of minds. When her eyes open, the champion is surprised to find that she is sitting down and Fizzle is licking her face.
“Dariana out for ten minutes,” the drite mentions as he perches on her lap. “Dariana slip down wall and stare to nothing. What see?”
“I saw what Gabriel was talking to Nyx and Sari about,” she replies while slipping the wig off her head. She revives the nerves in her scalp and scratches madly at the irritating itch. “I will never wear one of these things again. How can anyone think straight when their flesh is trying to reject such an abomination?”
“Fizzle help,” the dragon declares before hitting her in the face with a puff of rainbow smoke. “All better.”
“Thank you for that,” Dariana says, blinking the stars from her eyes and rubbing her tingling ears. She finds herself enamored with the circular motion of her thumbs, which she continues doing as she talks in a slurred voice. “As I was saying, my father’s name is lurking beneath the surface. It’s typically trapped within the curse piece that every person has embedded in their mind. Once a person hears and retains his name, the general memories can come back. Gabriel makes it sound like the population of Windemere will remember every detail, but it’s more that people will know he was an evil warlord who gained great power and should be feared. Kind of like how a rabbit instinctively knows to be afraid of an approaching snake only on a greater scale. The overall effect is supposed to be gradual, even for the champions who are in the position to learn about all of his deeds. Regaining everything in an instant would drive an average person insane, which is the threat that comes from these toys. Thankfully, children seem to be immune to the danger. I sensed that their curious minds are so close to perpetual dream states that they naturally pass off glimmers of the memories as spontaneous nightmares. Still a world where every adult has gone mad is no place for children.”
“What we do now?”
“Return to the castle and find the source of these dolls.”
The sound of people shouting and rushing through the streets causes Fizzle to turn invisible. He clings to Dariana’s head as she hurries back to the marketplace and finds all of the stores have been hastily closed. The area is deserted, but thousands of voices talking at once can be heard from the direction of Solomon Castle. Even with the protection of her ring, a wall of excited thoughts makes it difficult for Dariana to uncover what is happening. Every mind she touches is filled with images of the other champions, the visions speeding by at an unnatural pace. Probing into the auras of the crowd, she breaks into a sprint when she catches a taste of Sari’s sweet energy leaping from one citizen to another. Fizzle strains his wings to keep up with his companion until he conjures a breeze to rocket by her. Both of them come to an abrupt stop when they turn the far corner of the marketplace.
“This no good,” the drite mutters at the sight of the enormous crowd.
They cannot tell how many people are between them and the distant castle, the mob so thick that Dariana has to climb the nearest structure to see ahead. She reaches the top of the apartment building while several people yell for her to come down and get back in line. The group of citizens already on the roof surprises her, so she smiles politely and runs along the eave. With a boost to her muscles, she leaps over a clogged street and continues making her way back to her friends. It is not a subtle way of traveling, which earns her a lot of attention from the people that are stuck traveling along the street. Most of the impatient crowd is screaming at her by the time she lands on a tavern that stands near the moat, their anger confusing Dariana who has no idea what she did wrong. Fearing that they are going to attack, the champion wipes the memory of her from everyone’s mind and ducks behind a chimney. She coughs and reaches up to wipe away the blood dripping from her nose, an aftereffect of influencing so many minds at once while enhancing her own body. Peeking around the corner, she follows the gaze of the elated mob to the lowered drawbridge and her heart sinks.
“We’re here to answer a few questions that you might have!” Sari shouts to the crowd, her voice heard clea
rly across the city. The gypsy stands in the middle of a raised dais while the others awkwardly stand behind her. “Now my friends and I decided that I’ll be the one talking because everyone else is scared of the attention. That or they’ll simply ramble on and become terribly boring.”
Fizzle lands on top of the chimney and hisses for Dariana’s attention. “Got to friends and they speak. Nyx say problem with curse undone by true knowledge. Sari plan to spread fake knowledge to stop damage. Timoran say it only tem . . . temp . . . small fix. We leave Gods’ Voice after this.”
“That isn’t going to happen easily,” the silver-haired woman says as they listen to Sari spew lie after lie to the audience. Every story fills Dariana with dread because she knows the gypsy is going too far with her tales and is on the verge of losing control of the crowd. “These people can’t possibly believe we’re treasure hunters who want to find the missing artifacts of Windemere. There are thousands of lost items in our world’s history. Won’t people wonder which ones we’re looking for and why? This entire plan is only going to make it harder to get out of Gods’ Voice. The crowd won’t leave the area because they’ll want more. We’re going to need help from the guards to get out of here and we’re leaving a mess in our wake.”
The Merchant of Nevra Coil (Legends of Windemere Book 8) Page 7
