The Merchant of Nevra Coil (Legends of Windemere Book 8)

by Charles E Yallowitz

  “I trust you, so you don’t have to make that promise.”

  The pulse of energy travels from her hands through Luke’s brain to deliver a scattering of images. He sees Dariana being delivered to the Baron, but the person carrying her rapidly switches between Stephen and Isaiah. A vision of her screaming over five bloody corpses hangs ominously in his mind, the fireskin appearing to plunge her into a deep trance. He can see from the way she falls and spasms that she is having a violent nightmare. In every image, Dariana is covered in blood that is not her own and Isaiah arrives to cast her into darkness. The final scene is of a small town that is littered with limp bodies, but Luke gets the sense that the people have been turned off instead of killed. The memories are cut off when Stephen materializes and gleefully butchers the comatose people.

  “I’ve done some terrible things in my life,” Dariana states, letting her arms drop to her shivering sides. A trickle of blood slips out of her nose, which she catches with her tongue. “All of it was by accident or self-defense, but it does prove that I’m capable of the brutality that my lineage is known for. Isaiah has good reason to hate me considering how many champions have died by my hand and my inaction. He believes my father would have been defeated by now if I wasn’t involved. I can’t say he’s entirely wrong.”

  “I’m still a little fuzzy on you killing some champions,” Luke admits, ignoring the impatient groan of Nyx. “You told us before that previous groups treated you badly. I can even believe that some might have attacked you when they discovered your lineage. So killing in self-defense is understandable. You lost me at the inaction part.”

  “I simply refused to fight to defend them when they were in danger,” Dariana says, her eyes darting to the floor out of shame. “Can you really blame the protector of the champions for hating a person responsible for the death of so many of his charges?”

  Nyx’s body heats up as she rubs her amethyst necklace. “He could have stopped them from treating you like a threat. I think I understand Isaiah now. His only concern is the prophecy, which is why he saved me from my burning village. It’s even possible that he trained my mother solely to help her live long enough to give birth to me. Maybe her power was added into my father’s dormant channeler essence to create the . . . living weapon that stands before you. Makes me wonder how much he really cares.”

  “I’m sorry that my history with Isaiah has caused you to doubt him,” the telepath says, giving the half-elf an awkward hug. She reaches out to take Luke’s hand and smiles at both of her friends. “Know that he is a good person and fights on our side. I can assure you of that. He and I simply never found a common ground to connect on. That and I’ve attacked him in anger a few times. Once I made him think he was a fisherman and he spent four months in Cerascent before Gabriel was able to stage events that revived his memory.”

  “Wish I could have seen that,” Nyx impishly admits with a smirk. “So about that flawless teleporting?”

  With a defeated sigh, Dariana lets go of the channeler and teleports across the room, her body appearing and reappearing in the blink of an eye. Her muscles ache and she falls in a heap against the wall before her friends can catch her. All she can do is urgently mutter and uselessly flop around like a panicking fish, a trickle of drool slipping out of her mouth. She relaxes when her head is put in Nyx’s lap and Luke holds her hands, their thoughts of concern and worry making her feel like she belongs.

  “I’m the daughter of a goddess, so I can teleport without fail,” Dariana whispers when her voice returns. It is still weak and seems on the verge of vanishing with every word. “The problem is that my body is mortal even if it will last for centuries. I can’t handle the strain without collapsing. The amount of time I’m incapacitated depends on the distance and my physical condition. Before you ask, I can’t teleport with anyone. Not without killing them. I shouldn’t have used this power, but Isaiah upset me and I didn’t want to cause trouble between you and him.”

  “You really need to stop worrying about causing trouble,” Luke says, helping her into a sitting position. All three look at the door when they hear a gentle scratching, the forest tracker catching a familiar scent. “I guess the meeting is over. You can come in, Fizzle.”

  The drite pushes the door open and walks into the room, an odd sight since his friends are used to him flying everywhere. “Isaiah leave, but make door tonight. Aedyn make noise to hide us when escape. Leave in groups of two. Fizzle guard door. Luke with Delvin. Nyx with Timoran. Dariana with Sari. Delvin say get sleep before leave.”

  “I assume there’s more to the plan,” Nyx says, stifling a yawn.

  Fizzle scratches his head with his tail and replies, “If mob sees then run fast.”

  “We’re not even pretending that our plans work anymore, are we?” Luke asks with a nervous laugh.

  *****

  “These are not people who should be worshipped!” the Ymirian priest screams at the top of his lungs. The towering orc grins at the enraged shouts that he gets in response, a thrilling testament to the God of Fury. “They are mere mortals and you bow to them as if they are gods. I should crack all your skulls for such disrespect to the beings that created our world. They sweat and bleed to keep Windemere alive while you shower these mortals with blind adoration. You speak as if these champions are essential to our survival, but there will always be new heroes ready to take the place of the fallen. Losing a god is the loss of a crucial piece of our world and they may never be replaced. So cast your false idols to the ground and forget these fame-whoring adventurers. Be furious with their attempt to coerce you into treating them as legends when they have yet to do anything to merit the title.”

  “That fury priest is really laying into us,” Delvin whispers as he watches Sari and Dariana disappear into an alley. He adjusts his wide-brimmed hat and black cape, but he feels exposed without his chainmail and bastard sword. “Do you think this is going to work, Luke?”

  The half-elf is in the form of Stiletto, so his only response is a shrug. Sniffing the breeze, he carefully walks across the thick, wooden planks that have been placed across the moat. While Luke knows he has nothing to fear from the well-trained sharks, Stiletto is terrified of the predators that are swimming a few feet below. Their curved fins circle beneath the temporary bridge until one of the guards hurls a bloody cow leg into the water. The sharks rush for the meal as the whimpering dog reaches solid land and lies down in the shadows. He keeps a watch even though the crowd is out of sight and loudly arguing with the fury priest who continues to insult their beloved heroes.

  “Remember we take the long way,” Delvin says when he finishes crossing the moat. Stiletto snorts his disapproval of the plan even though he knows it is too late to turn back. “This way all of us aren’t caught in the same spot. Though maybe Timoran and Nyx should have done this route. I understand that the big guy wants to get through the portal quickly, but we might be the least likely team to make an easy escape from a mob. Sari and Dariana would have been a better choice too. Guess I was too concerned with keeping them out of harm’s way. At least most of the crowd is at the front of the castle, so we can sneak around back.”

  With a wave to the guards, the two champions calmly walk along the edge of the moat toward the back wall of Solomon Castle. They are relieved to find the back road is clear of citizens, but they continue their casual pace as they move into the streets. Luke stops when they are passing a tavern, his eyes focused on a drunk who is stumbling his way to the stables. A few seconds after the man disappears, the pair continue at a faster pace and hurry toward the well-lit main road. Delvin repeatedly whispers about being late, creating the illusion of a man and his pet rushing to get home. Luke snorts in amusement when his friend rants about having to watch the dog while his wife goes out to drink with her sister.

  They are so busy keeping up their charade that they fail to hear a crowd approaching from around the corner. On their way to the castle, the mob stops at the sight of the strangers g
oing in the opposite direction. Each of the citizens has a figurine in one hand and either a torch or a wineskin in the other. Most of them are women with a few burly men mixed in, two of which have Fizzle dolls on their shoulders. Delvin and Luke move to the side to let the group through, but the people refuse to move. A young calico hugging a Fritz figurine steps forward to get a better look, her piercing eyes making the champions nervous.

  “You seem familiar,” the woman says, inching closer to the pair. “My name is Solia. What’s your name?”

  “I’m Tavris,” Delvin replies without hesitation. “I was on my way home after walking this damn dog. Sorry to have gotten in your way.”

  The blonde calico anxiously licks her lips and leans forward to peek under the brim of the warrior’s hat. “Your eyes are really blue. If I didn’t know any better, I’d say you were that swordsman from the champion figurines. Not the barbarian or the forest tracker, but the . . . basic guy. What was his name?”

  “Delvin Cunningham!” shouts a voice from the mob.

  “That’s right. I keep forgetting about him,” Solia bashfully admits. Reaching down to pat Stiletto’s head, she recoils and hisses when the dog barks his displeasure. “I was in Freedom when Luke and Delvin met after a battle with pirates. I got to see them spar in the street. In fact, one of the other men was named Tavris.”

  “It’s a fairly common name to the south,” Delvin claims, a bead of sweat trickling down the side of his head. He wonders if Gabriel and Cessia are having fun at his expense, the two gods being the most likely culprits behind this coincidence. “What are the chances of you running into Delvin in such a large city? Especially when you were around for that incident in Freedom. The gods should have better things to do than create such coincidences.”

  “You’re probably right,” she replies with a timid smile. A beardless dwarf hurries out of the crowd to whisper in her ear, his eyes on the noble shepherd. “Are you sure?”

  “Is there a problem with my dog?”

  Solia returns to the group and they talk amongst themselves, each person taking a quick glance at the pair. An orc pushes his way through the small crowd and holds up a box with a glass face. His friends’ excitement is palpable, but the glare from their torches prevents the champions from seeing what is in the lovingly crafted container. When Solia separates from the group, Stiletto and Delvin can feel that something is about to go terribly wrong. For a brief moment, the adventurers believe they can hear the gods laughing at their misfortune.

  “My friend has the first version of Luke Callindor and he had a dog exactly like the one you have. Right down to the fur pattern,” Solia explains, squatting in front of the noble shepherd. She refuses to move when the dog bares his teeth, the growl sounding half-hearted and empty. “His name was Stiletto and he was murdered by the Hellfire Elf. Now we know that Luke takes the form of a griffin that he killed. That was revealed with the new figurine. Many of us believe he’s a spirit channeler like the shamans of the wild tribes. That’s the only explanation for him being able to do what he does since he never learned book magic. So it wouldn’t be farfetched to believe that Luke takes the form of his beloved pet.”

  “That would make sense, but this mutt’s mine,” Delvin stubbornly says while patting Stiletto on the head. “I have to get back to the wife. Enjoy whatever is going on at the castle. Those champions are still holed up inside from what I’ve heard.”

  “It would be really strange to run into Luke and that other guy anyway,” Solia admits while the crowd continues on their way to the castle. “Sorry about bothering you, Tavris. Have a good night.”

  Delvin waits for the entire crowd to round the distant corner before kneeling next to the panting dog. “That was a close one. These people are a lot more intuitive than we originally thought. I can see why Gabriel is worried because our unique abilities will become common knowledge at this rate. If this keeps up then we might have more than the Baron and his agents on our tail. Every ambitious person on the planet will come after us. Let’s get to that portal, Luke.”

  “Ah-ha!” shouts Solia as she jumps out of the nearby ally. “I knew that was you . . . whatever your name is. The champions are out of the castle!”

  “She could have at least remembered my name,” Delvin mutters as he hears charging feet coming toward the street. Turning to run, he sees that Luke is already half a block away. “Thanks for waiting, you damn mutt!”

  Casting the cloak and hat behind him, the warrior sprints down the street. He glances over his shoulder and sees Solia tossing the discarded clothes off her face. The calico is lost within the thundering crowd that swarms out of several alleys and from down the street. In the distance are the shouts and screams of the citizens who surround the castle, the news of the champions being in the city spreading faster than Delvin can run. His heart sinks when he races around a corner and finds that Luke is nowhere to be seen.

  “The guy went this way.”

  “If we catch him then the other champions will show up.”

  “I get to meet Nyx.”

  “You think Fizzle will let me feed him an apple?”

  “I’m going to try and kiss Sari.”

  Delvin ducks into the nearest alley, but sees four people with torches running at him from the other end. He runs backwards from the citizens that are trying to grab him and rushes back to the wide street. Knocking over a few crates, he does his best to slow them down. As he struggles to turn around, he barrels through a pair of elves who drop from the rooftops. For a terrifying second, Delvin thinks they are holding blades, but the objects are nothing more than glossy figurines that have caught the nearby torchlight. The idea that there could be assassins hidden within the crowd drives the warrior to run even faster and fear that someone has already captured Luke. To be safe, he pulls his armored sleeve out of his bottomless pouch and secures it around his left arm. A few squeals of delight erupt from the citizens, several of them staring in awe of the unique item.

  “I didn’t know he had that.”

  “Maybe he isn’t as boring as I thought.”

  “They should put that on his next figurine.”

  “He seems cuter now.”

  Another mob approaches from ahead and forces Delvin to run in the opposite direction of the docks. He skids to a stop when he sees people coming out of every street, torches above their heads and figurines held to their chest. Some of the citizens have crazed, hungry expressions that remind him of a starving cat cornering a mouse. Even more disturbing is that they are in no rush to pounce because they realize he has no way to escape.

  Blasts of holy magic and a roaring screech erupt at the same time, the spells from hundreds of priests plunging the crowd into a trance. The griffin dives to snatch Delvin off the ground and soars over the buildings where Aedyn and the Ymirians are chanting to keep the determined mob at bay. Every street is filled with cheering citizens that wave and shout at the passing beast, a few of them attempting to throw their precious dolls at the champions. The pair notice guards have been stationed at every intersection in an attempt to keep some level of control. To Delvin’s dismay, he sees several fights are breaking out among the citizens. Not wanting to cause any more trouble, the griffin races toward the docks at top speed and plunges into a doorway of emerald light. A purple streak follows the beast and the portal closes with a loud sucking sound, preventing anyone from following.

  *****

  “I missed them,” Yola Biggs says while standing on the rusty spire of a temple. She watches the guards and priests struggle to contain the citizens, the chaos making her feel energized and homesick. “I wonder what I should do next. Go home? Eat some lettuce? Adopt a puppy! Eat a kitten? So many choices.”

  “I’d go with the first choice,” Trinity suggests as she climbs onto the domed roof. The chaos elf yawns and rubs at her fatigue-riddled eyes, the days of nonstop traveling taking a toll on her body. “I landed around Gaia and I’ve been tracking you without sleep for over a week. Pleas
e come home, Yola, before the gods hunt you down. How did you stay hidden from them for so long?”

  With flawless balance, the goddess scratches her head with her foot. “My personality? Could they all be dead? I don’t really know. I kind of forgot about them. Maybe they believe in my cause and I can redeem myself by righting this wrong. Did you know I got my last name because my head was twice the size of my body when I was born? Poor mommy had to be opened up and pieced back together.”

  “Thank you for not giving me a visual like last time. Can we get to the ground before I fall off? You can explain this injustice to me on the flat rooftop over there.”

  Yola teleports them to outside the city where Trinity falls into a patch of aromatic, crimson roses. With a tired groan, she crawls out of the plants and ejects the thorns from her skin with a violent body shiver. Fatigue taking over, the chaos elf rolls onto her back and stares at the starry sky. Trinity is not sure what she is looking at when a cobalt-skinned figurine is held over her face. Cautiously taking it from Yola, she examines the toy with mild interest until she sets off the sparks. They hit her in the face, which causes her to hurl the doll away in surprise.

  “This is what has you upset?” she asks while having the figurine return to her hand. She keeps the toy at arm’s length, afraid of what it might do next. “I saw things like this while I was traveling, but I didn’t give them a very close look. This material is strange. It’s hard like stone, but smooth and shiny like colored glass. Is this supposed to be me? My face looks like I smelled the Lich’s breath on a hot day.”

  “At least you have one,” the goddess childishly pouts. She claps her hands and a shower of energizing rain falls on her friend. “I’ve been with the Baron for longer than most of you, so why should I be ignored? It isn’t fair.”

  “Nobody knows you’re involved and it’s better that way,” Trinity assures her as she feels the strength return to her muscles. The soothing water washes the channeler’s fatigue away and she rolls over to get her back wet. “You’re wanted by your family, so you need to keep a low profile. What were you going to do if you found the champions? From what I saw, they aren’t benefiting from these things. Delvin could have been torn apart.”