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

by Charles E Yallowitz

  “You’re being awfully polite,” the champion says as she touches Catarina’s arm. A pulse of energy moves through the gnome and she begins to shudder out of the enchantment. “I prefer to have another set of ears and eyes for this. Not that I don’t trust you, but Ms. Warrenberg might have some insight that will help us.”

  The crimson-robed caster scowls and licks his scaly lips, but shrugs his acceptance. “I doubt it because all I bring are orders and warnings. Still she is part of this adventure, so it would be rude to leave her out.”

  “So your treatment of me really is personal.”

  “I never said it wasn’t.”

  The gnome fully awakens to the sight of Isaiah and Dariana staring at each other, the fireskin’s eyes narrowing into yellow slits. The telepath considers reading his thoughts, but she would be too tempted to make a few changes to his memories. After years of being distrusted and hated by this bulky dragon-man, she is not sure she can hold back her darker urges. From his sneer, Dariana knows that he has the advantage in this encounter and will probably always be in control of their meetings. Without her friends, she does not have the strength to stand up to Isaiah and push for an answer to why he hates her.

  “I’ll sit here quietly unless you need me or I have something essential to add,” Catarina interrupts while going back to her meal. As an afterthought, she hands the rest of the bread to Dariana and slides a tray of butter across the bar. “Best not to fight and argue on an empty stomach. I have a feeling you’re going to need the energy.”

  “Good to see you have an ally with wisdom,” Isaiah says with a polite bow to the inventor. He approaches the women and lifts Dariana’s chin with the rounded emerald of his staff, the cold surface making her uncomfortable. “The only person who can return your companions to their bodies is Yola Biggs and she’s trapped in the ocean. I’m sure you could track her if you tried, but you need to retrieve her too. That means you need to be in two places at once because you are the only one who can locate the other champions. At least to some extent. It does appear that something is blocking you from progressing quickly. Time is of the essence considering Yola is the only one who can repair Nyx and Trinity too.”

  “Repair?” both women ask.

  Isaiah turns around and waves his staff to create illusions of Nyx and Trinity in the center of the room. Their bodies are crackling with lightning and a fiery energy emanates from the deepest part of their core. The pulsing magic becomes a horrifying light that swiftly roils out of control, the flames leaving shimmering burn marks on whatever they touch. When the channelers’ auras meet, the two powers bash into each other like battling rams. The tavern shakes while the air heats up, causing the frozen patrons to sweat. With a screeching explosion, the room is wiped away in a wave of darkness, leaving only those who are still conscious. Nervously perched on her chair, Catarina drops her spoon and watches it plunge into the endless abyss beneath their feet.

  “I hope that comes back,” she mutters, her stomach still growling. The utensil returns to her hand and the bowl of remaining stew materializes before her eyes. “Thank you. I’ve a feeling this will help me be calm while I hear this.”

  “The channelers blocked enough of Yola’s spell so that they kept their bodies. Their defenses weren’t enough to protect them entirely, which resulted in their minds being broken,” Isaiah explains while the tavern gradually returns to normal. To help drive his darkness spell away, the fireskin repeatedly taps his staff on the floor. “They have been placed in a facility and their memories have been altered to slow their mental degradation. We don’t know the details of Yola’s spell, but we do know that it has caused their auras to build like water behind a dam. A meltdown from channelers with the power of Nyx and Trinity could destroy most of Windemere. At the very least, Ralian would be turned into an ocean-filled crater.”

  “So it isn’t enough that I find my friends, but I need to find Yola too,” Dariana says as she crosses her legs and closes her eyes. “How long do we have before the explosion? We have a week to save the others, so I’d like to know which is more urgent.”

  “If the servants of Zelacryd keep them under control then you have a little more than a week,” the caster replies while scratching his chest. He flicks a dead scale away, the missing patch exposing pink skin beneath his natural armor. “The timing of both situations match up, which took an extra push from Gabriel. He has struggled to control some of this disaster without overstepping his boundaries. I trust this toy problem will be settled soon.”

  Catarina raises her empty glass to Isaiah and smirks. “We’re working on a way to make everyone happy. Let’s focus on getting your champions back in their bodies and preventing two channelers from exploding. Besides, all production has been halted until this is handled and we can create a curse protection system. Are you ready to go, Dariana?”

  “I’m sorry, but I need everyone to be quiet while I concentrate,” the telepath requests while she keeps herself on the edge of a deep trance. “This must be done very carefully. If I’m broken out of my mind too early then it will fail and I will be useless for days. I should mention that I will need a night’s rest after this, but we can discuss that later.”

  With a droning hum, Dariana plunges into her mind and drifts to the silent center of her psyche. The pristine core resembles a bubble that is spinning within a white chamber. A thin blade grows from the telepath’s right arm as she circles the primal source of her essence and abilities. Releasing a slow breath, Dariana cuts the core in half and captures one of the pieces before they can recombine. As her body shudders, she forces the new core out of her mind and it appears over the empty barstool next to Catarina. With a hissing burst of energy, another Dariana forms around the ivory bubble and hops to her shaky feet.

  “I will track down Yola Biggs and the main me will stay here,” the new Dariana states while her shirt changes from white to red. She gives off a powerful air of confidence and determination that makes her seem like a different person. “Once one of us finishes our mission, we’ll merge where we are still needed. At least I think that’s how this works. To be honest, I’ve never done this for anything more than scouting. So I will go out and return as soon as I can. Good luck to all of you and keep the other me in one piece.”

  “You got it,” Catarina whispers as she watches the double sprint out of the tavern. She turns to ask Isaiah a question and finds that the fireskin has disappeared, everyone is moving again, and the original Dariana has fallen to the floor. “This is why I stay in my lab. Anybody know where we can get a room?”

  *****

  The docks are busy as the sun disappears and the green moon rises, urging the sailors to finish their tasks before dark. Ships of all sizes and styles have dropped anchor, most of them merchant vessels from around the world. All of the vessels have raised their sails and thrown out extra mooring lines in preparation for a windy night. Brave gulls swoop at the scraps of fish that the local fishermen have left behind and a few brown pelicans lazily perch on the wooden pylons. Several sailors are leaning over the ships’ railings to talk to the friendly sea elves who are preparing to return to the Island of Pallice. A few more deals are made for the rare deep sea items that only they can reach before the small group of aquatic merchants dive into the rising tide. With the sun nothing more than a sliver on the horizon, the hard-working seamen talk of the day’s adventures and the desire for a warm meal. Even as the shadows stretch, the docks are filled with boisterous energy that puts a smile on everyone’s face.

  The confident Dariana patiently sits on the edge of the dock, her bare feet dangling over the lapping waves. She notices a large form swimming beneath her and sends a gentle warning to the shark that it best hunt away from the city. A few sailors call out casual warnings to those scraping barnacles off their ships when they see the giant fin rise out of the water. The champion is impressed how they refuse to panic in the presence of such a dangerous predator, which makes it more difficult for her to choose
a ship. After scanning the minds of the sailors for a few hours, she has only learned that the open ocean is not a place for the timid. She cringes when the sea shanties appear in her mind again, the catchy tunes having outgrown their amusement a long time ago.

  “Is there anything I can help you with?” an old sailor asks as he approaches Dariana. He is covered in heavy clothes and his circular hat is so low that it nearly covers his blue eyes. “It’s going to become rather lonely out here in about an hour. Be a shame if you miss your chance to get whatever you’ve been waiting for.”

  “Thank you, sir, but I shouldn’t be much longer,” she replies as she reaches out to scan the man’s mind. She finds herself slipping on his psyche, the difficulty reminding her of walking on ice. “I haven’t felt that sensation since before the Great Cataclysm. Though, I thought all of the placids were wiped out during that time.”

  “We still have a few colonies hidden around the world,” the man says with a yellow-toothed grin. He removes his gloves and rolls up his sleeves to show that his arms are made completely out of pristine water. “I’m only a half-river, but it’s enough to make me interesting. Much like someone old enough to remember the old Windemere. By the way, the name is William ‘Drip Fingers’ Lacyn. You can add a captain if you wish, but I’m humble.”

  “Dariana,” the telepath replies before accepting the old man’s handshake. She is surprised that the touch of his watery skin is wet, but solid like real flesh. “You don’t seem phased by my age.”

  “It’s in your eyes,” William claims as he sits next to her. He removes his hat and places it on his lap, his thumb running along one of the seams. “I’m sorry if I sound insulting, but they look old. Something about the way you stare at things tells me that you’ve seen much throughout your life. You’re possibly even a little confused about what’s around you now. Being alive for so long would explain that and I’ve seen enough strangeness out there to believe anything is possible. After all, the gods exist.”

  “And did they send you to help me?”

  The sailor runs a hand over his thinning hair, which makes the locks slick and moist. “A fireskin told me you needed assistance and that he was tired of watching you waste precious time. Something about needing to find a lost goddess and rescuing the champions that everyone is talking about these days. I wouldn’t have paid him any mind if not for a few stories I’ve heard from a fellow captain. Well that and the money he gave me.”

  “That bastard won’t let me handle things at my own pace,” Dariana growls, scanning the docks for Isaiah. She finds him in a tavern and makes him belch several times as he orders a drink, leaving the caster apologizing profusely to the disgusted waitress. “So he hired you to help me. I’m surprised he didn’t recruit you into his fake organization. When do we depart?”

  “Actually, I already have a job for tomorrow, so I’m handing over most of the money to you,” William admits before tossing a bag of gems to the scowling woman. He plucks a few sapphires from the collection and tucks them into his pocket. “The rest will get you a ship and crew for your journey. Look for the one with a winged horse figurehead. The captain is an old friend who loves these kinds of adventures. Woman by the name of Claria Furytide. Tell her I sent you and she’ll give you some consideration.”

  Dariana grabs the edge of the dock and flips to her feet, gaining the applause of a nearby crew. “Thank you, Captain Lacyn.”

  With a final bow to William, she jogs toward the south side of the dockyards in search of the suggested ship. Dariana finds the small vessel sitting between a pair of fully-armed dreadnaughts that fly the peacock crest of Duke Solomon. The winged horse of her destination shimmers with magic and its paint matches the dark blue sails that are carefully being furled. Most of the crew are halflings who move around the deck and rigging with mesmerizing acrobatics, all of them singing the song that the telepath recently got out of her head. A pair of dwarves grunt as they move heavy crates and bags of supplies across the deck, their blonde beards braided with dried seaweed. Standing at the helm of the slender ship is a gorgeous female orc who is wearing a black tunic and ivory pants. Her hat is adorned with two long feathers and she has a bandolier of daggers across her chest. The tall captain towers over her diminutive crew, which makes her seem even more imposing.

  The gangplank has already been lifted, so Dariana effortlessly leaps onto the ship. The moment she lands, the sailors stop what they are doing to draw their weapons and surround the intruder. Their steely eyes and steady hands make the telepath smirk, which causes a few halflings to take a cautious step back. The dwarves muscle their way through the crowd and aim heavy crossbows at Dariana, the powerful bolts designed to puncture the hull of a ship. Still at the helm, Captain Furytide watches the silver-haired woman and yawns.

  “I really hope you have a good reason for this,” the blonde orc announces as she juggles a pair of dice. She rolls them on the deck and calls them back to her gloved hand as soon as they stop. “You have four minutes to explain yourself. Otherwise my men will escort you off my ship and I don’t mean back onto the dock.”

  “Captain Lacyn sent me here,” Dariana calmly answers. The captain draws a cutlass and leaps to the lower deck, her bare feet hitting the wood with a thud. “I have a job and he couldn’t take it. He said you were into adventures.”

  “That man is a cowardly worm, but he’s right,” Claria states while she makes her way through her crew. She stops in front of Dariana, bringing them nose to nose in an attempt to intimidate the slightly shorter woman. “My crew and I love a good treasure hunt. Though, I sense you’re looking for something else. I don’t smell the musk of an old map and you wouldn’t be so bold if you had something like that memorized. That kind of attitude can get you killed. I think I’ll give you an extra minute because I’m curious.”

  “You’re mercenaries,” the telepath says as she leans on the railing. Her foot twitches when she realizes how easy it would be to kick the captain in the chin. “I have a bag of gems that I’ll give you upfront and five hundred gold coins when we return. The only thing you have to do is bring me out to sea in search of someone.”

  “Sounds too easy, so there has to be a catch. Who are you looking for?”

  “I can only share that information if you take the job.”

  “Well nothing is stopping me from taking your money as compensation for trespassing on my ship. Now tell me what I want to know.”

  “I don’t have time for this.”

  With a flick of her wrist, Dariana throws the bag of gems at Claria’s face. The captain instinctively ducks the pouch, which hits one of the dwarves and opens onto the deck. Nobody moves to touch the glittering jewels as the crew keeps their eyes on the intruder. Dariana hops onto the slick railing and leaps over Claria, who spins to strike with her cutlass. The champion catches the blade between her fingers and locks her opponent’s arm muscles. Her other hand strikes with the speed of a snake and playfully taps her enemy’s forehead, freezing the orc in place. All of the information about Yola Biggs and the trouble she caused in Nevra Coil is delivered to the captain’s defenseless mind. Dariana refuses to release the other woman due to a constant wave of aggression that thickens the air.

  “You want me to chase a goddess?” Claria angrily asks, her snarl revealing her sharp incisors. Leaving her sword in Dariana’s hand, the orc pulls away and draws a dagger to defend herself. “I get that you’re one of these champions and you have the power to defeat my entire crew. You may even be able to take control of us if I refuse. Still, these men are my family and I won’t throw them into this type of danger for such a simple treasure.”

  “I need a ship and you have the fastest in Gaia at this time,” Dariana declares while she thinks of a way to get the captain’s help. Her eyes fall on the cutlass and she flips it in her hand, the edge stopping a hair from her palm. “I can swear on my blood that you and your crew will be safe. The only way harm will come to you is if I die first. I’m ready to swear on y
our figurehead like in the old days.”

  With an exaggerated bow, the blonde-haired orc points her dagger at the winged horse. She is surprised when Dariana walks across the deck and jumps onto the bowsprit. The silver-haired woman hooks her legs around the projection and swings upside down to face the figurehead. She slashes the back of her hand and wipes the blood on the horse’s muzzle, the shallow cut burning at the polished wood’s touch. With a grunt of exertion, Dariana pulls herself back onto the bowsprit and walks back to the gathered crew. She wipes the cutlass clean on her sleeve and returns the blade to Captain Furytide’s scabbard.

  “I guess we’re setting sail,” the mercenary says with a grin. She stomps on the deck three times to spur her men to action. “Welcome to the Ghost Pegasus, Ms. Champion.”

  9

  Doctor Eltzer quietly waits for her patient to speak and uses the break to sip at a glass of ice water. It has been silent for ten minutes, which is not unusual when she meets with Nyx for one-on-one sessions. Unlike her defiant sibling, the half-elf is very timid and spends much of her time curled in a ball on the plush chair. She is braver when she has Trinity to attract most of the attention, but those meetings rarely give the Elven doctor any insight into the soft-spoken woman. After a little over a decade, Nyx still refuses to discuss her dreams and thoughts due to a deep-seated fear of being told she is wrong. It is as if the delusion of being a champion is the only thing she knows even though there is a mountain of proof against it being true. Scowling in response to her deep pity for Nyx, Doctor Eltzer places her drink on the table between them and steeples her fingers to gain her patient’s attention.