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

by Charles E Yallowitz

  “Those toys are marvelous creations, but they were never a true threat to the curse. They can remain even though their purpose is done,” the Destiny God explains with a hearty laugh. He flicks his wrist to create a figurine of himself and tosses it to Zaria, the goddess slicing it into chunks. “I needed to draw Yola out and put her into conflict with Aeriel. Even these powerful champions would never be able to defeat a goddess and this was the perfect way to force her into a mistake. Now she is a dangerous, yet beatable opponent. I was surprised she used Zelacryd for her purposes and rather annoyed that she knew about it in the first place. I could have done amazing things with destinies crafted from the insane. Well there is nothing I can do about it now and I have more important things.”

  The goddess buffers the area with a raging wind that whips her red hair like a beautiful, narrow flame. “I believe you did more harm than good. The champions can no longer enter cities without being mobbed. You put your own prophecy at risk simply to weaken someone that you could have handled centuries ago.”

  “The mortals’ frenzy has already died down. Besides, those who survive will be faced with the same level of admiration and praise. Best to give them a taste of it now.”

  “You are hiding something from me.”

  “I am always hiding something from you.”

  “What did you do?”

  Gabriel grins and takes his companion by the hand, holding it tight when she tries to pull away. “I set some very interesting events in motion. Enjoy the show, my dearest Zaria, because it will be like nothing you have ever seen as well as something you have always dreamed of.”

  16

  “Get back here, Sari!” Kira screams as she charges down the hallway.

  “You say that like I’m going to listen,” the gypsy teases before her vision blurs and she stumbles against a white wall. The underwear-clad champion has only been in her body for fifteen minutes and now she is strongly considering that she made a mistake in antagonizing her rival. “Time out for a bit. I don’t feel very good. Can I get away with apologizing for what I did and we’ll leave the rest for a later date? I’m really sorry that part of me brought up Asher. Are we friends?”

  Kira leaps for Sari like a ferocious cat and slams into the wall when the gypsy ducks out of the way. A thick patch of ice appears beneath the black-haired woman’s feet, causing her to fall awkwardly on her hip. The loud crunch catches the attention of a few nearby nurses, who hurry to locate a doctor and some security. With renewed anger, Kira continues chasing Sari even though she is limping and her prey is stumbling. It is a slow and sad pursuit with both women repeatedly stopping to rest due to pain and dizziness.

  “You broke your promise to me,” Kira says when she backs the gypsy into a corner. She throws a punch, but misses and bangs her knuckles against a metal pipe. “Putrid son of a zombie that hurt! Stop dodging because I owe you this and more. You swore you were going to give Luke up in return for one kiss.”

  “Technically, only part of me promised that. The rest is still interested in competing for his heart even if you’re in the lead,” Sari explains with a cocky smile. She moves to duck under the other woman’s arms, but trips over her own foot and crashes to the tiled floor. “Maybe I should have waited a while before bringing this up. I’m exhausted, cold, and hurt. You’re angry, injured, tired, and irrational. We can discuss this over drinks in a day or two. Preferably while I’m clothed and you’re not carrying that weapon around. Did you really have to destroy two water machines and whatever that blinking pole on wheels was?”

  “I guess my kusari-gama was over the top. Hope I can get it unstuck from the ceiling back there.”

  Thinking she has calmed Kira down, Sari gradually stands and adjusts what little clothing she is wearing. She opens her mouth to talk, but the heiress tackles her against a metal cart of fresh bedding. The women wrestle among the clean linens while smacking and kicking at each other. Sari wraps a pillowcase around Kira’s head and flips her to the side, scrambling to all fours before a sloppy kick to the thigh knocks her down again. She rolls away to give herself some space, but she traps herself against the wall. Kira is on her and rearing back for a punch to the face when a nearby door opens.

  “I’m sorry, but I’m exhausted,” Dariana says with a yawn. Her eyes flutter and she comes close to falling asleep, but she shakes her head clear. “You two are making a lot of noise and I would appreciate it if you did this somewhere else. Otherwise, I will switch your minds and fix it when I wake up in a few days.”

  “You really wouldn’t do that, would you?” Sari asks as she stands. A violent punch to her face sends the gypsy tumbling into the pile of sheets. “Really, little princess? I thought a sucker punch was beneath you. Are you happy now?”

  “I got what I wanted,” Kira replies with a satisfied grin. She cringes when she flexes her fingers, noticing that two of them are broken. “Get some rest, Dariana. You need it more than the rest of us.”

  The silver-haired champion mumbles an agreement and watches the heiress limp down the hallway. Sari gives her friend a gentle hug before following Kira, the gypsy cautious enough to stay several yards behind her rival. A few gnomes wander out of a nearby room and go about cleaning the mess. Noticing their patient bending down to help, they politely get Dariana to leave the work to those who are paid to do such things. The nurses hand her a fresh pillow that gives off a soothing warmth and one of them leads her back into the room where she collapses on the messy bed.

  Knowing that she still has a guest, Dariana forces her aching body to turn over and glances at the quiet form sitting in the corner. All of the windows have been dimmed to block the midday light, but the one in front of Yola Biggs remains clear. The former goddess is balanced on the back of a tan couch, her foot tenderly stroking the arm of Trinity who is still in a healing slumber. Yola sighs wistfully as she reaches through the window and stretches her arm to pet a nearby Lizard. The beast licks her fingers, but she is too sad to react with her usual childish excitement. She waves to the startled driver and pats the gnome on the head before letting the transport continue on its way.

  “Are you going to be okay, Yola?” Dariana asks. She cannot remember the ancient deity ever being so melancholy and the change unnerves her. “I’m concerned that you’re having trouble with your decision. You’re not acting like yourself.”

  “Imagine if someone was to remove your pinky toes,” Yola explains while retracting her arm and sliding onto the couch. She arches her body to avoid waking Trinity, her spine bending like a flexible sapling. “You could continue living and maybe get used to them being gone, but things will always be different. That is what I am feeling right now. Over time, I will accept that I lost my title, my followers, my temples, and a piece of my power. For now, I’m sad and wondering if there was another way to get out of the situation without sacrificing almost all that I’ve ever known. Well possibly turning Aeriel into a plump bullfrog and cooking her over a fire. Gabriel and Zaria would have been a problem, but I could have escaped after killing that bratty godling.” The immortal wipes a few tears from her eyes and flicks them into a potted fern, which becomes a twisted cactus. “How do you live like this, little Dari?”

  “I don’t understand.”

  “How do you survive among mortals when you’re so much more?”

  “The same way you did.”

  “Threatening to eat their children? Blissful ignorance? Actually eating their children?”

  Dariana groans as she gets off the bed and walks over to the couch, her settling joints popping with every step. She takes Yola’s hand and places it on Trinity’s brow, the sleeping chaos elf smiling at the soft touch. A smirk crosses the former goddess’s face as she remembers the fun she has had with the young Queen. Even though they have only known each other for a mere fraction of her existence, the ancient being realizes that most of her happiest memories have come from the mortal creature next to her.

  “Before Trinity, the leaders of the
chaos elves sought to either avoid or kill me,” Yola whispers, sitting down to place her best friend’s head in her lap. “I thought all mortals were foolish insects because they feared real power. Then this five-year-old princess walked up to me and told me that I didn’t seem scary. She said I needed someone to look out for me and she would be that person in return for protection. I tried to threaten her, but she held her ground and . . . I don’t remember how we became friends. She keeps me centered and stops me from doing things that will hurt innocent people.”

  “You have a friend and that is what will help you survive,” Dariana states before a long yawn envelopes her voice. She wavers on her feet and tries to use her powers to boost her energy, but she is unable to get even a spark of energy from her mind. “I never had friends before now, so I lived for the prophecy and accepted it as my everything. To be honest, I’m rather envious that you were able to live free and with a friend for all these years. I was always alone because the previous champions never trusted me. When I was asleep, I knew it was only my past and dreams, so there has always been a sense of isolation in my life.”

  “You could have always sided with your father to avoid that fate,” the green-haired woman casually replies. She forces an innocent smile, which causes the corners of her mouth to reach the edge of her ears. “I should be getting Trinity home and accept my punishment. Giving up my power will not sit well with your father. I wonder if I can handle the same amount of punishment as I used to.”

  Dariana returns to the bed before her legs give out and she collapses across the sheet. “You don’t have to go back to Shayd. Deliver Trinity and travel the world, Yola. My father can’t stop you from living your life. We both know you’re still stronger than all of his agents. You can be free from the game.”

  The Keeper of Chaos turns into a furry serpent and slithers out from under Trinity. She takes her human form as she approaches the bed and waves her hand over the champion. Invisible hands strip Dariana of her clothes, the garments left neatly folded and clean on a chair. The younger immortal is levitated while the blanket covers her body, leaving only her head and feet exposed. She is turned so that her head lands on the pillows before she is released from the soft wrapping and tucked in like a sick child. The soothing warmth of the pillows and mattress sap the last of Dariana’s strength and her eyes close even though she is trying to stay awake.

  “I owe your father a lot for taking me in during my exile,” Yola explains while she changes the color of the sheets to red. She wrinkles her nose at the sight and snaps her fingers to return them to their original boring white. “Besides, I agree with him. The Law of Influence creates too much order in this world and throws things out of balance. My brother is happy about it, but the law always tied my hands. How can a Chaos Goddess sow the seeds of her craft when she is placed under a strict rule? So I will continue to help Arthuru in his desire to conquer the world and find a way to undo the gods’ only law. Then I will be free to see the world, relax, juggling whales, turn Aeriel’s lungs into porcupines, and whatever else comes to mind.”

  “Then I’ll see you on the battlefield. I really don’t want to hurt you, Yola.”

  The former goddess coats Dariana in a layer of black dust that sticks to the blankets and induces a deep slumber. Floating an inch off the floor, Yola returns to Trinity and cradles the chaos elf in her slender arms. The final window dims when she steps through the wall and into the bustling traffic of Nevra Coil. None of the gnomes notice Yola and Trinity floating away, the vehicles passing through their translucent bodies without harm.

  “I still have you to take care of too,” the former goddess whispers to the snoring channeler in her arms. Seeing a passing helicopter, Yola grows rotor blades from her back and zooms into the distance. “You’re such a handful, your majesty.”

  *****

  Nyx awakens to the sight of a white-tiled ceiling that causes her to jump out of bed. The jolt of pain behind her throbbing eyes drives her back onto the mattress, which is comfortable and soft. The half-elf realizes that she is no longer in Zelacryd when she spies a painting on the wall to her right. The expertly done sunflower is bright and invigorating unlike the drab pictures of the asylum, many of which she vaguely remembers turning to ash during her battle with Trinity. Fresh air slips through a cracked window causing tears of joy to run down Nyx’s cheeks. Rolling onto her side, she buries her face under the pillows like a child who does not want to get out of bed. A chill runs up her spine from the breeze, the backless hospital gown and simple underwear doing nothing to keep her weakened body warm.

  As the cobwebs leave her mind, the memories of her true life and the one she lived in Zelacryd come flowing back. Many of the visions connected to the asylum appear and vanish in the blink of an eye, the expected anguish and confusion never materializing. Nyx wonders how her thoughts can be sorted so easily until she senses another presence in her head. At first she thinks it is Dariana, but a mischievous cackle and the brief sight of a black and white gremlin tells her otherwise. Scampering around her mind, the scrawny creature seems to shush her before going back to work on repairing the damage its mistress caused. Nyx smiles when the last memory to be put in its proper place is the one of kissing Delvin in the Garden of Uli. She frowns when the gremlin makes sloppy smooching noises and giggles mockingly at the precious scene.

  “Thanks for fixing me, Yola,” the half-elf whispers, the pain in her head disappearing. The gremlin appears on her chest and pats her on the head before dispelling into mist. “I forgive you for what you did. Just don’t take me away from my family again.”

  “Who Nyx talk to?” Fizzle asks from the high shelf he is resting on. The flesh and blood drite hops onto the bed to nuzzle the smiling channeler. “Fizzle happy Nyx okay. Worried since woke up. Others worry too, but they no heal like Fizzle. Also Sari get in trouble with Kira. Luke already eat buffet. Delvin moody. Timoran still Timoran.”

  “Slow down, Fizzle,” Nyx requests as she reaches out to stroke his smooth-scaled face. “I’m getting stronger by the second, but something feels . . . wrong. Give me a minute to gather my wits and make sure I’m okay.”

  Nyx cringes at the sound of her rumbling stomach, which goes on for several seconds. A bowl of fruit catches her eye and she attempts to use magic to bring it to the bed. Nothing happens and she sits up to extend her hand in case she is too weak to cast without gestures. All she feels is a dull tickling beneath her skin that turns into an uncomfortable burning if she pushes her aura too hard. Getting hungrier by the minute, Nyx swings herself out of bed and her knees buckle when she stands. With muttered curses, she hauls herself back onto the mattress and whimpers at the pins and needles sensation running through her numb legs.

  “Can you get that fruit for me, Fizzle?” she sheepishly asks. The drite darts to the large bowl and grabs the rim with all four feet to awkwardly place it on his friend’s lap. “Thanks. You can have all of the apples. I’m famished, but I want to share.”

  “You sick and need strength,” Fizzle says while he picks a yellow apple. He takes his time eating it to avoid making his usual glee-induced mess. “Nyx going okay?”

  “I’ll be fine after some rest,” the channeler answers while peeling an orange. She greedily licks the sweet juice from her fingers, but sighs when she is unable to erase the stickiness with her magic. “My aura is dormant for now, but it doesn’t feel as bad as it has in the past. The previous times this happened, my body felt like something was stolen from me. There was a sense of violation and a fear that my magic will never return. Well, this time it feels more like I broke my leg and I only need to give it time to heal. I’m not happy about it, but I’m home and with my family again. That makes this temporary issue a lot easier to deal with. At least I can still sense magic around me, so I won’t be useless if we leave before I recover.”

  “We wait for you heal. Too dangerous out there. Stephen hurt you like this.”

  “Yes, but I have you and the others to protect m
e,” Nyx replies, hiding the feeling of doubt that wriggles into her heart. She fights the urge to imagine what it would be like to face Stephen without her powers and the brief thought nearly makes her vomit. “Let’s not talk about him. I have a vague idea of what happened to all of you, but I want to hear the stories. I’m sure you had more fun than I did.”

  Fizzle finishes his apple by swallowing the core, his unusual silence filling the room with tension. The drite stretches his tail and yawns as he figures out how to explain what is on his mind. Even after spending the last few days thinking about his secret plan, he is not sure how to present it to Nyx. The longer he ponders his brewing decision, the more he realizes that it is a big step and he cannot do it without the channeler’s help.

  “Fizzle meet little boy in Gaia. Jack his name and he five and his parents die so he live in sewers,” the drite explains as he sits on his haunches. His forked tongue runs along his lips as he struggles to speak clearly. “Fizzle no see why Jack have be in sewers. Why no big people take boy in and share? Fizzle talk to Luke who say it common in cities. That make no sense to Fizzle. There many homes and food and people who can take little ones. Animals in wild take lost ones, but there times they do not. That harsh place and that is rules. Why city people live by same rule when not nec . . neces . . . needed?”

  “It’s complicated and I wish I had a good explanation,” Nyx replies with a half-hearted smile, surprised by the seriousness of her friend’s thoughts. She reaches for a nearby towel to clean her hands so she can cradle the distressed drite in her lap. “There are places that take orphans in and find them new homes. Unfortunately, some kids run away and avoid getting brought to the orphanages in the first place. That’s if it was a possibility to begin with since some have nobody to bring them. Others are too young to know such places exist, which leads to a lot of unsavory situations. I don’t have a good answer for why this happens. It makes me realize I was lucky to have been brought to Rainbow Tower, but I’m a special case.”