“People no try to stop? City folk should help little ones.”
Nyx sighs and grabs a pear from the bowl, turning the hard fruit in her hands as if it holds the answers to the dragon’s question. “Some people do, but most are so busy trying to survive that they don’t realize what’s going on around them. Others ignore the situation intentionally because they feel it is not their problem, they refuse to be sad, or any number of reasons. It’s easier in a small town or village because it’s a closer society. People would be more willing to take in a child because they know them and the family. In a big city like Gaia, you don’t know if a child is a real orphan, pulling a scam, or simply played in the mud all day. Almost like we see them as part of another pack if that helps you understand what I’m trying to say. I wish I could give you a better answer, Fizzle. All we can do is help the less fortunate when we find them and set an example for others.”
Fizzle scratches his head with his tail and flutters out of Nyx’s arms to make lazy circles around the room. He swoops to snag a red apple and eats it while continuing to fly in random patterns. Every few seconds, he talks in a whisper as if responding to a question or arguing with someone. Nyx is sure the drite is talking to someone when he groans in frustration and hovers with his arms and legs crossed, a look of exasperation on his face. He lands with a plop on the pillow next to the half-elf and fixes her with a serious gaze, which is still adorable to his old friend.
“I have a proposal for you,” Fizzle says in Draconic, his voice rich and powerful. He finishes the apple in two big bites and covers his mouth to stifle a burp. “I have grown very fond of the cities and wish to help those who call them home. To do this, I want to help you create a society where children do not suffer. Similar to what Casandra has done for the recently awakened channelers. I know it is impossible to save everyone, but I truly believe that an effort should be made to help those like Jack. They are innocent and must be granted a chance to live a good life. To achieve this new goal, I wish to enter into a magical contract with you. It is similar to what casters do to create familiars, but it is not a master and servant connection. It is an equal partnership where we can share aura, speak through our minds, and read each other’s emotions if needed. I have given you a taste of this by allowing you to perfectly understand my native tongue.”
“This bad way to greet I before me heal,” Nyx wryly replies in her best attempt at speaking Fizzle’s language. She pulls her knees to her chest and struggles to find the correct words. “Me no ruler. Me only channeler and no have aura later. Need one stronger and better with cattle . . . me mean pigs . . . people! What about Visindor Swamp . . . Forest? Me know how Fizzle feel later.”
The dragon grins and pats his friend’s hand with his tail, the scales warm against her cool skin. “Thank you for attempting to speak in my native tongue. You are much better than you believe and we can work on it. My cousin has agreed to assume my duties as guardian of Visindor Forest. He may prefer to eat pinecones over apples, but he is a very brave and powerful drite. I trust he will do an excellent job while I work with you and only you. There is nobody else I would consider making such a bond with, Nyx. Your potential for ruling a kingdom does not matter to me. I trust you and feel that you will do great things in your lifetime. Even if you die against the Baron, you will change the way Windemere works. I would be honored to make such an intimate contract with you.”
“Thank me for that. Me be thirsty to help,” Nyx slowly says, cringing at the words she knows she gets wrong. The half-elf takes a bite of the pear and grunts at the difficulty at trying to eat the unripe fruit. “Me ask wait for heal. No aura to bond and me scared you get hurt. Me know no if channeler spit . . . blood make hungry for magic.”
“I can assure you that such a thing would not happen,” the drite politely declares with a small bow of his head. He hops into the fruit bowl and brings a green apple to Nyx, nudging it into her hand. “Yet I do agree that creating such a bond in your current state could be too much of a strain on your mind and aura. So we will wait until you are well. It would not be right for me to expect an answer now, so take time to consider my offer. If you wish, we can do so after you defeat the Baron and it can be the start of your next adventure.”
“Bear . . . fence . . . deal,” Nyx stutters, extending her hand for a shake. “Why those words so similar? Not even look same when written down.”
“The Draconic language was designed to be spoken with a forked tongue and more saliva than you can produce,” Fizzle replies with a chuckle. He shakes his head and clears his throat before talking in Tradespeak. “Dragons no have written words. Spelling not needed. Darkvawns make one for other races, but we no use. Thank you for help in future.”
“Always happy to help, Fizzle.”
The door to the room bursts open and Nyx reflexively jumps out of bed, her arm pulled back to throw the apple. Her legs give out and she is unable to stop herself from crumpling into a cursing heap on the cold floor. Rolling onto her back, she is relieved to see Sari doubled over in the doorway. The gypsy is gasping for air and holding her aching stomach, signs that she is still recovering from her own ordeal. Nyx grabs the bed to drag herself to her feet and gingerly takes a few stiff steps toward her friend. She stops when Sari looks up to reveal that her left eye is swollen shut and black.
“Fix your face, little sister” the half-elf bluntly says.
“Get some breasts, big sister,” the gypsy snaps before she touches the injury. She ignores the pain and rushes to grab Nyx by the wrist, her tight grip making the half-elf flinch. “We have to go right now. I don’t know how much longer Timoran and Luke can contain him. Just walk off whatever is wrong with you and hurry, Nyxie.”
“What’s going on? What are you talking about?”
Sari bites her lower lip, worried that even a brief explanation will waste too much time. “Delvin is fully recovered. That’s the good news. The bad news is that he’s packed up his gear and is trying to leave Nevra Coil without us.”
Angry and scared, Nyx shoves the gypsy to the side and awkwardly limps toward the doorway. She slumps against the wall and slides to the floor, tears streaming down her face at the thought of being too late. She is about to give up when her arm is draped over Sari’s shoulders and she is practically dragged down the hall.
*****
Delvin calmly sits on the edge of his hospital bed and adjusts the leather straps of his armor sleeve. Unlike the other champions, he is no longer suffering from the negative effects of being returned to his body. The warrior knows it would be easy to force his way out of the room, but he refuses to leave his friends angrier than they already are. Still, the way Timoran supports his weight with the doorframe tells Delvin that Bessaria is more of an obstacle. As if reading his thoughts, the sheep bleats and bristles from where she sits behind the weakened barbarian. Kira is harmless since the heiress is busy pressing a bag of ice to her wrapped hip and Catarina casually rests in the corner, demonstrating no interest in the tension.
The real threat is the fuming forest tracker standing in the middle of the room. Luke is exhausted and he wavers on his feet, but he repeatedly musters a burst of energy to move every time Delvin tries to take back his bastard sword. The heavy weapon is awkward in the half-elf’s sweaty hands and he has dragged the sheathed point across the floor several times in his successful attempts to stop his friend from escaping. Delvin is thankful the weapon is still in its scabbard because its tip would be ruined after the rough treatment it has received at the hands of his friend.
“Try explaining this again,” Luke growls, backing away from the other warrior. He hoists the sword onto his shoulder, the action nearly throwing him off balance.
“I’m going to the Yagervan Plains to see my old tribe and face my past,” Delvin replies, slipping off the bed and taking a step toward the half-elf. He can see his friend’s knees shake and considers swiftly overpowering him. “I don’t want to fight with any of you, but this is something I hav
e to do. The Compass Key is dormant for some reason and many of our enemies are recovering too. This is the perfect time for me to settle my past, which I’ve been running away from for most of my life.”
“I respect your desire to return home, but I must agree with Luke,” Timoran states, rubbing his eyes and struggling to stay awake. “My concern is that we will be attacked or the Compass Key will activate in your absence. I am unclear as to why you desire to take care of this now. What about waiting for the rest of us to recover and we can go together?”
“It’s because he fears that your problems will follow you to his tribe,” Catarina states from her chair. She sips at her hot tea, its soothing flavor washing the tension from her muscles. “He feels that your enemies won’t bother with a simple warrior wandering off on his own. Yola Biggs and Trinity showing up in my factory demonstrates that they are willing to attack you anywhere. From the sound of this Stephen, killing innocent bystanders might even be a goal for them. Keep in mind that Delvin’s people believe him to be dead. He will have a hard enough time coming back from the afterlife without the champion prophecy rearing its head to cause more trouble.”
“That still does not explain why he cannot wait for us to recover and join him,” the barbarian argues as he rubs his aching legs. “It would be wiser for you to face this with the support of your friends.”
“Or wait until we’re done with the Baron,” Luke mutters. He leaps away from Delvin when the warrior makes a grab for the sword. “Still too slow.”
The former mercenary smiles at the half-elf and turns his back as if he is returning to the bed. When he hears Luke take a staggered breath, Delvin whirls around and dives at the weakened warrior. He darts to the side to avoid knocking the forest tracker over and risking an injury. The quicker man effortlessly snatches the bastard sword from the half-elf’s loose grip, a pang of guilt striking his heart at the yelp of surprise.
“I was playing nice, but my patience is wearing thin,” Delvin declares, sidestepping Luke’s sloppy tackle. He catches the forest tracker by the collar and throws him onto a plush chair before raising his sheathed weapon. “The people of Yagervan Plains are superstitious and scared of outsiders. I can work with a small group of simple warriors because the locals are used to mercenaries tracking bounties into their lands. I can’t show up with a barbarian, a telepath, a gypsy, a channeler, a drite, and a famous forest tracker. Yes, Luke Callindor, they have heard of your family even in the nomadic regions. They’ll never trust me with all of you there and that will make settling my past infinitely more difficult.”
“Why do you have to do this now?” Luke asks, swatting at the blade. He scowls when Delvin moves the weapon away from the strike and brings it back to its original position. “Fine. I’m weak and you’re strong. Put the sword down and I’ll behave.”
The brown-haired warrior lowers his weapon, but remains ready to raise it again at a moment’s notice. “There are many reasons that I want to do this now, but mostly because I can’t let it linger for too long. The further we move along our path, the less likely I’ll have time to face whatever is waiting for me in the plains. Besides, I don’t feel like I’m in any position to be with the rest of you. Hearing what people thought of me . . . Well, I think they’re right. I might be smart and good at making plans, but that doesn’t feel like it’s enough. All of you are casting pretty big shadows and I think I’m getting lost in them. I’m not used to feeling so inadequate and it’s creating too much doubt for me to be comfortable going into battle with all of you. Not with the stakes that tend to come with our adventures. So, this journey is one that I have to make on my own. I need to get my confidence back and feel like your equal even if I don’t get any magical tricks or incredible physical abilities as a champion.”
“I understand your reasoning, but it does seem a little selfish,” Timoran says with a gentle sigh. He nods at the defiant look on the other warrior’s face, the expression flickering into one of worry for a brief moment. “Perhaps we should wait and discuss this when we have had more time to recover. Your conviction seems to be wavering, my friend, which tells me that you are rushing yourself.”
“If it means anything, I think Delvin is doing the right thing,” Kira interjects from where she is sitting. She tosses the icepack into the nearby sink and meets Luke’s angry glare with a condescending roll of her eyes. “I can’t be the only one to have noticed that either the Baron, Stephen, or Gabriel have been throwing your pasts into your destiny. Kayn showing up in Hero’s Gate, Nyx’s parents, and to a lesser extent Luke’s relationship with me. Dariana’s entire history revolves around the champions too. Everything is fodder for whoever is pulling the strings and Delvin is being smart enough to tackle his past head on. Better to do it now than wait for it be used against you. After all, do you want what happened to my family to happen to someone else?”
Catarina applauds from her corner and throws a bag of chocolate to the heiress. “My new business partner makes a good point. By the way, those are experimental bone healing candies, so let me know how well they work.”
“What if Stephen attacks?” Luke asks, refusing to give an inch in the argument. “How would you feel if he showed up and took Nyx while you were gone?”
Delvin kicks the leg of the bed and storms over to the window, his sudden anger startling everyone. He stares out at the busy city and calms his nerves with steady breathing that always ends in a shudder. Nyx is the one thing he has been trying not to think about because he worries that the mere thought of her will cause him to stay. Even with such a fear, part of him screams that he is doing this to be a better friend and ally to her. Imagining Stephen taking her in his absence ignites the hatred Delvin feels for the man and makes him strongly consider dropping his gear on the floor. The warrior rolls his tongue in his mouth and pushes the doubt out of his mind, repeatedly telling himself that his leaving is for the best.
“Nyx has all of you to protect her,” he finally states before turning to face his friends. He holds up his hand to stop Luke and Timoran from speaking. “Everything I’ve done to Stephen has been shrugged off. I can’t hurt him like Dariana and Luke have done. Fizzle and Sari have even fended him off while I’ve never slowed him down. The best I ever did was pummel him on Pallice and that was nothing. It’s frustrating and, worst of all, Stephen knows how helpless I feel.”
“Running away from him won’t make things easier,” Catarina points out as she pours herself a fresh cup of tea. The gnome sighs at the calming smell and offers it to Delvin who politely refuses. “Then again, it seems you have a lot on your mind. I might not be a warrior, but even I know going into battle like this would be a mistake. Another thing to consider is that the fight might not be avoidable once Yola and Trinity tell the Baron about your current condition. Both sides have an opportunity to cripple the other even further.”
“That’s more of a reason for him to stay,” Luke says, pushing himself to his feet. He notices the look of doubt on Kira’s face and rubs his eyes. “I can tell you’re going to agree with him. So fire away.”
“Sorry, Luke, but it might be best for Delvin to leave if Stephen is on his way,” the heiress explains while fidgeting with her hair that is winding like snakes due to the enchanted candy. The piercing eyes from around the room make her nervous, so she casually runs her fingers through a puddle of condensation left on the table by the icepack. The lazy, circular movements help calm her and she eats another piece of chocolate before facing her friends. “In his current mental state, Delvin would be susceptible to Stephen’s tricks. It’s similar to something we do in business negotiations, but the tactic is rather mean and manipulative. You figure out what your opponent’s triggers are and push those buttons to rattle them. Maybe they’re afraid of snakes, so you hang a few serpent paintings and rent out a live cobra to keep in a cage behind you. Their anxiety causes them to be distracted and you can calm them by gradually removing the stimuli. If you’re lucky, the accommodating puts them in a sl
ight euphoria and they’ll be more susceptible to a deal that goes in your benefit.”
Kira clears her throat and shifts uncomfortably in her chair. “I did say it was mean and manipulative. The point is that you use your enemy’s fear and anger against them to gain the advantage. Stephen is certainly a person to use a crueler version of this tactic to make all of you suffer. Anyway, I think we’re all missing the real problem with what Delvin is doing. He’s trying to get out of Nevra Coil before Nyx wakes up.”
“I was going to leave her a note,” the former mercenary argues. His patience nearing its end, Delvin straps his sword to his belt and steps around Luke. “My plan is to stop at Hamilton Military Academy and ask for Kevin Masterson’s help in contacting Tzefira. She can get me across the border between Darkmill and Yagervan. Also I can use their necklaces to send a message to Nyx. That way she’ll know I’m okay, we get to talk for a bit, and I won’t risk her convincing me to stay when I really need to face my past alone. Now I’m heading out that door, so please stand aside, Timoran.”
The barbarian stiffens as if he is refusing to move, but relaxes and steps away from the doorway. Delvin nods his good-byes while walking across the room, every step feeling heavy and sluggish. His mind is focused on finding a way off Nevra Coil when a small fist materializes in front of his face and grazes his cheek. The warrior leaps back with his hand on his sword and freezes when he sees Nyx appear a few feet in front of him. Sari smiles and waves from behind her friend who is on the verge of screaming and crying.
“How much did you hear?” Delvin asks as the channeler gets closer. She repeatedly slaps him in the armored chest until her palms ache, the blows having no effect on the warrior. “Please tell me what you know, so I can explain myself.”
The Merchant of Nevra Coil (Legends of Windemere Book 8) Page 37
