“I heard enough,” Nyx mutters while massaging her hands. Still angry, she delivers a swift kick to her friend’s shin. “Why weren’t you going to say good-bye? If you talked to me then I might have supported you.”
Hopping on one foot, Delvin tries to bounce around the channeler. “Because if you told me to stay, I would have listened. I hate to put this decision in your hands, but I don’t want to leave your side if truly need me.”
“That’s so sweet,” Sari coos as she scratches Bessaria’s head. Both of her friends glare at her, but she simply smiles and shrugs. “Also a little mean because Nyxie shouldn’t be put in this position. You’re really bad at this, Cunningham. Either say you’re leaving or confess that you love her too much to abandon her.”
“You’re the last person to give relationship advice,” Kira snaps. A hand rises from the puddle of water and flicks her in the nose. “Don’t mess with me, gypsy, or I’ll give you a matching set of black eyes.”
Forgetting that she cannot cast spells, Nyx stomps her foot and claps her hands in front of her chest. “Shut up! That was supposed to have thunder and some lights. Still everyone be quiet and let me do something. I can’t access my aura, but I think I can borrow some if Fizzle is willing to work with me. Hold out your armor sleeve, Delvin.”
“Fine, but I never got to really use it in battle,” the warrior says while he extends his left arm. He tenses up when she grabs him by the forearm and presses her thick, dull gray bracelet to his wrist. “I don’t know what you’re doing, but I don’t want you to push yourself. Can you cut her off if she goes too far, Fizzle?”
“Fizzle be smart,” the drite promises. The dragon opens his aura to Nyx and shivers at her essence’s cold touch. “She need use item and Delvin magic too. Make up for problem and keep all safe.”
“Thanks for the advice,” she whispers, her eyes turning white and rolling back.
Nyx’s skin turns pale and her hair goes gray as she accesses the sparks of permanent aura that all living things possess. She is about to pass out when she connects to Fizzle’s energy, which revives her healthy glow and color. Slipping her wrist out of the bracelet, the channeler presses it to the armor sleeve and runs her other hand to Delvin’s shoulder. The pair share an awkward smile before the half-elf steadies her nerves and taps into the warrior’s aura. Without her own powers to buffer the surge, Nyx is brought to her knees by the power that tries to consume her mind and soul. Fizzle pumps more of his magic into his friend to eliminate the risk, but all three feel like they are being steadily crushed by the pressure.
With a grunt of stress and pain, Nyx yanks the metal plates down Delvin’s arm and merges them with her mother’s bracelet. The leather pieces of the armor coil into twin straps that tighten around the warrior’s forearm. A gentle heat fills the room as the metal melts and is turned into a perfect, round shield. The crushed jewels of the enchanted bracelet rise to the polished surface to form the symbol of a winged stag. Nyx collapses against Delvin who eases her to the floor and tucks a pillow under her head. He can feel her presence in his aura fading away as she struggles to stay awake.
“I know you were proud of that armor sleeve, but a shield makes more sense. It’s harder for a weapon to deflect off this and stab you in the chest,” the channeler explains while her hands explore the warrior’s face. She rubs her thumbs on his chin, the rough stubble mesmerizing her for a few seconds. “I couldn’t keep the same enchantment that my bracelet had because it was made from my mother’s magic, but this will keep you safe. This shield is nearly impossible to break and you can summon it to you when you lose it because we all know you have bad luck with these things. More importantly, the peryton symbol will guide you back to . . . us when you whisper my name and add ‘I want to come home’. That’s the best I can do. Now find your tribe, reunite with your parents, and return to us before I decide to hate you.”
“I think I’m going to cry,” Catarina whispers, dotting her eyes with a handkerchief.
Delvin picks Nyx up, but he is stopped by Sari who says, “We’ll take her back to her room and set up a watch just in case. You should go before she changes her mind and tells us to restrain you.”
With a final glance at the channeler, Delvin lets her slump against the blue-haired gypsy. He heads for the door, but slows down to pat Luke and Timoran on their shoulders as he passes between them. Once he enters the hallway, he breaks into a jog in order to move quickly and prevent the others from making another attempt to talk him out of going. The hospital seems oddly quiet as he makes his way to the furthest stairwell.
“Turn on your immovability, little sister,” Nyx whispers into her friend’s ear. Tears form in the half-elf’s eyes as she listens to the fading footsteps of the warrior. “Do it now before I lose control and try to run after him. That’ll just make things worse.”
“I got you, Nyxie,” the gypsy says as her friend starts to feebly struggle against her. She is thankful when Luke, Kira, and Fizzle join their hug and Timoran puts his large hand on Nyx’s head. “We’ve all got you.”
*****
Yola bats the curtain tassel with her foot as she gazes out over the barren landscape of Shayd. The black stones have a glossy sheen due to a powerful storm that has driven the chaos elves into their caves. Only a few clusters of workers are toiling under the hungry whips of the demons, but the abuse has lessened since Yola severely punished one of the taskmasters. She licks the remainder of the creature’s sour blood off her fingers before rolling onto the polished floor and stretching like a lazy cat. She crawls onto the four post bed and makes herself comfortable on the silk sheets, the calm immortal sprawling with her head dangling over the footboard.
“Trinity is resting and will recover within the next two days,” the Baron announces as he enters the master bedroom. Once the clasp at his neck is undone, his silver cloak drifts off his shoulders and hangs from a nearby hook. “Thank you for returning to Shayd, dear Yola. With your newfound freedom, I would not have faulted you for leaving my fold.”
“Where else would I go?” she asks, turning her head right side up. The rest of her body violently rolls to reset her skull and she flips off the bed to land next to her master. “I considered going elsewhere, but this is my home. More importantly, I owe you for keeping me safe from the gods and I agree with you about the Law of Influence. Though it is less of a concern for me now since I’m no longer bound by it.”
“I am glad you see my castle as your home and I look forward to letting you take a more active role in our activities,” he responds with a smile. Gently stroking Yola’s hair, he notices that the green locks are not as full and vivid as they once were. “I apologize if this sounds rude, but I must know for my future plans. How much power did you lose?”
“Not as much as Gabriel and Zaria think,” Yola answers as a mischievous smirk appears on her face. She runs her hands down her sides, feeling her black and white skin nuzzle against her palms. “They always underestimate me. I let them take enough for Aeriel to handle my temples and followers. I’m still deciding on if I want to reclaim my title after you conquer Windemere. I may get bored with wandering one day and I’ll need a job.”
The castle is rocked by an explosion that the Baron assumes was meant to be hidden by the rumbling thunder. Instead, the unexpected noise drowns out the storm and rolls across the continent. Another impact cracks the floor and a distant yowl spurs the ancient nobleman and former goddess into action. Rushing into the hallway, they grab the walls when a third and more powerful quake strikes. A childish scream erupts from below and becomes the final clue as to what is going on. The high-pitched voice is abruptly cut off by the sound of tearing metal and squishing flesh.
Without a word, the Baron grabs Yola by the arm and they sink through the floor. The lower hallway is covered in stone from the tumbled walls and there are licks of flame in every direction. A Spurge has been impaled against the ceiling, its stone wings pierced by gleaming swords stolen from the Baron’
s armory. The silhouettes of other slaughtered demons and undead can be seen in the distance, each one dispatched in a unique and horrific way. He hurries to where Trinity is resting to find that the door has been reduced to a twisted heap of wood. The inside of the bedroom resembles an eruption at a slaughterhouse with pieces of Raksha strewn across every surface. The metal body of Melanie is sitting in a nearby chair, but her head has been impaled on one of the broken bedposts. Amid the blood and body parts, the bed linens are pristine and delicately straightened on the mattress. In place of Trinity is a Nyx figurine, which has been tenderly tucked under the sheets.
“What happened here?” Yola asks, sniffing at a patch of guts on the wall. “Did that fat lizard with the stick take Trinity?”
“Isaiah would never do something so bold and sadistic,” the Baron whispers while he wonders if he can revive his murdered pets. He ignores the destruction as a long brewing idea comes to his mind and he faces the former goddess at his side. “It appears Stephen has gone too far and must be left to his fate. My son is lost to me, Yola. Would you be open to helping me make a new one?”
The adventure continues in:
The Mercenary Prince
The Merchant of Nevra Coil (Legends of Windemere Book 8) Page 38
