“Fizzle love apples,” the drite mumbles from a nearby maple tree. He hangs upside down by his tail, fluttering his wings for balance. A small pile of shiny apples is on the thick branch and Fizzle occasionally pulls himself up by his tail to grab one. The sounds of his chewing and lip smacking echo throughout the forest.
“Ahhh. Apples hit spot,” the drite sighs. “Wonder what Fizzle do now.”
He rapidly flaps his wings as he lets go of the tree branch. It takes a few seconds for Fizzle to dart above the canopy where the sun gives his purple scales a glossy shine. He casually hovers upside down while staring at the land below him. A sudden squeal of joy escapes Fizzle’s throat before he does a small flip in the air and zips back into the forest.
Four miles away is a deep, isolated pool where many animals go for water. Fizzle splashes into the middle of the calm water, startling a group of thirsty deer. He lazily floats on his back while the deer leap away from the sudden intrusion. The only other creature at the pool is a female centaur whose longbow is slung across her back. Reflexively, she crosses her arms to cover her chest, but she relaxes once she recognizes the drite. The centaur finishes her grooming as Fizzle continues splashing about in the pool. At one point, she gets splashed in the face, causing her to sputter in surprise.
“Cut it out, Fizzle. I was trying to enjoy some peace and quiet after my bath,” the centaur says, standing to her full, ten-foot height. “Not that you would notice, but it’s been very stressful around here. This region doesn’t seem to be safe any more. Have you heard about the problems on the tree line?” She bends over to take a deep drink as Fizzle flits out of the water, landing on her warm back.
“News make Fizzle mad. Many aminals dead. Why you ask Fizzle?” he asks, puffing out small circles of rainbow mist from his nostrils. He launches off her back, landing in the cool water with another big splash. Fizzle uses his wings to swiftly weave around the water while staring up at the trees.
The centaur uses her tail to whisk away the lingering mist rings. “First of all, the word you want to use is animals and they were not just dead. Something butchered those innocent creatures. I found a squirrel that was meticulously torn to shreds. A family of rabbits had their ears sewn together, Fizzle. That is simply disgusting and it isn’t even the worst that I have found. I’m going to leave this forest and report to the Herd. Then I will ask to be reassigned. I didn’t come to Visindor to deal with something this sick and twisted. What are you planning to do, Fizzle? You’ve been here longer than some of the trees.”
“Fizzle stay,” the drite declares without pause. “Fizzle defend home. Fizzle friends promise darkness go poof. Fizzle no scared. Fizzle have magic.”
“Then, I wish you the best,” the centaur states, putting her white tunic on. “Do not show these monsters any mercy if you find them.”
The smiling centaur starts to trot away before a snapping twig gets her battle-honed attention. She looks in the direction of the sound as low muttering flows into the area on a sickly breeze. Fizzle’s wings stop fluttering and he quickly sinks into the water, his scaly hide turning from purple to the color of the water. The instant he disappears from sight, a streak of putrid, green magic erupts from the southern trees. It slams into the centaur’s chest, knocking her through an old oak.
“Centaurs are such hideous creatures that should never have been created by the gods,” a deep voice growls as the centaur screams in pain and writhes on the ground. The Hellfire Elf and the Lich walk into the clearing as the centaur’s chest explodes in a sickening blast of gore. The Hellfire Elf angrily stomps on a piece of the centaur’s heart.
The Lich stops at the edge of the pool before turning toward the demonic assassin. There is a flash of movement between them and the Hellfire Elf’s head snaps to the side. Scraps of rotting flesh drips off the demon’s face, a bony handprint on its cheek. The demon’s hand inches toward its sword, but it stops short of drawing the blade.
“You idiot!” the Lich yells in rage and frustration. “I summoned you to take care of the heir and you have simply gathered useless information while staying out of sight. So far, I am very unimpressed with your performance and I am tempted to recruit another assassin. Your masters in the Chaos Void will not be happy with your failure if I send you back. They prefer banishment or defeat in combat as the reasons for failure. Sending you back for anything less would lead to your ultimate destruction at best.”
The Hellfire Elf growls and draws the Chaoswind while the Lich casually picks up a flower that dies in his palm. The demon lets loose with a haunting scream of fury as he wakes a great sweep of the serrated weapon, sending a howling wind through the trees. The trees quiver in fear and a few of the older, wiser trees lean away from the angry demon. The Lich glares at the assassin and throws down the dead flower.
“You know nothing of the art of assassination, master. I must know my prey and all that might stand in the way of my success,” the Hellfire Elf argues, sheathing its sword. “Thanks to my watching, I now know that there are times when Selenia is nowhere to be found and will not be there to protect the heir. All I need to do is wait for the heir to be alone during one of these this times. It is taking longer than I expected, but it will happen.” The Hellfire Elf smirks as it adds, “I have also become aware of a new threat in the area. He is not a problem as of yet, but he could become one within the coming days.”
The Lich cackles and hacks up a cloud of dust from his decaying lungs. “I guess you are a credit to your kind. Most would back down from me, but you refuse to take even the smallest step away. Still, I suggest that you settle this job within the next two days. Otherwise, I will be forced to banish you in failure.”
“You are asking me to risk exposure, which would make a second attempt more difficult if not impossible,” the demon snarls in obvious frustration. “I will do as you say, but I cannot promise you the heir on my first attempt. You are my master, so I obey even if I disagree with your orders.”
“I am sure you will find a way to do this without ruining your progress,” the Lich assures the demon. He takes another look at the Hellfire Elf’s frustrated face and sighs. “I will be lenient if you fail to take the heir as long as you kill that Callindor boy before escaping. That should make you feel more at ease with this course of action.”
“I do not understand your concerns about that whelp,” the Hellfire Elf admits with a snort. “He is stumbling around the academy in ignorance while we know the heir’s identity. I doubt he will be near the heir when I strike. As I told you in my reports, he is not a threat.” The Hellfire Elf turns its head and spits at a nearby tree. The towering maple erupts in flame, dying an instant after the demonic spit makes contact.
The Lich grabs the assassin by the collar of its spiked armor and hisses into the demon’s pointed ear. “Never assume that someone like that will be absent from your plans. He might stumble into your path when you least expect him. After all, that is how he got involved in our business in the first place.”
“We still know very little about him,” the necrocaster says, releasing the demon and calming down. “People like him are always up to something and they tend to know more than you realize. Being foolish around them can lead to your own demise. I order you to keep an eye on his actions and an arrow trained on his heart. We do not need some unexpected, fledgling hero getting in our way.”
“Understood, master.”
The Hellfire Elf looks into the water, blinking a few times while the Lich turns his attention toward the sky. The demon stares directly at Fizzle and pulls out its bow and an arrow. It sniffs the air, making Fizzle nervous, so the drite begins to slowly crawl along the bottom of the pool toward the side opposite the demon. A two-foot long fish suddenly darts past him and it is quickly impaled on a long, black arrow. Fizzle watches the gulping fish die in front of him, gradually floating to the surface. With tears in his eyes, Fizzle mutters a spell and a hand of water rises from the pool to slam the Hellfire Elf to the groun
d.
Fizzle soars out of the water before shouting, “You meanies no hurt more! Fizzle make you stop!”
The Hellfire Elf struggles to its feet, shaking as much of the heavy, enchanted water off as it can. A swift swing of its arm unsheathes the Chaoswind and the demon slashes the air in front of it. Fizzle is still zipping along the surface of the pool, so the demon patiently waits for the drite to get closer. Without warning, Fizzle pulls out of a seemingly random loop and charges the Hellfire Elf. The Hellfire Elf swings the evil blade, which slices cleanly through Fizzle’s purple hide. The brave drite explodes in the air while the demon smiles in victory. The Lich is still cautiously watching the sky, making no sign of ever having seen the drite.
“That was a waste of energy,” the Hellfire Elf grunts, hoisting the serrated sword onto its shoulder.
“Foolish demon,” cackles the undead caster. “This fight should do you some good.”
The demon is about to ask what its master means when a sudden flicker from above draws the attention of both monsters. The Hellfire Elf looks up in time to get rammed in the face by Fizzle’s diving attack. The amazingly quick drite darts around the demon, continually slamming into its limbs and face. Eventually, Fizzle whips the Hellfire Elf’s sword arm with his tail and the Chaoswind falls to the ground.
“You no threaten Fizzle’s forest,” the drite declares as he hovers above them.
The Lich chuckles gently and launches a simple spell at Fizzle. A streak of fiery lightning clips Fizzle’s wing, causing the poor creature to fall to the ground. The Hellfire Elf takes advantage of the situation and scoops up its sword. Fizzle gets to all fours, scampering away from the approaching demon. The serrated blade swings down to cut a tiny gash in Fizzle’s side. Even though it is a small cut, the pain is intense and Fizzle shrieks loud enough to make all of Visindor Forest shriek with him. The pool of water begins to bubble and churn as Fizzle thrashes on the grass.
“Exquisite,” the Lich whispers, reveling in the sounds of pain. “He must be centuries-old if the forest reacts to him like that. Killing him will weaken the natural magic of the area. This is perfect. Destroy him!”
The Hellfire Elf looks a little nervous as he lifts the Chaoswind for as strong a downward strike as he can muster. Fighting the pain, Fizzle mutters a quick spell and staggers back onto his legs before the sword has a chance to come down. Quicker than a blink, the drite zips into the air, soaring through the forest at top speed. His breathing is ragged as he pushes his aching wings and muscles. Fizzle gets as far as his wings can carry him before crashing into a tangle of peppermint vines.
A few curses in Dragonesse escape Fizzle’s quivering lips as he turns invisible and passes out from the pain. The sweet-scented vines move to cover him and the surrounding forest goes deathly quiet as the drite sleeps.
8
After another day of getting nowhere with his investigation, Luke decides to take his time with the run instead of trying to beat Selenia as usual. He keeps near the back of the mob, fighting the urge to sprint to the front. He is not surprised that the students in the back spend more time talking and complaining than working up a sweat. Luke barely pays them any attention, even though they try to scold him for show offing the last few days. It is easier for him to ignore them once he enters the forest. Something about Visindor feels wrong this morning and Luke silently wonders if he is the only one who notices. A quiet, mournful wind moves among the trees and Luke swears he hears someone crying for his help. Already being on thin ice with Selenia after his fight with Roland, Luke resists the urge to stay in the forest. He calmly jogs through the main gate of the academy, heading directly for the cafeteria.
Like every morning, Nimby has saved him a seat at breakfast and begins to chatter his ears off with academy gossip. They had agreed days ago that talk of Luke’s mission was not to be done in the cafeteria. The agreement was made after a female orc overheard Nimby vaguely mention a list of students. The panicky student had cornered and interrogated the halfling about this list of students out of fear that it involved mass suspensions. It took all of Nimby’s skills to get out of the towering blonde’s iron grip and keep her at bay while feeding her a lie about putting together an advanced carpentry class. Even today, the halfling can still feel her piercing gaze on his back whenever she is around.
“Are you listening, Luke?” Nimby asks with concern. “You haven’t said anything. It’s like you aren’t all there.”
Luke snaps out of his trance and realizes that he has yet to touch his food. He can barely remember getting back from the run, much less getting food. He remains silent, eventually going back to staring off into space while swallowing a few bites of food. Nimby is about to shake Luke by the wrist when Aedyn gently puts an ink-blotched hand on the halfling’s shoulder. A subtle shake of his head is all Aedyn needs to tell Nimby that they should leave Luke alone. Begrudgingly, the halfling turns his attention to Fritz and listens to the gnome ramble on about a new invention.
It isn’t long before the instructors begin leaving for class and the students start to disperse. Luke is dying to slip away into the forest for the day when he notices a shadow slip out a cafeteria window. At first, he thinks it is Nimby until he hears Fritz ask the halfling for an apple. With so many students already out of the cafeteria, Luke can’t even begin to narrow down who the shadow was.
Ignoring his strong desire to investigate the strange feeling that came over him in Visindor, Luke realizes that it would be foolish for him to leave the academy. Being too far from the academy would leave the heir defenseless, even if he still has no idea who he is protecting. The shadow could be the assassin leaving to prepare a trap since Selenia and her senior staff had not been seen all morning. He is about to ask the others to follow him, but abruptly decides to leave them behind. If this was really the assassin then Luke would need to use surprise to his advantage and a group of four would draw too much attention. The half-elf slips out the front door with a growing hope that his mission is about to end. If things went well then he could be back among the trees as early as nightfall. No more academy or classes or detention or any of the other horrors that Luke had endured since arriving.
Without making a sound, Luke creeps around the side of the cafeteria, carefully scanning the area. He starts walking toward the academy wall when he notices a thin line of matted grass leading from the corner of the cafeteria to a supply shed. A delicate sneeze comes from the shed as Luke crouches to investigate the tracks. He can hear a quick shuffling from inside the shed as he approaches the solid door. Taking a deep breath, Luke rushes in without warning. The clatter of a fallen shovel draws his attention while the door closes behind him. He can barely see anything in the darkness beyond the silhouettes of full shelves and large barrels.
As alert as Luke is, he doesn’t notice the broom handle until it jabs him in his side. With a low grunt, Luke drops to his knees and forces himself to roll out of the way of a wild swing to his head. The small and messy equipment shed leaves him little room for maneuvering, so he crashes into a rack of buckets. He gets his bearings in time to see the broom come at him again. Luke nimbly avoids the broom, grabbing it tightly and locking it in the crook of his arm. The attacker yanks at the broom, but Luke’s solid grip keeps it locked in place.
“Now, are you going to talk or are you going to continue fighting?” Luke asks through gritted teeth. He feels his opponent repeatedly tugs on the broom. “I suggest you talk since you no longer have a weapon. Not that a broom really counts as a weapon, but it does hurt a lot when you poke someone with the handle.” He gives a quick twist to the broom, sending it clattering to the floor.
“No fair!” exclaims a familiar female voice with a muttered curse. Luke reaches up to crack open a high window. The light hits Kira as she backs against a shelf of dirty gardening tools. The ebony-haired girl is on the verge of tears and Luke notices a large splinter sticking out of her hand. He walks over to gently take her hand before she can protest.
He carefully pulls the splinter out, gently using his teeth to pry out a piece that broke off. Without thinking, Luke gives her finger a kiss and releases her hand. Kira blushes slightly, taking a step away from him. Embarrassment covers Luke’s face, which he tries to hide by turning toward the wall.
Kira sits down on a barrel and nervously smiles at Luke. “Thank you. I guess you are a nice person. Even if you did rip my shirt off in front of the entire martial arts class. At least you aren’t bragging about it like some of the other boys would. Honestly, you seem rather harmless to me. If you were of nobler blood then I would consider that kiss as some kind of pass at me. Tricky nobles are always doing that to me, but it is seems sweet and clumsy when you do it. You know, you aren’t that hard on the eyes. For a half-elf that is.”
“I’m really sorry about ripping your shirt. I didn’t mean for that to happen and I swear it will not happen again,” Luke explains when he turns to face her. “Just to let you know, I kept my back turned and I didn’t see anything. Not sure if that makes you feel better or not.”
“I will accept your apology,” Kira politely declares, running her fingers through her silky hair. “Still, whether you saw anything or not is not the point. A woman of my caliber should never be made to suffer such a shameful display. I am not some street-raised tomboy or a commoner like the other girls at this academy. I come from superior stock than them and should be treated as such. Besides, the only person facing me was Kellia and I was quick enough to cover my . . . you know.”
Beginning of a Hero (Legends of Windemere) Page 17
