“I guess you’re right,” Luke sighs.
Luke goes back to staring at his ale, unaware of the priest muttering a brief spell under his breath. Aedyn’s eyes turn yellow, which he hides by looking down at the table. Out of the corner of his eye, he examines Luke’s aura. He can see that it is still barely used by the warrior, which tells him that Luke can possibly learn healing magic if he dedicates himself to the trade. Though, he doubts his friend would be able to focus on such a study-heavy path. Aedyn begins to wonder why solitary warriors never bother to learn a little healing magic. After some thought, he assumes it is because developing combat skills takes as much focus as learning magic.
The priest continues watching Luke while pondering what he knows about the warrior. Luke’s connection to the gods, due to his strong destiny, could be a way for him to gain the ability to cast some magic. As a forest tracker, he is loyal to Uli, who is in league with Gabriel and Zaria, both of who have approached Luke in the past. Aedyn remembers being told that the champions will gain powers on par with Nyx’s magic. All he is sure of is that Luke has not found the catalyst or guide to unlock his abilities. Aedyn makes a mental note to send a message to Isaiah in order to get some of his superior’s insight on the matter.
Aedyn snaps out of his thoughts when Luke clears his throat. “Personally, I think you should take Kellia up on her offer. You aren’t a true wanderer like me and the opportunity for social climbing might not be around when you want it later.”
“Possibly. Where are you going from here, Luke?” the priest asks.
“Heading north to Haven,” Luke gloomily replies. “It’s my hometown and I know enough shortcuts to get there in two days. Rumors about me have probably reached my family’s ears and I should clear the air with them.”
“You sound so happy about seeing them,” Aedyn sarcastically says.
“I am happy about seeing them. There are just . . . other things,” Luke mutters, running a hand through his blonde hair.
“Then, what is wrong?”
“I left Haven at a bad time.”
“How so?”
“There will be a lot of problems when I go back.”
“Why?”
Luke fakes a yawn and uses the table to push himself up while smiling at Aedyn. He tries to take a step around Aedyn’s chair. The priest quickly puts his staff in Luke’s way, which gets the attention of everyone in the room. Aedyn can see the bartender’s hand slip under the bar to a concealed weapon. A faint click tells him that the weapon is some type of crossbow. The man stops when Aedyn briefly flashes his sun-shaped holy symbol.
“What am I following you into?” the priest asks.
“Don’t worry, Aedyn. You will get a good laugh out of this. Unless you take Kellia up on her offer and stay in Gods’ Voice,” Luke answers. He walks around the other of the table. “I’m going for a run. See you later.”
“I will make my decision about Kellia by the time we leave Haven,” Aedyn promises. “Time away from her will help me figure out where my path lies.”
“Just remember that you might live longer if you don’t follow the reckless adventurers who you foolishly call friends,” Luke jokes. He waves to his friend as he steps out of the inn and into the bright sunlight.
“You may be right, Luke, but I fear that life would become boring without you getting me into trouble,” Aedyn whispers. He finishes his drink and leans back in his chair to focus on his thoughts.
*****
The evening lights of Gods’ Voice are a welcomed sight for the starving, dirt-covered gypsy. Sari is stunned with relief as she looks down the hill at the distant wall, which promises that she will soon be safe within its embrace. Tears trickle down her face and her legs go weak, but Sari quickly fights to regain her composure. She takes a deep, shuddering breath and breaks into a mad sprint down the hill. A root hidden by shadows catches her foot and sends Sari skidding a few feet down the hill. Without wasting another second, the gypsy scrambles to her feet and continues her charge toward Gods’ Voice.
Her mind begins racing with everything that she wants once she gets into the town. Thoughts of a warm bath at one of the local temples drives her to run faster, even when she can feel her knees begin to buckle from fatigue. After a bath, she can try to steal some food and wine from the markets. If they are closed before she can eat then she can easily seduce a local to buy her a small meal in exchange for some female attention. Once she is bathed and fed, she can focus on getting herself out of danger. Even without money, a gypsy knows how to strike a deal to get what he or she wants. Excited at the prospect of being free of her pursuers, Sari bursts out of the bushes and onto the rutted, dirt road.
“Stay where you are!” a spear-wielding knight demands.
“Wuh?” the gypsy blurts. She can see another knight with his sword drawn standing a few feet away from her.
“What is your business?” the first guard asks.
Sari curtsies and flashes her friendliest smile. “I’m just here to enjoy the city. I lost my way when I wandered off the road in search of water. The group I was traveling with should already be in the city. There’s no need for hostility.”
“I see. Next time I recommend stepping out of the bushes in front of those who guard the city gates,” the spear-wielding knight suggests. “It is not safe to appear between armed men and the entrance that they are protecting.”
Sari smiles and turns around to see the city gates of Gods’ Voice looming above her. A chuckle catches her attention and she turns back to see the knights laughing. The gypsy ignores them while she tries to pat the fresh dirt out of her skirts. Her stomach erupts in hunger causing her to blush and put her hands on her rumbling belly. She almost puts the pangs of hunger out of her mind when an unfamiliar smell makes her salivate and lick her dried lips.
“What’s that smell?” she whimpers.
“Mutton stew with potatoes and carrots,” answers the sword-wielding knight in a surprisingly high-pitched voice.
“I never had mutton before. Smells good,” Sari groans, feeling her stomach tighten.
“Then, go get some,” mutters the sword-wielding knight. The spear-wielding knight suddenly bangs his weapon against his friend’s tough armor.
Sari glances at him cautiously, but the rumbling in her stomach brings her mind back to the smell of food. The gypsy starts to enter Gods’ Voice and is hit by a wall of delicious smells and soothing voices. She rushes forward when she sees the fat pot of steaming stew in a booth to her right. Halfway to the booth, she feels a rope tighten around her ankle and she is violently launched into the air. Below Sari, the city of Gods’ Voice vanishes and is replaced by a clearing with a tall, rubber-like tree in the middle. While she is still rising into the air, Sari sees that the real Gods’ Voice is half a mile away.
“Damn it! I wanted that mutton stew!” shouts the angry gypsy. She flails in the air as she begins her descent.
“Get the cage, men!” orders an all too familiar woman from the shadows.
“You can’t capture me if you can’t move me,” Sari declares. She makes herself immovable in mid-air, but it doesn’t stop her from falling.
“I had a feeling that falling wasn’t something you could stop,” Trinity says as she stepping into the clearing. The chaos elf’s grin fades after Sari hits the toes of her boots together. A hum of magic grows from the leather boots until Sari begins to gently float toward the ground.
“I have more tricks. Though, I don’t know how this one is going to help me get out of this,” the gypsy admits, flashing a nervous smile.
Trinity sighs and rubs at her bloodshot eyes. “You can’t go on much longer, girl. If you escape now then I will follow you into the city where I will catch you. The only way to stay out of my grasp would be to avoid the city and retreat back into the wilderness. That would be a mistake since you are starving and exhausted. So, please give up. I stopped having fun with you yesterday. I would really like to end our little game.”
“I’m a gypsy. Captivity is worse than death to my people,” Sari argues, freeing her ankle and hurling the rope to the ground. “You’ll have to wait until I can’t go on before you can take me.”
“Have it your way,” Trinity snaps. She signals to her gathered men and takes a seat in the grass.
Two burly chaos elves appear from the shadows with an oval-shaped cage and two poles to carry it with. They get underneath Sari and open the top of the cage as Trinity focuses on her enhancer gems. A crackling serpent of energy briefly coils along the mouth of the cage. Trinity smiles as Sari helplessly kicks in the air and tries to swim away from the cage, but the chaos elves easily stay below her. The air around the cage and Sari crackle with magical energy as cords of black electricity lance toward the gypsy. Pain ripples through Sari’s body as the cords wrap around her and pull against the power of her magic boots. Her screams echo through the forest even after she is dragged into the mouth of the cage.
“Please, let me out,” Sari cries. She huddles in the cage and watches the electric cords merge with the bars. She tries to touch the bars only to be zapped with enough electricity to make her arm numb.
“Sorry, but I have my orders. I would be destroyed if I released you,” Trinity says as she approaches the gypsy.
“Why are you so obsessed with me?” Sari asks through her tears.
Trinity signals for the cage to be lifted into the air. “I’m not obsessed with you. I am following orders as an act of self-preservation. You’re a loose end that we decided to use to our advantage. Just look on the bright side. You aren’t dead.”
“I wish I was,” the gypsy mutters.
“Don’t be like that, Sari,” Trinity playfully coos. “You aren’t making this any easier for me.”
Sari pouts and folds her arms. “I’m not apologizing.”
“I don’t expect you to. Just rest and accept your fate,” Trinity suggests. She reaches into a long sack hanging from her belt. “Here, this should keep you alive until we reach our first stop.”
Sari feels a warm and sticky object fall into the cage and bounce off the back of her leg. She greedily catches it before it can tumble through the bars. Sari stares at the large piece of cooked mutton that is still on a bone. Juice flows onto her trembling hand and makes her dry mouth water. She is about to take a bite until she notices Trinity watching her intently. She is about to throw the food away when Trinity plunges her hand through the electric bars to grab Sari’s wrist.
“Don’t be stupid,” the chaos elf snaps, letting go of Sari’s wrist. “I wouldn’t poison you after going through all that trouble of catching you alive.”
The gypsy nods and timidly takes a bite of the tender meat. The beautiful taste and her ravenous hunger take over as she begins tearing off chunks of meat as quickly as she can. Tears of joy stream down Sari’s face as she enjoys her first true meal in nearly five days.
“Thank you,” Sari mumbles through a mouthful of mutton.
“You’re going to get sick if you eat so quickly,” Trinity warns her.
With grease covering her face, Sari glares at the chaos elf. “Don’t act like you’re my mother. You’re my captor, so act like it.”
Trinity smiles for a second before turning away and silently walking several yards ahead of the cage. Sari finishes her food and cautiously leans against the bars to find that they don’t shock her. Feeling brave, she tries to grab one of the bars, but she is zapped the moment her hand finishes wrapping around the warm metal. It is enough electricity to make her entire side go numb.
“Our queen is not the monster that you think she is,” says one of the chaos elves.
“What do you mean?” Sari asks curiously.
“She suffers for us all,” answers another chaos elf, his voice full of pride. “It is something that a non-chaos elf like you would not understand.”
Sari watches Trinity and cannot help, but suddenly feel sorry for the woman.
4
The throne room of Solomon Castle is speckled in colored light that filters through the stained glass ceiling. Sandstone pillars rise out of the stone floor and stop a few inches short of the fragile glass. Silk banners with the peacock emblem of the Solomon lineage hang on the clean, white walls. The banners lazily wave at each other whenever the velvet-covered double doors open with a whoosh of fresh air. Several yards from the entrance is a long, rectangular pond filled with silver fish and yellow-shelled turtles. The gurgling of running water from a metal peacock fountain echoes throughout the large chamber as it keeps the pond water fresh and clean. At the far end of the throne room is an ivy-covered dais made of green marble. Royal guards stand at attention at the base of the dais while their lord sits upon a throne of sandstone.
Duke Solomon calmly strokes the head of an albino peacock, which sits at his right side. The ruler of Serab is a towering figure even when he is sitting down. His gray hair is starting to thin at the sides while a bushy, black mustache hides his top lip. The Duke shifts in his throne, causing a clacking noise to trickle throughout the room. It is a strange noise, which is created by his one of a kind armor of blue and yellow dragon scales. The scales have lost the luster that they had when attached to a living dragon, but they are still more beautiful than polished platemail. Once he is comfortable, Duke Solomon adjusts his ivory crown and looks at his guests.
“Why are we sitting on pillows?” Luke whispers to Aedyn. The forest tracker is dressed in black pants and a green shirt with yellow trimming. His sabers have been tied to their scabbards and placed in front of him by order of the Duke.
“It is a local custom,” Aedyn answers, who is wearing his bright yellow robes.
“Be quiet, so his highness can speak,” Nyx mutters through the side of her mouth. She fidgets on her pile of pillows to make sure her favorite red dress is not showing too much of her legs. Her black velvet cloak is neatly folded in her lap and acts as a pillow for Fizzle who is patiently waiting for the Duke to talk.
The gray-haired ruler clears his throat, which echoes throughout the room. “I am honored to meet the people responsible for guarding my daughter.”
“It is us who should be honored, your majesty,” Aedyn says, bowing his head.
“You are too modest, Lord Karwyn. I have been told of your exploits,” the Duke proudly admits. ‘The battles that you have fought and the suffering that you have endured defending my dear Kellia make me believe that you are more than worthy of my admiration.”
“We thank you for sending an emissary on our behalf to Fritz Warrenberg’s funeral, your majesty,” Nyx politely announces.
The Duke smiles at the three half-elves. “Fritz Warrenberg was a brave and intelligent gnome who shall forever be remembered as a noble. There is an old saying in the Solomon family, which states that it is not our birth that decides our character. I feel that Fritz embodied this more than many of the nobles who I have conversed with in my life. Now, I believe we have some business to attend to. I am sure that any reward that I bestow upon you will be dirt compared to the friends that you lost on your journey. Still, it is in our contract and as the Duke of Serab, I must uphold all contracts that I sign.”
“We understand, your majesty,” Aedyn says with a small bow.
The Duke claps his muscular hands and the sound echoes throughout the throne room. A trio of slender halflings, dressed in the blue and yellow colors of Serab, enters through a door that was disguised as a large cask of wine. Each of the servants has a sack slung over his shoulder and a charming smile across his face. Luke can hear the clinking of diamond spheres and the jingling of gold coins with every step of the halflings. A sack is gently placed in front of each of the heroes and the halflings bow low enough to touch their foreheads to the floor. They calmly make their way to the dais where they sit at the feet of Duke Solomon.
“Each sack contains thirty gold coins and forty diamond spheres,” the Duke explains with a wide smile. “Furthermore, I have given each of you a gemstone from my personal t
reasury. There is a ruby for Lady Nyx, a sun quartz for Lord Karwyn, and an emerald for Sir Luke. This is the least I could do to repay you for protecting my daughter.” His joy fades when he sees Luke push his reward away.
Nyx leans over to Luke, her voice a tense hiss. “What are you doing? Don’t be ungrateful.”
“Is there a problem, Sir Luke?” the Duke asks, suspicion creeping into his gaze.
“Yes, sir,” the forest tracker replies.
Luke walks toward the dais, swiftly scooping up the sack of coins and gems before facing the Duke. There is a fire in his green eyes, which causes the guards to step in-between the half-elf and their ruler. The Duke lets a smile cross his face as he watches Luke reach the first step of the dais. Aedyn and Nyx begin scrambling to their feet, but freeze once Luke stops his advance. The royal guards have their swords nervously drawn and aimed at the throat of the young adventurer. An eerie silence fills the throne room while Luke continues to stare at the Duke with a look of utter confidence.
“This doesn’t concern your guards,” Luke states. He takes a step back before flipping over the barrier of armor and swords in front of him. The guards whirl around in time to see Luke toss the sack of money at the Duke’s feet.
“Is the reward not to your liking, Sir Luke?” the Duke calmly inquiries.
“First of all, I am not Sir Luke and I have no desire to be called by that name. I am simply Luke, which I would appreciate you addressing me as, your majesty,” Luke responds, standing at attention in front of the Duke. “There is no reason to give me a title since I was the one who failed to protect your daughter in Freedom.”
“You are taking the blame for the death of the doppelganger, but there is no reason for you to feel this way. It was always a possibility that Kellia would be killed on the road, which is why we sent a fake with you,” the Duke argues with his confusion starting to reveal itself. “Please, accept the title and the money. All of you have earned these rewards.”
Legends of Windemere: 03 - Allure of the Gypsies Page 9
