Legends of Windemere: 03 - Allure of the Gypsies

by Charles E Yallowitz

  “This is muscle from traveling and fighting!” Nyx exclaims defensively.

  “Oh, get on with it already!” Zale yells, hopping off Ionia’s shoulder. A zap of lightning strikes the ground next to the squirrel causing him to faint and fall into the smoking hole.

  “He is such a rude pet,” Ionia states while smoothing out her dress. “I saw the entire battle including what happened to your friend. Courage such as his is very rare these days. You must be very happy traveling with him, especially if you have a . . . special kind of relationship with him. Your warrior friend has a body that a younger me would love to examine in detail.”

  “I thought you liked younger men,” the half-elf wryly interjects.

  “I do? I guess I do,” the queen says with a cat-like glint in her yellow eyes. “Then, I must introduce myself to that young half-elf and make sure he is in good health. I do have a background in medical treatments and non-magical healing.”

  “That would be pointless since he’s dead,” Nyx whispers, her voice choking up.

  A look of shock and concern floods Ionia’s face as she places a demure hand over her mouth. “Oh, dear, what happened to him?”

  Nyx stares at the woman in confusion. “He was killed in the blast that ended the battle. Did you forget to watch the end of the battle?”

  “I saw everything up to you banishing Kalam,” Ionia admits. She magically fills in the neckline of her dress and leans forward. “Was there another blast after the first one? I didn’t think there was a reason to keep watching after Kalam was gone.”

  “There was just the one blast and Luke was killed in it. His body is being prepared for some Callindor burial ceremony,” the violet-eyed caster says, wiping at her fresh, salty tears.

  Ionia smiles at the mention of Luke’s surname. “He’s a Callindor? Of course, he must be Talos’s grandson. I didn’t recognize him. Then again, I’ve never seen him before. I only hear stories about the trouble he gets into. He killed a Hellfire Elf from what I heard.”

  “I know. I was there,” Nyx whimpers through her gentle sobbing. “Unfortunately, you won’t be hearing any more stories of him.”

  “Please, stop crying, firebug,” Ionia coos, standing up to give Nyx a hug and a kiss on the top of her head. “I still don’t know where you get the idea that he’s dead. The magical explosion simply knocked him across the clearing.”

  “No it didn’t! His body was lying exactly where the spells hit him. If he was sent flying then there wouldn’t have been a body,” Nyx argues, nearing hysterics. “Maybe you messed up one of your spells, your majesty.”

  “That’s highly unlikely,” the caster queen contends, letting go of Nyx and sitting down again. “I followed the aura trails perfectly. They showed me that the spells hit Luke, but he was thrown across the clearing. He landed a few feet from the tree line. Maybe you have a body that only looks like Luke.”

  “I vote for magical twin,” the squirrel interjects. Nyx waves her hand and a geyser of water sends Zale into the air. He gently lands at the half-elf’s feet and scampers behind Ionia for safety.

  “I know it was Luke’s body,” Nyx swears, regaining some of her composure. “Isaiah’s spell was a protective counter spell and Kalam was casting some kind of aura attacking spell. The combination of those spells does not equal magical twin or fake body.”

  “Kalam’s spell attacked the aura and Isaiah’s spell protected it?” Ionia wonders, curiosity burning in her eyes. “Were they originally meant for Luke?”

  Nyx thinks carefully before answering. “I don’t believe so. Kalam’s spell seemed to go after whoever was the most recent threat to him and Isaiah’s spell was aimed at Kalam’s spell. Luke was hit by them because of his actions.”

  Ionia scratches her chin and hums to herself with her eyes closed. An eerie glow pulses from under her eyelids. Her hands make small motions in the air as if she is following the motions of an invisible fly. Extra fingers sprout from her hands when her humming becomes louder and deeper. These extra fingers vanish once her pointer fingers touch and her left pinky stretches as far as possible. Keeping her fingers where they are, Ionia opens her eyes and grins proudly.

  “I understand now. Your friend is dead,” Ionia announces. She notices Nyx beginning to shudder and quickly continues. “He is also alive. It’s a rather interesting problem that you have.”

  Nyx wipes her nose and stares at the woman. “I don’t follow.”

  Ionia takes a deep breath before explaining her discovery. “The spells collided with each other on Luke’s location. I briefly sensed another aura reacting with the magic, but I would have to look at his body to learn more about it. Whatever this mysterious aura was, it saved Luke from a painful death. Sort of. You see, Luke was flung across the clearing by the force of the spells, but his body didn’t go along for the ride.” Ionia pauses to give Nyx a warm smile. “Your friend has been knocked out of his body and is wandering around somewhere.”

  “Please, tell me this is a joke,” Nyx whispers in disbelief.

  “That would be lying and I would never lie to you,” Ionia states as she stands and stretches. “I will need to take a close look at Luke’s body to figure out what we can do. I assure you that it is possible to save him, but we need to find his aura immediately. There is no sense in trying to fix him if we can’t find the missing part.”

  Nyx is beaming and jumping in place. “I’ll find his aura. Just tell me how to find something that I can’t see or interact with?”

  “That priest can help you find him. He probably knows how to talk to him too,” Ionia says, picking Zale up in her arms. “I will go and talk to Talos. I should warn you that there is a chance that his aura could be permanently trapped outside of his body if we don’t find him soon. You better start searching.”

  “I’m leaving right now,” Nyx excitedly claims. The half-elf sprints down the street toward the Callindor home where Aedyn is resting. She barrels through a young couple, sending them crashing to the ground. Nyx takes a few more steps before going back to help them up and apologize profusely. Once they are back on their feet, Nyx sprints away as if she is being chased.

  “Our firebug always had more energy than she could handle,” Ionia laughs.

  *****

  “I can’t believe I forgot about those stupid wards around the manor,” Luke whines. He stumbles out of the forest and into the main street of Haven, wisps of steam rising from his burned hands. The burns are starting to fade by the time Luke finds a quiet alley to hide in. He watches the townsfolk going about their daily lives for hours until his burns have healed.

  “There has to be a way inside,” Luke wonders while he walks toward the northern clearing. “Maybe I can possess someone like in those ghost stories my grandfather used to tell me.”

  The open field is clean and shows no evidence of the battle that ensued less than a day ago. Luke is lost in thought until a loud splashing in the river catches his attention. He crouches to the ground and cautiously creeps toward the water’s edge. Luke listens carefully to the furious splashing for a few seconds before peering into the river. He reflexively ducks away from the water spray caused by the thrashing form. Luke looks again when he realizes that the spray goes through him. Slamming itself against the rocks is a three-foot long river shark.

  “I hate to practice on a living creature, but it’s going to die if I don’t try to help it,” the forest tracker whispers, pacing along the coast. “Uli will understand my situation. If I fail then I promise to honor this creature . . . somehow.”

  Luke stretches and takes a few calming breathes that uselessly pass into his nose and out the back of his head. He freezes when a young boy arrives to push the fish to safety with a long stick. The river shark splashes happily in the water before disappearing into the distant rapids. The young boy slowly steps off the riverbank, wiping his wet hands on his brown breeches. The boy’s light blue tunic is drenched, so he takes it off and gently places it on the warm grass. Luke wat
ches the brown-haired boy grope for a pair of tattered boots.

  “I’ve never seen this kid before. He must have moved here after I left,” Luke says. He continues watching the boy who quietly sits in the grass.

  The boy cocks his head towards Luke. “I arrived here three months ago.”

  “I was long gone by-” Luke stops and stares happily at the boy. “You can hear me?”

  “Of course, I can. You were talking where I could hear you,” the boy innocently points out. “Is there a reason that I shouldn’t hear you?”

  “Well, nobody else has heard me including my priest friend,” Luke answers, excited to have someone to talk to. “You see, I’ve been wandering around Haven ever since I was killed yesterday. You are the first person to notice me.”

  “I’m sorry, sir,” the boy apologizes. “I didn’t mean to pry.”

  “There’s nothing to apologize for. I’m rather relieved that I have someone to talk to,” the half-elf says, taking a seat next to the boy. “My name is Luke.”

  The boy clumsily extends a hand toward Luke. “I’m Zephyr. You sound like a nice man.”

  Luke shifts out of the boy’s reach. “Nice to meet you, Zephyr, but I’m going to avoid the handshake. I don’t know what would happen to you. So, what brings you to Haven?”

  “I followed the wind,” Zephyr replies, his eyes locked on the river. “I was abandoned by my mother when I was five and I’ve survived by playing the flute for money. People tell me that I am a natural musician. I came to Haven with a traveling merchant who liked my music and took pity on me. Apparently, it isn’t safe for someone like me to travel alone.”

  “Mind if I ask how you’re able to hear me? Can you see me too?” Luke asks curiously.

  Zephyr blushes slightly and shifts uncomfortably. “I can’t see you.”

  “Guess I shouldn’t have hoped for everything to go my way,” the half-elf admits with a sigh.

  “Actually, I can’t see anything,” Zephyr mutters softly. “My eyes look fine, but they have never worked.”

  Luke feels a sudden warmth run through his body and his form gains a bright red tint. “It’s my turn to apologize now. I didn’t realize you were blind.”

  “You don’t have to apologize to me. I’m used to people not realizing that I’m blind,” Zephyr mentions with a friendly smile.

  Luke lies down in the grass and stares up at a solitary cloud that lazily crosses the sky. Zephyr feels around the grass at his side until he finds a small wooden case with a leather strap crudely nailed to it. Luke watches out of the corner of his eye as the boy opens the case and pulls out a metal flute. Zephyr begins playing a sweet, soothing tune that pours into the air. A songbird and a bullfrog join in the music before a swirling breeze crosses the clearing. Luke sits up to quietly listens to the song until Zephyr stops and the music fades away.

  “That was amazing,” Luke whispers, hoping to retain the quiet, soothing atmosphere.

  “It was a song that I made when I was six. I would have written it down, but I don’t know how to write,” Zephyr explains, shyly hugging his flute. “One day, I hope to go to Gaia and find a bard who will help me write my songs. Until that day, I will continue practicing. I hope to leave for Darkmill and Stonehelm in six months when another merchant convoy comes through Haven. By then, I will have many other songs to play and I will be one step closer to Gaia.”

  “You’re pretty open about your dreams,” Luke mentions.

  “You seem like a nice person. I see no reason to keep secrets from a person who was so happy to find someone to talk to,” Zephyr admits with a smile. “Besides, my dreams are all that I have. Without my dreams, I would be nothing more than a blind child with no direction.”

  Luke gets to his feet and pretends to wipe dirt off his pants. “Well, I guess I have no choice then.”

  “What do you mean? Do my dreams offend you?” Zephyr asks worriedly.

  “Not at all. I have dreams too and they are what keep me going. I’m sure my friends will find a way to resurrect me. Once I get my body back, I can continue my adventures,” Luke explains in a voice full of pride and excitement. “I am travelling to the Hamilton Military Academy. I can make a detour to Gaia if you want to come along. The friend that I’m traveling with can introduce you to some people who can help you. They are casters, so I hope that isn’t a problem. That’s all that I can promise without my friend here to agree to my offer.”

  “That . . . I would be honored to travel with you,” Zephyr stutters, his heart racing with joy. “I can visit Darkmill and Stonehelm after I refine my skills in Gaia. Maybe I can find other musicians who are willing to travel with me.”

  “Don’t get ahead of yourself,” Luke says with a small chuckle. “From personal experience, I can tell you that when working toward your dreams, you should take it slow and smart. Otherwise, you might find yourself in a disaster.”

  Zephyr shuffles his feet before looking in Luke’s direction. “Can I ask what you’re dreams are?”

  “They’re not too complicated,” Luke admits. He looks to Haven with a forlorn expression. “I want to be known as a hero for my deeds and not because I was born into a heroic family. To reach my goal, I left Haven in search of adventures to prove my worth. So far, I’ve done a decent job aside from nearly get killed several times by undead, demons, trolls, and chaos elves.”

  “What about actually getting killed?” the boy asks.

  “It’s temporary and a learning experience,” Luke declares.

  Zephyr lets out a melodic laugh. “I don’t feel right accepting your help without helping you in some way. There must be something that I could do for you.”

  “Well, there is one thing that you could do,” Luke says, kneeling next to Zephyr as if to whisper in his ear. “I’m trying to get into Goldheart Manor and see my ex-fiancée. She must know that I’m dead by now and I’m curious to see how she is handling it. The problem is that the manor is warded against wandering spirits and the undead. I can’t get through without help.”

  “You’re Luke Callindor, right?” Zephyr politely asks. “I heard a few townspeople mention that you died last night.” He gropes along the grass until he finds his damp shirt and carefully puts it on.

  “That would be me,” Luke uncomfortably acknowledges. “Does that make a difference?”

  “No, but I wanted to let you know that I realized who you were,” the young bard says.

  Luke runs a hand through his ethereal hair. “Maybe you should leave your shirt off until it’s dry. The weather is warm enough for you to go without the shirt and not get sick.”

  “I know, but I don’t want to forget it,” Zephyr casually replies. “So, how can I help you get into Goldheart Manor?”

  “I believe that I can get through the wards if I possess something that is being carried through. The wards won’t notice me if I’m hiding in an inanimate object since I’m not a malevolent spirit. At least, that is what I’ve gathered about wards from partially listening to a few priests and casters during my travels,” Luke explains. He can see confusion and worry grow on Zephyr’s face. “Don’t worry all I need is for you to gain entry into the manor and I can go in with you. With your musical talent, it shouldn’t be too hard for you to get in. Alyssa always had a big interest in music. If she’s upset then she would want to hear something like what you played earlier.”

  Luke grins when another thought crosses his mind. “This could help you get a reputation as a musician too. A festival is coming up in a few days and there is always a need for musicians.”

  “Very well, I agree to help you,” Zephyr replies without much thought. “Will you be staying hidden once we get inside?”

  Luke shrugs and makes an educated guess. He tries to sound confident in order to put Zephyr at ease. “I doubt it. Wards are always kept on the outer shell of a structure. Once we get inside, I can separate from whatever I’m using as a vessel and you can entertain Alyssa. I might be there for a while, so you don’t have t
o wait for me before you leave the manor.”

  “You can practice on possessing anything except my flute. I think I have a metal cup in my satchel that you can use,” the boy offers. He carefully rummages through his dirt-covered satchel. He pulls out a heavily dented cup with a rusty handle that dangles off the side.

  “Thanks. You can come back for me later,” Luke suggests, stretching his arms and legs. “No need for you to bore yourself while I practice.”

  Zephyr pulls out his flute and settles on the grass. “I will stay here since I have to think of a story to get me into the manor. I’m thinking that I could write a song about you and tell her that I wish to play it for the people who knew him well. If she has any feelings for you then that should get us inside. I only have to write the song. I’m thinking something energetic and regal with an undercurrent of calm in it.”

  “I never thought of myself as regal,” the half-elf admits. He tries to merge with the cup, but he sends it bouncing a few feet away from him.

  “From the way you talk, I can tell that you are very honorable. I find that to be a noble quality, so I think regal suits you,” Zephyr declares with a small, shy smile.

  “Thanks. Well, back to practicing,” Luke says, his body turning red again. He concentrates on the metal cup. This time it launches straight into the air with a wailing screech. Zephyr laughs gently and goes back to his music while Luke incoherently grumbles. The plummeting cup passes through Luke’s body and lands with a dull thud between his feet.

  “This is not looking good,” Luke groans.

  *****

  The eerie quiet and the lights in the windows give Goldheart Manor a dismal, morbid appearance. The cheery atmosphere and bright energy are nowhere to be found as Zephyr timidly approaches the entrance. He shrinks away when his shivering hand touches the cold iron doors. Zephyr stretches his fingers while he listens to the unwelcoming building. With a deep breath, the young boy gently knocks on the doors. He stumbles back when he hears two chainmail-clad guards throw open the door and brandish their weapons. They immediately put their spears to their shoulders when they see the pale-faced youth.