“I am sorry to disturb you. I am a local musician,” Zephyr whispers nervously.
“Sorry, kid, you have to speak up,” says the taller guard with a leering grin.
“I am a local musician!” Zephyr blurts loudly.
“Of course you are, kid,” teases the shorter guard, already bored with the situation. “Is there a reason that you are here at this late hour?”
Zephyr musters up all of his courage. “I wish to perform for Lady Goldheart.”
The tall guard breaks into a torrent of laughter at the young bard. “Well, she doesn’t want to deal with you. Our lady has locked herself in her room. I assure you that she does not wish to be pestered by a kid. Go back to your mommy, musician.”
The guards stop laughing when they feel a wrinkled hand grab each of them by the shoulder. Both men are spun around to face a white-bearded dwarf whose left eyebrow twitches with rage. The well-dressed dwarf releases the men and silently pats the top of his axe, which dangles lazily from his waist. The dwarf points toward a staircase just inside the front doors and both guards rush to obey his silent directions as fast as possible. Their footsteps are still echoing down the stairs as the dwarf turns a warm smile toward Zephyr. He can see that the small child is shaking in fear and confusion.
“I apologize for them. They are not men of the auditory arts if you know what I mean,” the dwarf says in a soft voice. “Now, what is it that brings a musician to our home at such a dark hour?”
Zephyr calms down enough to meekly tell the dwarf his prepared story. “I am a blind musician who hopes to bring a smile to Lady Goldheart’s face. I . . . I wrote a song in honor of Luke Callindor and I wish for her to be the first to hear it. It . . . it is the least I can do for the mayor of this town where a blind wanderer like me has been openly accepted.”
“Is that so?” the dwarf wonders, his voice low and suspicious. “It is rare that a stranger seeks to erase the sorrow of someone that he or she has never met.”
“I am truly sorry if this is a strange request,” Zephyr apologizes. He begins to turn from the manor.
The dwarf claps his hands loud enough to make Zephyr stop, but not startle the boy. “Don’t wander off, child. You might be what Alyssa needs right now. You see, she has not left her room since she learned of Luke Callindor’s death. She has not eaten, which has me very worried. Even if your song does not help her heal, I do not see any harm in letting you perform for her. So, please come in. I will show you to one of our private concert rooms. Would you like anything to eat or drink?”
“A cup of water is all that I need to keep my mouth wet. A dry mouth doesn’t make good music,” Zephyr claims with a friendly smile.
The dwarf nods politely. “I will have a maid bring you a pitcher and goblet.”
Zephyr smiles and bows toward the dwarf before taking a cautious step into the manor. A dull quaking runs through his legs the moment he crosses the wards. It takes all of Zephyr’s concentration not to collapse. The quaking slowly leaves his legs while he follows the dwarf through the entry hall. The dwarf brings Zephyr to a small, low room with a seven-foot wide stage sits across from the door. The floor is littered with soft cushions and small tables, except for an empty three foot arc around a crackling fireplace. Zephyr is awestruck as he enters the room and feels his way through the cushions and tables. He stops when his out-stretched hands touch the stage.
“This room is used for solo performers such as yourself. It is very homey in my opinion,” the dwarf says, presenting the room with a wave of his hand. “Relax and wait here while I have your water brought to you. It may take some time before I convince Alyssa to see you. Please, make yourself comfortable.” The dwarf bows to Zephyr and backs out of the room before the boy can thank him.
“That went better than expected,” Luke whispers as he forms next to Zephyr.
“Excuse me, Luke, but why did you have to possess part of my body?” the boy asks, rubbing his stiff, aching legs. “You said that you could take over an inanimate object.”
Luke sits on the floor among the cushions. “I’m really sorry about that. I tried to possess that metal cup, but I couldn’t get it to work. It turns out that I needed something natural and living to take over. At least, we learned that I could get away with only possessing your leg bones, which didn’t interfere with your walking. Though, that isn’t an excuse for me having to put you through that. Again, I’m really sorry, Zephyr.”
“I hope we don’t have to do that again,” Zephyr mutters with a shiver.
Luke smiles and chuckles kindly, hoping to brighten Zephyr's mood. “I agree.”
The door opens smoothly on its oiled hinges and a young girl, wearing a simple robe, enters the room. She looks to be half asleep as she places a polished silver tray next to Zephyr. He listens to her gently remove the bronze goblet and the matching pitcher. The sound of trickling water echoes in the silence until the maid stops pouring and places the goblet in Zephyr’s right hand. With a warm smile, the girl bows toward the boy and tip-toes her way to the door.
“She seemed nice,” Luke casually mentions.
“She smelled nice too,” Zephyr whispers.
“So, I’m going to find Alyssa,” says the ghostly half-elf, getting to his feet.
“You aren’t going to stay and listen to my song? I thought you were going to stay,” Zephyr whines after taking a deep drink of water.
Luke shakes his head in frustration. “I’ve been listening to your song all afternoon, Zephyr. I thought you didn’t care if I stayed here or not.”
“Well, wouldn’t it help you find out how she feels if you see how she reacts to my song?” Zephyr inquires.
“Good point. I guess I’ll stay here and follow Alyssa to her room afterwards,” Luke says, cringing at his final words. “That sounded pretty creepy.”
“Just a bit,” Zephyr giggles with a wide smile.
“I’ll be in the back corner,” Luke says. “Good luck with the performance.”
Zephyr is about to thank Luke when the sound of bare feet on stone catches his attention. The door swings open with a frightening boom and an out of breath Alyssa rushes into the room. Her blonde hair is a pinned up mess on the top of her head and she is barely covered by a hastily tossed on robe. The red-faced elf takes a staggered breath before focusing her attention on her guest. When she manages to catch her breath and compose herself, Alyssa takes a seat on the pillows next to Zephyr.
“Good evening, ma’am. My name is Zephyr and-” starts the young musician once he hears Alyssa settle next to him.
“Brogan told me why you are here. Please, tell me how you know Luke?” Alyssa weakly asks. Her sun-like eyes have become puffy and bloodshot due to hours of heart-wrenching crying. A few tears still trickle down her face while she stares at the blind musician.
“I have heard many stories about him from the townspeople while I was playing in the tavern and on the street,” Zephyr explains while wringing his fingers. “Sadly, I never had the pleasure of meeting him, but I wished to write a song about him when I heard of his passing. I hope that you don’t find it foolish of me to sing of a person that I have never met.”
“There is nothing foolish about you. You are a very sweet and caring child to visit me during such a time,” Alyssa whispers, taking Zephyr’s hand and helping him get onto the stage. “I am honored that you would share your song with me.”
Zephyr blushes brightly and fiddles with his flute case. “It is my honor to play for you. I only hope that my song does not offend your senses.”
“You should have more faith in your abilities, Zephyr,” she says with a weak smile. “After all, you were brave enough to come to my home and make a bold request to perform for me.”
Zephyr’s smile runs across his entire face while he pulls out his flute. He starts to concentrate on his breathing and finds that his heart is racing. Minutes pass before Zephyr feels comfortable enough to put the flute to his lips. His nervous lip-quivering stops the moment th
ey touch the metal instrument. The boy’s eyes close as a powerful, yet haunting, note breaks the silence. The opening note hangs in the air as the song builds into a fast-paced ballad. Zephyr’s thin fingers blur over the flute holes until he slows the song down to a crawl. The rapid energy of the song is replaced by a soothing and epic tone, bringing tears to Alyssa’s eyes. She turns to the blazing fire in an attempt to separate herself from the song and avoid breaking down completely. Zephyr finishes his song and the final, soft note echoes throughout the room.
“I am sorry if I upset you, ma’am,” Zephyr apologizes. He sits down on the stage floor and feels ahead of himself with his feet. Scooting forward, he finds the edge of the stage and awkwardly slides to the cushions below.
“You have nothing to apologize for,” Alyssa assures him, once she finishes wiping the tears from her face. “Your song was beautiful. I believe it truly captured Luke’s essence. I could sense his energy, his kindness, and his courage to the point where part of me felt like he was in the room.”
“You know, he could still be here with us in some form,” Zephyr states. He slowly approaches Alyssa and sits in front of her. “A man once told me that the dead are able to see people who hold them in their hearts.”
“That is a wonderful sentiment, but I’m not willing to believe that my dead ex-fiancée is spying on me. Though, I wouldn’t put it past him. Luke always enjoyed sneaking up on people and catching them off guard,” Alyssa reminisces, a dreamy smile on her face. “He could never get the better of his grandfather, but he kept trying. I remember one time Luke was left in a hanging snare for half the night after he tried to trap his grandfather in it. He did nothing to hide the snare except for a single, leafless branch. I don’t know how he believed that it would work.”
Zephyr giggles as he tries to imagine the scene. “Luke sounds like he was a handful.”
“He kept life very interesting and exciting around here,” Alyssa explains, dotting her moist eyes with a lacey handkerchief. “I guess that was why I accepted our engagement and looked forward to our wedding. Marrying Luke meant that my life would never be boring. I would wake up every day wondering what that man would do. Don’t misunderstand me, though. Presently, I am happily engaged to a great man. It’s just that Luke isn’t the type of person that one can easily get over. Even if he was nothing more than a friend, Luke will stay in your heart and mind forever. That’s just the way he was made.”
“I should be going, Lady Goldheart,” Zephyr whispers as he stands. “I am very happy that you liked my song. I hope to perform it at the up-coming festival. It would be a nice tribute.”
“I am sure the town would love to hear it and I look forward to hearing your song again,” Alyssa says, getting to her feet. She bows low to Zephyr and reaches out to give the boy a gentle hug.
Zephyr and Alyssa jump at a sudden crash from outside the room. Alyssa nervously inches to the door and cracks it open. She can clearly hear the sound of a woman arguing with her butler and Caspar. She is about to step out of the room until Caspar draws his scimitar and points it at someone who is just out of her view. Alyssa hears a high-pitched whine before she slams the door shut. She is about to say something to Zephyr when the wall to her left explodes and Caspar’s limp body bounces onto the stage. A slender, glowing form steps through the massive hole, partially masked by the cloud of dirt and sawdust.
“Never point a sword at me when I’m talking!” Nyx shouts. The disheveled caster steps further into the room, scanning the area with eyes that are glimmering with golden energy. Her clothes are covered in dirt and her black hair is a tangled, filthy mess.
“Excuse me! This house is in mourning! You will leave immediately!” Alyssa furiously demands.
“You must be Alyssa Goldheart. My name is Nyx. Luke told me very little about you,” the caster mentions, extending a hand toward the noblewoman.
Alyssa swats the hand away, her temper rising to match Nyx’s fury. “Do not mock me in my time of pain. I seriously doubt that Luke would ever befriend a woman with so little tact and horrible manners. You are nothing more than a savage, rampaging beast.”
“Your bodyguard pointed a sword at me while I was explaining my situation to your butler,” Nyx argues, her eyes locked on the far corner of the room. “It isn’t my fault that the big boy refused to put his weapon away when I asked him to.”
“And just what is your situation?” Alyssa inquires through gritted teeth.
“Luke promised to travel with me and keep me safe while I wandered around Windemere,” Nyx answers casually. “So, I’ve come to make sure that he keeps that promise.”
“Your jokes are not welcomed in this house. Luke is dead and I wish you would follow him.” The noblewoman attempts to slap Nyx in the face, but her open hand misses when the half-elf ducks and steps further into the room. The elf cringes at the pain from her hand smacking the wall.
Nyx smiles madly at Alyssa, making the noble’s blood freeze. “I don’t have time for this. Get out of the corner and come with me, Luke. I know that lazy blob of aura is you, little brother.”
“You’re insane,” Alyssa swears under her breath.
“I have been searching the entire town, the clearing to the north of town, and the surrounding forests all day,” Nyx states, her eyes returning to their normal violet. “This is the last place for me to check and I’m pretty sure that I’ve found him. So, get out of my way, high blood.”
“I will not. You’re under arrest for destruction of property and trespassing. I will make sure you get locked up in an asylum since you are horribly delusional,” Alyssa threatens the half-elf. She steps up to Nyx, so that they are almost nose to nose. “I’m guessing that you’re one of his traveling friends and you had a small fling with him. His death has poisoned your mind with despair and you are too weak to accept reality.”
“I don’t have much time to save him, so I’m giving you one last warning to get out of my way, elf,” Nyx snarls while she cracks her knuckles.
“You don’t scare me, halfer,” the elf declares, flexing her fingers in preparation for a fight.
“Excuse me, but can I say something?” Zephyr asks before the two women attempt to hit each other.
Nyx finally turns her attention to the young boy. “Who are you?”
Zephyr clears his throat and hugs his flute case nervously. “My name is Zephyr. I was practicing my music in the northern clearing when Luke arrived at the river. For some reason, I can talk with him. Luke asked me to help get him into the mansion, so he could see how Alyssa was handling his death. He has been sitting in the corner of the room all this time. I’m sorry for lying to you about my intentions, Lady Goldheart, but I thought I was being helpful.”
“Did you really write that song and intend to cheer me up?” Alyssa asks, sinking to the floor. Her eyes are locked on the corner that Nyx had yelled at.
“I don’t have time for this,” Nyx mutters in frustration.
“Yes, ma’am, I wrote the song as Luke told me some of his adventures,” Zephyr timidly admits. “I like making people happy with my music.”
“Then, there is nothing to apologize for,” Alyssa whispers with a smile.
Nyx clears her throat to get everyone’s attention. “Great. The kid isn’t feeling bad and the noble is slightly happier. Now, can I take my pain in the butt companion’s aura from here?”
“You are a very rude woman,” Alyssa coldly mentions.
“Look, Mayor Goldheart. As I said, I have been searching for Luke since this morning. I have had no breaks for sleep or food,” the half-elf complains. As if in agreement, her stomach roars and her mouth breaks into an unstoppable yawn. “My magic has reached its limits and I smell like a dwarven boxing ring. I am not in a good mood.”
Alyssa finally notices how bad Nyx smells and wrinkles her nose. “Then, you have my sympathies.”
“Keep them. We’ll have a real conversation once I bring our mutual headache back to us,” Nyx promises, staring ch
allengingly at Alyssa. “Come on, hero.”
“Good-bye, Luke,” Zephyr says. His brown hair appears to get ruffled by an unseen hand.
“He really is . . . hey!” Alyssa squeaks when an invisible finger passes through the back of her robe and runs up her spine. She shivers at the icy, yet irritatingly familiar, touch.
Nyx bows to Alyssa and Zephyr before stepping back through the hole in the wall. Alyssa peaks out to watch the caster walking toward the front door, which is hanging from its hinges. For a brief instance, the noblewoman swears that she sees the ghostly form of Luke passing through the doorway.
11
“So, this is the slightly famous Luke Callindor. I have to say that I’m not impressed. Though, that might be because you’re dead,” Queen Ionia playfully admits. Aedyn, Nyx, and Talos intently watch the caster queen while she slowly walks a circle in the middle of the simple guest room. They can only assume that she is walking around Luke since none of them can see him. Ilan quietly sits in a wooden chair in the far corner, his eyes locked on the body of his son.
“Who are you, lady?” Luke asks, turning with her.
“Your grandson isn’t very big on manners,” Ionia laughs with a flourish of her dark blue dress.
Talos forces a half smile that never reaches his sullen, emerald eyes. “The boy always said what was on his mind. I take it he is not being disrespectful.” He stops and turns to Ilan. “Are you sure there is no way to bring Vixen here, son? She should be a part of this.”
“My wife does not want to give herself any false hope,” Ilan states, his voice barely above a whisper. “She is still unable to bring herself to see Luke’s body. It is best to let her move at her own pace.”
“I’m serious, guys. I don’t know who this woman is,” Luke claims. He waves his hand in front of Aedyn’s face, but the priest turns away from him without flinching. Luke sighs and takes a seat on the edge of the bed.
“Here I thought everyone knew who I was,” Ionia says. With a wave of her hand, the caster queen conjures an ivory throne and delicately sits down. “I am Queen Ionia of Darkmill. I travelled to Haven in order to face Kalam before he could do any damage. I arrived too late and found a magically cleared battlefield with signs of powerful spells having been used. I used my magic to see what happened during the battle and discovered that your spirit was ejected from your body. My hope is to bring you back from near death.”
Legends of Windemere: 03 - Allure of the Gypsies Page 24
