Legends of Windemere: 03 - Allure of the Gypsies

by Charles E Yallowitz

  “Don’t kill her!” Sari screams.

  “Crap!” Nyx shouts. She jerks her arms, but the burning chandelier grazes the gypsy’s shoulder.

  Ignoring the pain in her shoulder, Sari continues pleading with Nyx. “Don’t kill her, Nyx! Trinity is the reason I’m still alive!”

  “Damn it! This fight was awkward enough with Trinity ranting about how she was supposed to be me. Now, Sari is begging me not to kill the woman who wants to kill me,” Nyx complains. Out of frustration, she hurls the chandelier at the far wall where it bursts and crumbles to dust. “You two are really making me regret coming here.”

  Trinity gets to her feet and reaches out to Sari. “How’s your shoulder?”

  “It’s fine. I’ve been burned before and this is nothing,” Sari casually says. She gently pushes Trinity’s hand away. “I used to make money juggling torches while singing dwarven ballads.”

  Nyx walks over to take a look at the small burn on Sari’s shoulder. Convinced that it’s a minor injury that will heal quickly, she looks up at Trinity. “Sari and I have some things to take care of here. How about you let us go on our way and we settle our problems another day? I’m not going to fight you if it means upsetting Sari.”

  “I have no interest in upsetting her either,” Trinity mentions with a sigh. The chaos elf pulls a comb out of her back pocket and hands it to Sari. “It’s a shame, though. Our little talk definitely threw off your concentration. I guess I need a new way of ruffling your feathers the next time we meet.”

  “Thank you,” the gypsy says. She gladly works on getting the tangles and filth out of her hair.

  “So, you made up that story to catch me off-guard,” Nyx scoffs. “I should have known you were lying. It’s too far-fetched.”

  “I wasn’t lying to you about our connection. I could have been a champion if it wasn’t for you. Gabriel has been nurturing our bloodline for centuries until one of us appeared. Sadly, you beat me by a day,” Trinity explains with a shark-like grin. “If only I was born first. Then, Gabriel would have devised a way for me to escape my master and for you to fall into evil. Now, because of you, my goal to free my people is infinitely harder to achieve.”

  “I still think you can join me,” Nyx awkwardly declares. “You don’t have to kill me to take my place.”

  ”I may have lied to you about taking your place as champion if I were to kill you. I have no evidence to prove that, but I will find out when I kill you some day,” the chaos elf swears before gesturing toward Sari. “You should thank Sari for saving your life.”

  “I will. What did you mean by our bloodline?” Nyx asks curiously.

  “Ask Isaiah about it. Well, until we meet again, ladies,” Trinity sings, extending her hand for Nyx to shake.

  Nyx refuses to accept the gesture until Sari grabs her hand and jams it into Trinity’s waiting palm. Nyx is about to yell at Sari, but she is quickly knocked out by a surge of electricity coursing through her body. The half-elf collapses to the ground with smoke wafting off her. Sari barely has time to draw one of her daggers before a swift gust of wind hits her chin and sends her flipping backwards. The gypsy is still in the air when Trinity hits her in the stomach with an electrified palm strike. Sari lands on top of Nyx with an echoing thud.

  “Great. Now, I have to drag both of them to Kalam,” Trinity grumbles, standing over the barely breathing women.

  *****

  Luke sighs as he passes through a wall and enters another dark hallway. He can hear the distant sound of explosions, but he can’t pinpoint which direction it is coming from. His head throbs and his ears quiver as if a gong has been struck inside his head. A feeling of frustration over being lost sinks in as Luke enters a storeroom with no door. He stands amid the rotting grain and ancient biscuits that he can only assume were here years before Kalam took over. He listens to the distant explosions continue, but his aching ears are unable to focus.

  “I need to gather my thoughts,” Luke whispers, pacing from one end of the storeroom to the other. “I lost track of Nyx and that cute gypsy. Now, my ears feel like they’re about to shatter. This is just not my day.”

  An electric crackling catches Luke’s attention an instant before a wave of energy passes into the room. Luke can feel his ears pop as the energy wave ripples along the ceiling. The blue energy hangs in the air for a few seconds before receding back into the wall with a loud sucking noise. He can clearly hear someone laughing madly from the other side of the wall. Without a second thought, Luke decides that he should handle this mystery instead of unintentionally leading a new threat to his friends.

  The half-elf courageously steps through the wall into another dark hallway where the cackling bounces off the shadows. Luke takes a deep breath and closes his eyes to focus on his hearing. A shuffling near his feet reveals a large cockroach, which is quickly forgotten as Luke concentrates on tracking the dying laughter. He moves at a slow jog, carefully following the echoing noise down the hallway. Two zombies unknowingly step into his path as he rounds a corner. He doesn’t notice when he passes through them, causing the hapless undead to collapse and fall to pieces. Luke senses nothing, but the trail of spine-tingling laughter.

  Minutes pass before Luke comes to an open doorway where the stench of burning and rotting flesh permeates the air. He steps into the vast room where the walls are covered in naked corpses. A few of the bodies are on fire while others are nothing more than rotted bone. Luke wishes he could throw up as he looks around the room. He notices that every surface is covered in dried blood. A hole in the floor with a metal plug sitting next to it catches the half-elf’s attention before a chilling voice cuts through the air.

  “For centuries, I have been forced to feed my masters while I starve. I drink the blood of their sacrifices only to give it back to them when they are wanting,” says the voice, emanating from the far wall. “Now, it is my turn to feed.”

  “I have no body or blood to devour, so you’ll have to stay hungry,” Luke mentions with a nervous grin.

  A rumbling shakes the room before the door slams shut and a simple rocking chair rises from the ground. Luke starts to laugh until the chair grows, twists, and bloats into the form of a skeletal throne. He draws his sabers as the gaudy construct finishes transforming. The skull at its apex looks down at the half-elf and its eyes burst into sapphire flames. As the throne laughs, the bodies on the walls begin to bleed and shudder violently.

  “This is going to give me nightmares for the rest of my life,” Luke admits, his aura starting to quiver.

  “I will devour your spirit and gain enough power to usurp my master upon his next feeding,” the throne cackles triumphantly. “I will no longer be the bleeding chef of vampires. Soon, I will feel the warmth of freedom on my bones and the sensation of death within my hands.”

  Luke laughs nervously and slowly spins his sabers. “You sound disgruntled”

  “Enough of your prattle! I can taste your delicious spirit from here,” the throne hungrily growls.

  Luke is about to say something when an ear-wrenching cracking fills the room and the throne begins to vibrate. The arms of the throne thrust forward while several pairs of insect-like legs erupt from its base. A long, flexible neck grows from under the flaming skull until it resembles a weaving serpent. Luke dives away from the boney hands that lance out at him. He is surprised to find himself bouncing off the blood-covered walls instead of passing through them like he expected. Luke rolls under another clumsy grab by the throne and leaps across the room.

  Luke cannot even begin to imagine a way to destroy the throne and decides to focus on surviving. Using all of his agility and reflexes, he struggles to avoid the twisting, grabbing arms of the evil piece of furniture. Luke silently wishes that he had not lost track of Nyx. Part of him is sure that one of her destructive spells could end this fight in a matter of seconds.

  “I must find a way to slow you down or I will be too tired to reap true pleasure from my meal,” the throne says, reach
ing out to stick the metal plug into the drain.

  “I’m a ghost. A room full of blood won’t slow me down,” Luke points out as he blocks one of the arms with his swords.

  “You will not be able to see through the flood once it reaches the ceiling,” the throne claims.

  “Every time I meet a piece of necrocaster furniture, it wants to eat me,” Luke complains with a tired sigh. “I can’t possibly be that delicious. I spend so much time on the road that I have to taste rather gamey.”

  “Your spirit is strong and your life has seasoned it perfectly,” the throne retorts, making a wild grab at Luke’s legs.

  “I don’t know if I should accept that as creepy or a compliment,” Luke mutters while he dances away from the throne.

  Luke leaps into the air and pushes himself off the wall where the skeletal arms of the throne stick into the bleeding stone. The half-elf lands on the seat of the throne and jams his sabers into it. A piercing shriek sends ripples along the growing pool of blood. Luke holds on while the throne thrashes its limbs and desperately tries to shake him off. The throne abruptly stops its shaking and goes deathly silent. Luke listens to his pounding heartbeat for a few seconds before he remembers that he no longer has a heartbeat. He leaps off the throne in time to avoid a spectral hand that savagely punches through the back of the throne.

  Luke cautiously shifts into a defensive position with his blades crossed in front of his upper body. The throne is torn to pieces as a slavering specter pulls itself through the cushioned seat. A thin, gray skeleton, towering five feet above Luke, can be seen within the specter’s blue aura. The terrifying monster reaches out to grab the dangling, dead-eyed skull of the throne. With a violent twist, the specter tears the skull off its neck and greedily devours it.

  “This was unexpected,” Luke says as the glowing creature turns toward him.

  “I will have you. I will make my new shell from the bones of your friends,” the specter whispers.

  “There’s no reason to bring my friends into this,” Luke states, a twinge of anger in his voice.

  The specter flashes a wide grin. “Your family and friends will be used. I will use them in place of my owner. He may still have some use as a slave when I am free of him.”

  “You’re going too far, ghost,” Luke growls.

  “You will get angry and attack me without thought,” the specter claims with a laugh. “Then, I will have you with little effort.”

  The specter stops laughing when Luke rushes toward it and lops off its right hand with a quick flick of his wrist. It hisses at the half-elf while it extends its left arm toward him. Luke catches the specter’s arm between his sabers and flips the large creature over his head. He is surprised at how easily he hurls the large, hissing creature against the far wall. Not wasting any time, Luke charges and slashes into the back of its head before it can get to its feet.

  “You are able to cause me pain,” the specter whimpers in fear and surprise.

  “I’m as surprised as you are,” Luke admits, stabbing his sabers into the monster’s spine.

  Luke rips one of his sabers up the specter’s spine and watches the vertebrae pop as soon as they touch the blade. By the time his sword reaches the specter’s skull, there is nothing more than bone fragments where its spine used to be. Luke averts his eyes when the laughing skull erupts into a blast of white light. He can feel a surging heat run through his body, which briefly sticks to his aura. A shimmer runs along his translucent form as the foreign energy licks at his very being. Luke almost falls to his knees as he feels the specter’s energy gnaw at his spirit.

  “Your aura is perfect. I will take over your spirit and gain your body upon your resurrection,” the specter gloats from inside Luke’s mind.

  “I’ve fought through too much to fail now. My will is too strong for you to break,” Luke says, his head beginning to split down the middle.

  “Ignorant child! Your will is nothing more than blind courage, which masks your damaged heart,” the specter declares, moving its energy into Luke’s limbs. “It is your weak heart that gives me the opening that I need to bend you to my will.”

  Luke gasps for air and nearly falls to his knees from the pain. “What are you talking about?”

  The specter’s face rises from his shoulder. “A heart of despair and pain is all I see. I wonder if you are in your current state because you wished for death.”

  “I lost my body because I tried to save a friend,” Luke argues, fighting to expel the specter from his aura.

  “Your mind is open to me. It tells me that you saved someone who you knew would survive the attack,” the specter warns the warrior, its face moving around Luke’s body. “Who is Fritz? Who is Stiletto? Why do you think of this Kellia as someone who is dead and someone who is alive? Why do you harbor guilt towards this Alyssa?”

  “None of your business. Get out of my aura and let’s finish this fight!” Luke shouts with spectral tears forming in his eyes.

  “There is no reason to fight when I have already won,” the specter victoriously rants. “You use bravado to hide the fact that you feel like you have failed. It was you who brought Stiletto to the place where he would be killed. Fritz would still be alive if he had never met you. You were responsible for the fake Kellia’s death. Alyssa’s heart was permanently scarred by your betrayal. Everything unfortunate and disastrous that has happened to those around you is because they met you. Everything is your fault. You fear that if you reveal this to those around you then they will stay with you in an attempt to prove you wrong.” It pauses with its distorted face bulging from Luke’s chest. “No . . . that is what you want to happen. The truth is that you fear they will see you as cursed and leave you to a life of loneliness. As much as it hurts for you to be near them, you believe that it would hurt even more to be alone. Such a pathetic and confused emotional state has left your heart weak and defenseless.”

  “Those thoughts are not for you to see,” Luke whispers softly.

  “It was not like you were paying attention to them. You continued to hide them from your friends,” the specter declares, its gruesome face starting to merge with Luke’s face. “I wonder what they would think if they knew that you cry at night while they sleep. Would they believe you were worth their sympathy or their pity?”

  Luke feels the heat of his spectral tears roll down his face. “I just want their friendship.”

  “Your heart says differently,” the specter gleefully taunts. “I can sense that you want nothing more than for them to leave you and be safe. Their friendship with you means they will become victims of your curse.”

  “Being my friend is not a curse,” Luke snaps.

  “Then, what about Nimby?” the monster inquires, immediately feeling Luke’s resistance weaken. “He was your friend and he tried to kill you. He did kill Fritz who was another of your friends. If being your friend was a blessing then Nimby would not have turned against you. Instead, he caused you pain. In doing so, he took another friend from you. Now, you distance yourself from everyone around you. He is the cause of your despair and yet I sense that you still call him friend.”

  “He is my friend. He didn’t kill me,” Luke says, his voice growing weaker by the second.

  The specter bellows with chilling laughter. “What will you do if you face him again? Will it be a heart-warming reunion or a violent execution? Can your heart even handle seeing him again?”

  “Let me go,” the half-elf growls.

  “Why? It is not as if you want to save your friends,” the specter states with a self-indulgent chuckle. “You could have searched for them instead of following my laughter. It is your fault if anything unfortunate happens to them while you were dealing with me.”

  “Shut up!”

  “Do you hate to hear that many choices you have made have resulted in someone getting hurt or killed?” the specter asks, whittling at Luke’s mind. “Nimby, Fritz, Kellia, Nyx, Aedyn, Fizzle, Selenia, Alyssa, Stiletto, your parents, your gran
dfather, and even your precious Kira have suffered from your choices. You know this to be true.”

  “I said shut up!”

  “Your heart is mine. Everyone you ever cared about will be mine to play with because you-” the specter says before it abruptly loses its voice.

  “Shut up!” Luke roars at the top of his lungs. Fueled by his anger, Luke expels the specter from his body and drives his sabers into its void-like eyes. A burst of green energy surges from the half-elf’s arms and wraps around his blades, flowing into the quivering monster. The specter screeches in pain before exploding along with the remains of the magical throne. Luke collapses to the ground and gasps for air, spectral tears continuing to stream down his face.

  “Not my fault. Not my fault. Not my fault,” Luke constantly repeats until he closes his eyes and passes out.

  14

  Nyx clenches her eyes as the back of a scaly hand collides with the side of her head. Her mind barely registers the impact due to the throbbing pain in her mangled left arm. As she spins in the air, Nyx can hear the scraping of the rusty chains, running from her wrists to the ceiling. A furious shake of her head sends rust flakes into the air where they float into Nyx’s mouth and nose every time she breaths. Her eyes finally open when Kalam grabs her by the throat and pulls her toward him. His grinning face is close enough for Nyx to spit in his nostril, which results in another backhand to her face. Her vision blurry, the half-elf can barely see Trinity standing near the door and an unconscious Sari chained to a wall. A minute of spinning helplessly passes before Kalam grabs her by the face. Nyx can feel his grip tighten until he suddenly lets go and turns away.