Legends of Windemere: 03 - Allure of the Gypsies

by Charles E Yallowitz

  “He’s insane,” Sari whispers, hopping on her good ankle.

  “Get the hell out of there, Aedyn!” Luke screams in a sudden burst of anger. In desperation, Luke drops his sabers and begins grabbing the rusty weapons of the fallen zombies. He hurls them with all of his strength, but the dragon is too high for the half-elf to hit.

  “Tell Kellia what happened to me!” Aedyn requests.

  “This isn’t happening again,” the forest tracker mutters, watching the priest’s staff begin to glow brightly. Another glow begins to rise from the back of the dragon’s throat.

  “Also, if you see him again . . . tell Nimby that I forgive him!” Aedyn shouts.

  “We have to do something, Luke,” Sari helplessly pleads.

  A primal, roaring screech erupts from Luke’s mouth and a brown glow throbs from underneath his shirt. Sari stares in awe as the scene before her gets even stranger. Feathers sprout from Luke’s head and fur ripples out of his skin. The half-elf’s body lurches with a sudden growth spurt, leaving him at ten feet tall until he falls to his hands and feet. Another screech rips through the air when wings tear out of Luke’s back and leave his shirt in tatters. He awkwardly rises into the air, his hands and feet becoming lion-like paws. The griffin that was once Luke bursts toward the Sword Dragon with a curtain of feathers in its wake.

  “Wow,” Sari mumbles in shock.

  A blinding light explodes in the dragon’s mouth as Aedyn releases the biggest holy strike that he could conjure. At the same moment Aedyn casts his spell, a flaming boulder of metal rockets out of the dragon’s throat. Sari is thrown off her feet by the impact of fiery metal and divine power. She barely sees Luke swoop into the growing explosion. A deafening boom shakes the clearing as the dragon’s head and neck are vaporized by the explosion. The large body crashes to the ground, partially burying itself under the dirt that it kicks up. Sari stays on the ground panting and letting the thrill of the battle seep out through her fingers and toes. It takes her exhausted mind a minute to remember Luke and Aedyn.

  She slowly gets to her feet and looks around the decimated clearing. “Luke! Aedyn! What in the name of Cessia just happened? Are you two alive? Luke! Aedyn! Please say something!”

  The only reply she gets is a sorrowful screech and the flapping of wings. She turns and finally gets a clear look at Luke in the form of a noble, beautiful griffin. His golden fur looks so soft and warm that she has a childish urge to hug him. The groaning form of Aedyn on Luke’s back snaps Sari back to reality. She rushes to help the priest to the ground, but she recoils when she sees him crash to the ground. Aedyn is barely conscious with smoke rolling off his severely burned skin. The only fortunate part of being so badly burned is that the stumps that used to be his legs have been cauterized. Sari finds it hard to look at what is left of the priest whose ragged breathing stabs at her heart. She finally breaks down when Luke begins to gently nuzzle his maimed friend’s face with his beak.

  “Luke, I’m sorry,” she cries, dropping to her knees and reaching out to gently stroke Luke’s paw.

  The sound of footsteps barely registers until Nyx kneels next to the gypsy. The half-elf wipes a line of blood from her chin before leaning over to give Aedyn a cooling kiss to his forehead. Sari watches a soothing frost briefly cover his body, stopping the flow of smoke. He cringes in dull pain and lets his eyes open slightly. A small smile crosses the priest’s face as he looks at the two women before him and weakly lifts a hand to touch Luke’s feathers. Aedyn surprises them all when he uses the last of his energy to laugh.

  18

  Nyx rubs her red, puffy eyes while watching Magella glide among the rotting zombies. The wrinkled elf gently places her hands on the body of a centaur zombie and whispers an incantation. A dim glow surrounds the corpse as she slowly pushes it into the trampled earth. Fresh grass and flowers sprout from the ground after Magella moves on to the next body. With a weak yawn, Nyx glances toward Haven where she can see a few colorful banners being nailed to the taller buildings. Through her blurry vision, Nyx can barely make out the shape of a thin woman talking to a crowd of men. The half-elf waves at the distant form who she assumes is Sari flirting with the townsmen, but the person could easily be Alyssa giving orders for the upcoming celebration. By the time she turns back to Magella, the only corpse left is that of the headless Sword Dragon. The beast’s metallic scales have lost their luster and its wings have begun to shrivel into the gaunt body. The elven caster scowls at the dead beast instead of putting it under the ground like she did to the zombies.

  “Is something wrong?” Nyx asks out of curiosity.

  “Not really, dear,” Magella answers with a warm smile.

  “Then, why can’t you sink the dragon? You have to be stronger than I am, so it shouldn’t be a problem,” Nyx says before yawning again. “For that matter, why didn’t you get involved in the fight? That dragon would have been destroyed without my friend sacrificing his legs if you had done something.”

  “So many questions from someone who is barely awake. I don’t know where to begin,” Magella whispers sweetly. Behind her eyes is a glimmer of anger, which Nyx stubbornly ignores.

  “The dragon would be a good start,” the half-elf politely suggests.

  “Very well, I cannot affect the dragon because it is too soon after its death. A weapon dragon enters a state of magical nullification upon its demise. No spell can affect it until the organs and the wings have shriveled into husks. It is assumed that this is to prevent us from discovering how these beasts are made,” Magella explains, approaching Nyx and standing before her. “You still look confused. You see, dear, a weapon dragon is actually a horrible construct built from technology dating back to the Hejinn period. They are part machine and part beast, which is an abomination that only the Hejinn could think of. If you were to analyze the monster’s body then you could figure out how to make one yourself, which is what the creators of these beasts fear. They would lose their business if everyone knew how to make them. So, it is impossible to cast magic on the body until the important organs are long gone.”

  “You could crack it open with an axe,” Nyx bluntly states.

  Magella giggles with a hand over her mouth. “That would cause the body to explode. The insides are highly volatile at this time. It will be another five days before I can cast a spell on it. Thankfully, the body is mostly made of metal, so it won’t rot like natural creatures.”

  “That’s good since we want to have the party tomorrow. A rotting carcass would be a problem,” Nyx says, looking up to lock eyes with the older caster. “So, why didn’t you get involved in the battle?”

  “I am surprised you have to ask, dear. A caster with your potential should be aware of the destruction that her power can cause. Just look at the circle of ash that your final spell left behind,” Magella responds, waving her hand toward the large, ashy spot of earth. “Nothing will grow there for the next year because of the power of your spell.”

  “I had no choice,” the half-elf argues, tears in her eyes. “Kalam was going to kill me and use me as a plaything if I didn’t use my full power.”

  “That is the excuse of a child. Continuing on your path of combat magic will result in you becoming a danger to your allies as well as your enemies,” Magella says, her voice strict and cold. “Do you remember what happened when Isaiah and Kalam fought each other with all their strength? They got my grandson killed. Even though Luke is partially to blame for his own death, he has very little understanding of magic. You have to understand that most people in Windemere know even less than he does. So, when they are in battle with a caster on their side, these people fail to take precautions. They are so busy worrying about arrows and blades that they never consider a spell from their ally could be what kills them. It is up to casters to keep their allies safe from all magic including their own. It would be an eternal pain in your heart if you were to injure or kill one of your friends.”

  “I’m always careful,” Nyx defiantly contend
s. “I never cast spells that affect a wide area unless I’m in the frontline or know exactly where all my friends are.”

  “That’s only a start, dear,” Magella nonchalantly agrees.

  “I can’t think of anything else right now, ma’am,” Nyx feebly admits.

  “Of course, dear. You’ve had a rough week with very little rest. I suggest you get some sleep before the celebration. It is for all of you who helped save Haven from Kalam,” the elf maiden says with a whimsical look in her soft eyes. She places a warm hand on Nyx’s head and kneels down. “Enjoy these times while they last, dear. From experience, I can tell you that the life of an adventurer rarely reaps these rewards. Most times you’re lucky to get enough money for food.”

  Nyx smiles and takes Magella’s hand off her head, holding it tight. “I have been wondering about something, ma’am. What does a powerful caster do when there are no more roads to wander? Some day there will be no more obstacles to push me to my limits. I can’t delude myself into believing that this lifestyle will last forever no matter how much fun I have. I can’t . . . be an adventurer for my entire life.”

  “That is up to you,” Magella says, reaching out to stroke the young girl’s cheek. “Casters can become whatever they want. Some become teachers while others become judges. Others settle down and give up their powers. Those are the ones that I pity the most.”

  “What about you?” Nyx asks.

  “I act as a caretaker for magical creatures. It keeps me on the road, which isn’t bad since my children are all grown,” Magella half-heartedly replies.

  “I guess it is possible to stay an adventurer all your life,” Nyx states, letting go of Magella’s hand.

  “I spent one hundred and eight years in this town. I watched it grow and raised my children here until they no longer needed me to protect them,” Magella says with a wry grin. “After that, I felt a void that I needed to fill with a final adventure. You see, Talos and I both suffer from the Callindor wanderlust even though I am Callindor only by marriage.”

  “That might explain why your grandson can’t sit still,” Nyx laughs.

  “Luke has been a handful since the day he was born. Every time I check on him, he’s up to something,” Magella states, wrapping her robe tighter around her skinny body. “He makes me so proud, but so very worried.”

  Nyx watches the old elf shiver and rub her arms. “Are you okay, Magella?”

  “It comes with my age, dear. My body gets cold very easily just like all elves my age,” Magella replies, another shiver running up her spine. “I am three hundred and thirty four years old. I probably have another twenty or thirty years in me before I pass on. Thankfully, my final adventure will be over within the year and I can return home for good. It will be hard to stay still, but I owe it to my husband to be home for our final years.”

  “You could always spend time with your family before you leave,” Nyx points out.

  “We will see,” the veteran caster whispers with a shrug.

  A burst of cool, fresh air whips Nyx’s ebony hair into her face and temporarily blinds her. She grabs a plain, red ribbon out of her pocket and ties her loose hair into a sloppy ponytail. The sound of children laughing catches her attention. Not far away from the fence around Talos’s home are a group of kids chasing a purple kite. A gust of wind makes the kite abruptly change direction every time one of the children gets close to its long tail. Nyx smiles warmly at the energetic kids, waggling her fingers at a little girl who waves wildly at her. By the time Nyx turns back to ask Magella another question, the old elf is gone and only a small twister of dry leaves remain in her place.

  “I hope she went to her family,” Nyx whispers sadly.

  “We have a lot of work to do and you’re out here watching children play,” Alyssa snaps, walking over to the caster. “The least you could do is face the town and pretend to supervise.”

  “Leave me a . . . wah!” the caster exclaims, turning around to get hit in the face by a warm, sticky pie. Her tongue slowly licks some off her lips and she grimaces at the taste of raspberry. She reaches up to wipe some of the mess off her face, which she flicks at the grinning girl. Alyssa ignores the piece of dessert that lands on her shoulder and continues to look at Nyx triumphantly.

  “You should have known my revenge was coming,” Alyssa proudly declares.

  “Give me a break,” Nyx whines with a yawn. “I’ve been fighting and casting for days with little rest. It’s taking a lot of energy for me to stay awake right now.”

  “No need to make excuses. Besides, you got off easy,” the grinning girl claims.

  Nyx raises an eyebrow in curiosity and gets to her feet. “I guess I embarrassed you in front of a large group while you got revenge without witnesses. You are a nicer person than I was back then. Though, I did apologize. I would have made a public apology if you asked nicely.”

  “You’re lying,” Alyssa accuses her.

  “Well, you will never know,” Nyx says with a small smile on her face. “If you want me to help with the celebration then let me do it my way. I need to rest and get a feel for the wind patterns before the sky arts display. It will definitely be a nice change for me to use my magic for something other than combat.”

  “Your display will be done with the gypsy’s midnight drumming, dancing, and drinking plans. I had to give her something to do. She was getting obnoxious. I also . . . owed her,” Alyssa admits, her voice sounding a little tired. “She better be willing to clean up after the mess she’s going to cause.”

  “You will be lucky if you can find her at the end of the party,” Nyx warns her.

  Alyssa rubs her eyes. “Then, you can keep an eye on her.”

  “Not a chance,” the half-elf states with a wide grin. “I’m not Sari’s keeper and I don’t plan on ever accepting that job. She wears me out enough.”

  “You should get some sleep. I will see you at the party,” Alyssa says, smiling with genuine warmth.

  Nyx nods to the noble and starts trudging her way toward Talos’s house. The thought of the small cot is very appealing to the half-elf. Her mood turns sour when she realizes that she will have to bathe first to get the pie off of her. She is at the fence when a high-pitched whistle cuts through the air. Nyx has no time to turn around before a group of kids rushes out from behind some bushes. A choked yelp gets caught in her throat when the kids hurl three buckets worth of cold water on her. They quickly scatter before the drenched half-elf can consider chasing them. Nyx can hear Alyssa laughing as the elven mayor approaches her.

  “Damn you, Goldheart,” Nyx growls, shuddering from the cold and her growing rage.

  “At least, you don’t have to take a bath now,” the noble says with a friendly pat on Nyx’s shoulder. She walks away laughing with all her might while Nyx opens the fence’s gate and angrily slams it behind her.

  *****

  The afternoon light stings Aedyn’s eyes as they weakly open and peer around the small room. A table with bandages, ground medicinal herbs, and a freshly cleaned knife sits just out of reach. With a deep breath, the weary half-elf tries to relax, focusing on the cool sheets against his bare skin. A sudden scraping noise from a corner of the room causes him to crane his neck, hoping to see who is with him. A smile crosses his face when he sees Luke drag a chair to the side of the bed.

  The warrior slumps back in the wooden chair, putting his feet up on the bedframe. “This is an interesting switch.”

  “I was thinking the same thing,” Aedyn admits through a narrow slit in his facial bandages.

  “I’ve been a bad influence on you,” Luke jokes, tears gathering in the corners of his eyes.

  “So, what happened to me?” the priest whispers with a small cough. “I remember my spell and the dragon’s attack. Then, a blur pulled me out of the dragon’s mouth. After that, a searing pain ran through my body and I passed out.” Luke quickly gets to his feet and grabs a glass of water. He gently puts it to Aedyn’s lips, helping his friend get a much-need
ed drink.

  “My fourth gift emerged,” Luke announces, sitting down with the glass in his hand. “I transformed into a griffin and plucked you out of the dragon’s mouth.”

  Aedyn laughs before coughing again. “I wondered why I was dreaming about griffins.”

  “This gift is going to take some time for me to get used to,” Luke claims, sighing uncomfortably. “The biggest problem is that I can’t talk while I’m a griffin. At least, I haven’t figured out how the voice works. I was lucky enough to fly during my first change.”

  “I think I am the lucky one,” the priest says. “Though, I am curious as to why you were granted a griffin form.”

  Luke flashes him a charming grin. “What else would I be?”

  “I have no idea.” Aedyn scratches at the bandages on his neck.

  “To be honest, it isn’t really a form. Do you remember the griffin I fought during our time at the academy?” Luke softly asks. He begins rubbing the talon necklace under his shirt. “Well, I took a talon from her and made a necklace. It was something that I did to always remember her.”

  “I do not follow,” Aedyn mentions, groaning in pain.

  “I share my body with the griffin’s spirit,” Luke explains, watching Aedyn for signs of confusion. “The best way to describe it is that I gave up my body to the griffin and she was able to live again. My mind still worked even though my spirit was asleep. It took a while to convince her to release my body, but she left about an hour ago when I promised to let her out once a week. She said that she would understand if I can’t let her out to play during certain situations.”