“Why is this item important?” Trinity asks in a weak voice.
“I have no idea, but Gabriel wants it for his pawns,” the Baron casually answers, turning a curious expression in the direction of Ambervale. He squints as if he can see the island of the gods, which sits on the other side of Windemere. “I caught a glimpse into his mind during one of his . . . visits to our home. This item is something that he left behind when he took the ring of destiny. It is essential to the prophecy of my destruction, which is why all of his previous champions have been sheep sent to face a dragon. Now, he is ready to put this item back into play, so I must get it first.”
“Why would you trust me with such an item?” Trinity inquires, grinning at her master’s momentary flash of anger. “If this item is essential to your victory then I might be inclined to give it to the champions. I might even use it to destroy you myself and be worshipped as Windemere’s savior.”
“You love to play these mind games, but they never work on me,” the Baron says. He gently strokes her hair, which shimmers and unknots beneath his touch. “This is why I enjoy spending time with you. I am always amused by the mock defiance and intimidation that you use to cover the fear in your heart. It reminds me of my eldest daughter who your people worship. In a way that makes me the adopted grandfather of the chaos elves. That is why I have taken you under my protection and given you a purpose.”
“We had a purpose before you corrupted us,” Trinity growls, pushing herself away from the ancient nobleman. She can feel her head swim, but she is unsure if it is being caused by the demon blood or her fatigue.
“You were vermin in the shadows. Punished for choosing neutrality instead of taking up arms against your darker brethren,” he cruelly reminds her, vividly remembering the mischievous creatures that he had found on Shayd. “My cage had grown to encompass your pathetic realm and I chose to nurture you. I could have let my demons feast on your ancestors and wipe your prank-playing race off the face of Windemere. Instead, I showed mercy and turned you into dreaded assassins and spies. Upon my return to power, you and your people will be the new nobles. I know you wish for your people to be free of this desolate continent where undead thrive and nothing edible grows beyond roots and berries. You want your people to live with blue rivers and lush forests like the other races. Such is the promise of safety and purpose that I made to your ancestors, which will ensure you bring me this item.”
“Your demon taskmasters still eat us,” Trinity contends, hoping to regain some control of the argument.
“That is not a daily occurrence and those demons are severely punished for their transgression,” he strictly argues. Clearing his throat, the Baron adjusts the high neck of his tunic and softens his tone. “I do not wish to fight with you, Trinity. You are precious to me. Without you, I would have to rule your people through fear and terror like in the early days. It is because of you that I can let down my guard around the chaos elves and trust that they will remain loyal. You are the only ruler who has had the conviction and strength to swear an oath that she will share in every punishment that a chaos elf earns. None of your loving people wish to see you suffer for their sins, so they have become loyal and obedient.”
Trinity looks beyond the Baron at the chaos elves gathered around the magical fire. They are subtly watching the exchange while enjoying the brief rest from their daily harvesting. She can see some of them silently crying, but she cannot tell if it is out of sadness or happiness. Over the years, she has seen her people shed tears for both reasons without explanation. The elders tell her that nobody wants to burden her with their problems because she has taken so much upon her shoulders. Still, it is infuriating for her to watch her people cry. Some days she feels like the chaos elves will be shedding tears for eternity.
“I stand by my oath, master, but know that their loyalty and obedience is to me,” she proudly declares, hoping her display of defiance calms the sniffling group at the fire.
“That is why I keep you alive and care for your wounds,” the Baron says. He turns around to examine the chaos elves, quickly spying the tears that he expected. “Their tears are like acid on your soul, dear Trinity. I wonder if that is part of your strength or your weakness, though it could always be both. You draw strength from them, but your love for you people can be used to manipulate you with minimal effort. That is why I never grow attached to those I rule over. At some point, every ruler is forced to choose between his or her own survival and the survival of the people.”
“I’m sorry, but I’m not in the mood for a political philosophy discussion, Baron Kernaghan,” Trinity politely interrupts with a stiff bow. “We have chores to do before true darkness comes and the undead become a nuisance.”
“Then, I will let you return to them,” the Baron says. He gingerly takes Trinity’s hand and kisses it. “I request that you come to my chambers upon your full recovery. If you are thinking of delaying your visit then be aware that I will feed twenty of your people’s children to my Weapon Dragons for every day that you avoid me.”
“There’s no need to make such threats, master,” she claims through tightly clenched teeth. A flicker of green lightning plays across her fingers until she chokes down her rage. “I will stand within your presence as soon as I’m healthy and my people’s needs have been met. As a fellow ruler, you can’t deny me the time to attend to my people after you sent me away for so long.”
The Baron smiles warmly and rises into the air, startling the chaos elves. “I will grant you that time, but do not take advantage of my generosity. Your people’s future depends on my victory over Gabriel and his champions.”
Trinity watches the Baron levitate into the air and vanish in a puff of smoke that is dispersed by the powerful high winds. She takes in a deep, cleansing breath before grabbing her shovel and digging. The other chaos elves quickly leave the fire to return to their tools, rushing to handle most of the work and help their leader. It is not long before the elderly chaos elf approaches Trinity and places a quivering hand on her aching shoulder.
“My queen, you could always run away and help the champions,” the woman timidly suggests.
“You know that I could never do that,” Trinity responds, placing a tender hand on the woman’s wrist. “The Baron would destroy many of you if I ran away. Without all of you, I have no reason to go on living.”
“We do not want you to destroy your soul for us, your majesty,” declares one of the male workers.
“My soul may be dirtied by my deeds, but it will never be destroyed. The love in my heart for all of you helps me retain my soul,” Trinity assures him. She can see a young girl staring at her, nervously chewing on her lower lip. “You may ask your question. I promise I won’t yell, little one.”
The girl shifts her gaze to her bare, bloodied feet when everyone turns toward her. “I heard about the half-elf that you fought. She’s as powerful as you and I’m sure she is just as kind. So, why can’t you ask her to help free us?”
“That woman asked me the same thing once,” Trinity answers with a subtle twitch of her left eye. “I’m afraid that such an alliance is not to be, little one. She and I were destined to be enemies in this game. To ask her for help would go against the will of the gods. Besides, I’m sure nothing would come from such an alliance. Even with her help, the Baron is too strong and we would be throwing our lives away. So, I will have to kill her in order to stay in his favor.”
“Do you truly wish to destroy her?” asks the old elf. She smiles at Trinity, who eyes her suspiciously. “I sense hesitation and doubt. You realize that the will of the gods is unknown to you.”
“You’re very insightful, elder,” Trinity replies, examining the wrinkly cobalt skin of the woman’s face. “I don’t have an honest answer for you. I always seem to find my hate for Nyx dwindling until I meet her again. Then, it’s as if the sight of her sets my mind on fire and I must battle her. Yet, I always refuse to finish her off when I’m near victory because it never feels .
. . right.”
“I am sure that Nyx shares your feelings and confusion. The two of you are born from the same bloodline, which has not manifested itself like this since before the ancient world’s Race War,” the old woman whispers, her voice growing weaker and distant. “Follow your heart, my queen, and you will receive the final battle with your rival. I am sure the two of you will push each other to new heights of magic and strength.”
Trinity is about to speak when the old chaos elf steps away, her body emitting sparks of blue light. The other workers do not appear to notice the old woman as she rapidly disintegrates. The sparks flow toward the blazing tree stump, turning the color of the flames into a calming purple. Before her face disappears, the old woman playfully winks at Trinity. The disembodied face takes the form of a chaos elf maiden with an ethereal beauty about her, but the image quickly bursts into a shower of cobalt light. Stunned and awed, Trinity looks around to find that everybody is watching her with concern in their eyes. She grins at them and goes back to digging for roots, silently thankful that the other chaos elves obediently follow her example.
“I will do as you say, Lady of the Tainted Ones, and I thank you for taking the time to visit me,” Trinity whispers. She feels a few tears trickle down her cheeks, but an invisible hand gently wipes them away.
1
Sari’s emerald eyes flutter open as pinpricks of sunlight cover her face. She pushes a few locks of her dark blue hair out of her mouth before snuggling closer to the warm, slender body next to her. Her smooth legs entwine with the bare legs that are giving off waves of heat under the blanket. The gypsy drapes her arm over the other sleeping form, interlocking her fingers with the callused digits of her bedmate. A sigh of contentment rises from her lips as she nuzzles the sweet-smelling hair on her pillow. Sari is beginning to fall asleep again when she feels a sudden pain run up her arm. A low growl rolls from her sleeping partner, who is slowly crushing the gypsy’s hand.
“Why are you in my bed again?” Nyx asks before letting go of Sari’s hand.
“I was lonely,” Sari mutters in the voice of a scolded child. Her hand drifts to Nyx’s stomach as she hugs her childhood friend. “Why do you have a scar on your lower back? There’s another on your belly.”
“I was shot with an arrow that was really a vampire,” Nyx answers, batting Sari’s hands away. “I keep an illusion over the scars, so don’t tell anyone about them. They’re pretty ugly.”
“I’ll keep your secret,” Sari softly promises. “We should snuggle like when we used to share beds as kids.”
“We aren’t kids any more and you have a new playmate. Where is Luke anyway?” Nyx asks, her violet eyes becoming narrow, drowsy slits. Her eyes grow pop open when Sari pushes against her back. “More importantly, where are your clothes?”
“You’re naked too,” Sari points out with a little whimper. “At least I’m wearing undershorts, Nyxie. They might be Luke’s, but I’m wearing them.”
“This is my room,” Nyx angrily states, inching away from Sari. “I run very hot, so I sleep naked for comfort when I have the luxury. By luxury, I mean when I have a private room and the door can be locked from the inside. You might want to explain that little mystery while I’m still deciding on if I should or shouldn’t launch your semi-clothed butt out the window.”
“Do you really think a locked door can stop me?” Sari playfully asks. She hooks a leg around Nyx’s waist when the half-elf struggles. “If you try to toss me out the window then you’re coming with me.”
Nyx can feel the pressure from Sari’s immovable body, so she goes limp as a silent act of defeat. “You win, Sari. I promise not to embarrass you as long as you tell me where Luke is and why you’re in here wearing his underwear.”
“Luke went for a morning run or flight. I heard him arguing with the griffin about her not letting him sleep. That meditation thing is really messing with his head,” Sari explains, refusing to pull away from Nyx, who is incredibly warm to the touch. “As for my clothes, they’re on the chair by the door. You’re so warm that wearing all of my clothes makes me wake up in a disgusting pool of sweat. Is it really so bad to wake up like this? It isn’t like I have parts that you haven’t seen before.”
“That isn’t the point!” Nyx exclaims, a magical wind whipping her black hair into Sari’s face. “My spine hurts from you hugging me so hard and having those . . . boulders crushed against my back. I thought those things were only supposed to cause back pain to the girl who owns them.”
“My partner always told me that they were like pillows,” Sari interjects. She yelps when Nyx flips around, tiny flames rippling around the half-elf’s lips. “No need to use magic, Nyxie. I swear on Cessia’s dice that I will wake you up and switch positions next time. I’m built more like a spoonee than a spooner and you’re definitely built look a spooner.”
“There won’t be a next time, Sari. After today, you sleep with Luke or you sleep by yourself,” Nyx says as she moves away. She nervously shifts under the covers and pulls them up to her chin, fighting the temptation to compare her body with Sari’s.
Sari pouts and inches closer to the mellowing half-elf. “Don’t be like that, Nyxie. A big bed like this is lonely, so I’m happy to share it with you until you have a man.”
“Then, we’ll be sharing a bed until we’re old maids,” Nyx laughs, immediately regretting the comment.
“How many times are we going to have this conversation?” Sari asks with a mischievous smirk. She slinks her hand toward Nyx, but the blanket magically pins her arm. “You are beautiful, powerful, intelligent, and possess so many other positive traits. The only reason you don’t have a man is because you refuse to put any time and effort into the game of love. Your loneliness has nothing to do with your temper, your rough hands, your small breasts, or whatever else you consider a flaw.”
“My hands are rough because I spent the last three days making you a magical dress,” Nyx argues. She adopts an expression of mock fury, which quickly melts away as she stares into Sari’s glimmering eyes. “Listen, Sari, I know I could get a guy if I put my mind to it, but I’ve yet to find one worth pursuing. I’m not lonely or depressed. I might not be happy and . . . intimate like you and Luke, but I’m content.”
“Don’t get me started on Luke and intimacy,” Sari declares, rolling onto her back and pulling the blankets over her. “We haven’t even kissed since the first day of the celebration and sleeping in bed with him is so uneventful. Seriously, we only sleep. I have no idea what’s going through his head or why he’s pulling away. It’s so damn frustrating!”
“It’s probably Kira,” Nyx calmly suggests. She slips out of bed, using a spell to wrap one of the sheets around her. She scratches her head as she walks to a nearby wardrobe for some clean clothes. Everything that she refuses to wear gets thrown into a nearby magic satchel that swallows all of her belongings with ease.
“Wear the red shirt with black trimming. It goes great with your hair,” Sari says, remaining in the warm bed. “I don’t think it’s Kira because we all know she would be fine with Luke and I having sex. I hope things will get better when we leave Haven this afternoon, but I’m out of seduction tricks. All that’s left is getting him drunk and having my way with him. That method isn’t one you want to use unless you can live with the shame of being a pathetic bastard. I proudly lack the ability to live with it.”
“I could make some magical lingerie for you after we get to Hamilton Military Academy,” Nyx offers while dropping the sheet. Ignoring Sari’s teasing whistle, she slips on underwear and her favorite pair of black breeches. “Maybe add a small light spell to it or some kind of illusion that would get Luke’s interest.”
“I pity any man that you try to seduce, Nyxie,” the gypsy lazily teases. “He’s not going to know what hit him.”
Nyx shoots her friend an evil glare before waving her hand at the bed. The blankets leap off the mattress and stick to the ceiling, leaving Sari unexpectedly exposed. Her initial sh
ock quickly wears off and Sari flips off the bed to put her dress on. The dark blue top of the dress is low cut and has sleeves that can be rolled into a seam that magically hides them. A mesmerizing ripple runs through the soft fabric, giving it a watery appearance. Sari’s favorite part of the dress is the ankle-length skirt that has layers of white, yellow, red, and orange. She is practically bouncing at the idea of testing out the magic of the skirt, which can hold a hundred daggers and other pocket-sized items within its folds.
“This dress is so beautiful. I promise not to change the colors for a few months,” Sari says, spinning on her toes and admiring the dress in the full-length mirror. “Are you sure I can’t do anything to pay you back?”
“I’m sure you’ll save my life many times before our adventures are over,” Nyx states with a smirk. She holds out her old caster cloak before folding it up and tucking it into her magic satchel. “Time to retire you, old friend.”
“I should give you a more immediate thank you,” the excited gypsy admits. Without giving the idea a second thought, Sari happily skips across the room and grabs Nyx by the arms. She gives her friend a big kiss on the lips, ignoring the half-elf’s mumbles of protest and the fire that swirls around them. Sari breaks the kiss and whispers a spell that whisks the flames out the open window.
“That isn’t a reward, Sari!” Nyx shouts, angrily storming toward the door.
Sari dives through the door before Nyx can slam it shut. “That was such a tame kiss, Nyxie. I didn’t use any tongue or hold it for more than five seconds. I’m really sorry if I offended you. I guess I’m a little kiss-starved since Luke’s been ignoring me. Please don’t be mad at me, Nyxie. I’ll take a trip to Goldheart Manor and steal you something nice if it’ll make you happy.”
Legends of Windemere: 03 - Family of the Tri-Rune Page 3
