Legends of Windemere: 03 - Family of the Tri-Rune

by Charles E Yallowitz

  “What did you cast on me?” he asks in a choked voice.

  “I believe I said your hair smells like cinnamon in draconic,” Nyx replies, scratching her head in thought. “Although, I might have said your cinnamon smells like hair since I tend to get the word placements wrong. I should ask Fizzle to help me when we reunite with him.”

  Sari suddenly claps her hands and excitedly rushes over to Nyx. “I have a great idea, but I need to borrow you and your barbarian.”

  “Her barbarian?” Timoran whispers to Luke. “What does she mean by that?”

  “Welcome to the family, Timoran” Luke says, patting the large man on the back and walking away.

  *****

  “Thanks for carrying our bags and letting us use your room, Timoran,” Nyx says, her head poking out of the room.

  Timoran silently nods and goes back to resting on the cot set up in the hallway. Three large bowls of thick, sauce-covered ribs are tucked underneath the bed and he occasionally reaches down to grab one. A pile of moist towels are nearby for him to clean himself with, but the large man pays it little attention.

  “Is he mad at us?” Sari asks when Nyx closes the door.

  “I have a feeling Timoran only gets angry in battle. Besides, the three servings of ribs we bought him made him hug us,” the half-elf states, taking a seat on the bed. “So, why not use your illusions to disguise yourself? They always work on me.”

  Sari rummages through a pile of bags containing make-up, wigs, and various styles of clothing. Wearing only a white shift and underwear, the gypsy meticulous examines all of the items. A short, red wig catches her attention and she tenderly turns it in her hands until callously dropping it on the table. She faces a full-length mirror, holding a brown peasant dress in front of her before tossing it over her shoulder. The gypsy rubs at her goose-bumped arms and shivers until Nyx creates several orbs of fire that pleasantly heat the room.

  “Thieves are always looking for illusions, so there’s a high risk that my spells will be broken before I get very far,” Sari explains. She digs to the bottom of a bag and pulls out a small case that she carefully places on the dresser. “The best way to trick a thief is to use natural disguises and attitude. To remove my wig, a person would have to catch me, but to break my illusions they only have to concentrate on me with the intention of seeing the truth. Not everyone is duped by illusions as easily as you, Nyxie.”

  “I’m working on that,” Nyx argues, getting to her feet and approaching the table. “I’m not having any success, but I’m working on it.”

  “Do you think I should become the seductive con-artist, the cunning burglar, or the simple pickpocket?” Sari asks as she grabs a silver hairnet. She scoops her hair into the net and feels her blue tresses sink into the cool, magical pocket. “I really hate wigs, but being a blue-haired girl makes me easy to remember. Can you hand me the make-up kit? I need to add a beauty mark and a couple faint scars on my arms. Tattoos are too risky because many of them have various meanings that I never bothered to remember. I’m thinking a faded mark from a noose around my neck for added reputation.”

  Nyx searches the table for several minutes before finding the white box under a leather bodysuit. “What about this thing? You can be a seductive thief who hides in the shadows. Maybe coming off as dangerous will help maintain your cover. That is if you can cram yourself into this thing.”

  “With a leather bodysuit, you make it fit and pray you never have to take it off until the job is done,” Sari says, taking the bodysuit and admiring the dark red material. “This one isn’t that bad because it has adjustable straps hidden along the sides and waist. I would need to trim the legs and sleeves, but this could give me the right mix of seductive and dangerous to get me noticed. It’s still going to be a pain to put on, but it’s a very nice base for me to work with. Good choice, Nyxie.”

  “Are you upset that you didn’t have sex with Luke?” Nyx bluntly asks while fingering a flowery dress.

  “Been wondering when you were going to talk about this morning,” Sari admits as she uses a pair of small scissors to alter the bodysuit. “I’m surprised you were able to get that word out of your mouth.”

  “You’ve been rubbing off on me,” the half-elf states, pushing her ebony hair behind her pointy ears. She grabs a brush to tend to her tresses, grimacing as she finds some knots. “I seem to lose some of my inhibitions with you around.”

  Sari grins at her friend and shakes her head in amusement. “You mean I set the bar low enough for you to get away with saying what’s on your mind. I never understood why you get flustered when I talk about sex, yet you have no problem getting into fights. That’s a strange double standard. People like you need to refocus their energy on love instead of war. You’d be a lot happier if you changed your perspective.”

  “There’s a difference between love and sex,” Nyx haughtily declares while sitting down and leaning on the creaky table. “How do you do it, Sari?”

  “Given the topic, I’m not sure what you’re asking about,” the gypsy playfully mentions.

  “How do you casually have sex with guys and then move on like nothing happened?” Nyx innocently asks. She jumps when Sari stabs the scissors into the table and angrily turns toward her.

  “We’re friends, so I’m going to play nice,” Sari states in a voice that is edged and cold. “I’ve had sex with two people in my lifetime. My clan partner, Kayn, and Alyssa Goldheart’s fiancée are the only men I’ve ever gone all the way with. That second one isn’t something I’m proud of. I did it to rile Alyssa up and I was desperate for affection after my time with Kalam. I still feel guilty about it. Everything else has been flirting, teasing, snuggling, petting, kissing, hugging, and actually sleeping. Do you honestly think I’m some out of control slut?”

  “I’m sorry, Sari,” Nyx shamefully says, focusing at her boots. “You seem to know so much about sex and you’re so open about it. I just assumed you’ve had a lot of partners.”

  “Quality over quantity, Nyxie. That should be a woman’s goal,” Sari proudly announces, her mood returning to its natural perkiness. She lifts Nyx’s face up by softly pushing her foot against the half-elf’s chin. “Kayn and I were together for . . . a long time. Both of us had some crazy ideas and we indulged each other whenever we could. I guess that’s what you do when you’re in love with someone. You throw caution to the wind and enjoy life.”

  “Oh,” Nyx blurts out, unsure what she should say.

  Sari yanks the scissors out of the table and returns to altering the bodysuit. Nyx quietly sifts through the various wigs, occasionally picking one up and imagining it on Sari’s head. After nearly an hour of silence, Sari finishes the bodysuit, strips off her shift, and wiggles into the tight leather. Nyx waits until the gypsy is swearing and violently tugging at the suit before she walks over to help.

  “I thought you said you would fit in this,” Nyx mutters, wrenching her fingers out from between Sari and the bodysuit. “You’re too curvy for this thing.”

  “This doesn’t make any sense,” Sari says before taking a deep breath and trying to pull the top up again. She lets out a sputtering cough and stomps her bare foot in frustration. “If you say anything about me gaining weight, I’m going to jam your scrawny carcass into this bodysuit and have you prance around the streets like a pet monkey.”

  “Well, I could probably pull this off better than you,” Nyx admits as she circles the gypsy. “It looks more for leggy women than busty women.”

  “Keep it up and I’ll shove your gorgeous legs up your nose.”

  “Are you still angry about what I said earlier?”

  “No.”

  “Well something besides this bodysuit has you annoyed.”

  “Drop it, Nyx.”

  “It was what I said, wasn’t it?”

  Sari rolls her eyes and sighs, dropping onto the bed. “Yes, I’m still angry that you suggested I was a full-blown slut. I can take that in stride from anybody, but you’re supposed
to be the friend who knows the real me. Even worse, you’re judging me when you’re still . . . untouched. It isn’t even that you’re saving yourself for marriage, which is something I could respect. You just don’t think any guy is worth pursuing, which means you’re going to become an old caster living a lonely life in her tower. You might as well switch armies, if you know what I mean, or build yourself an obedient golem out of used parts.”

  “That’s disgusting!” Nyx shouts. She clenches her fists and the fire orbs grow in intensity. “You aren’t one to talk, Sari. I may have helped you at the beginning, but this stupid game you’re playing with Luke is going to explode. It’s going to end with you broken and crying in the beds of strangers. I might be too scared to pursue a relationship, but I’m not the idiot who’s working on getting her heart shattered.”

  Sari leaps to her feet to slap Nyx, tears already streaming down her face and streaking her false beauty mark. Nyx is fully prepared to take the strike, so she is surprised when Sari lets her hand drop lifelessly at her side. The gypsy’s sobbing transforms into body-shaking laughter as she pulls Nyx into a hug. Nyx moves her hand to stroke Sari’s hair before she realizes the blue tresses are curled up in the magical hair net. She settles for rubbing the shorter girl on the back.

  “We’re so damaged,” Sari finally whispers.

  “That’s probably why we get along so well,” Nyx mentions with a wry smile.

  “I have a proposition for you, Nyxie,” Sari says, feeling the half-elf suddenly tense up. “I know I’m topless, but it’s not what you’re thinking. I was going to suggest that if we come to the end of our adventures and all our friends are settling down then we agree to be there for each other. We build a place near Gaia, so you can be near the city and I can be near the roads. You can have a huge library while I can have a private kitchen for making sweets. We grow old together.”

  “I like the sound of that,” Nyx admits, hugging Sari a little tighter.

  “You have to do me a favor though,” Sari whispers, pushing back to place a finger on Nyx’s lips. “I want you to try and find somebody who loves you. I already found someone and lost him. My second choice is claimed, so my chances of finding love again are pretty slim. You still have a shot to fall in love and live a happy life. So, promise me that you’ll stop being scared and give a few guys a shot. I’m talking dating, Nyxie, and not sleeping around. Just so we’re clear.”

  Nyx sighs and moves her lips away from Sari’s fingers. “I promise I’ll give it a shot when I meet someone who interests me. Does this satisfy my self-appointed goddess of love and happiness?”

  “For now, but you should start working on a shrine to my greatness,” the gypsy gleefully declares, spinning away from Nyx and stopping at the table. “Maybe we’ll both get lucky down the road. Luke and Kira or you and your future husband could end up having a son who is just my type. I swear I’ll have the purest of intentions with him.”

  “You’re insane,” Nyx laughs. Something on Sari catches Nyx’s eye causing her to curiously stare at the gypsy. She gets close enough to reach out to Sari, who slaps her hand away, mistaking the motion for an attempt at tickling her.

  “Stop fighting. I think I found the problem with the bodysuit,” the raven-haired caster snaps, roughly grabbing Sari by the side. With several quick flicks of her thumb, she unclasps all of the masked straps and the bodysuit slides to the floor. “You had all the clasps tightened to their lowest notch. I thought you checked these things before putting it on.”

  “I forgot. The clasps must have been fully tightened when we bought this,” Sari guesses as she bends down to pull the bodysuit over her body. She anxiously cringes as the leather smoothly rolls up to her neck. “I thought it was fine when I got it over my hips. I guess I’m a lot more flexible and squishy down there than I thought.”

  Sari hears a muffled noise and turns to see Nyx covering her mouth, trying with all her might to fight back her laughter. After clasping the neck and adjusting the sleeves of the bodysuit, Sari grabs a blonde wig as if to try it on. Nyx is catching her breath when the wig hits her in the open mouth. Out of surprise, she violently sputters and throws the wig to the floor, kicking it across the room before she realizes what it is. Sari is calmly whistling to herself, but Nyx can tell she is keeping an eye on her. With a quick flick of her finger, Nyx magically launches three wigs off the table and into Sari’s face.

  “You don’t want to start this fight,” Nyx warns her as several wigs rise into the air and circle around her. “Magically moving objects is basic training and I mastered it when I was four by winning a lot of pillow fights.”

  “You always think magic will win the fight,” Sari says in a calm, disappointed voice. “This is why I’ll always win. I’m faster, more devious, and cuter.”

  “Why do you always have to point out that last one?” Nyx asks, hurling the wigs at Sari, who gracefully dances out of their path.

  “Because it makes you mad,” Sari admits with a grin. She scoops up a purple wig and expertly throws it at Nyx, who bats it out of the air. “Also, I’m waiting for the day you try to say you’re cuter than me. You always agree with me and get mopey.”

  Nyx pauses long enough for Sari to hit her in the nose with a powder puff covered in light blue make-up. The half-elf coughs and hacks, waving away the cloud of powder around her head. Shaking the powder from her hair, Nyx grabs a dish of red paint from the table and flings it at Sari. She immediately has it change directions, so Sari dives directly into its path and gets paint splattered across her face. Caught up in the childish fun, Sari runs around the table to playfully tackle the half-elf onto the bed. She misjudges her speed and slams Nyx into the wall, her own head getting struck by her friend’s elbow. Groaning and muttering, they crawl away from the bed and search for anything else they can throw. Not finding anything, they repeatedly poke each other in the ribs and stomach. They block and dodge each other as they move across the room until both of them are abruptly drenched by two bowls of water being dumped over them.

  “I trust you young ladies will clean my room before you leave,” Timoran says, his hands still on the upside down bowls on their heads. “I think I have been more than patient with the way you have been treating me today.”

  “We’re sorry, Timoran,” both women timidly apologize.

  “Thank you,” he replies, taking a seat in the only clean chair.

  Nyx clears her throat before mentioning, “Just to warn you, I’m going to use magic to clean the room.”

  “I may not be comfortable with magic, but I am more than capable of remaining in a room when it is being used for domestic chores,” Timoran assures her with a stern expression. “Please carry on. That is unless you would like to have another drinking contest where you use your magic to cheat.”

  “Damn your savage ears,” Nyx mutters. She waves her hands and the scattered make-up drifts back into its containers, causing Timoran to tense up. “Comfortable as a troll at a bonfire.”

  *****

  Luke scratches the scar across his torso as he looks around the cleared space that is obviously a sparring circle. He wishes he still had his shirt, sabers, and leather armor patches, but Conrad had orders from Tzefira to confiscate his gear immediately. Luke warms up with a few experimental swings of the wooden sabers he has been given. He feels the sharp air burrow into his bones even as he tries to move around and stretch. Over the next hour, the circle’s edge fills with curious spectators until at least one hundred mercenaries surround him.

  With an exaggerated shiver, Luke sneezes and wipes his nose with the back of his hand. He gains the attention of a heavily scarred spearman, who tosses him a metal flask. Giving the man a nod of thanks, Luke takes a quick shot of the sour syrup that sends a wave of warmth through his body. The crowd laughs as he clumsily stumbles and acts like he is starting to get drunk. With a violent shake of his head, Luke recovers his composure and grins at the mercenaries.

  “Thanks,” Luke says as he throws
the flask back to the spearman. “Can anybody tell me what this is about? I’m getting bored.”

  Another murmur of laughter ripples through the crowd and the mercenaries to Luke’s right part for Tzefira and Conrad to pass. The calico looks slightly depressed, his tail drooping to the ground, while he sets down a chair for Tzefira. She lays her war staff across her lap, her ankles delicately crossed. The elf is not wearing her bandana, so everyone can see the red scars that cover her hairless scalp. She raises her fist and the mercenaries stop talking, their excitement nothing more than a palpable sensation in the air.

  “This is an initiation,” Tzefira declares, her stern voice traveling over the entire camp. “Anyone who wishes to serve under my command must prove their worth. I’ve chosen several opponents of varying skills and techniques for this young man to fight. This test will end when he gives up, is defeated, or runs out of opponents. Do you have any questions, Luke?”

  “Are we talking one-on-one combat or all of your selected fighters coming at me as a group?” Luke asks, noticing Conrad’s mopey expression. “I’m guessing Conrad was told to sit this out.”

  Conrad glares at Luke, a predatory grin on his face. “I requested a shot at you, but Tzefira felt my inclusion would be unfair. After all, we want to give you a chance to succeed.”

  “Prepare yourself, Luke Callindor!” Tzefira shouts, making sure to emphasize Luke’s famous surname. “The first of the opponents will enter the circle. A new opponent will enter immediately after his or her predecessor falls.”

  Luke spins the wooden sabers while a bare-chested dwarf pushes his way into the circle. He shrugs his wooden hammer off his shoulder and runs a dirty hand through his blonde beard. The dwarf charges at Luke, who rolls his eyes and effortlessly leaps over the attack. The crowd cheers when the dwarf suddenly stops and spins on his toes, the wooden war hammer swinging around at Luke. The half-elf crosses his sabers over his chest in time to block the attack, but the force makes his ribs ache. He swiftly backs away until he is on the other side of the circle from the dwarf.