“I can scream too,” Sari mentions, her voice quivering in mock terror. “I’m sure those burly mercenaries will come to rescue a beautiful damsel from those horrid monsters. I can be a very convincing helpless woman.”
“Those men have been broken to my will,” the calico happily says, a line of red-tinted drool falling from his mouth. “They have no desire to die at the hands of the krypters or the mysterious magic I possess. Any who dare to come to your rescue will be useless because they will be filled with fear and fatigue.”
“You don’t have any magic,” Sari states, her right eyebrow arched in curiosity.
Conrad chuckles and spreads his arms, creating a hazy distortion between his wiggling hands. “In return for my pledge of loyalty, my benefactor gave me the ability to drain the life of any man who attacks me. I already used it to kill seven rebels, which snapped the others in line. Nobody can see the distortion in the sunlight, so they think their friends died of a mysterious spell. I suggest you surrender.”
“That doesn’t look very impressive,” Sari admits with her head cocked to the side. She sticks her arm into the distortion and feels a tickle run up her arm. “Is this supposed to be an immediate death or a gradual death?”
“I don’t understand,” the confused mercenary mutters. He shakes his arms in an attempt to increase the spell’s power. “You should have dropped dead.”
“Those silly necrocaster curses. This power is only designed to kill men who attack you,” the gypsy explains. She can still see confusion on Conrad’s face, so she crosses her arms and pushes her breasts up to bring his attention to them. “As you can see, I’m not a man. The spell won’t work on me and that means it won’t work on Tzefira or Nyx. You were tricked and left to swing in the hangman’s noose, Conrad.”
“I may have been tricked, but I can still call the krypters in to tear you apart,” he angrily declares. His face briefly twists in rage and malice until he takes a deep breath. “Then again, my magic might not work on Tzefira and Nyx, but a precious hostage would do wonders. You’re my key to keeping my army and controlling your friends.”
Sari turns away to nervously stare at the tent flap, biting her lower lip. Conrad grins as he silently inches toward his sword. He bends down to grip the rapier’s handle, pausing to risk a glance at Sari. The gypsy is lost in thought as she watches the silhouettes of the krypters moving outside the tent. He carefully draws his blade, the well-oiled sheath preventing the weapon from making any noise. He whirls around to stab Sari in the back, but she is no longer standing where he last saw her. Before Conrad can look around, he feels a solid blow to the side of his head and collapses to the ground.
“You always start a turn by going to your left. I need to thank Luke for teaching me how to body read,” Sari says as she kneels over the prone mercenary. She wipes the pommel of her dagger on a pillow and tucks the weapon into her skirts. “Now, I tried to be nice, Conrad. Well, I considered it and I thought I was more than patient with you. It’s time for you to meet a friend of mine who will make you talk. I just need to figure out how to get you to the forest.”
“Is everything okay, Conrad?” Tavris asks as he barges into the tent. From years of combat experience, the large man stops and moves his hand to his sword. Sari quickly draws a pair of daggers and is about to throw them when Tavris puts his hands up.
“Are we going to have trouble?” Sari politely asks, her weapons hypnotically spinning in her hands.
“That depends on what you’re doing and who you are,” the large man answers, dropping his hands to his sides.
“I’m a friend of Tzefira and I came to find out what happened to her,” Sari cautiously replies. “Conrad wasn’t forthcoming with information, so I’ve decided to take him on a vacation.”
“You must be the gypsy I heard talk of,” Tavris says, understanding dawning on his face. “Are you able to carry him out of here?”
Sari puts her daggers away and bends down to lift Conrad, but he is too heavy. She lets him drop, cringing when his head thuds off the ground. Tavris watches her try different ways of picking Conrad up, each one failing miserably. The closest she comes to success is draping his arm over her shoulder and dragging him along, but his weight makes it impossible for her to move quick enough to escape the krypters.
“I would offer my help, but I have to stay here to keep the men under control,” Tavris says when Sari slumps to the ground. “Too bad you can’t convince him to walk out of here. I could cause a disturbance to draw the krypters away from the tent.”
“Convince is a vague term,” Sari mischievously claims. “How long will it take for your distraction to start?”
“I can get the men riled up in fifteen minutes,” the mercenary answers. “I’d give it a few extra minutes after that to let the chaos set in.”
“More than enough time.”
“For what?”
“It’s a gypsy thing, so don’t worry about it.”
“I’m just curious.”
“That can get you killed if you catch my meaning.”
“Yes, ma’am.”
Tavris rolls his shoulders and composes himself before leaving the tent. Sari watches his silhouette disappear while the krypters continue to stand at their posts. She flips Conrad onto his back, putting his boots on his feet and strapping his sword to his side. She uses some make-up to hide the bleeding bump on his head, pausing when he groans and starts to wake up. Conrad’s eyes flutter open as Sari mutters a spell and leans over to kiss him. A flood of warmth invades his body, but there is a core of cold in his aura that tries to fight back. With a push of determination, Sari grabs Conrad by his ears and kisses him as hard as she can. The cold aura that pushes against her influence is wrapped in a ball and sealed beneath her charm spell. She can feel it wriggling and writhing inside Conrad, but she is confident that the darkness will remain contained until they reach the forest.
“We’re going to take a trip, Conrad,” Sari whispers into his ear.
“Just the two of us?” he asks, slipping out from under Sari.
“Yes, honey, just the two of us,” she coos, wrapping her arms around his neck. “It will be a private affair that you’ll never forget. Can you bring me that jug of water please?”
Sari lets go of Conrad so he can obediently walk across the tent and pick up a clay jug of water. She frowns when she sees him limping, which gets more pronounced the longer he moves. With a sultry smile, she takes the jug and pretends to take a long drink from it. The foul water smacks her tightly closed lips as she silently considers her options.
“I’m going to feel bad about this tomorrow. It’ll be worse if Nyx finds out,” Sari mutters before she puts the jug down. “Why are you limping, Conrad?”
“You stabbed me in the foot,” he answers with a loopy grin on his face. “It really hurts.”
“I’m sure you’re mistaken,” the gypsy declares, pretending to wave the idea out of the air. A gentle yellow mist drifts off her arm and envelopes Conrad. The spell seeps into his body while Sari holds his gaze. “Your foot is fine. Try walking around a little bit and see what happens.”
“You’re right,” Conrad declares as he walks in a circle without a limp. He jumps up and down a few times, causing a patch of blood to grow on the top of his boot. “Is it time to leave for our trip?”
Sari is about to speak when a loud explosion rocks the camp. She peeks out of the tent flap to see a tower of smoke on the southern side of the camp. The sound of screaming warriors and battle fill the air, but she cannot see the source of the noise. Eventually, she catches a glimpse of two groups of warriors battling their way behind the healers’ tent. With a scream caught in her throat, she pulls away from the tent flap when one of the krypters looks her way. The monsters remain around the tent, showing no interest in the chaos erupting around them.
“Shouldn’t you send your bodyguards to take care of that?” Sari asks, turning to Conrad and waving more manipulation mist on him. “We can’t go o
n our trip without doing something to settle the problem. Sending your bodyguards is your only choice since you lost your magical gift.”
“That was a horrible loss,” he whines, stepping out of the tent to order the krypters into action. “All of you! Go handle that, but only kill the leaders!”
Sari stretches her legs and turns her face to the sky as if someone is staring at her. “I know this type of magic is bad, but my friends need me. I’m sure all of you understand. Well, most of you.”
*****
“I was starting to worry,” Kayn says when he sees Sari and Conrad stepping out of the forest. He immediately takes the lethargic calico by the arm and sits him on a chair in the middle of the clearing. “Did you have any trouble?”
“Yes, but that’s not important. My spells are about to wear off,” Sari replies as she catches her breath.
Kayn nods and goes about meticulously strapping Conrad to the chair. He ties his ankles and wrists to the arms and front legs, leaving a tight length of rope between the opposing joints. As Conrad comes to his senses, Kayn connects a rough rope around the calico’s neck and secures the opposite end to one of the tree trunks littering the trampled ground. By the time Conrad is fully aware of his surroundings, he is unable to move his limbs or neck more than an inch in any direction.
“How do you want to do this?” Kayn asks, drawing a dagger and tossing it to Sari.
“I was never any good at interrogating without using charm magic,” Sari answers as she carefully examines Conrad. “The idea of using pain to get what I want doesn’t sit well with me. I think it’s more effective to use pleasure for an interrogation.”
“That is a better way, but we don’t have that option,” Kayn points out.
“I’m going to have the two of you killed for this!” Conrad screams, feebly thrashing in the chair. He jerks his head hard enough to pull a muscle in his neck, so he stops attempting to escape. “I have an army behind me!”
Kayn and Sari make exaggerated glances behind Conrad, who cranes his head to see as much of the clearing as possible. The corpses of several krypters are scattered about the broken tree trunks. All of the stumps have been torn from the ground as if a massive beast threw a tantrum and took its rage out on the forest. With a growing fear in his eyes, he looks at Kayn, who responds with a slow nod and a cruel smile.
“Thinking about it, we know our friends are in the swamp,” Sari says, breaking Conrad out of his panicky thoughts. “It might take longer to find them, but we have hours of daylight to search by if we leave now. Timoran’s ears could catch our yelling. They could even be drawn to us fighting the krypters, especially considering the noisy mess we made here.” Sari sighs and takes a step toward their prisoner. “So, maybe I was wrong. Conrad might not be needed to guide us. It’s a shame after all of the effort I put into capturing him. I’ll slit his throat and we’ll move out.”
“Let’s not be too hasty,” Kayn urges with a gentle hand on her shoulder. “He must have some information that’s worth his life. We don’t know who’s controlling the krypters or if there are monsters that nobody has seen yet.”
“Is that really a problem we need him for?” Sari asks, waving the dagger dangerously close to Conrad’s eyes. “It was a chore getting him to lead me through the camp and follow me here. I had to reinforce my charm spells five times, which is more trouble than this pussycat is worth.”
“Give me that,” Kayn demands in an exasperated voice. He snatches the dagger out of Sari’s hand, but she quickly draws her stiletto. “By the love of the gods, Sari, you can’t keep killing people simply because they annoy you. You get bored with jobs far too easily and then I have bodies to clean up.”
“You can’t scare me,” Conrad interrupts with an arrogant sneer. “You want me to believe Sari is a heartless killer? I heard about her from her friends and she’s more likely to seduce an enemy than kill him. She lacks the temper and murderous edge to do what you’re suggesting she does.”
“Of course, you’re right,” Sari declares, sitting on Conrad’s lap and tapping his forehead with the tip of the stiletto. “A gypsy could never hide her true nature and make her friends believe she’s a fun-loving, flirty, happy girl. I mean, it isn’t like my people are infamous manipulators who can change their mood, morals, and personality to suit their needs.”
“Get off him and take a walk, Sari,” Kayn coldly orders her. “I want this to be a clean job and not one of your messes. Have you already forgotten what you did in Rodillen a few months ago?”
Sari blankly stares at Kayn, eventually pouting like an angry child. Her pout becomes a look of defeat as she slinks off Conrad, letting the stiletto harmlessly run across his belly. She moves away from the two men, but refuses to go for a walk. Instead, she sits on one of the tree trunks and calmly juggles five daggers. Occasionally, she flicks a dagger into the ground until she has to stand up and collect her weapons.
“What did she do in Rodillen?” Conrad asks as his voice cracks.
“Our clan was passing by and we went into the city for supplies,” Kayn begins to explain, leaning on the chair and cautiously watching Sari. “Guilds don’t take kindly to gypsies, so we got into a short feud. Sari and I were sent to sneak into the guild’s hideout and negotiate with the guildmaster. He wasn’t very friendly and Sari lost her temper when he swore he would burn our homes to the ground while we slept. I was too busy watching the shadows for assassins, so I wasn’t quick enough to stop her. It was pretty gruesome to watch, but I got her out before she could finish the job.”
“She’s the one who set the Rodillen guildmaster on fire?” Conrad asks, glancing at Sari with renewed terror. “Our contacts said that event threw the guild into chaos for over a week. The guildmaster recently died of his injuries, but he was so badly burned he could never reveal his attacker’s name. The rest of the guild has been sworn to secrecy for some reason.”
“It would be rather embarrassing to let people know a gypsy girl killed your guildmaster,” Kayn admits with a laugh. “Now, I don’t want you to suffer a similar fate. All I need from you is information and then I might be able to let you go.”
Sari watches the men talk, their eyes locked on her. She is running out of ideas to make herself resemble a bored killer, her natural smile of warmth fighting to return. With a low voice, she mutters about Nyx and Luke, struggling to hold onto her bad mood. She mumbles about what she will do to Conrad if her friends die. Her anger grows as she thinks about the possibility of losing her friends. Her voice reaches Conrad, who tries to jump the chair away from Sari as she absent-mindedly stands up to stretch her legs. The rope around his neck tightens and he crashes to the ground, leaving him hacking and gasping for air.
“Take a walk, Sari!” Kayn shouts, helping Conrad up. “I won’t get anything out of him if you keep terrifying him. Let me handle this.”
“I’m sure he’ll start talking after a few slices,” Sari argues, pushing away the feeling of disgust in her heart. “You know how many body parts come in pairs, Conrad? You can still live with one of each. That’s not factoring in fingers and toes. Maybe I can have a new ear for my collection. I don’t have a calico yet.”
“I think you’re done here,” Kayn says, failing to hide his shocked expression. “I’ll call for you when I’m done. Any more trouble and I’ll shut you up by force.”
Sari hurls two of her daggers into the ground at Kayn’s feet and storms into the forest until she is out of view. She moves among the trees, gracefully dancing her way to the trees behind Conrad and Kayn. Sari is so focused on keeping an eye on the clearing that she is startled when she swings around a tree and finds a female face sticking out of an oak. The dryad pulls free of the tree and circles Sari, tenderly holding her bloated belly. Without warning, the dryad awkwardly kneels before Sari and clutches the young woman’s skirts. The fae stares up at the gypsy with a pleading look on her face.
“I am sorry, ocean princess,” the dryad weakly whispers with a wide yawn.
“I know you claimed the forest tracker, but the temptation was too much. My people have poor choices of fathers in this area, so a vibrant warrior of the woods was a gift from the gods. I was so happy when he chose me to help him track his prey. I thought it was fate that he would sire my children. I did not expect you to be so angry that you would seek me out. Please, ocean princess, let me have my children before you punish me.”
“I think you’re confused,” Sari says, bending down to help the dryad stand. “I’m not an ocean princess and I’m not here to punish you. Whatever Luke did with you, which looks to be everything in the book, isn’t my business.”
“You are not the Kira?” the dryad softly asks.
“Wow. I don’t even know where to begin explaining that,” Sari admits, her mind aching from trying to piece everything together.
“I suggest the beginning, ocean princess,” the dryad says with an innocent smile. “It is not my place to tell you how to speak, but the beginning would be best.”
Sari chuckles at the dryad’s honesty and servant-like manner. “I get it now. You think I’m a naiad, but I’m really a human descended from the union of a gypsy and a naiad. If you and Luke decided to have some fun in the forest then I’m happy for you. Though, he seems to work quicker than your average guy considering your belly is huge. I’ll have to be careful if we ever go that far.”
“You are not a full naiad. Otherwise, you would know our people’s way,” the dryad claims with relief in her voice. “We reproduce by exchanging aura through kissing, so there was no sex involved. I knew that would be crossing a line. His physical seed is still yours for the taking.”
“Actually, it’s not really mine for the taking. By Cessia’s dice, I don’t want to think about how wrong this conversation is,” Sari says. The dryad is about to ask a question when Sari puts a finger to the fae’s sap-covered lips. “Luke has a complicated love life, which is something a wild fae couldn’t understand. You see, Kira is his fiancée from the southern deserts, but she allows him to be with other women. My name is Sari and I’m his companion while he’s separated from Kira. Before you jump to conclusions about me, I’ve been given Kira’s blessing to keep Luke happy in her absence. Does any of this make sense to you?”
Legends of Windemere: 03 - Family of the Tri-Rune Page 35
