“Don’t make things worse,” Tzefira says in a low voice.
“I wasn’t going to make things worse. I was going to make a bridge to get us over the water and away from the krypters,” Nyx defiantly argues, raising her hands again. Tzefira promptly pushes her hands down a second time. “It isn’t like Luke can carry all of us out of here in his griffin form and flight spells aren’t known for being dependable. Even mine have a habit of flaking out at certain altitudes or being uncontrollable from the beginning.”
“Wouldn’t the krypters be able to jump across or make a tower out of themselves to get to the bridge?” Luke calmly asks. He looks around the area to see if there is another way across the pool, but the only other path is a narrow stretch of packed earth that Timoran would never be able to cross. “They could also eat the bridge out from under us. I doubt all of us would be able to get over the pool before they did their damage.”
“I think I can save us, but we have to move quickly,” Sari says as she stretches and shakes her arms. “Pick Nyx up, Timoran, because she won’t be fast enough to keep up with us.”
“What can you possibly do?” Tzefira skeptically asks.
“I’m a naiad,” Sari casually replies. She smiles at Luke, who is nervously staring at her and she pats his cheek. “Well, part naiad, but I’m sure it’s enough.”
Taking a deep breath and focusing on the water, Sari carefully puts her hands into the bubbling pool. She feels her skin start to burn and blister, but the sensation is swiftly replaced by a calming cold. Looking down, she sees her hands are covered in ice, which is gradually growing up her arm. Instead of panicking like she did the first time, Sari tries to urge the magical ice into the water. It resists her and continues up her shoulder, so she switches her focus to the bubbling water. Gently circling her arms, Sari feels foolish until she senses the water lapping at her elbows. Gradually, the pool becomes a swirling eddy that builds up speed and strength until it is a raging whirlpool.
The krypters back away, but the ones in the back refuse to move because they cannot see the growing threat. They screech and hiss at each other as they fight amongst themselves. The first row is pushed into the whirlpool where they are torn apart and swallowed by the water. One krypter tries to desperately leap across the pool by launching off the shoulders of another, which tumbles into the water. The creature is nearly across until Luke and Kayn kick over Sari’s head, their legs slamming into the krypter at the same time. It angrily hisses and claws at the air as it falls into the water. The remaining monsters move away from the pool seconds before the water erupts into an aggressive wave. Most of the krypters escape by bounding across the gravestones and clumps of land, but enough of them are wiped away to traumatize the survivors.
“Run!” she screams as she creates a bridge of ice over the pool.
Timoran is the first to rush over the ice with Nyx reluctantly tucked under his arm. Being used to the icy paths of his homeland, he easily moves across the slippery surface. Luke, Kayn, and Tzefira are less graceful as they slip along the ice, coming dangerously close to the edge. Sari struggles to expand and shift the path to prevent them from falling into the bubbling water. They reach the other end as an armless krypter comes loping out from among the gravestones to Sari’s right. She splashes a little water at the monster, which makes it hiss and shy away. Its hesitation gives her enough time to run onto the ice bridge, but the krypter is a few feet behind her. Her focus is broken by her panic and the bridge starts to crumble beneath her feet. The krypter falls through the fragile ice while Sari makes a desperate dive for solid land. She hits the ice knees first and skids to safety, coming to a stop at her friends’ feet. Luke helps her stand, but she stumbles and looks down to see that her knees are oozing blood.
“I’ve heard of skinned knees, but that’s rather extreme,” Nyx says, approaching Sari. She kneels down and uses the heat from her hands to seal the wounds. “Can you still run and move easily?”
“I don’t have a choice,” Sari says, limping forward and drawing her daggers.
An explosion rocks the graveyard as the front of the mausoleum is turned into a wave of debris. Fiery chunks of the building land throughout the graveyard with several big pieces obliterating the path and cutting the warriors off from escape. The sound of the krypters can be heard from every direction as they crawl over the newly formed bridges. Sari feels her heart race as she stares at the debris that landed an inch from her and she moves closer to Luke. Instead, she presses against Kayn, who wraps his good arm around her and stands between her and the cloaked form drifting toward them.
“This game has gone on long enough,” the Lich hisses. He grins when he sees Timoran draw his great axe and step forward. “You’re out of your league, barbarian. Stand behind your friends and wait your turn.”
“Take the others to safety, Luke,” Timoran calmly says, his eyes locked on the Lich as the rotting creature lands. “Use your griffin form to carry them out of here. I will follow when I am done. You may be moving slowly, but I am sure you can do it.”
“You can’t fight him alone,” Tzefira responds. She steps next to Timoran, but he roughly pushes her away.
“I will be fine.”
Luke transforms into the griffin and kneels to let Nyx and Sari climb onto her back, their combined weight making her broken ribs cry in pain. She rises into the air, hovering to allow Kayn to grab one of her front legs. Tzefira refuses to join them, so the griffin uses her rear legs to grab the mercenary by the shoulders. Fighting the growing pain in her chest, the noble beast beats her wings and takes flight as an emerald light grows in the Lich’s sleeves. Before the griffin can get more than a few yards off the ground, the necrocaster unleashes a blast of sickly green magic. The spell is knocked out of the air by Timoran’s axe, sending the spell crashing into the bubbling pool and freezing it.
“What just happened?” the Lich asks in confusion. He rises into the air as Timoran charges, the barbarian’s axe slamming into the ground.
“I believe I helped my friends escape,” Timoran answers, turning to watch his friends fly across the graveyard. He can tell the griffin is having trouble and is in severe pain. “Now to make sure your pets do not wander off.”
Timoran reaches into his belt pouch and pulls out the packet of hair that Isaiah left at the tavern. Sifting through the sweet-smelling herbs he added, the barbarian removes the clump of Nyx’s hair. As he expected the herbs have made the hairs intoxicating to the krypters, the monsters shivering as they sniff the stale air. With a quick prayer to Kerr, he throws the hairs above his head and watches the wind take them. Immediately, the krypters scurry and leap around the graveyard, following the hairs that drive them into a frenzy. The hairs drift away from each other and lead the monsters in every direction.
“I underest-” the Lich begins until Timoran lunges and tries to slash him in half. The Lich puts up a barrier that deflects the axe, following up with a fist of wind that slams the barbarian against a tree. The fragile trunk shatters under the weight of the large warrior and the tree crashes to the ground, destroying a clutch of gravestones.
Timoran jumps to his feet and cautiously walks around the fallen tree. He keeps his eyes and ears open for any sign of a spell while he thinks of a plan. The distant sound of the griffin’s desperately flapping wings drives him to make another charge at the Lich. With a sneer, the necrocaster unleashes a wave of heat magic that Timoran cuts through with his great axe. The Lich sinks into the ground as the barbarian runs within reach. A krypter tries to pounce on Timoran when he nears a tall gravestone, but the warrior uses his momentum to crack the monster’s face open with a head-butt. The creature collapses as Timoran spins around and scans the area for his enemy. A broad smile crosses the barbarian’s face when the Lich reappears in front of him.
“Am I still out of your league?” Timoran asks, patting the tiger-striped head of his axe. “In the future, it would be wise for you to never underestimate your enemies.”
&n
bsp; “I’ll remember that,” the Lich angrily hisses.
The rotting necrocaster raises his arms and a large orb of black energy appears in the air. He rapidly whispers incantations in a guttural language, causing the orb to spit out a maelstrom of attack spells. Lightning bolts and fireballs soar through the air while seismic shocks send waves of churning earth toward the barbarian. Timoran roars as he blocks the flying spells with his axe and bounds over the spells that run along the ground. Whenever he comes close to the Lich, he is knocked away by a barrier of wind that he is unable to cut through. He can feel his muscles tire from the violent force of the spells that he swats out of his way. Eventually, he stumbles and a fireball strikes his axe with enough power to send the flat-side of the weapon slamming against his chest. He falls to his knees and rolls to the side as the remaining spells converge on him. A small explosion engulfs Timoran, hiding him in a thick layer of smoke. The Lich impatiently clears the smoke away with a wave of his hand and is horrified to find the barbarian is still alive.
“How could a primitive worm survive my barrage?” the Lich asks while Timoran rises to his feet. The barbarian shakes a layer of soot off his body, which is blown into the Lich’s face by a sudden gust of wind.
“I am Timoran Wrath of the Snow Tiger Tribe,” he proudly declares as he approaches the Lich. “And I am one of the champions chosen to destroy you and your master.”
“My pets and I won’t let you get that far,” the Lich announces, pulling out a pale green wand adorned with golden brown feathers and dried flesh. The tip glows as he chants and fires a spiraling flare of red magic that explodes over the graveyard. The falling flames incinerate Nyx’s wandering hairs, allowing the krypters to regain their senses. With a chorus of hungry screeches and chattering teeth, the monsters gather around the Lich and the barbarian.
Timoran roars at the top of his lungs and raises his weapon above his head. Not waiting to see what happens, the Lich vanishes in a puff of black mist. He is still dissipating as the krypters jump at Timoran, who slams his great axe into the earth. The force of the strike shatters the ground at his feet and he leaps as far as he can. Using one of the flailing krypters as a springboard for another jump, he sends himself soaring over a gated square of gravestones. Behind him, he can hear the krypters hit the crumbling ground and fall through to the lake of acid. The breaking earth causes a chain reaction and the entire area violently quakes. Timoran continues to run and jump while the ancient graveyard collapses into the acid. He hears the were-vultures angrily screeching as they watch their territory fall into ruin. Timoran uses a tree stump that is falling into the growing chasm to make a final, powerful leap. He lands with a grunt on the edge of the stable section of the swamp, grabbing exposed tree roots to avoid falling to his death.
“I like being a champion,” Timoran whispers as he climbs to solid ground. He turns to see that the only remaining piece of the graveyard is the decimated mausoleum, which the were-vultures have already flocked to. “Thank you, gods and goddesses, for this title and your trust. I promise to prove my worth.”
“Timoran!” shouts several voices from the swamp. With a content smile, the barbarian returns to his friends in glorious victory.
15
“Stop fidgeting or I’ll slice a finger off,” Sari playfully threatens, rapping Nyx’s knuckles with the ivory brush. “You didn’t destroy your hair, but you made a very uneven slice. I’m going to have to cut more off to do anything with it.”
“I don’t like the sound of that,” Nyx admits, tensely sitting on a stool in Timoran’s room. She tries to use her magic to pull a sheet off the standing mirror, but Sari knocks her on the head with the brush. “Why won’t you let me see what you’re doing?”
“If I let you watch then you’ll start giving me your opinion, which would make an even bigger mess of things. I’d end up shaving you bald and you’d look like your mother,” Sari answers, carefully snipping at Nyx’s hair with razor sharp scissors. “I never dreamed we would ever talk about your actual mother. You must be excited about having blood relatives. I’m really happy for you, Nyxie, because nobody deserves a family more than you.”
“I’m still not sure what to think of it,” the half-elf says as Sari roughly pushes her head forward. “I’m really happy that my mother is alive and I’m going to see my dad in a few days. On the other hand, my mother kept me a secret from my father and she never tried to see me. That hurts and I’m scared she’ll disappear again.”
Sari walks away and comes back with a bowl of clear, sticky ooze that reminds Nyx of pine sap. The gypsy takes a vial of black liquid off the floor and puts a few drops into the ooze, making its color match Nyx’s hair. She straddles Nyx’s knees, placing the bowl between them and patting Nyx on the check. Whistling a happy tune, Sari dips her hand into the mixture, shivering at its cool sensation. Sari massages the ooze into her friend’s hair and scalp, a warm tingling sensation rising from the roots of the hair. At first, Nyx is afraid that Sari is trying to regrow her hair, but the sensation fades away.
“This will strengthen your hair because it was weakened by the trauma you caused,” Sari whispers into Nyx’s ear. She carefully hops off Nyx and places the bowl on the floor. She moves to a basin of fresh water and washes her hands while waiting for the ooze to set. “So, isn’t being angry with your mother like a typical child? I remember being furious with my mom when she did something for my own good and I didn’t agree with her. I’d gladly have those days back, Nyxie, so be thankful for what you’ve gained.”
“You want to share my mom?” Nyx asks. She smiles innocently when Sari shoots her an annoyed glance, which melts into a chuckling grin. “I’m serious. I already call you my little sister, so you’re family. I’m sure I can convince my mom to call you her daughter or treat you like family.”
“I appreciate the offer, Nyxie, but I have to decline,” Sari says with a melodic laugh. “I miss my family, but I’ve come to terms with what happened. After seeing what’s happened to Kayn, I don’t want to let misery and revenge rule my life. Cessia protected me so I could save Windemere, not to become obsessed with revenge.” A wry smile crosses the gypsy’s face as she goes back to working on Nyx’s hair. “Besides, I’ve met you and your mother. I don’t think I’d like to be an official member of your family. You’re far too rough and tumble for a delicate flower like me. I mean, all of you sound like you’re drunken brawlers with more attitude than restraint.”
“I want you to be happy too,” Nyx claims, tensing when she sees some hair fall on her lap. “Why are you cutting more hair off?”
Sari ignores the question as she lifts Nyx’s head and meticulously moves the scissors around the edge of the half-elf’s ear. The dull side of the blade touches the point of Nyx’s ear, which causes her to lurch forward in an attempt to escape. Sari holds her back, using her powers to lock her leg against the jittery half-elf. With a flurry of movement, she snips and brushes Nyx’s hair, occasionally smacking her friend’s curious hands with the brush. Eventually, Sari drops tools on the floor and swings onto Nyx’s lap again.
“I’ve seen this style in the south during the arid season,” Sari explains while she molds Nyx’s hair into a collection of spikes. She wrinkles her nose in disgust and roughly musses her horrible masterpiece. “It doesn’t work with your pointy ears. Maybe I can part it down the middle or make the ends even all around. I’m not really sure what to do. You told me not to use any magic, so this is a one-shot deal that could result in you hurting me.”
“I trust you,” Nyx states, leaning in to give Sari a tight, awkward hug. She holds the hug even though her face is pressed against Sari’s chest. “This hug didn’t work the way I thought it would.”
“I’m kind of enjoying it,” Sari teases, her tongue playfully sticking out. “Though, I’d like to breathe again.”
Nyx releases the hug and sits back to get a better look at Sari. “I was serious about wanting you to be happy. You told me Kayn was leaving, so that m
eans you’ll be alone again.”
“I’m not going to be alone,” Sari bluntly says. She stops fussing with Nyx’s hair and stares at her friend in surprise. “Unless you and Luke are leaving me.”
“You know what I mean.”
“I don’t.”
“You’re just being coy.”
“Do you know what that word means, Nyxie?”
Nyx is about to speak, but her mouth simply opens and freezes when she realizes that she no longer knows what she meant. She does not like the idea of Sari being separated from her only surviving clan-mate. Feeling ashamed, Nyx realizes she never considered that Sari might have come to terms with Kayn’s departure. She blushes and attempts to hide her red cheeks behind her hair, a pointless attempt due to her short tresses. She feels a gentle kiss on the top of her head and a soft caress of her cheek as Sari kneels in front of her, smiling with a wide grin.
“I must be tired,” Nyx admits with a groan of embarrassment. “Aren’t you sad that you won’t be with your remaining family?”
“As the woman who calls me her little sister, you’re acting pretty dense. Are you going to forget your adopted family because you found your birthparents?” Sari asks, mussing Nyx’s hair again with more force than she intended.
“Of course not. You and Luke are still my family. Timoran is part of it too, but I don’t know what to call him yet,” the half-elf replies, cringing at the rough handling of her sensitive scalp. “Still, it’s different for me because I never had my birth family. You grew up in a giant family, so you don’t know what it’s like to be lonely. It sneaks up on you when you let your guard down. I’ll admit it gets better over time, but your wounds are still fresh, Sari. That’s why I’m concerned Kayn leaving is going to ma-”
Nyx is shocked when Sari softly kisses her on the lips, a calming spell flowing into her body and making her forget what she was saying. Sari stops the kiss and goes back to fixing her friend’s hair without any further interruptions. With another happy whistling tune, the gypsy continues trying different styles on Nyx. A few times she reaches down to pick up the scissors and make a few small snips around the edges. After an hour of failed styles and aggravating fussing, Sari finishes and slides off the half-elf’s lap. She cleans up her styling gear and stretches her sore legs before returning to Nyx, who is barely able to stay awake.
Legends of Windemere: 03 - Family of the Tri-Rune Page 38
