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

by Charles E Yallowitz

  An awkward silence fills the camp as everyone raises their mugs and decanters. Nobody makes a noise until Nyx gingerly raises her mug above her head, causing the crowd to burst into cheers. Anxious to get out of view, she chugs her drink and hops off the crate. She is surprised when two elven warriors catch her by the legs and hoist her onto their shoulders, easily carrying her into the crowd. A sea of hands and mugs rise to greet her, so she obligingly shakes their hands and chugs the offered drinks. Eventually, the crowd carries Nyx beyond the tents, leaving her amused friends behind with a dull ringing in their ears. Tzefira sighs and heads off in the direction of the celebration to keep track of her heavily drinking daughter.

  “That was unexpected,” Mayor Highrider says, still standing on his crate. He steps down and turns to Timoran with a calm smile. “I would like to discuss the relinquishing of your post, Sir Wrath. It’s a formality, but you leave in the morning and it must be done. You may return to the celebration once we’re done.”

  “I have a flask of mountain whiskey, if you wish to drink during our business,” Timoran kindly suggests, patting the large flask at his belt. “It is a tradition of my people to always have good drink when discussing business. Maybe the quality of your administrative offices would improve if you adopted this tradition.”

  “I’ll think about it,” the mayor states with a laugh. He leads Timoran into Tzefira’s tent, pulling a scroll out of his sleeve. “For now, we’ll drink and do the one thing that all warriors have nightmares about. Damn the soulless creature that invented paperwork.”

  A nervous silence comes over the three remaining partiers, who refuse to look at each other. Luke rubs his palms against the pommels of his sabers and stares at the night sky while Sari sips at her ale. Kayn leans against a table where several empty mugs are sitting, his finger tracing patterns in a puddle of foam. Sari finally looks from Luke to Kayn and back again with a pleading expression.

  “I guess this is goodbye,” Kayn finally says, wiping his finger on his pants. “The reflector blade is still in the area, so I should move before it leaves. I trust you will take good care of her, Luke.”

  Kayn extends his hand to Luke, but it is kicked out of the way by Sari. The angry gypsy girl is a blur of motion as she flips and spins at her former partner, her fists and feet lashing out at him. She repeatedly hits him in his good arm and side while he struggles to protect his injured limb. Luke tries to step in and receives a heel to the jaw, which sends him reeling back. Kayn takes the opening to grab Sari’s wrist and pull her close enough to twist her arms behind her back. He is about to say something when she slams her forehead into his face, knocking him away. She is about to charge at him when Luke tackles her from behind and pins her to the ground.

  “Stay out of this, Luke!” she screams as she thrashes. “That jerk wants to leave without talking about things, so I’m going to leave some marks on him. Let me up!”

  “This isn’t going to solve anything,” Luke tells her while helping her to her feet. “If he’s leaving then you don’t want it to end with a fight. You don’t know if you’re ever going to see him again.”

  “That’s not helpful,” Sari snaps, shoving him away. “Kayn and I have a lot to talk about and this is the last time for us to do it.”

  She stops in her tracks when she looks around and sees no sign of Kayn. She can only imagine where he has gone and the only person free to track him down is the one she is furious at. Temper beyond her control, Sari flicks two daggers out of her skirts and slashes at Luke, grazing his arm. It is a dangerous dance with Sari trying to cut Luke’s limbs while he slips out of reach. He watches tears roll down her porcelain face, but her yells and growls are born of blind rage instead of sorrow. Her spins become more fluid and her colorful skirts mask her attacks. The only reason Luke is able to avoid her blades is by depending on his sound sight to pick out the metal moving through the air. After several minutes of fruitless chasing, Sari hurls her daggers into the ground at her feet and falls to her knees.

  “I just wanted more time with him,” she whispers, wiping her nose on her sleeve. “I could have convinced him to come with us if I had one more chance. I just know I could have.”

  “Kayn told me that you already had several conversations and you weren’t going to change his mind,” Luke says as he kneels in front of her. He gently brushes her hair out of her face, but she swiftly moves it back into place. “Maybe he’ll come back when he gets his sword or when he gets his revenge. Kayn senses a heavy darkness within himself that he fears will infect you if he stays. He considers that the true death of your clan. Look, Sari, all I know for a fact is that he wants me to watch over you and I promised I would.”

  “Does he want you to watch over me or love me?” Sari asks with an edge to her voice. “He kept telling me to stay with you because I . . . care about you and he sensed that you feel the same way. So, I want to know exactly what he said.”

  “He wanted me to love you.”

  Sari stands up, returning her daggers to her skirts. “Can you love me?”

  “This isn’t the time to have this conversation.”

  “My former partner has abandoned me to a man who can’t tell me how he feels. I have never felt so alone and unloved in my life,” Sari says, circling Luke as he cautiously gets to his feet. She stops behind him and throws a sheathed dagger at his back. Luke spins around to block the harmless weapon with his hand, but it leaves him open to a stinging slap to his face. “This was the perfect time for me to talk to Kayn and you screwed it up. I don’t want to see you again until we leave and even then, I won’t talk to you. We’re done, Callindor.”

  Sari storms out of the camp and heads back to the silent city of Hero’s Gate. As she passes a stall, she grabs a few decanters of wine to give to the guards watching the city gates. With a quick spin, she glances back to see Luke staring at her, his hand on the cheek she struck. Her heart aches when she watches him, so she turns around and runs away before she returns to talk to him.

  “This is the second celebration she’s run away from,” Luke mutters as he wonders what to do. “Maybe I should let her go this time.”

  “Sounds like a bad idea to me,” admits a friendly voice behind him.

  “I thought you had paperwork,” Luke says as the red-headed barbarian stands next to him.

  “We heard the argument and saw the scuffle, so we thought it best that I step out here to give you some advice,” Timoran explains, placing a strong hand on the smaller warrior’s shoulder. “I think you should go after her. I know you love your fiancée, but it is obvious that you also love Sari. Both loves are pure and you have the luxury of being able to explore them as long as you remain honest with both women. From personal experience, I can tell you that pure love is rare and you will regret letting her run away. It is a pain that will linger for the rest of your life and you can never cleanse your soul of it.”

  “That was sappy,” Luke mutters with a wry smile.

  “Yes, but love is always sappy,” Timoran responds as he goes back to the tent. “Good luck with her, my friend. I sense you will need it.”

  Luke sighs as he turns from Timoran to the direction that Sari has gone. He takes a final drink of Ifrit mead and coughs at the feeling of the harsh liquid in his throat. He corks the decanter and tosses it onto the nearby table. The bottle is still rolling among the mugs as the shadow of a griffin passes overhead and disappears into the moonlit distance.

  *****

  Nyx stumbles her way to a quiet part of the camp, her body reeling from the alcohol she feels sloshing inside her stomach. The celebration is still going strong in the distance, but she needs a break. She grins at the memory of all the guards and mercenaries she outdrank. It is a short-lived moment of victory when her stomach abruptly declares that it is about to surrender to her nausea. The half-elf doubles over and uses a nearby wagon to stay on her shaky feet.

  “You could always use your magic to feel better,” suggests a friendly voice from
next to her. Stephen sits on the wagon, bravely placing himself in front of the queasy caster. “It doesn’t make sense for you to suffer like this.”

  “This is a party and I wish to enjoy it,” Nyx says in a slurred voice. She lays her head on the wagon next to Stephen, her violet eyes staring up at him. “Besides, the guards know about my trick, so they were watching me. I’m too far gone. If I try to sober myself up now, I’ll probably vomit on my . . . where are my boots?”

  “So, you’re in trouble no matter what you do,” Stephen declares, chuckling at Nyx’s situation. “I like your new hairstyle.”

  “Thanks,” Nyx mumbles before suddenly moving her head to throw up on the grass. “At least I don’t have to worry about messing up my hair when I puke. I swear this is the last night I’m ever getting drunk.”

  “I hear so many people say that, but they always do it again,” he claims, cringing at the horrible sounds Nyx is making. “It might be wiser to say that you will not get drunk every night or only get drunk among trusted friends. That way your goals are more realistic and you won’t feel guilty when you fail.”

  “Shut up,” Nyx growls as she tightens her grip on the wagon.

  Stephen leans over and reaches down to gingerly pat Nyx on the back until she regains control of her stomach. He offers her a black handkerchief that she uses and incinerates in the palm of her hand. With help from Stephen, she climbs onto the wagon and dangles her legs over the edge. Her body aches, so she lazily slumps against the side.

  “Thank you for sacrificing your hair on my behalf,” Stephen softly mentions, laying back and staring at the stars. “It’s rare that I meet a stranger who is willing to sacrifice for me. In fact, I believe you’re the first.”

  “You’re welcome,” she replies, a yawn escaping her lips. “Are you going to stay in Hero’s Gate?”

  “I have some business here, but I will finish it before dawn,” he states with a wide smile. “I guess this is goodbye until we meet again.”

  “Windemere is a big place, so we might never meet again,” Nyx says. She curiously eyes the black-clothed warrior. “Unless you plan on stalking me and making me feel uncomfortable with your talk about my scent. You should work on your pick-up lines if you ever want to successfully get a girl.”

  Stephen’s laugh is surprisingly melodic as it drifts through the air. “I’ll take your advice under consideration, but maybe the only woman I desire is you. After all, you’re a powerful caster and I’m a highly-skilled warrior, which history has proven to be a perfect match. The abilities and mindsets that go with such careers tend to complement each other. So, maybe I will take some time out of my wandering to follow you.”

  “I don’t think it would work, Stephen,” Nyx assures her, leaning forward and grinning. “I like my men strong and capable. You were captured by goblins and I doubt you surrendered to them like I did.”

  “I have a confession, my sweet caster,” the warrior declares, ignoring the worried look on her face. He reaches out to touch her hand and is mildly surprised to find that she lets him. “I saw the goblins capture you and thought it would be a perfect opportunity for us to meet. The barbarian nearly caught my scent, but I avoided him and the goblins as I made my way to their village. Once there, I got myself captured and waited for them to bring you in. I admit it wasn’t a perfect plan since we could have ended up in separate cages. Still, what’s the point of living if you don’t take risks every now and then?”

  “So, you really are a stalker,” Nyx says, heating up her hand until he calmly lets go.

  “I think you underestimate your reputation,” Stephen contends while blowing on his hand and flexing his tingling fingers. “Many people in Ralian have heard of the prodigal caster from Rainbow Tower. You have a reputation that rivals your friend with the twin sabers. I would go so far as to say you’re more famous than the Callindor because expectations have been pushed on him since birth. Nobody knows what you will do or what you’re capable of, which makes you a more interesting story. I’m sure I won’t be the first to go out of his or her way to interact with you. You should enjoy the fame and revel in the attention.”

  “I think I need more alcohol if you’re going to praise me,” Nyx states with a mischievous smirk. She stretches her arms over her head and cringes at the onset of a headache. “Do you really want to come on so strong, Stephen? If you want to start a romance with me then relax and let things happen naturally. I’m not the type of woman who reacts to flattery by jumping on a guy.”

  “I’m sorry, but it feels like our time is severely limited,” Stephen claims in a somber voice. “Besides, I never said I wanted to start a romance with you. I merely wanted to seduce you and claim your powers for myself.”

  Stephen rolls away when Nyx’s body erupts in flames and she rises to her feet. The wagon ignites, forcing him to leap to the grass. He automatically grabs the hilt of his bastard sword, but stops and holds up his hands to surrender. Nyx refuses to let the flames die down as she floats above the burning wagon. She crosses her arms and patiently stares at the warrior, who falls to his knees.

  “It was a joke, Lady Nyx. I apologize sincerely,” he admits in a voice that is on the verge of laughter. “I’m terribly sorry. The joke was in bad taste and I didn’t consider your recent difficulty with the krypters when it came to my mind. Please calm down and let me do whatever it takes to earn your forgiveness.”

  “Who’s over-reacting now?” Nyx asks in exasperation. The flames disappear and she drops to the damaged wagon, which creaks and shifts under the sudden impact. “You hit a nerve, Stephen, but I guess this proves we would be a bad match. You irritate me far too easily for us to be healthy for each other. I’m not just talking romance, but anything beyond occasional allies simply wouldn’t work.”

  “Then, I guess I should say goodbye and leave you alone,” Stephen declares. He bows to Nyx and turns on his heel, leaving a small groove in the ground. “I wish you the best of luck on your journey. From what I’ve heard, you and your friends will be tested more than any previous champions. Personally, I’m sure you will make it to the end, but it will be interesting to see if you can survive the final act.”

  “Wait!” Nyx shouts, jumping off the wagon and chasing Stephen into the darkness.

  She skids to a stop when he disappears in the blink of her eye. With rapid snaps of her fingers, Nyx fills the air with floating torches to drive the shadows away. Stephen is nowhere to be seen, which sets her nerves on edge and she races back toward the comforting sounds of the celebration. She is about to run around the tent and into the light when a strong hand grabs her by the elbow. Another hand covers her mouth before she can scream, but she relaxes when she recognizes Tzefira.

  “What’s wrong with you, Nyx?” the mercenary asks, letting her daughter go and offering her a flask of liquor. “I was heading out to find you and you’re charging around like a terrified bull. How much have you been drinking?”

  “I’m not that drunk. I ran into a guy who knew things that he shouldn’t. Then, he disappeared into the darkness,” Nyx quickly answers before Tzefira strokes her arm to calm her down. “I should tell Luke and Sari about it. Actually, I should tell Timoran too since he’s a champion now.”

  “Just breathe and enjoy the celebration,” Tzefira whispers, shaking the flask in front of Nyx’s face. “Timoran is having fun and saying his goodbyes. Luke and Sari are off somewhere after a spat, so they have enough to worry about. You need to rest and have fun.”

  “Thank you, Tzefira,” Nyx says, accepting the flask and taking a deep drink. “Why were you looking for me?”

  The mercenary wipes a tear from her eye and reaches out to touch Nyx’s face. It is a soft touch that travels along her daughter’s cheek and over her nose until resting on her chin. Tzefira removes her eyepatch, allowing her eyes to return to their natural violet. She spends several minutes examining Nyx, who takes a few sips from the flask and patiently waits for her to talk. Feeling a retched churning in her g
ut, Nyx hands the flask back to Tzefira and finds a box to sit on.

  “I’m truly sorry for what I did to you,” Tzefira whispers as she sits next to Nyx. “I know I said that I gave you up for your own protection, but there was more to it. You were such a special child that I wanted the best for you. I knew enough magic to hunt Liches and fight, but I couldn’t teach a child with your type of aura. I wanted to bring you to Rainbow Tower when you were older, but the attack on our village changed my plans. So, I didn’t want to give you a reason to leave the path I wanted you to follow . . . and I was ashamed that I couldn’t protect you and our village. It would have been painful to face you and explain why I was so weak and why you had to stay in Rainbow Tower. I never gained the strength to handle that.”

  “I would have understood,” Nyx softly claims. “What I don’t understand is why you never tried to contact me?”

  “You wouldn’t have understood, Nyx,” Tzefira replies, her hand tracing the scars on her face. She pulls out her jar of ointment to ease a growing itch on her face. “You were always a stubborn child. Even when you were a baby, you only did things when you wanted and forcing the issue resulted in you magically smashing random items against the wall. If you wanted to be with me instead of Cyril and Willow then there was no way we could stop you. I wouldn’t have been able to stay in Gaia and I refused to let you abandon your training. Those lessons are what keep you alive, so I feel that it was the right decision.”

  “I just want to know why-” Nyx begins to say.

  “Dammit, Nyx!” she shouts, startling the half-elf. “Stop asking me why when I’ve told you every answer I could think of. You’re obviously not going to accept any of my reasons. Neither of us can change the past, so stop obsessing about it and realize I’m here now. If you keep doing this then we’ll run out of time and you’ll regret your own stubbornness.”