The Mercenary Prince (Legends of Windemere Book 9)

by Charles E Yallowitz

  “I’m sorry, but I really just wanted to hear you try to make that deal,” Stephen says through his gasping. He wipes a few tears from his eyes and appears behind the young woman to lift her by the back of the neck. “I’m not going to do anything to your friends, but I won’t be healing them either. Honestly, I’m surprised I didn’t manage to kill any of them. Blame my playful nature and Trinity constantly reminding me that I enjoy a good show. It’s a shame that the mercenary wasn’t here. That’s the one I really want to crush before your eyes. Maybe I’ll get a chance when he hears about this. Now come along and let’s find a place that’s more private than the street.”

  “Don’t you dare touch me!”

  “I’ll do a lot more than that.”

  Nyx strikes Stephen in the chest with a fist of wind and knocks his legs out from under him with a whip of fire. “If we don’t have a deal then you’re not taking me without a fight. I’ll use all of my power to make sure you die. Even if I have to destroy this town, I’m going to make sure you never hurt another person.”

  “Destroy the town?” asks the man while his crumpled chest inflates. “I like that idea.”

  With a snap of his fingers, Stephen launches a line of energy into Nyx’s chest and binds it to her aura. The shock of being violated causes the half-elf to freeze, her body quivering while magma-like tears stream down her face. She barely senses Trinity attempt to send a protective pulse through her own tether to break the newer connection. The result is a blast of force that knocks the chaos elf into a fence, her unconscious body quickly recovered by Weber. A scream rips from Nyx’s mouth when she feels Stephen pushing and twisting her aura, his presence causing her magic to ripple out of control.

  “Stop touching me!” she screams as the immortal steps closer. “Please stop this. I don’t like this. It’s . . . Just kill me and stop hurting me.”

  “Only when it stops being fun.”

  Nyx feels her magic surge and barely finds the strength to put up a shield around every living thing in Roeth. The final protective dome covers Luke an instant before an explosion rips from every pore of the half-elf’s body. Flames surge from her flesh and a wave of raw power races along the ground, the noise drowning out the channeler’s sobs. The sound and force of the spell that destroys the town can be heard across the entire continent of Ralian.

  *****

  Heavily bandaged and both arms in slings, Timoran slumps in the white-cushioned chair that sits in the middle of Darkmill’s throne room. The obsidian walls glint in the light that ebbs off the crimson curtains, which are opened to reveal the exquisite stained glass windows. Starting and ending at the closed door, a circular path of red carpeting runs around the edge of the chamber. Twin staircases lead to the elevated dais where Queen Ionia sits upon an angular throne of purple crystal. Marble busts of Gola cap the ends of the railings, their eyes shining with an eerie, silver glow. Sitting among the silken banners, an iron chandelier hangs from the ceiling and rotates its flickering candles to cast their piercing light wherever it is needed. Other pieces of animated furniture are resting around the throne room, most of them in alcoves to avoid the palpable tension of their creator.

  “First, I apologize that you take the brunt of this, Sir Wrath. I’m impatient and you are the only champion who can be moved,” Queen Ionia announces, her voice echoing throughout the vast chamber. An ivory scroll appears before her and the violet-haired woman rubs her eyes. “The town of Roeth has been obliterated by Stephen using Nyx as a weapon. Casualties were minimal and solely connected to his initial attack. After checking the area’s aura, I found that Nyx was able to protect all living creatures in the town. Even the animals are safe, which is the only good news I have here. My enemies are trying to use this blow as a sign that it is the perfect time to attack Darkmill. People are terrified that their town will be next and rumors are flying that everyone was killed in the blast because all of my messengers are elsewhere. This is right after I fended off a pack of bandits who wanted to test my kingdom’s defenses while I was away. This mess is giving me a headache and a few wrinkles. I’m not happy, Sir Wrath, and it all comes back to you and your friends.”

  “I am not sure what you want me to say,” the barbarian replies as he turns to allow a nurse to put a mug of water to his lips. The young woman does her best to get as much of the liquid into his mouth as possible, but his height causes some of it to splash down his chin. “Thank you. I appreciate the help. Now, what do you want my friends and me to do?”

  “That question leads me to my next report,” the Caster Queen says while holding out her other hand. A packet of papers appears and she flips through them with quick flicks of her manicured fingers. “Fizzle has severe trauma to the neck, a broken wing, and every rib is bruised. Sari has a broken arm, internal bleeding, a leg that was practically gutted, and a twisted ankle. My personal favorite is that Luke Callindor was eviscerated! The only thing that saved him was his slow bleeding and the lone healer of Roeth finding him in time to administer very basic first aid. Dariana has a cracked skull, shattered vertebrae, one collapsed lung, and several torn leg muscles. You have two dislocated shoulders, some busted ribs, a gaping hole in your shoulder, and a mild concussion. So, Sir Wrath, what in all of Windemere are any of you even capable of doing besides struggling to breathe?”

  “You failed to mention Nyx’s injuries,” Timoran replies even though he is sure he knows the reason.

  Queen Ionia whispers a spell that changes her elegant dress from lavender to black, the sleeves extending down to her wrists. “She’s been taken by that monster you call an enemy. I have no idea where they went, but the brief trail we found has them heading to the northeast. His destination could be the Yagervan Plains, the conifer forests, the Crysvale Tundra, or even the Shard Desert. I’ve asked Duke Solomon if he knows of anyone willing to track Stephen down, but both of us refuse to send anyone to their death. The only people who would be foolish enough to take this job are busy or, in one case, retired.”

  “Then I will set off immediately.”

  A chorus of locking doors and windows distracts Timoran before his seat envelopes him in a soft bubble. Only his head is free, but the soothing warmth of the enchanted tomb makes him drowsy. Queen Ionia gracefully glides down the stairs while her throne melts into a crystalline puddle and oozes over the edge of the dais. The two reunite in front of the barbarian where she sits and crosses her slim legs at the ankles. Steepling her fingers, the noblewoman patiently waits for her guest to run out of strength and stop struggling. When she is sure Timoran will not try to escape the throne room, Ionia returns the white chair to its original form. The nurse brings her patient more water to drink and slips a pain-numbing cracker into his mouth.

  “There is one thing you can do for me,” the Caster Queen says as she leans forward. Before her neckline reveals too much, she changes her dress to have a high collar that splays out like a splash of water. “Please keep your friends in Darkmill and convince them to heal. You are the wisest of the champions and the least likely to charge into trouble, so I know I can trust you. For now, the only thing we can do is trust that Nyx will survive and escape. I’ve tried to make contact with Isaiah to see if he can help, but he has been silent. Just be patient and a path will open for us.”

  “Are you aware of what Stephen intends to do with Nyx?” Timoran asks, his rage giving him the strength to focus and stand. With quivering legs, he takes a step toward his host and pulls his arms out of the slings to brace himself on her throne. “He does not merely want to control her. Stephen wants to break Nyx’s spirit by violating her body and essence. Out of all of our enemies, he is the most sadistic and his intentions have always been of the vilest nature. We have always kept him at bay, but now we need to kill him. I trust that the fire sprite can hold him off for a few days. After that, I fear that we will only retrieve a broken woman that was failed by her friends.”

  The ruler of Darkmill gently shoves the barbarian back into his chair. �
��I was unaware of the situation. Still, you and your friends are unable to travel. The Neberith priests tell me that it will be a few days before they can take you off the spell regime and it will be longer for some of the others. I’ve been told that Stephen is a Chronos, which explains why the holy magic is not taking full effect. All of his attacks left a residual enchantment that makes the injuries resistant toward healing spells. You will be the first to recover, but you can’t go after Stephen alone. As I said, I refuse to send anyone to their death and that includes the champions of Gabriel.”

  “Only one of us is in a position to save Nyx,” the redheaded man states while the nurse eases his arms back into the slings. He growls at the jolts of pain, the sounds startling the young woman. “Is it possible to send a message to Delvin and let him know about the situation? We both know the plains are vast and finding a single wanderer is difficult, but my friends and I would feel more comfortable if an attempt was made. I am sure he would return to help if he knew Nyx was in danger.”

  With a tired sigh, Ionia chants to create a complicated illusionary map of the Yagervan Plains. Patches of various colors appear around the area and they violently swirl together where they touch. Some of the blobs steadily move back and forth through the region, showing the migration routes of the associated tribes. As the powerful caster’s voice rises, several of the smaller patches ignite and fade away, leaving a black mark on the map. The larger tribes become blindingly vivid and their borders spark to denote clashes with neither side showing superiority over the other.

  “We have reason to believe that a war has broken out among the tribes,” Ionia explains as the map rises over her head. She lets Timoran watch more of the vague action that results in one of the larger tribes splintering into smaller groups. “Most of what you see is guesswork based on the accounts of a few traumatized refugees and our own estimates. This event happened without warning and we’ve no idea what started the violence. It could be that a drought has caused territory infractions or food has become scarce. The survivors only said their tribes were attacked swiftly and brutally. Now you see why we didn’t want you crossing the border. Serab wishes to stay out of this until the situation is clear. All of our trade routes have been closed off and we have lost contact with all of our agents in the area. This means it will be very difficult to contact Delvin.”

  “We have to do something, your highness,” Timoran insists before taking another drink. He examines the map and notices that part of it comes close to the border his tribe shares with the plains. “It is said that my people and the tribesmen have a common history, which is why we use similar terminology. Perhaps you can ask King Edric for assistance.”

  “Because a party of barbarians will be stealthy and subtle,” the woman replies, her posture relaxing after being tense for hours. She holds back her laughter when she sees the pained expression on the champion’s face. “I said it would be difficult to contact your friend, but not impossible. Keep in mind that we many never know if the message finds him because all lines of communication have been cut. I’ve found that I can’t even scry into the area without attracting attention. So when I send a pixie agent of mine into the plains, you will have to be patient. Suzu is quick and loyal, but there are many dangers out there. He will have to locate Delvin and return to Darkmill for any of us to know of his success.”

  “If that is the only thing we can do then thank you,” the barbarian says, his face contorting in pain. The nurse hurries to his side and puts two of the pain-numbing crackers in his mouth before helping him stand. “It appears I have pushed myself too far. Please keep my friends and I updated if you learn anything. Stephen is traveling with Queen Trinity and he no longer appears to be concerned with keeping himself a secret. So you will hear news of any attacks that he commits in your territory.”

  “I’ve no doubt about that,” the Caster Queen agrees, rising to her feet and waving the illusionary map away. She waits for her guest to leave before turning on her heels and approaching one of her stained glass windows. The image of two bound women is faint within the colored glass and she tries her best to make the picture clear. “I’m both sets of Nyx’s parents and we’re coming for you as soon as I break your barrier, Stephen. Harm a hair on her body and there will be a deafening call for your blood.”

  *****

  A simple cabin sits at the base of the northern mountains, the isolated structure having been built for hunters to use during the harsher winter months. With the warmth of summer, the building has been feebly stocked and the only people seeking to use it have been those wanting an escape from city life. The poor couple that were staying in the cabin these last two days have been stripped of their skin and tossed into the woods for scavengers. Nyx can still see the man’s foot sticking out of the underbrush when her eyes open, the sight making her worry that the corpse is one of her friends. Tears are already forming in her eyes before she takes in her surroundings and realizes she is in a stony clearing.

  “They’re not your friends,” Trinity whispers from behind the half-elf. She struggles against the enchanted ropes that bind the two channelers back to back. “You’ve been unconscious for days. We’re at the mountains that run along the border of Serab and barbarian territory. Stephen wandered off to figure out where he wants to take you. Weber is off hunting somewhere, so it’s just the two of us.”

  “Who’s Weber?” Nyx asks while craning her neck. She can see a patch-covered tent to her left and the beginnings of a fire in front of the flimsy shelter. “I’m surprised Stephen left us unguarded. That is unless you’re really working with him.”

  “The bastard kidnapped me from the Baron’s castle soon after I was returned from Zelacryd,” the other channeler replies with unrestrained venom in her voice. Her violet eyes flicker and launch bolts of lightning against a nearby rock. “I’m a prisoner like you, but with a better idea of the horrors that await us. Whatever you think he wants to do to you, he’s done to me and worse. If I could slit his throat in his sleep and make sure he stayed dead, I’d do it in a heartbeat.”

  “It sounds like you’ve tried that before.”

  “I have slit his throat, stabbed his heart, hit him with every combat spell I know, and those are only the polite attempts. Stephen doesn’t really sleep, so the injuries heal immediately.”

  “Well he left us unguarded and I don’t see whatever this Weber is. We can forget we’re rivals and make a break for it.”

  Trinity twists her arm to free it from the ropes and shifts so that she can sit next to the champion. She looks exhausted and sickly, her cobalt skin lacking the vibrant shine that Nyx remembers from all of their previous encounters. The chaos elf reaches out to pluck at an invisible strand that is bound to her chest, the cord appearing for a brief moment. Freeing her other arm, she puts a gentle hand on Nyx’s shoulder and flicks the tether that is connected to her fellow prisoner.

  “That bastard found a way to leash our auras to his own. We could run, but he’ll know exactly where we are,” Trinity explains before grabbing the enchanted ropes and dissolving them. She is about to stand when she feels dizzy and collapses to her knees, a wave of nausea churning her gut. “Weber is his new minion. Just some sniveling mercenary who told him where Delvin went in return for his life. Not that we went after him once Stephen caught wind of you guys in Darkmill. The two of us are blocked from harming Weber with our magic since Stephen still has a use for him. No idea what that is, but he’s routinely stopped me from casting spells on the bulbous toad.”

  “We have to find a way out of this,” the half-elf whispers, turning her head when she hears the sound of something approaching. A sigh of relief escapes from her throat at the sight of a young stag. “Stephen has to drop his guard at some point. Maybe you can make him believe he is going to ruin his father’s chance of victory. Though this does seem oddly out of place after all the other times we dealt with him.”

  “You can thank Dariana for that one.”

  “What do yo
u mean?”

  Trinity scowls and is about to speak when her stomach heaves and a sour taste flows into her mouth. The chaos elf leaps to her feet and hurries to the nearest edge of the clearing. The sound of her retching draws Nyx closer, but a burst of wind knocks the half-elf away. It is enough force to send the champion into the side of the cabin and pin her there until her rival is ready to be seen. A gentle rolling of the ground carries the channelers back to the center of the clearing so as not to make it look like they are trying to escape.

  “The attack she hit him with in Bor’daruk scrambled his mind and . . . turned off his humanity,” Trinity explains before taking a sip from a waterskin. She gargles the stale liquid and spits it over her shoulder, the spray dissolving into a fine mist. “Stephen is a madman right now and the only thing he wants is you. Maybe me to a lesser extent, but the point is that he no longer cares about the prophecy or his father. As far as he’s concerned, the champions are worthless pests and now is the time for him to attack the Baron. The psycho thinks he can do it by completely bonding our magic to him.”

  “I’ve read about powerful beings doing that to casters and it requires that they break the victim’s spirit,” Nyx says with a frown. A flood of warmth runs through her veins as her temper flares and a bundle of wood in the nearby fire pit sparks. “No matter what he does, I’m not going to let him break me. I can hold out until my friends arrive because I know they’re on their way. The gods only know what he can do to them if he can gain access both of our auras. It would be a thousand times worse than what he did in Roeth. Those spells he started throwing around were really strong.”

  “And that was only with a fraction of my power,” the chaos elf admits, her cheeks flushed as she remembers the sense of being violated. “He’s been working on me for years, so I don’t know how long I can hold out. There are only a handful of reasons left for me to think about when I’m at my weakest point. My people and the Baron who I would rather work under are the only ones I can think of now.”