The Mercenary Prince (Legends of Windemere Book 9)

by Charles E Yallowitz

  Ehre’s face remains beautiful even when he wrinkles his nose and spits onto the ground in disgust. “That is what I think of your logic. Mortals are such foolish creatures. Loyalty is not about foolish sacrifice, but about doing what is right for those you care about. It is difficult to understand since you believe any pain she endures is your fault because you failed to go to her side. The fact that you have faith in Nyx and are working toward rescuing her means you are not abandoning her. It is amazing that out of the many followers I have in this prophecy, the one who actually prays to me understands loyalty the least.”

  “Who else follows you among the champions?

  “You truly believe that loyalty is only on the side of good?”

  The god flexes his muscular arms and spins on his dainty feet to summon a small army of detailed illusions. Delvin is not surprised to see the other champions and his former mercenary group standing within the crowd. For a second, he is confused as to why Queen Trinity is included before he remembers Scorpion’s mention of the chaos elves’ enslavement. It crosses his mind that everything the woman does and endures is to protect her people, which makes him resistant toward fighting her again. His eyes scan the familiar faces of his teachers and allies until he stops on one that is hiding within the shadow of the god. The billowing cloak and crimson eyes are enough for him to know that the Lich is being counted among the followers of the Loyalty God.

  “You saw the one that I hoped you would see,” Ehre states before having the other illusions vanish. Nyx remains by Delvin’s side while the Lich is pushed into the open, the necrocaster’s phantom appearing awkward and nervous. “It is not really him, but I like to think he would be shy when praised. As I said, loyalty knows no side. It is easier to see in good nobles, such as you remaining loyal to parents and a tribe that barely remember you. Yes, I know that is the reason you did not share with your friend or try to add to what the vampire was saying. Mab has always been a curious creature due to her undying loyalty to a man that had all of the gods nervous until he proved he had no interest in conquest. At least not outside his own species, but that is not my story to tell.”

  “Excuse me, sir, but I really would like to know why the Lich is here,” Delvin interrupts with a small bow. He chuckles when the necrocaster imitates the gesture. “He betrayed his teacher and treated his servants poorly. At least that’s what I heard. So, how can you consider such a monster loyal?”

  “This creature had his dark moments, but everything he did was for his beloved master,” the smiling god explains, patting the Lich on the shoulder. A cloud of dust comes off the robes and is taken across the plains by a steady breeze. “He is a true example of how one can find loyalty even in a blackened heart. Those who wish to do evil as a group can still have faith and trust in each other. Part of you knows this and has used the lack of such a bond to win many battles in the past. At least when you were a simple mercenary. It appears the scale of your destiny has made you forget.”

  “Why do I sense that you’re hinting at something?”

  Ehre shrugs and gently pushes the Lich into the ground, the necrocaster waving until he vanishes. Extending his hand, the god coaxes Nyx away from Delvin and runs his strong hand through her hair. The half-elf smiles as her body becomes a flock of fiery butterflies and scatters across the dreamscape. A wave of warmth flows over the plains, giving Delvin a sense that he is being embraced by the channeler. With a curious smirk, the Loyalty God straightens his skirt and comes within reach of his follower. Powerful hands grip the warrior’s shoulders and the towering immortal shrinks so that they are at the same height.

  “I may only hint at things, even in dreams,” Ehre whispers before embracing the mortal. A burst of energy puts the young man into a trance that steadily becomes a deep slumber. “You have remained loyal to your friends and family, Delvin Cunningham. For that, I will grant you a gift at the proper time. At least, I will do so if you say the words that I wish to hear. Good luck, loyal champion.”

  Ehre lays the snoring warrior on top of the tall grass, which carries him away. The god is surprised when Nyx reappears next to Delvin and places her hand on his chest. She walks alongside her friend and guides him into the distance, a herd of elephant-shaped clouds covering them from view. Taking a deep breath, Ehre expects to taste the influence of another deity, but there is no sign that any of his brethren have intruded on his vision. Trusting that the invader means no harm and Delvin can handle himself, the Loyalty God shrugs and returns to the form of a pile of rocks that vaguely resemble his handsome face.

  14

  Luke’s breath comes in puffy gasps as he hides behind the icy wall, his barely healed stomach wound burning from the cold. He wishes he could make a fire, but the light would gain the attention of Stephen who is no more than a few miles away. With very little between them, the half-elf’s keen eyes can easily spot the man as he stands on the coast. There is no sign of his prisoners, but Luke assumes they are in the small tent that is emitting clouds of smoke from a cloth chimney. A dead whale draped over a nearby hill, the corpse having been used for food and flammable blubber. From so far away, the champion cannot be sure what his enemy is doing, but he refuses to get any closer since there is no cover. To Luke’s fear and dismay, his companion has no qualms about standing in the open and keeping warm with a rolling flame on the top of his red staff.

  “This appears to be where he is making camp,” Isaiah says, tapping his teeth with a frost-covered claw. With a yawn, the fireskin walks behind the natural cover and casts a heat spell on the shivering half-elf. “You should have stayed in Darkmill or waited for Delvin to finish his business. In your condition, you can’t survive in Crysvale and you most definitely shouldn’t risk getting captured by Stephen. I’m sure he would love to have another hostage, especially one he can use to torment Nyx.”

  “Aren’t you afraid he’ll mess with your mind again?” Luke asks before he tries to grow fur around his body. It is too much of a transformation for his weakened aura, so he reverts before changing entirely. “We’re worried that he’ll turn you into a pawn or use you against us like he tried earlier. What about coming with me to the Yagervan Plains instead of remaining here? You said he doesn’t seem to be going anywhere.”

  “I brought shielding this time. Nothing short of a god can attack my mind, which means I only have to beware of Dariana,” the old caster states, licking some snow off his lips. With a shiver, a few of his black scales fall off to reveal fresh, thicker ones beneath. “I sense she is angrier than usual this time. Having friends seems to have strengthened her spirit. One hopes she does not use her newfound confidence against us considering her lineage.”

  “Maybe you can tell one of the people in your organization to keep an eye on her,” the warrior states, unsure if he is hiding his disdain. When the air becomes heavy and cold, Luke realizes that he may have hit a nerve. “I’m curious as to why you did that, but I can’t say it was entirely fruitless. Aedyn Karwyn would never have crossed my path without your fake organization and he’s been a great friend. Still, I don’t see why you didn’t do everything yourself or actually make an official group to do this. Seems like a lot of extra work when you already have so much on your shoulders.”

  “This is not the place to have this discussion,” Isaiah states as he rubs the ice wall. It becomes clear for an instant and he watches as Stephen goes into the tent. “I would be surprised if he is unaware of my presence, which is why I think you should leave. All you wanted was to know where he is and if Nyx is still alive. Both questions have been answered, so leave before he finds us.”

  “Just give me a few more minutes to see if Nyx comes out of the tent.”

  “Every second is testing your luck, young champion.”

  “So is every sound. Please be quiet.”

  Luke and Isaiah are knocked away from each other by a lightning bolt that strikes from the distant clouds. The half-elf cringes at the pain in his gut, the wound threatening to reopen as he
dodges bursts of flame that erupt from the ground. Bouncing chunks of ice come around the wall and get faster as they charge the forest tracker. He deflects and shatters most of them, but a jagged piece hits him in the stomach. The sensation of blood seeping into his shirt makes him curse and he barely dives away from an energy scythe that melts into the frozen ground. Several more ghostly weapons fly at him only to bounce off a shield cast by Isaiah. The fireskin struggles to redirect and dispel all of the incoming attacks, so he can only snap and make a simple gesture to instruct Luke to find their attacker.

  It takes several minutes for the forest tracker to see through the illusion and point to where Stephen is standing. Realizing that he has been spotted, the bare-chested immortal materializes on top of the ice wall. Crackling energy surrounds him as Nyx and Trinity rise from the distant tent and float toward him. The unconscious women hang in the air behind Stephen while magic races along the pulsing tethers. An occasional shudder runs through their bodies when their captor hurls a spell at his enemies. No longer interested in Luke, he turns his attention to battering Isaiah’s shield with a steady stream of combat spells.

  “Run along and get your friends, champion,” Stephen orders while blindly blasting the ground at Luke’s feet. Picking up on a spell in Trinity’s mind, he snares the half-elf in a thin net of magic. The energy sinks into the warrior’s skin and forces him to change into the griffin, leaving the beast feeling confused and violated. “Now fly away and leave your protector to fight his own battle. Make sure to bring that mercenary with you because I want Nyx to see all of you die. Maybe that will be enough to break her.”

  “Even with the power of two channelers at your disposal, you can’t subdue a single champion,” Isaiah says, extending his staff to undo Luke’s transformation. A whirlwind strikes and wrenches his wrist, stopping the spell from going off. “Maybe it is best for you to leave and come back with the others, young Callindor. If for no other reason than to let this encounter continue and allow our host to speak his mind. Though I doubt he has anything sane to say because one has to be truly deranged to access such power.”

  “If I was anyone else then their auras would consume me, but I have merged with my little pets and now I have their power,” the immortal warrior happily explains as he watches the griffin take to the sky. Wanting to hurt Luke some more, he raises his hand to fire a javelin of acid at the beast, but a pulse of agony causes his attack to go wide. “They still have some fight in them. As you just saw, Nyx will take any opportunity to buck against my influence. She doesn’t recognize when I’m merely injuring someone to send a message, which is rather irritating. It would be foolish of me to tell him to get his friends and kill him before he does my work. Still, it is less frustrating than Trinity, who has partitioned off part of her power. I can’t break through this one area inside her, which means I don’t have full access to her abilities. Perhaps she is holding back because she knows Nyx is my favorite and she wants to have something that is her own.”

  The fireskin’s eyes turn gold for a brief moment, changing to white before he is blinded by the display of power. “I’m sure that is it. This still makes me question why you would tether these young women. Queen Trinity works for your father, so you only needed to bind yourself to Nyx. As long as Arthuru Kernaghan holds her people’s lives and future in his hands, she will obey you.”

  “Because I’m not working for my father!” Stephen screams with enough force to crack the ice around him. Running his hands through his ebony hair, his madness and rage threaten to drive him into a rampage. “That fool can play his game, but he’ll never win without me. I am the one who gives him influence over the outside world and now I’ve taken it away. Let the old man rot in his cage while I conquer everything. Your champions and all of their friends will be my trophies. The gods will be nothing more than scraps of bitter flesh strewn across the landscape and left for scavengers. Unlike my father, I refuse to let anything that could threaten me live long enough to raise a finger in my direction. So I hope Gabriel is listening because his prophecy only has days to live and he can’t stop me. Not with his champions, my sister, or his precious right hand reptile. This is what happens when you let a monster like me run unchecked for so many centuries. I find a way to destroy all that you’ve worked for and claim the prize for myself.”

  Isaiah drops his barrier and laughs, the barrel-chested sound creating even more damage to the ground. “Then you are a fool who is about to fall. Do you truly believe a plan has not been made to eliminate you? I hope I live long enough to hear that you were not only killed, but erased from existence. With all of the horrors you have inflicted on the world, Stephen Kernaghan, you will face a darker fate than even your father.”

  Stephen roars as a surge of magic bursts from his body and the two women scream in sudden agony. He pounces on the fireskin only for the scaly caster to burst like a balloon and burn the man’s face with an acid cloud. The real Isaiah is already hovering in the air and chanting to unleash a spell that will severe the tethers. Both cords become taut as Stephen pulls more of the channelers’ energy out of their spirits. The icy ground is melting beneath the blazing aura, patches of bubbling ocean appearing throughout the area. With an ear-bursting scream, the immortal leaps and catches Isaiah’s attack with a wind spell, the swarm of sickles stopping in mid-flight. Opening his mouth and sucking in a deep breath, Stephen absorbs the pink-hued weapons and burps.

  “I am more than what I was,” he whispers, wiping a trickle of blood from the corner of his mouth. “Gabriel could not have predicted me. You cannot defeat me. This is how your games will end, Hand of Destiny. With a pathetic whimper that the world will never hear.”

  Isaiah holds his red wood staff in front of him as his robes become a metallic layer around his body. The green gem on his weapon erupts in swirling light as a beam of spells surges from the immortal’s mouth. Lightning bolts and fireballs crash into the caster while mist-like acid eats away at his defenses. Isaiah can hear Nyx and Trinity crying, the violation to their auras drawing out tears that fall to the ice and birth a spiral of weeping orchids. Before his protection spells can give out, the fireskin disappears in an explosion of icy mist.

  “Cowardice was always your path,” Stephen says once his attack is cut off.

  He watches the remains of his spells continue into the distance, unconcerned about where they will land. Drifting to the ice below, he is surprised to find the flowers that are wailing and sobbing around him. Stephen closes his eyes and revels in the sounds of the orchids, their cries making him lick his lips in delight. Throughout the chorus of sorrow and pain, the faint whimpering of the channelers are the sweetest noises to his ears.

  *****

  Mab grins from the middle of the natural dais, her fangs glinting in the morning sun. Many of the tribespeople hurl rocks at the vampire, who is bound by thick chains that are staked to the solid rock. A few of the people toss garbage at Delvin, the champion’s hands tied behind his back while he waits to be brought forth for judgement. Standing in a guarded tower, the Path Lords watch as five priests step out of the crowd and take positions around Mab. Everyone becomes silent when a horn blasts from a towering figure who balances a large axe on his shoulder. Placing the bone instrument on his back, the executioner adjusts the red mask that is over his face and advances toward the prisoner. He stops when the bald leader of the Ostrich Tribe holds up his hand and leans over the tower railing.

  “We wish to give the condemned the chance to speak,” the man declares, his voice nearly drowned out by boos. He patiently waits for the audience to calm down and run out of rocks to throw at the woman, none of the projectiles earning a reaction. “This is to set an example for our enemies and appease the gods who have punished us. If there was another way to end this then we would do so. We only hope that your kind does not come to avenge you.”

  “They certainly will come to wipe you out,” Mab says with a tired sigh. Twisting her body to face the Path Lords, she mee
ts their nervous gazes. “I gave you a chance to work with me, but you’re determined to be idiots. Killing me won’t do anything other than remove an enemy of those that hunt you. Is your fear so intense that you would condemn yourself to an inevitable genocide?”

  “Our fear will keep us alive,” the man calmly argues. He sips at a drink and watches the deadly creature chained below him. “Understand that I hold no joy about your death. If we let you go then you may bring your fellow vampires here. We lack the manpower and magic to keep someone of your strength contained, so escape would be inevitable. Please realize that you know how to reach this haven and protecting it must come first. Our people’s future is too valuable to leave to blind trust.”

  The chains creak as the Dawn Fang bows at the waist, surprising the Path Lords. “Thank you for finally being honest. I can understand your reasoning now and I would do the same in your place. In fact, the reason I’m even here is to protect my people’s future without trusting in the actions of outsiders. So if you fail to kill me and I escape, I promise to leave you alone. Not that you’re going to believe me. I’m curious to see the method of my imminent demise, so let’s move this along.”

  “Let her go!” Samara shouts, the girl shoving her way to the front. She is immediately struck in the head with a rock and falls to her knees. “I’ve seen what her kind can do and we need every weapon we can get. It’s only a matter of time before they find this place. Please let the vampire and the outsider go even if you don’t want their help. At the very least, they may weaken our enemies enough that we can be victorious.”

  “Nobody can find this place, child,” one of the leaders shouts from the tower. “If you continue this then we will execute you as well.”