Charms of the Feykin

by Charles E Yallowitz

  Nyx struggles to her feet and is surprised to find Zohara is already in front of her. The priestess reaches out to examine the amethyst necklace, showing no sign that she notices the Compass Key even when her finger touches its edge. The channeler slaps the woman’s hand away and balls up her fist, a blue acid seeping out of her knuckles. With a lick of her lips, the elegant Feykin grabs Nyx by the face and kisses her. A tongue that is disgustingly long runs around the champion’s mouth until she is released and left gagging.

  “That was delicious. Your misery will be my favorite part of the feast,” Zohara says, wiping her mouth on a handkerchief. Realizing she forgot to mention something, the dark-skinned woman kneels in front of her enemy. “This tidbit should make things worse. I do plan on eating Sari’s body once I’m done with Delvin. No sense letting a good meal go to waste. Now, what are you going to tell your friends?”

  “That you plan on marrying Delvin and I have to accept that. I had my chance and lost it because I was an idiot,” Nyx replies, covering her mouth when she hears her words. Her eyes turn gold when she searches for the spell and discovers a jagged net around her heart. “What did you do to us? I swear, I’ll find a way to tell the others that there is something wrong here. I won’t be attending the wedding because that would be insulting to the beautiful bride. Damn it all to the Chaos Void!”

  The priestess moans as her tongue slides out to run along the channeler’s neck, every bead of sweat holding her enemy’s delicious suffering. “Every time you try to tell the truth about me, the opposite will come out. Also, any attempt to state your true feelings to Delvin will be changed into you admitting that you lost your chance and then insulting him. Now, I know a creature as powerful as you believes she can break this spell. I wouldn’t recommend trying since the coils around your heart are sharp and will kill you if you resist its effects or try to undo the netting. Oh, and don’t think your death would ruin my ritual. I still have your little brother who will witness Sari’s death. The fool will probably blame himself too. He won’t taste as good as you, but it’s an acceptable backup sacrifice. Though, I will have to eat his heart directly to get the proper amount of misery.”

  “I have no problem with you whatsoever, Zohara,” Nyx blurts out, her hateful comment never reaching her lips. Defeated and angry, she remains on the floor where Fizzle curls in her lap. “Dariana can read my mind. What are you going to do about that?”

  “My curse changes your thoughts if a telepath gets involved, but nice try. It happens when try to write too,” the Feykin says while rising to her feet. Adjusting her clothes, she pats the scowling champion on the head and grins. “The famous Nyx isn’t as tough as I’d heard. Sure, you’re physically and magically stronger than me, but your heart is so easily wounded. Guess you should have stayed more weapon than woman. Now I have a soft, warm bed with a sleeping fiancée waiting for me. You and the drite can walk back to the Fire Tower. Sweet dreams, Nyxie.”

  The helpless scream of despair and rage that erupts from the half-elf’s mouth puts a happy skip in Zohara’s step. She is giddy from the energizing meal and blows a kiss before opening the central hall’s door. Frog and Plume walk in to escort the champion out of the temple, their glazed eyes showing no emotion as they grab her by the arms. As Nyx is dragged away, the priestess cannot stop herself from extending her slimy tongue and taking another taste of her enemy’s palpable misery. With an animalistic coo, Zohara dances back to her room and looks forward to her perfect wedding feast.

  *****

  “I may have said some mean things to and about you. Mostly wishing extravagant deaths and injuries on you,” Sari casually states while walking a few steps ahead of Luke. She spins an elegant stiletto in her right hand, the weapon an old gift from the forest tracker. “That was wrong because you’re still needed to fight the Baron. My desire to see you suffer should come second to doing what’s right.”

  “How thoughtful of you,” Luke mutters, his eyes never leaving the gypsy’s blade. The moonlight glinting off the metal is hypnotic, which forces him to risk a few long blinks. “Not sure what you expect to talk about since you’ve made your hatred very clear. At first, I agreed with you. Everything that’s happened between us is my fault. At least that’s what I thought. Then you kept jabbing at me and I realized you’re not innocent in this mess. I tried to avoid our relationship after our first kiss and you kept pushing until I gave in.”

  “Such a romantic way of putting it,” the young woman says as she tightens her grip on the stiletto. With a flick of her wrist, she sends the weapon into a nearby barrel and continues walking. “I’m surprised I kept that old thing for as long as I did. So, are you saying that I caused all of this? You would be that big of a bastard. I was hurt and scared after jumping from one traumatic disaster to another. All I wanted was to be protected and loved, so I clung to the first person to give me what I wanted.”

  “Which I worried about and mentioned, but you continued to pursue.”

  “You avoided me like the plague.”

  “Let’s also remember Kayn practically handing you off to me.”

  “So now you’re blaming the dead?”

  With a muttered curse, Luke trudges back for the stiletto and examines the blade for damage. A trick of the light causes the half-elf to think he sees a nick on the edge, but he loses the mark as soon as he checks the hilt. He returns to Sari, who nearly extends her hand for the weapon. As if realizing what she is doing, the gypsy makes a rude gesture and turns on her heels to hide her face. Tossing the long dagger into his bottomless pouch, Luke keeps his distance from his companion and does his best to remain calm.

  “My point is that everyone involved is to blame,” the forest tracker explains, knowing that his words will not make a difference. Remembering that Nyx spoke of time when the real Sari coming to the surface, he decides that he has nothing to lose by trying to get a reaction. “We’ve gone over our list of mistakes several times in the past and I think it’s time we left them behind. There’s nothing we can do about what happened. All we can do is move on, which I’d like to do as friends. If you’re happy with Phelan then great. I support you and hope it lasts, but don’t choose somebody solely to avoid being alone. That’s what started us off and it’s done a lot of damage.”

  “Your pain is nothing compared to mine, Callindor!” Sari shouts while storming over to the half-elf. Several windows light up from lanterns and sleepy complaints urge the champions to walk toward the distant river. “You and Kira are back to where you were before I came along, which leaves me in the cold. I may have willingly bowed out, but I still feel like a castoff. The alternative would have been to win you at any cost. Imagine a life of never knowing if the person you’re with regrets choosing you.”

  “If I did choose you then I wouldn’t regret it,” Luke replies without thinking. He leans away from the slap and spins to narrowly avoid a stomp aimed at his foot. “What does it matter? We’re talking about the past again. If that’s all you wanted to discuss then I’m going to wish you good luck with your life and go back to my room. Rhundar is big enough that we can avoid each other and settle for angry glares when forced to interact.”

  “I wanted to be civil, but everything about you makes me ill,” the gypsy claims as they turn a corner and head for the waterfall. Removing her boots, the young woman takes some joy from the warm grass beneath her bare feet. “I hate your voice, your face, and how you’re still trying to be nice. All of it is a trap to make me drop my guard, which will put my relationship with Phelan in jeopardy. Guess he was right and there’s nothing you or I can do. Our friendship is over, Luke, and I want you out of my city.”

  “I’m not leaving without my friends.”

  “That is an order from the Feykin Queen.”

  “What would you tell the others if I left?”

  “Not your problem.”

  “How do you plan on getting rid of me?”

  Sari draws two daggers and sprints at Luke, slashing at his
sabers in an attempt to cut his hands as he unsheathes his weapons. Instead, the forest tracker unclips the scabbards from his belt and spreads his arms to avoid the gypsy’s attack. The swords still sheathed, he does his best to deflect his former friend’s strikes while harmlessly smacking her in the sides. When a dagger slices his arm, Luke kicks out to knock Sari back. A hint of a grin on her face causes him to slow his attack, his foot aching as it bounces off her immovable body. Knowing he has to trick her, the half-elf runs backwards to get the gypsy to charge. Before she falls behind, the warrior lets her gradually catch up while remaining out of slashing range. Once Luke reaches the riverbank, he lunges forward and aims a swing at the sprinting woman’s knee. Forced to decide between taking a blow that would surely break bone or risk a similar injury by turning her power on while running, Sari tries to twist out of the way. She lands on her back at the forest tracker’s feet and curses when he pins her arms by jamming his sabers against her wrists.

  Before Luke can tell the gypsy to stop struggling, an arm of water bursts from the river and bats him away. Phelan leaps out of the rapids and sprints at the prone warrior, his daggers lengthened by keenly edged liquid. The weapons sink into the muddy earth when their target rolls away, the ringing of drawn steel revealing that the champion is no longer restraining himself. With a flurry of stabs and slashes, the half-elf drives his new opponent back and whittles away at the watery daggers. Trying not to kill the Feykin, Luke delivers an echoing hilt punch to Phelan’s head every time the other warrior attempts a counterattack. Faced with the full speed and skill of the agile forest tracker, the outclassed hunter has various watery weapons fly out of the river. None of them hit the champion, who remains close enough to continue his barrage of muscle-rattling strikes.

  Ducking to the side, Luke slashes at the other man’s exposed flank in what he hopes will be a crippling, but non-lethal, blow. The saber clangs off a patch of icy armor and a freezing tremor makes the half-elf’s arm go numb. A searing pain erupts from his lower back and he whirls around, the motion preventing Sari’s dagger from doing more than a long cut across his side. His first saber swings an inch over her head, but his second weapon leaves a gash up the middle of her chin. Enraged by the pain, the gypsy moves out of Luke’s reach and summons a massive hammer of water. She freezes the forest tracker’s feet to the ground before he can move, which allows the large weapon to connect. It repeatedly comes down on the warrior, breaking several ribs and one of his arms. Sheathing his sabers and remaining on the ground, the half-elf draws the stiletto and hurls it into Sari’s thigh. A look of shock is on her face and she stares at Luke’s battered form as if seeing such injuries for the first time.

  “What did I do?” she asks before a screech of noise scrambles her thoughts. Consumed by a rage that is urging her to continue the attack, she falls to her knees and twists the stiletto to retain some control. “I’m sorry, Luke. I . . . I don’t know what’s going on. I can’t stop this. Run away and don’t come back. Not unless you know it’s safe.”

  “I’m not-” Luke starts to say, his words cut off by another blow from the hammer.

  “Get out of my city, you idiot,” Sari growls, fighting back the desire to scream. Seeing Phelan approach the half-elf with his blades poised for a killing blow, she pushes more water into her dripping hammer. “I’m the one this bastard hurt, so he’s mine. Besides, we can’t leave a body or the others will find out. There’s going to be enough of a problem explaining our injuries.”

  The hammer transforms into a clawed hand that grabs Luke along with the earth beneath his damaged body. Sari makes a fist to steadily crush the forest tracker, stopping when his body goes limp and he is left barely breathing. The watery arm windmills for a few seconds before blasting over the river, through the barrier, and into the jungle. The horizontal geyser veers toward the sky where Luke uses the last of his strength to turn into the griffin and fly into the shadowy distance. A mournful roaring screech scares the bats and nocturnal birds, the startled animals blacking out the moons for several minutes.

  Far behind him, Sari slips back into her more aggressive persona and spits at the fading silhouette. Touching her face, the gypsy is confused as to why she is crying even when she stares at the dagger in her leg. Phelan’s comforting embrace helps her calm down while the last trace of her true self is plunged back into the depths of her mind.

  8

  “Where are Luke, Fizzle, and Nyx?” Timoran asks in a low voice. He watches Sari and Delvin continue arguing over the jungle map, the pair having already had their weapons confiscated by Zohara. “I thought this was supposed to be a war council. Not that we are doing much besides listening to an endless debate. Still, I think all of us should be present if we are discuss the coming battle.”

  “Nyx and Fizzle were still asleep when we left, but they’re on the way,” Dariana replies while she sips at a cup of tea. Seeing Sari reach for an empty bowl, she sighs and has the gypsy drop the blunt object on the floor. “I’m no longer sorry that I have to keep tinkering with those two. This is probably why Luke is wandering Rhundar. He wasn’t in his room when I went to get him, but I can sense him moving around. Sari did say that they got into a big argument and he should be left alone. That’s probably why he requested to guard the city border instead of going into battle.”

  “Do you truly believe that?”

  “I’m surprised I didn’t laugh while repeating it.”

  The scraping of chair legs against stone draws their attention to the table where the feuding leaders have gone back to their corners. Phelan is busy whispering to Sari and giving the irritated woman a few kisses on the neck in an attempt to calm her. The gypsy’s eyes remain locked on Delvin, who is impatiently drumming his fingers on the map. Zohara does her best to relax him with a gentle shoulder massage, but the warrior is too focused on the battle plan. Grabbing a thin stick from under the table, he repeatedly moves it among three locations. Delvin lingers on the biggest of the black dots, which has been vaguely named the ‘Order City’. The orchard and prison are smaller markings, the former having been playfully decorated by tiny, illusionary apples. A few narrow slits can be seen on the map, damage made by Sari angrily jamming a dagger into the table instead of her fellow leader like she truly wants.

  “Each location is about two days away from Rhundar, but all of them are in different directions,” Delvin explains for what he knows is the ninth time since their meeting began. He scratches his chin and rises to his feet while tossing the stick back on the floor. “We agree that the city should be done after the other two. Our entire military force would be necessary and that includes those we can free from the prison. Timoran pointed out that attacking the orchard or the prison would cause the city to send people to investigate. That would weaken the defenses of their headquarters, which will reduce our own casualties.”

  “If we agree on this then why are we arguing?” Sari asks, hopping onto the table. She sits on the map and flicks a few of the tiny apples at the warrior. “I almost forgot. You don’t like my plan. With the orchard to the south and the prison to the north, it would take four days to get to the second target. That’s more than enough time for the Order to finish an initial investigation and be on their way back to the city with a warning. It isn’t like either attack will be subtle or they have any other enemies, which means they won’t be spending much time at the first location. So we can only choose one of the smaller targets.”

  “I know and I was going to agree that we go after the prison,” Delvin states, frowning at his companion’s frustrated scream. He slams his hands on the table and mutters a few crude insults at the gypsy, which causes her to hurl a dagger into the map. “Up until this morning, you only wanted to attack the prison. Now we learn about this orchard and you want to make that the top priority? If we do that first then we’ll never make it to the prison in time to stop a retaliatory mass execution. News will spread faster than our army can march unless we travel toward the main city to get
rid of messengers, but that takes us too close to the Order’s main army. We wouldn’t be prepared for that encounter. The orchards shouldn’t even be a target since we’re trying for a quick war, which means not enough time will pass for a severing of the supply lines to have an effect.”

  “One can assume that the Order has a stockpile of food too,” Timoran interjects from his seat. Not wanting to alienate either of his friends, he struggles to think of a way to support both ideas. “Delvin is right that attacking the orchard would make them aware of the campaign and result in retaliation at the prison. You want to get your people out of harm’s way before striking such a blow. On the other hand, the orchard still needs to be attacked even if they have food reserves. More than likely, they are not prepared for a siege on the city, so their stockpiles will be too small to hold out for long. Remember, my friend, that those who wish for a quick war rarely get what they want.”

  Sari smiles at the barbarian, but it is an expression devoid of kindness. “In other words, you’re useless because you want to stay neutral. Just try to listen instead of thinking about a way to counter my argument, Cunningham. If we attack the prison first then the city will hear about it quickly because we know they have messengers there. Given the terrain and amount of men that we know are there, it wouldn’t be too hard for one of them to sneak into the jungle during the battle. Striking the prison will force us into the bigger battle and give us no time to strike the orchard. Meanwhile, the Order could send warriors there and have them hide, which means they could attack again after they lose their main city. We’ll be hunting cultist groups for months and that’s if we can eliminate them when they don’t have a base. Other issues are them being able to pull more supplies in or having prisoners working the orchard, which means they’ll be executed in retaliation. For all we know, they’re using the kidnapped children to gather apples and use as hostages. There are far too many uses for that location, so it has to go first.”