Charms of the Feykin

by Charles E Yallowitz

  As the adventurers continue toward Caurea, Nyx waits for the others to stop paying attention to her and swiftly walks backwards. She turns to Delvin and Sari before creating a barrier to prevent anyone from pulling her away. The pair are visibly tense as the half-elf stares at them and tries to lean forward to get a closer look at their faces. A few tears drop to the trampled ground as they move their heads to avoid eye contact. Nyx sighs and rubs her necklace while thinking of something to say, her heart filled with relief instead of anger. Giving up on words, the channeler does her best to hug both of her friends, Delvin’s greater height making it an awkward embrace. The three sink to their knees as a wave of shame and guilt wash over the recovered champions.

  “It wasn’t you,” Nyx whispers, giving a kiss to Sari’s cheek. She does the same to Delvin, her lips lingering a little longer on his rough skin. “Zohara manipulated you and we’re going to make her pay for everything. Please don’t let this break you. I didn’t nearly kill myself for either of you to give up on me.”

  “We threatened to kill you, Nyxie,” Sari replies through her tears. Relieved that her childhood friend does not hate her, the gypsy clings to the half-elf as if she will fall through the ground once she lets go. “I saw everything that I was doing and understood it all. It wasn’t like I was trapped in my mind or watching from afar. I was fully aware of my actions and simply didn’t care. Even now I’m confused because of my feelings for Phelan. I think I really do care about him, but I’m terrified that Zohara still has me under her control. By the gods, do you know what I did to Luke? I tried to kill him. Please don’t let him near me in case she’s still in my head.”

  “I’m sure Timoran heard you and mentioned it to Luke,” the channeler says, stroking her little sister’s hair. Delvin slips out of the embrace, allowing Nyx to put her other arm around her distraught friend. “We’re not angry at either of you. I’m sure we can solve all of this once we bring the Feykin back to Rhundar and explain the situation to the Order. They might be genocidal maniacs, but maybe we can get them to back off until we handle Zohara. Just have some faith that we can right the wrongs you were tricked into doing.”

  Sari wipes her nose on her sleeve and gazes into the half-elf’s violet eyes for what feels like the first time in years. “You don’t understand, Nyxie. I do know that I was being controlled, but I still have the belief that I willingly made the decisions. As far as I can tell, those actions weren’t forced upon me. Maybe you’re right and Zohara was behind every evil thing that I did. I won’t know until I talk to her. For now, I’m scared that a big part of me wanted to commit all of those crimes and Delvin probably feels the same way. Do you?”

  The warrior quietly shrugs and trudges away when he sees the others walk beyond the nearby trees. His sheathed sword drags along the ground, inadvertently leaving a path for the two women to follow. It is apparent that he is unsure what to do with his hands, switching them from his pockets to hanging at his sides. Rubbing his heavily bruised chest, Delvin’s fingers push on something solid beneath his battered chainmail. Without warning, the warrior blindly tosses the Compass Key over his shoulder. The relic is caught by Fizzle, who puts it over Nyx’s head before soaring above the canopy. None of them talk for the rest of the journey, which ends as they step out of the jungle and are met with the stench of acrid smoke.

  The giant fig tree has been toppled onto its side and set on fire, its flaming leaves being cast about by the billowing winds. The tents and huts of the refugees have been trampled by the advancing Feykin army. Mutilated bodies are scattered about the ruins of Caurea and the local scavengers are already eating their fill. Charred circles of earth dot the landscape where lightning has been used to destroy those who tried to retreat. Their blackened skeletons and cooked flesh are still smoking, which attracts swarms of ash-devouring beetles. The sky is filled with so many insects that the ruins of Caurea are bathed in shifting shadows and a constant hum. Remaining at the top of the hill, the champions wait in the hopes of seeing a survivor crawl out of the decimation.

  “These were not warriors,” Timoran says, turning away from the carnage. He bends down to pick up a doll and notices tiny footprints leading toward a nearby group of bodies. “There may have been a few guards, but I did not see them. All those I met were women, children, elderly, and injured refugees. I wonder if they were truly part of the Order or simply being taken care of by them.”

  “So the Feykin . . . why would they do this?” Luke asks while checking the tracks of the departing army. He pauses when Nyx hands him his sabers and rings, the gear helping him feel more like himself. “Thanks. I’m going to need these when we go back to Rhundar. I assume we are since Delvin’s temple is on top of Binhadar Falls. Do we sneak in or challenge Zohara head on?”

  “We won’t get very far before she finds us,” Sari mentions, hiding her face behind her drab hair. She steps behind Timoran to avoid seeing Luke and shudders when Fizzle lands on her shoulder. “I remember that she watches the city borders, so she’ll know when we step foot in her territory. Zohara has a bigger net for Isaiah, which means he will have to stay further back. If it makes you feel better, old friend, I’m sure you can be returned to normal once we kill her. I’m pretty sure she will die because I don’t see her backing down. That is unless she manages to kill us first.”

  Unable to handle any more of the death and destruction, Nyx turns away to see that Delvin is walking away. “Where are you going? We need to make a plan and you’re the best one at doing that. You and Sari know more about Rhundar and Zohara than we do. Don’t leave us when we need your help.”

  “Do you really want a plan?” Delvin asks, stopping and drawing his sword. Disgusted by the shield that came from Zohara, he shrugs the damaged disc off his arm and tosses it into the bushes. “I’m going back to Rhundar and breaking up with my dear fiancée by lopping her head off. After that, I’m climbing Binhadar Falls and claiming my temple. If you guys want to follow then come along. If not then stay out of my way.”

  15

  Yola Biggs coos while tickling the small child in her arms until he escapes her grasp and clumsily runs behind the bed. Walter peeks out and points at the bedroom door, which becomes engulfed by steely vines. Scratching her head with her foot, the former goddess pulls the floor toward her to get the boy within reach. Yola hugs him tightly and struggles to stop Walter from transforming into water or smoke, the attempted form unclear since his mother’s power is able to stop the change. Wrestling the screaming child, she shoves him into a crib and slams a kaleidoscopic barrier over the top. A spray of sleeping mist envelopes the screeching boy before he can shred his mother’s magic and run away. Looking angelic and peaceful, his black and white arm slips through the slats as he snores and kicks.

  A thunderous boom rocks the castle and the door shudders from whatever is on the other side. Yola checks the bed where the Baron is slumbering, the warlord’s mind still riding one of his enemies. Drawing the curtains around her master, she makes sure the naked man is comfortable before bounding over to a mirror. She calmly checks her green hair, which is filled with toys and half-eaten food. Sharp-toothed maws appear around her head to devour the collection, each mouth unleashing a tongue that leaves an enchanting shine on the emerald tresses. Another quake sends Walter’s crib bouncing a few feet away from the wall, so the piece of furniture sprouts padded feet to tiptoe back to its original position. Fearing that her son will wake up, the black and white-skinned woman hurries to remove the metallic vines and throws open the double doors. She is surprised to see Zaria standing in the dimly lit hallway, the Purity Goddess’s face furrowed in anger.

  “Tell me where Arthuru is because he has gone too far,” the redhead states, closing the door behind her. She moves to step around the other woman, but finds that her feet have been melted to the floor. “Do not get involved in this, Yola. We have found signs that he has wiped out an entire city. I know we consider him evil and immoral, but this was a line I never thought he
would cross. All I want to do is talk to Arthuru and convince him to reverse his actions. He is the only one who can do this.”

  “I don’t want you to wake the baby,” Yola whispers, pointing at the snoring child. She stretches her arm toward the bed and pulls the curtain away to reveal the sleeping Baron. “You can’t wake him either. Isn’t this going to get you in trouble? This breaks your little Law of Influence, right?”

  “You and Arthuru are gray areas since you were once gods,” Zaria states, freeing her feet from the stone. Turning into rose petals, she moves around the former goddess and materializes next to the crib. “This boy is a curiosity too. I feel I should warn you that he has caused a big stir among your family. We are still debating on if he is protected or not, but it is likely he will be treated similarly to my daughter. How long until his father awakens?”

  Not wanting to be left alone with the Purity Goddess, Yola opens the doors again to reveal Nyder’s factory. Dragon parts are hanging from the ceiling, some of them already fused with gears and metallic rods. Young chaos elves are seen carrying buckets of water down walkways and across bridges that they can easily fall off. Sparks constantly fly from the hovering welding stones that the ghostly workers use to complete their work. None of the servants pay attention to the doorway that has appeared in the middle of their master’s workshop. The gnome is even less aware of the intrusion as he tinkers with a metal mask that has a single gear on the ear. After he fits the invention onto a severed head, Yola reaches through the portal and yanks him into the bedroom. With a gentle click, the doors close and chains wrap around the handles to prevent the flustered inventor from escaping.

  “What are you doing!?” Nyder shouts before his mouth is buttoned shut. Reaching into his pocket, the red-eyed gnome pulls out a thin whistle that he slips into the corner of his lips. “Glad I made this to help me talk. I assume Walter is asleep. Now what minor crisis do you need help with? I’m not good with kids, so stop asking me to babysit. Also, that term doesn’t mean you get me to sit on your child while he’s inside a giant egg.”

  “Of course not. He’s grown too big for the egg,” Yola replies, spinning the gnome so that he can see Zaria. With a mouth that is twice its normal size and bright red, she grins at the goddess’s frown. “Now you can’t talk to us without getting sealed. Nyder is a mortal and you can’t do anything around him. I win.”

  “I’m willing to accept a week of being sealed to get some answers,” their uninvited guest replies to the surprise of the smug pair. “Now wake your master.”

  The gnome clears his throat and jogs over to the bed, bowing his head before closing the curtains. “I’m sorry, but the Baron is in a special trance that cannot be broken. He wished to learn more about modern cultural tics, so I found a way for him to piggyback on the mind of a connected . . . individual. The master is only an observer unless he’s powerful enough to assert his influence over the host. Though he wishes to remain discreet. I don’t know who he picked, so don’t ask. This does mean that he’s comatose until he decides to come home. Perhaps the issue that has brought you here has him intrigued, which would explain why he hasn’t returned. I was working on a mask to delve into his mind and see if something went wrong since it’s been nearly two weeks. Longer if I lost track of time while working.”

  “Amazing how he has earned your concern and loyalty.”

  “He allows me to do what I love to do, so I’m thankful.”

  “Do you truly believe he wanted to learn about the modern world?”

  “You mean a man like him may lie and manipulate to hide his true reason,” Nyder answers in mock surprise. He puts his hand to his forehead for dramatic effect, but slowly lowers the arm when he sees the goddess’s eyes flicker with magic. “It crossed my mind, but it’s not my business. He is who he is and I accept that as long as I have my factory. Now, what brings you here, Pure One? If you’re already in trouble then we might as well talk.”

  Resigned to her fate, Zaria holds out her hand and conjures a glass-like globe that floats to the gnome. Its shimmering surface reveals the southern jungles of Ralian, but there is a gray ooze coating the drooping trees. All of the animals that pass through the scene are emaciated and their eyes flit from side to side as if they are being hunted. The orb turns to show the burning city of Rhundar, its towers covered with the Feykin’s staked bodies. Unidentifiable creatures fly among the blood-dripping clouds, their wings making Nyder think of parrots, but the silhouette is closer to that of a scrawny cat. A festering stench seeps from the globe, causing Yola to cover the floor in aromatic lilies.

  “We are not sure if this is reality or a vision that was sent to us,” Zaria explains, popping the orb with her nail. A tickling at the back of her neck warns the goddess that her time is running out and a sealing chamber is being prepared for her. “The Feykin are a special people who are under Silvestris’s protection. Their kind could have been a bridge between races, but now they’re gone or soon will be. I wonder why this was done by a man who swears he wants peace for Windemere. All of those victims were innocent.”

  “First of all, every victim in history is seen as innocent. That’s what makes the poor saps victims,” Nyder states while thumbing through a greasy notebook. He stops on a page that depicts Binhadar Falls, the waterfalls taking up the entire mountainside instead of a corner like it does today. “I can say with certainty that we have no idea what you’re talking about. We’ve sent agents to that temple in the past, but nothing ever seemed to stick. Then one day a few years back, the place became corrupted and the master’s agents were able to get inside. Beyond them entering the temple, I have no other notes on the area. I don’t even believe our people ever returned. Have you considered that a third party got involved like what happened in Aintaranurh? After so many centuries, the prophecy was bound to attract the attention of unsavory opportunists.”

  “It’s also possible that Arthuru did something without telling us,” Yola adds while checking on Walter. She sticks her head into the barrier and a plume of fire erupts, the flames cutting off when she repairs the seal. “I was eating hot coals while feeding him. Now what did you do to the Feykin, Zaria?”

  “It appears my time is wasted here,” the Purity Goddess replies, her body fading away. The sound of coiling chains can be heard as her ghostly form stiffens and shudders. “This was a gamble and it seems I lost. Even if you knew what was going on, I doubt you would have told me. Just be warned that genocide is crossing a line. These actions will be revealed to the world if Arthuru breaks free of his curse. He may want to consider that before targeting another race and sends out his agents.”

  The red-haired deity disappears from Shayd, leaving Yola and Nyder to think about what has been said. The former goddess prances around the room to kick the flowers into the air while her companion checks on the Baron. As he takes the warlord’s pulse, the gnome glances at the greasy notebook that is in his other hand. He skims his father’s notes on the Order of the Kehryhor, which had been encountered by one of the Baron’s former agents. At the time, it was a group designed to remove potential threats to the indigenous fairies while remaining in the good graces of the locals. They were seen as possible allies, but had a habit of turning on any agents who turned out to be fae-blooded. Long before the corruption of Binhadar Falls, the Baron decided to leave the Order alone and handle them personally when he is free of his curse. The last note Nyder has about the area is when Stephen was sent to handle the situation and returned in failure.

  “Or did he?” asks the gnome while rubbing his bulbous nose with his thumb. Glancing at the face of his master, another thought comes to the inventor’s mind. “Or did you plan whatever this is all along?”

  *****

  The champions draw their weapons when they see that the streets of Rhundar are littered with bodies, but they are unsure if the still forms are actually dead. All of the Feykin are on their backs with eyes open and limbs spread out in awkward directions. Splotches of gray ooze co
ver the buildings while tendrils made of the substance wave from atop the elemental towers. A putrid stench wafts off the waterfall, which has become dark green and filled with chunks of rotting garbage. The river is nauseating to those with a keen sense of smell and the breeze is constantly spreading the foul odors across the city. Piles of rotting fruit sit in a nearby courtyard and all of the Feykin children have been laid around the collection, none of them reacting to the stinging flies that explore their smiling faces. With a rumble from the towers, a thick rain of rancid water and sizzling mud falls over Rhundar, forcing the champions to huddle under Nyx’s shield spell. Refusing to retreat, they continue toward the temple and the chorus of maddening wails that come from within the eerie structure. The crumbling steps and thorny vines make it a slow ascent, all of the adventurers receiving itchy cuts on their legs.

  More bodies are found in the hallways, including the colorful birds that have been frozen in midflight. The garden rooms have been transformed into steaming chambers of compost thanks to streams of gray ooze that seep from the cracked ceiling. Coming to the central hall, the champions find the doors have been wrenched from their hinges and left mangled on the filthy floor. The tapir’s head has been fastened above the entrance and they can see the tiny monkey’s tail dangling from the other beast’s barely open mouth. Parts of their bodies have been strewn across the hallway, the meat looking like it has been sitting in the heat for days. The smell of rotting plants wafts from the chamber along with the sound of multiple voices muttering incoherently.