Sleeper Of The Wildwood Fugue (Book 7) (23 page)

“We will talk more when our auras truly meet,” Trinity promises, landing on the pond and examining her Elven features in the reflection. “I must return this one to her mischief. Come to Bor’daruk soon to begin our people’s rebirth or death. It really depends on how you answer my final question.”

“Which is?”

“This isn’t the time for it,” the chaos elf whispers as she sinks into the pond. “When I say final question, I mean it may be the last thing I ever ask you before you die.”

Nyx waits for Trinity to return and tries to sense the other woman’s aura, but the chaos elf has completely vanished. The idea of a second bath no longer appeals to the half-elf, so she walks around the dune to find the nomads are still asleep. Halfway between the tents and the dune blocking the pond is Dariana, the silver-haired woman apparently having fallen asleep on her way to the pond.

“Thanks for the work, old woman,” Nyx mutters as she prepares to wake everyone. An invisible force catches her wrists before she can finish clapping. “I’m not testing my abilities on these people. I could hurt them, you crazy fossil.”

Trinity materializes in front of her and releases her hands as if tossing away a foul-smelling package. “My name is Casandra. Respect your elders, infant.”

The woman disappears again with a loud crack of sound and an explosion of light that sends Nyx tumbling back a few feet. Everyone wakes up and goes about their business as if nothing happened, most falling back into a natural sleep. Only Dariana is confused and she stares at her friend in the hopes of getting an answer. Instead, Nyx shakes her head and silently heads off to sleep within the library tent.

12

Delvin watches the large gathering of people surrounding the tiny group of mourners in the courtyard. A few young children run after the peacocks, but the adults all have the same expression on their faces. Even the Grasdons look emotionally exhausted, a sign that this event has become far too common in their lives. The former mercenary knows the feeling far too well after burying so many battlefield brothers. He is sure that most of them have run out of tears and are more focused on when their next loved one will fall. From the high balcony, he can see that only Kira is crying as she clings to Luke’s arm. The forest tracker sits quietly and holds her, but his attention is obviously more on Wayland who occasionally scowls at his daughter’s heartbreaking display.

“Something about that man is worrying me,” Sari says, snapping Delvin out of his thoughts. She backs away from the railing after a quick glance. “He is really angry about Luke being here. Did you hear him yelling about not wanting a freak of nature in the family after Asher told him about the transformation?”

“It was over the top, but I can’t say I’m surprised. The man needs a target for his rage and Luke is technically taking his daughter away,” the warrior states. He bows with his fist to his chest when Asher looks in his direction, the noble nodding a thank you. “The rest of the family are nice, but I still have to leave. At least Asher understands and won’t stop me. Quill and Wayland might be an issue if they catch me. Why are you up here, Sari?”

The gypsy walks over to the railing and frowns at the people below. “If Nyx was standing with another guy and his family, would you want to be down there? Besides, I don’t want to make the Grasdons uncomfortable with my presence. It’s not the time to compete with Kira even though she keeps demanding it. She really wants me to fight for Luke, but I’m afraid I’d crush her and ruin everything.”

“I’m sorry things have become strained and complicated. If it makes you feel better, I’m really happy to have a friend see me off.”

“She is not the only one here,” Timoran states from the doorway. Fizzle darts off the barbarian’s shoulder and lands on Delvin’s head. “I can understand not hearing Sari enter the room, but I am not a silent walker. Can I request that you remain here or take someone with you?”

“I can’t do that because Kira’s family needs us here,” Delvin answers, walking into the room to start packing. He tosses his clothes into his bottomless bag, not bothering to fold them or see if they are clean. “All of you are very important to the defense of the manor. With Asher here, I’m not really needed. He knows the terrain and is an excellent tactician. That means I can go looking for Nyx and Dariana without causing trouble.”

“Fizzle go with Delvin,” the drite declares, leaning forward to look the warrior in the eye. “Help friend not get lost or eaten.”

“They need your magic here, Fizzle.”

“Sari have spells.”

“I won’t let you follow me into danger.”

“Fizzle no let you go alone.”

“I forbid it.”

The dragon hops off Delvin’s head and hovers upside down. “How you stop me?”

Muttering complaints under his breath, the warrior jams the last of his clothes into the brown bag. He ignores the expectant stares of his friends as he carefully fills two waterskins and packs them away. Rubbing his chin, Delvin eyes Fizzle and opens his mouth to argue. The drite vanishes from sight and darts around the room to repeatedly tap his friend on the nose. It is impossible for the warrior to catch or block the tiny dragon, proving that he can do nothing to stop his friend from following unseen. As an act of acceptance, he dumps a bowl of apples into his pouch and puts up his hands.

“I’ll take Fizzle, but you two stay,” Delvin orders, fixing the others with a stern glare. “I know Timoran doesn’t have a problem with this, but I know you hate it here, Sari. Please hold out a little bit longer because things will get better once I bring Nyx back. She’ll give you someone to vent to or maybe she’ll smack Luke around to settle things.”

“What kind of motivational talk was that?” the gypsy asks, storming over to the warrior. She jabs a finger into his chest, pushing him back until he falls onto a couch. “I’m miserable and stressed. I’ve entertained myself by secretly chilling Kira’s bathwater, but I seem to always get Luke or her maid. That woman keeps unknowingly dodging my pranks. Wayland has been drinking watered down wine for the last two days, which is why he’s drinking twice as much as before. Where was I going with this?”

“I have no idea,” Timoran admits while taking a seat.

“I’m guessing you have a reason to stay in a place that makes you upset,” Delvin suggests as he draws his sword. He checks the edge, frowning at a few nicks left over from the fight with the Felcri. “I should fix this, but I don’t want to lose my chance to escape. Maybe I should look into an enhanced longsword or a durable one. Both of those magic weapons are expensive, but easy to find.”

“I’m sure Kira or her dad would be happy to buy you one,” Sari bitterly states. She sinks to the floor, her skirts pooling around her. “Give me some time before I’m my perky self again. Being told that someone hates me and will hate me even more if I give her what she wants isn’t something I’m used to. Maybe I’ll feel better when they unlock the wine cellar and I beat Timoran to it.”

“Lock stop Sari?” Fizzle asks, scratching his head with his tail.

“I’m trying to behave for Luke’s sake. At least with the stealing.”

Strapping his buckler to his forearm, Delvin gets off the couch and holds out an apple to attract Fizzle. The drite lands on the edge of the shield and wraps his tongue around the fruit, covering it completely. The warrior turns to leave, but stops and hurries to a bowl of chocolates, dumping them into his pouch. Sari flashes him a grin of approval and flips to her feet, walking out onto the balcony. Delvin gestures for Timoran to check on her before heading for the door and slipping out into the empty hallway.

“Do you think he will be okay?” the barbarian asks as he joins his friend. “I trust Fizzle and know Delvin is smart enough to stay out of trouble. Yet I feel we should have tried harder to talk him out of this. Nyx could be anywhere out there.”

“I know, but he’s too determined to stop. Nice to see a man willing to tear down a wall and conquer a desert for the woman he loves,” Sari replies, her voice devoid of emotions. She squints at the crowd below, most of them looking bored as Wayland gives a speech. “Something is wrong down there. Where’s Quill and his fiancée?”

Timoran turns to go back into the room when the doors slam shut and lock. He grabs the handles and a surge of magic rushes through the balcony. A magnetic pulse erupts beneath the two champions and slams them to the solid floor. Sari hits with enough force to fall unconscious, the spell rolling her onto her back. Timoran is still awake, so the pulse turns on and off to pound him against the marble. After four strikes, he refuses to pass out and uses the doorknobs to help him struggle to his feet. The doors fly open to yank the dazed warrior into the room where an aura-infused punch meets his jaw. With a strange spin, Timoran groans and collapses in front of his attacker.

“Take the hint and sleep next time, you stubborn brute,” Trinity growls, massaging her aching hand. She flicks Timoran onto the balcony with a gust of wind and locks the doors behind him. “That should keep you two out of the fun. Sweet dreams, little champions.”

*****

Delvin peeks out the back door to see if anyone is in the narrow alley between the wall and the main building. He has to wait for a cook to finish throwing trash into a bin, the thin man taking as much time as he can. Once the alley is clear, the warrior slips out of the storage room and eases the door back. He pauses every time the hinges creak and wonders why a wealthy family does not bother to have them oiled. With Fizzle on his shoulder, Delvin hurries in the direction of a servant exit that he stumbled upon a day ago. He slows down when he hears a strange noise that reminds him of wooden canes tapping on stone. Pressing against the warm building, he inches toward the alcove where the sound is coming from. Even though he keeps a calm face, his heart leaps into his throat when he looks around the corner.

A twelve foot tall bird with long legs and massive feet is furiously pecking at two oddly shaped piles. The creature has four heads, three of which resemble brightly plumed storks. The fourth head has a shorter, glossy beak and a boney crest on the top, which it scrapes against the walls. Ruffling its black feathers, the bird reveals its wide wings that uselessly flap at its sides. As the crested head hisses at one of the others, the creature stomps on one of the piles and bends down to tear flesh from within the remains of what was once an elegant dress. Enjoying the sound of snapping bones, the bird kicks both piles a few times, which gives Delvin a clear look at the remains of Quill and his fiancée.

“It’s one of the monsters,” the warrior whispers to Fizzle. He carefully draws his sword and adjusts his shield as he slips out of view. “Go tell Timoran and Sari. I’ll keep an eye on this thing.”

“Fizzle no leave. Monster too dangerous. Delvin need magic.”

Unwilling to argue and risk being noticed, the warrior nods and peeks around the corner again. He watches one of the bird’s long-beaked heads swallow Quill’s entire arm while two others crack open the dead fiancée’s skull. It takes Delvin a second to notice that the one with the crest is no longer in view. A brief haze appears in the sun, revealing the stretched neck of the missing head is going over the rooftop. Predatory hissing rolls from behind Delvin and he whirls around in time to take the bird’s attack on his shield. The crested head appears to weave through the air on an invisible neck, which makes it difficult for the warrior to anticipate its strikes. He hears the rest of the creature cawing and screeching as it lumbers toward him.

“First rule of mercenary work, never be afraid to run for better ground,” Delvin says as he smacks the monster’s head to the side. He dodges and parries the other beaks that come at him from above and behind. “Or was it stand your ground because you’re getting paid? I could never get the hang of those rules.”

Spinning on his heels, Delvin avoids a peck to his side and slams his shield into one of the colorfully plumed heads. The dazed creature stumbles to the side, giving him a chance to sprint for the nearest exit. With a furious shriek, the bird turns around and charges into the narrower part of the alley. Its feathery body is squeezed enough to slow it down, but it is still dangerously close to the retreating warrior. He repeatedly turns to slash at the heads that come within striking distance, his blade skittering off the beaks or harmlessly slicing off feathers. Delvin can see the end of the alley coming, knowing that the beast will be more dangerous with room to move. He considers holding his ground until two of the heads lance forward to ram his shield and sends him skidding away.

“Fizzle make you go poof!” the drite declares as he flies backwards. He fires a disintegration spell from his tiny horns, but the crested head swallows the attack. “Fizzle no like you!”

“I never heard of a creature that could eat magic,” Delvin admits, knocking a garbage bin over to slow the bird down. “I doubt that will do anything. I hope the mourners have left the courtyard because we’re coming to the exit.”

Rushing out of the alley and turning toward the garden, Delvin curses loudly at the sight of the gathered crowd. Everyone looks at the intrusion as Wayland opens his mouth to yell at the warrior, none of them appearing to have heard any of the battle. The merchant snaps his mouth shut when the bird emerges from the alley and viciously strikes at Delvin. All of the attacks are blocked by his shield or sword while Fizzle smacks at the creature with his tail. The screams of the mourners draw the beast’s attention and three of its heads turn to face the fresh prey that are attempting to escape. Delvin lunges at one of its necks, but is kicked with enough force to send him crashing through a hedge. Refusing to stay down, he leaps back to his feet and charges forward with his sword held high. His sword misses a wing and another kick sends him rolling toward the others, the bird’s talons snapping a few links of his chainmail.

“I’m afraid of the answer, but have you seen Quill?” Asher asks as he joins Delvin. The two warriors separate to avoid a quick strike and deflect a flurry of attacks. “I saw him go into the alley with his fiancée. That was nearly an hour ago.”

“I’m really sorry,” Delvin replies while fending off the crested head. It rears back and slams against his shield, cracking the wood. “Your cousin and his fiancée were dead when I got there. Maybe you should run since these things are after your family. You, Kira, and your dad are who it’s after.”

One of the plumed heads whips around and takes Delvin’s legs out from under him. Still on his back, he kicks at the hissing bird’s belly and jams his shield into the approaching mouth. The monster pulls him into the air and whips him around in attempt to bat Fizzle away. He cuts the straps of the shield and drops to the ground to drive his sword into the beast’s foot. With a screech of rage, the bird kicks Delvin away and the crested head rams Asher in the chest. The noble can feel two ribs snap on impact and a few more break when he lands against the stone rim of a fountain. Fizzle tries another attack spell, which is devoured as the monster charges at the downed noble.

The chain wraps around one of its necks as Kira runs and slides between its legs. She pulls with all her strength to bring the thrashing head toward her, causing the bird to trip over the extended neck. Luke quickly darts in to chop the trapped head off and expertly blocks the barrage of attacks from the remaining ones. Kira’s sickle slams into the bird’s back and she sprints back between the legs, dragging the weapon down the bird’s spine. Flicking the blade free, she whips the blunt end of her weapon at the crested head to drive it away from her unconscious brother. It swings back to attack the heiress who presses the chain into the monster’s mouth and turns it aside before stabbing it in the eye. Luke’s sabers send a plumed head flying into the fountain, forcing the beast to back away and hiss threateningly. It only makes it a few steps before its body tenses and it collapses, the crested head leaving a dent in the ground when it lands with an echoing thud.