Sleeper Of The Wildwood Fugue (Book 7) (24 page)

“I’m not in the mood to play with these bastards any more,” Delvin says as he sheaths his longsword. The warrior picks up the remains of his shield, but tosses them to the ground in frustration. “Take care of Asher. I’ve got something to do and maybe I’ll put an end to this along the way.”

“Wait!” Luke shouts as his friend heads for the nearest door in the wall.

“Let him go and help my brother,” Kira pleads, making her way to the alley. “I’m going to . . . gather the rest of Quill and his fiancée.”

She stops short when Timoran steps out of the alley, the barbarian looking like he recently lost a fistfight. He blocks her from going in and nods to Sari, who is groggily stumbling across the garden with healing potions given to her by Eileen. The maid is busy trying to calm Wayland down, the portly man lividly ranting on the other side of the courtyard. Luke notices bruises on his friends’ faces, signs that they were attacked, which explains why they missed the fight. A rage grows in his chest and erupts when he hears the door close behind Delvin.

“I have to take care of something,” he says to Kira as he storms by her.

*****

City guards are hurrying through the streets to attend to the screaming crowd stampeding out of Grasdon Manor. They are so busy handling the increasing panic that none of them pay any attention to Delvin slipping out of a door that clangs shut behind him. He calmly walks across the street and takes the first turn he finds that is not a shadowy alley. When he can no longer see Grasdon Manor looming over the other buildings, the warrior stops to rest on a crate. Fizzle lands next to him and puts his head in the bottomless pouch to grab an apple.

“Nothing’s broken, so I won’t slow us down,” Delvin says as he touches his bruised sides. The pain is already fading away and he rolls his shoulder to test its movement. “Full range of motion with only a dull ache. I’ll need to replace the damaged links in my armor, but I won’t be wearing this once we get into the desert. Lost my shield again, which was never a problem until I met up with all of you. Finish your apple and we’ll head out, Fizzle.”

“You’re actually going,” Luke states, stepping out of the nearby alley. “After what just happened, you’re heading into the desert. Not only you, Delvin, but Fizzle too?”

“Fizzle protect Delvin. Nyx gone too long. Need Nyx to stop monster.”

“You’ve no idea where she is,” the forest tracker argues, not looking away from the stone-faced warrior. “Even with Fizzle’s help, you’re going to get lost out there. We’ll have to waste time and manpower to rescue you. If Nyx shows up while you’re gone then she’s going to go back out searching for you. This is a mistake.”

“If that’s your worry then don’t come looking for me. Keep Nyx here if she shows up and I’ll turn back around in two and a half days if I don’t find her,” Delvin contends, hopping off the crate. Sensing the confrontation brewing, he unstraps his longsword and puts it in his pouch. “Of course, I’ll grab supplies then head back out there to search in another direction.”

“We have a crisis here,” Luke claims with a wave toward Grasdon Manor. “You saw how much trouble that last monster was. The Felcri took longer to kill, but that bird killed two people before they could make a noise. We can’t afford to lose someone like you to a wild search in the desert.”

The former mercenary’s punch connects with his friend’s jaw, knocks the half-elf off his feet. “You selfish bastard! You’re only concerned about protecting Kira, which has made me want to punch you in the face for days. Nyx was crazed when you were dying of the Dark Wind curse. She would have fought demons and gods to cure you. Now that she needs your help, you won’t even worry about her much less go into the desert. I’m betting the griffin could have found her and been back within our first day here.”

“This is a different situation.”

“Because you leaving would get you in trouble with Kira?” Delvin asks in a mocking tone. He watches his friend stand on shaky legs, the half-elf’s fists clenched in anger. “Nyx’s life is in danger and she needs you. This mess you’re in will be waiting for you when you get back. I’m sure you would search that desert until you passed out if Kira was the one out there. Don’t even try to say that she needs more protection than Nyx. We rescue the ones we love when they’re in trouble.”

Luke massages his jaw while he walks to the crate to put his sabers next to Fizzle. He returns to Delvin, who braces for a strike that never comes. Instead, the half-elf circles the warrior and runs his hands through his blonde hair. With a growl of frustration, Luke grabs a rock and hurls it down the road, startling a flock of seagulls.

“I’m not the only selfish person here,” the forest tracker states, cracking his knuckles and fidgeting with his fingers. “All you’ve thought about is going into the desert without a plan. It isn’t for her own good though. It’s because you miss her, you worry about her, and you’re too blind to realize that Nyx isn’t alone out there. What would you do if you found Nyx, but Dariana was still missing? Would you go looking for her or does your compassion only go to the woman you’re in love with?”

“Everyone keeps saying Nyx will be okay,” Delvin says with a nervous chuckle. Not wanting to stop once he leaves Bor’daruk, he removes his chainmail and replaces it with a yellow cloak. “None of you saw how shaken she was against Stephen. She isn’t an unstoppable weapon that knows no fear. Nyx is a living being with weaknesses like the rest of us. She’s in trouble and needs someone to put his life on the line to bring her home.”

“Fizzle think friends stop fighting,” the drite interrupts, noticing that a small crowd is gathering on the street. “Nyx strong and missing. No idea if safe. Dariana still new. Best to look for her.”

“Exactly,” the brown-haired warrior proudly declares. “Since her best friend is unwilling to return the favor he owes her, I’ll go and do it.”

Luke gets in Delvin’s face and drives his elbow into the warrior’s chest. Another punch meets the half-elf’s jaw and he stumbles back, leaping forward to kick his friend in the side. Forgetting finesse and their training, the two rain fists and feet on each other. Neither bother to block, so they are bruised and bloody within minutes. Using the last of his strength, Luke rushes forward and delivers a swift kick to Delvin’s stomach. The forest tracker stands over the gasping warrior and waits for another strike. Instead, his friend rolls onto his back and stares at the cloudless sky, refusing to continue the fight.

“I’m done listening to you claim I don’t care,” Luke says in a strained voice. He wipes blood off his upper lip and drops a clean rag on Delvin’s chest. “I’ve been worried about Nyx this entire time and hate that I’m stuck here. Imagine what would happen if I went to find her and Kira was killed by the next monster. You see, no matter what I do, I have someone I care about in danger.”

“Then why stop me?” his friend whispers as he gets to his feet. “I could have taken the pressure off you and handled the Nyx situation.”

“You’re not a tracker and you’re going in without a plan.”

“I’d find a way.”

“You’d get yourself killed.”

“So you were saving my life by containing me?”

“If you want to look at it that way then yes.”

Delvin pulls his sword out of his pouch and straps it on his belt, adjusting it until feels comfortable. “You can’t stop me from going. Nyx has been gone for too long and we haven’t seen any sign of her trying to contact us. Keeping me here is pointless because I’m unfocused and distracted. I could get someone killed.”

“Fine, but I won’t be able to save you until things are finished here,” Luke states while gathering his swords. He pets Fizzle on the head, taking some quiet comfort in the fact that the drite will be going too. “The nomads will be here any day. With any luck, you’ll be captured by them and brought back as a prisoner. It’ll keep you out of trouble.”

“I still think it should be you,” the warrior says while he dabs at a cut over his eye. “I love Nyx with all my heart, but I admit you’re the better tracker. Though, I see what you mean by you being damned no matter what you do. Now would be a terrible time for you to go. A real mess you made here.”

Luke scratches Fizzle on the head and cringes at the pain in his arm, bruises appearing from the hits to his forearm. He can already feel one of his eyes swelling up to alter his vision. With the brief fight over, the curious citizens of Bor’daruk walk by while giving the battered warriors sideways glances. Most of them head for the sound of the guards handling the looming riot caused by the latest monster attack. Their staring makes Luke feel even worse about what he is about to say.

“I’m well aware that I’m letting Nyx down after what she did for me,” the half-elf explains in a somber tone. He rubs the hilts of his sabers, revealing his nervousness. “When dealing with the Dark Wind, Nyx knew how to help me without sacrificing other people. I can’t figure out how to do that here, which makes me think I shouldn’t call myself her friend much less her brother.”

“I wouldn’t go that far,” Delvin says with a crooked smirk. “Maybe this is how it should be. Each of us is expecting the other to help protect his loved ones, which is causing friction. We can’t ignore either situation any more, which means I have to go into the desert and you have to stay here. It’d be easier if Kira and Sari were out there and Nyx was being targeted by monsters in the city.”

“Guess our enemies planned this better than we realized.”

The brown-haired warrior scratches his chin and nods. “You know, I never considered that this was part of Stephen’s plan. All this time I thought the situation with Nyx was luck, but maybe he wanted her in the desert at a time where you couldn’t follow. Good thing Fizzle is coming with me and Dariana is out there. Watch out in case that bastard is prowling the city because you’re the only one here who can hurt him.”

“I’ll stay alert. Be careful out there, Cunningham.”

Luke ducks into the alley and sprints back toward the manor, leaving Delvin and Fizzle to make their way to the iron and wood gate of the city. The drite casts a spell to make himself and the warrior invisible as they approach the only way out of Bor’daruk. They startle the guards with rapid knocking at a low point on the door. Fizzle creates the hazy illusion of a lost child on the desert side of the wall, prompting the guards to swiftly open the gates. The illusion fades away like a mirage as Delvin slips through the opening and trudges into the desert.

13

Timoran keeps a vigil at the window while Eileen moves around the room with a stack of clay plates. She places them around the well-furnished bedroom, leaping onto the furniture when setting one on a high shelf. Standing in the middle of the room, Kira spins the chain of her weapon and runs her finger along the Dwarven runes on the sickle’s handle. When the maid puts the last plate above the door, she hurries to the balcony. Crouched on the stone, Eileen urgently gestures for Timoran to join her. With a tired sigh, the barbarian steps outside and leans against the open door. He adjust a blue curtain, which is hiding a box of vases and paintings that used to adorn the room.

“Does she do this a lot?” he asks the calico.

“Only when she’s upset, which has been rather common lately,” Eileen answers, her tail twitching in the air. Her tufted ears stick up at the gentle whine of Kira’s weapon, the sickle shattering two plates in one swing. “My mistress is not happy that Luke has told her to stay in her room while he goes on patrol with Sari. She knows it’s for the best, but she doesn’t want to be left out. It doesn’t help that Asher has been sent without an escort to the city guard to ask for help.”

“That is strange considering he is a target,” Timoran admits, admiring the graceful movements of the heiress. The way she shifts and spins reminds him of how Sari fights, but with a focus on wide arm motions instead of sudden wrist movements. “Has there been any more news on the reason the nomads are after the Grasdons? I heard some rumors about a stolen scepter.”

“I’ve heard the same stories,” Eileen claims as she stretches her back and yawns. “I do know that the other nomads believe the Helgardians are nobility because of a holy relic. If one was to steal it then the tribes would go to war with each other. Though I don’t see why my employers would be involved. There’s no benefit to such a war because they have agreements with all of the big tribes.”

“Everyone calls this a war, but no true battle has occurred,” Timoran points out. The maid nervously watches her mistress practice while nodding in agreement. “There have been murders, but I would not call them casualties of war. At least not yet.”

The shattering of plates becomes louder and more rapid as Kira increases her speed. Her weapon stretches on its enchanted chain, which she smoothly flicks at the last second for a quicker strike. When she breaks the last plate, she is still angry and lashes out at one of her bedposts with the kusari-gama. The chain smoothly wraps around the post until the blade slices deep into the dark red wood. Kira tugs on her weapon, but it is stuck and she is forced to grab the handle of the sickle to yank it free.

“Care to repeat your statement, Sir Wrath?” the heiress coldly asks as she approaches the balcony. She nods to Eileen who bounds into the room to clean up the mess. “I’ve lost most of my family, so I call this a war. The Helgardians might not have sent an army after us, but they did send monsters without provocation.”

“I apologize for offending you and you have my condolences, but there is something wrong about this,” Timoran argues in a soft voice. He puts his hands on Kira’s shoulders to both calm her and prevent her from using her weapon. “A true war to me is when two sides have a clear reason to fight and do so on the battlefield. You have yet to uncover the reason you are being targeted and the nomads have never appeared to take advantage of a monster attack. I would also like to point out that you are not a warrior family. Why wipe out so many who are not warriors while leaving you and Asher alone?”

“Because the monsters attack whoever they find first,” Kira swiftly answers. She slips from the barbarian’s grasp and takes a seat on the railing, dangling her leg over the edge. “It might not be a full war yet, but it will be when the nomads appear. This has all been about strategy and my family is losing in so many ways. My father is barely able to hold a rational thought. He keeps yelling about my mother being upset by this or how this is because I’m not going through with the traditions. Earlier, he blamed Asher for not protecting Quill. I don’t even know what we’ll be like after this is over.”

“It might be best to worry about that after victory,” Eileen suggests as she hands her mistress a cup of water. “Your father is under great pressure and grief, so please give him time to heal. I’m sure he’s very worried about the safety of his remaining children.”

“I know, but the damage has been done to the family. The Grasdon line could easily be wiped out by the end of this. All because the nomads think we have their holy relic. I heard the rumors too.”

Timoran nods while his thoughts drift off, the facts and rumors trying to sort themselves in his mind. He has trouble putting his finger on what is wrong about the entire situation. Every battle he has taken part in has had a clear reason and the enemies were in the open to some extent. Even when helping the guards of Hero’s Gate, Timoran remembers that there was an obvious presence from the various threats. The use of these powerful monsters would normally strike him as a method for softening a superior opponent. Yet there has been no communication with the nomads or even a request for the return of their relic. In fact, the only sign that they are nearby has been the poisoned assassin who attacked Quill and Sari admitted that the encounter had too many anomalies to be taken at face value.

“With a trade agreement on the line, one would expect the Helgardians to make demands before attacking,” the barbarian says, grabbing Eileen and Kira’s attention. He can see the understanding appear in their eyes, the calico maid emphatically nodding. “I am remembering what Sari told me about the assassin who attacked Quill. The man seemed confused and scared during his final moments, so it is clear he was an outside agent. Would any nomad tribe commission a foreigner as an assassin? Have any of your kin been killed by anything other than the monsters?”

“The tribes are self-contained and wouldn’t trust an outsider to fight for them,” Kira explains, sliding off the railing and heading into her room. She grabs a handful of dates from a bowl while she searches her shelves. “As for your other question, I don’t believe so. That does make the assassin an oddity. Even when an attack happened in the city proper, it was done by a monster. Come to think of it, one of the earlier attacks was on the docks during a last minute delivery that two of my uncles were overseeing. My dad was livid and fired the few employees who knew about it.”

“I don’t follow your logic, mistress,” Eileen admits, cleaning her face with the back of her hand. She hurries to catch a book that the heiress tosses over her shoulder. “Do you need help finding something?”

Kira scratches her head, seemingly unaware of the offer. Snapping her fingers, she crawls under the bed and comes out the other side with a thin, white notebook. She flips through the pages until she gets to her notes on the attacks. Tears roll down her cheeks as she reads the times and locations, the vivid memories of the bodies returning to her mind. The only corpses she has not seen is that of Quill and his fiancée thanks to Timoran blocking her view. At the time, she was furious with him, but now she is thankful to not have another painful sight that will haunt her dreams. She drops the notebook on the bed and uses the bedpost to stand, her legs shaky from the sorrow that is urging her to collapse and cry.

“What is that book and why was it under the bed?” the maid asks, helping her mistress walk to a chair. “Did you uncover something?”

“I’ve been keeping notes on the attacks in the hopes of finding a pattern to predict them, but I gave up when there were two at once a few weeks ago,” Kira explains as she watches her guest pour a cup of wine. When he comes near, she snatches the bottle from his hand and takes a deep drink. “The book fell under there when Luke and I were busy. I was going to show it to him and see if he could find a pattern. Give me a minute to organize my thoughts because the whole thing is complicated.”

“Take your time and drink what you need,” Timoran states, taking a seat in a nearby chair. He lifts the cup of wine to his lips, but Kira grabs it to drink in one gulp. “Perhaps you should talk first and then drink. I do not believe you can handle alcohol like a warrior and you do not want to make yourself sick.”

“That last one was for courage,” the heiress promises, taking a deep breath. She shakes the tension from her arms and looks at the picture of dolphins on her ceiling. “You’re right that this doesn’t make any sense, Timoran. The trade agreement is a big clue. I guess the grief and constant attacks have prevented my family and me from remembering that. We’ve been so concerned with staying alive and avenging our loved ones. That assassin is another curiosity because the Helgardians have not been close enough to Bor’daruk to make such a deal. How would they know where Sari and Quill were going anyway? That’s the real problem. We’ve been fighting monsters that are coming from a distant enemy who seems to know where we are at all times.”

“Could they have agents in the city?” the calico asks, her tail curling around her waist. “I thought we already said they don’t bring in outsiders.”

“Exactly. That means something else is going on,” Kira says before taking another long drink of wine. Her head swims a bit from the rush of alcohol, so she puts the bottle down. “It’s possible that a competitor or someone with a grudge against my family has been behind this entire thing. We don’t know if anything has been done to the nomads since our contact was killed, which could have been done by a third party. My father is looking at the bare facts and not beyond them. Now that I think about it, the person controlling the monsters has to be in the city. How else would these attacks be so precise and sudden? None of these creatures have been caught sneaking through Bor’daruk to get into the manor. The flying one that I killed seemed to appear in the sky out of nowhere before it ate one of my brothers. They have to be getting summoned within the city walls by someone who knows when my family is vulnerable.”

Timoran stops her from having more wine and smiles at the dark-haired woman. “I believe you answered many of our questions and changed the direction of this supposed war. If we bring this information to your family then we can stop this before more blood is spilled. I suggest we send Luke and Sari to talk with your father because it is still too dangerous to let you out of here.”

“Good point. After all, one of her cousins was killed in the hallway,” Eileen says as she picks up the notebook. She tucks it into her apron and bows to her mistress. “I will bring this and your theory to the others. I’m not a target and you will be safe behind the door wards and with Sir Wrath. Your fiancée and the gypsy will be able to convince your father. One way or the other, I’m sure they will make him see the light.”

“If my dad pushes too much then Sari has my full permission to charm him,” Kira tells her maid. The calico nods emphatically and hurries for the door, skidding to a stop when her mistress calls out again. “Warn her that if she enchants her way into the family will, I’ll make a rug out of her hair.”

“Yes, mistress.”

Kira slides out of the chair and walks to a small cabinet, slinging her weapon diagonally around her body. She expertly catches the blunt end before it can hit her in the face and hangs the sickle in front of her. Pulling a pair of glasses and a bottle of rum out of the cabinet, she beckons for Timoran to join her on the balcony. Her guest takes the offered drink and sits across from the heiress who is sitting on the railing again.

“To the future and the hope that it doesn’t destroy us,” Kira proudly announces, holding up her glass. She slings the rum with one swift motion and drops to the stone floor, her head feeling fuzzy. “Let the gods do their worst to me. I’m not going down without a fight.”

“You would make an excellent barbarian, Lady Grasdon,” the large warrior states before the slender woman passes out at his feet. “Or maybe an above average one.”

*****

“Do you think Stephen, Trinity, or a new minion is behind this?” Sari asks as she walks alongside Luke. “The subtlety makes me think of Trinity, but the death reminds me of Stephen. I wouldn’t be surprised if they have an ally that falls in the middle.”

“That would have been the Lich and he’s gone,” the half-elf replies in a half-hearted voice.

“Sorry for trying to make conversation.”

“It’s not you. I’m just tired and distracted.”

“You’re not the only one.”

“Do you hear that?”

The pair slow down and press against the wall, silently sliding along until they reach Wayland Grasdon’s bedroom. The double doors are cracked open, which lets a little light into the dimly lit hallway. Sari darts to the other side, so both she and Luke can get close enough to hear the people talk. They recognize Wayland immediately even though his voice is softer and kinder than they have ever heard it. A woman is talking to him, but she does not sound familiar and she speaks with more refinement than a servant. Luke signals to Sari to remain quiet and wait for him to make the next move, the half-elf intent on getting as much information out of this opportunity as he can.

“The nomads are camped out a few miles beyond the dunes,” Wayland says as he moves a chair across the floor. “We’ve lost so many to the monsters these last few weeks. Only Asher and Kira remain. Are you sure they will die unless we send them into the battle? That seems the opposite of what normally happens.”

“I only know vague possibilities, my dearest Wayland,” the woman replies with a musical laugh. “The gods have granted me the ability to see glimpses of the future. It may not be clear, but I saw that they would die in the manor and live on the battlefield. The last of the Helgardian beasts is coming, so it is possible that they will be protected by the armies.”