The Merchant of Nevra Coil (Legends of Windemere Book 8)

by Charles E Yallowitz

  A bolt of black and white magic strikes Trinity from the ceiling and she collapses in a barely breathing heap. Nurse Bola curses under his breath as he puts on thick gloves and grabs the chaos elf by the shoulders. Unburdened by the slender channeler, he carries her toward the doors with the doctor following close behind.

  *****

  “Torches out!” Nurse Bola shouts before all of the lights die.

  A few patients bang on their doors and the sound of one sneaking out can be heard for the first ten minutes. With no reaction from the nurses, they give up on trying to get attention and fall into a restless slumber. Only Nyx and Trinity remain awake in their room, the sisters wearing matching yellow gowns and lying on their beds. They flick tiny stars at the ceiling to create patterns that become more complex as their competitiveness increases. Occasionally, one of them gets frustrated and tries to erase the work of the other, which causes a brief battle that always ends with muttered curses. By the time they get bored, there is an intricate picture of a tower-filled city flying above the ocean.

  “I have a strange question. Do you think I’m really your sister?” Trinity asks, sitting up in her bed. She sees a light appear around Nyx’s face and notices that the half-elf is leaning against the wall. “Think about it. I’m a chaos elf and you’re a half-elf, so there are only two options. Either we’re not really related or I transformed myself. Neither of those ideas makes me happy because it means I’m living a lie.”

  “We both are if the doctors and nurses can be believed,” Nyx replies, wrapping her blanket around her. Her hand slips under her gown to curiously finger the scar on her belly. “If we’re really suffering from delusions then everything we know could be wrong. If that’s the case then we’re living a false life for some reason. I think we should hold onto being sisters until we know the truth. Maybe it’s the only thing that will get us through this. Do you remember being in here for the last ten years?”

  The chaos elf scratches her head and rubs her eyes as she tries to recall the past decade. “I believe I’ve been here for that long, but I don’t remember much. Things get mixed up with what Doctor Eltzer calls my delusions. Not sure if it’s the same with you, but I can’t be sure of anything that isn’t in front of me. Then again, I might not be able to trust that either. I could have sworn somebody was attacking me in the lounge and I shattered him. Apparently, it was all in my mind and I manipulated everyone.”

  “Maybe Windemere is safer with us in Zelacryd,” the half-elf suggests, averting her gaze from the shocked glare of her sister. “I don’t like it either, but we’re dangerous and it doesn’t sound like we’ve improved in all these years. We can’t even remember what happened to put us in here.”

  “I think it was an explosion.”

  “That would make sense considering we’re casters.”

  “Then we should be free.”

  “I know, but think of-”

  “We could live in the mountains where we can’t hurt anybody,” Trinity argues, throwing her pillow at Nyx. The soft projectile is shoved back by a weak wind spell before it veers around the gust and hits its target. “I agree that we’re dangerous. The gods know I proved that today. Still, that doesn’t mean we should be locked up in an asylum. Windemere is full of isolated regions where we could live in peace and not threaten anyone. Maybe we can create a flying ship and go all the way to Cerascent. I hear there are some islands with nobody living on them, so we’d be safe and happy.”

  “Are you doing that?” Nyx asks, pointing at their sparkling picture of Nevra Coil.

  The lights on the ceiling swirl and shift into a horizontal portal that moves to the middle of the room. The star-like dots rain toward the ground to create a beam from which two figures emerge. Casandra helps Gola reach a nearby chair that walks across the floor to meet the Goddess of Magic. With a toothless smile, the elderly woman waves her staff and removes the portal. Before the gateway closes, a feathered form darts out of the shrinking light and hovers in front of the door. Rapidly flapping of its wings, the phoenix covers the window with ashes to prevent anyone from spying. The two channelers stare in wonder at the intruders, neither recognizing either of the women.

  “Hello,” Nyx says, shrugging at the groan she receives from Trinity. “It’s only polite to greet guests.”

  “They stepped out of a glowing portal created from our own magic,” the chaos elf points out. She gets comfortable on her bed and tucks her hands under her head. “Nothing more than figments of our imagination.”

  “I’m insulted,” Casandra mutters under her breath.

  “Now, dear, they are confused, so do not take it personally,” Gola whispers, patting the ancient channeler on the arm. The goddess peers into the auras of Nyx and Trinity, a frown forming on her wrinkled face. “Yola made a mess of them. An explosion is unavoidable unless she repairs the damage. I was hoping we could accomplish this, but the curse is connected to our little exile. The energy she left behind has it constantly changing, which means Yola is stronger than the last time I saw her. I cannot do anything without breaking the Law of Influence. Are you able to do anything, Casandra?”

  “So someone named Yola cursed us?” Nyx asks, jumping to her feet.

  “Stop indulging the delusions,” Trinity interrupts, knocking her sister back onto the bed with a hand of force. “Last time you did this, we were caught feeding apples to one of the nurses’ cats. I should say we stuffed the poor thing since it wasn’t alive past the fifth one. What did we call the thing? Fizzle, right?”

  “Yes, but hear me out. Just because they’re from our minds doesn’t mean they can’t tell us anything,” the half-elf contends, clutching her pillow to her chest. A relaxing breath steadies her nerves while her feet excitedly kick over the edge of her bed. “At least we get to talk to someone besides doctors and nurses. Now that I think about it, I only remember ever talking to Doctor Eltzer. Zelacryd is so big that one would think there’d be more doctors than her.”

  Nyx and Trinity freeze in mid-conversation, their skin growing a layer of frost and their breath appearing in the air. Casandra ignores the stern glare from Gola and attempts to remove Yola’s aura from her descendants. It is like pulling gum out of long hair, but only if the sticky substance kept sprouting tendrils to remain attached. The cautious channeler pauses when the powerful magic goes slack and stops resisting its removal. She can tell that the energy is pretending to be defeated and wonders what it could be planning, an undercurrent of playfulness coming across their connection. Casandra pokes at the magic one more time before breaking contact and letting the women fall asleep.

  “I don’t want to push my luck,” the channeler says while tucking Trinity under her thick blanket. “The infection fought me and stopped when it sensed my power. Last thing we need is me being turned into a living explosion spell like these two. I know you wanted me to handle this, but it looks like you have to trust Gabriel’s plans.”

  “I am afraid so,” Gola whispers as she looks at Nyx. The half-elf’s covers roll up to her chin and shimmer with a soothing warmth. “Zaria’s daughter is already on the move. I was simply hoping to take some of the pressure off her. This prophecy is difficult enough without such distractions. To be honest, I had hoped to do this for Yola’s sake too. The poor thing has dug herself into an even deeper hole.”

  “I was under the impression that she was allowed to mess with the champions due to her situation,” Casandra admits. Curiosity overtakes her and she attempts to reach out to the other patients and the staff to check their aura. “What am I sensing here? There’s nothing else in this place. Not even a flicker of energy from a rat or a cockroach. By the Mistress of Magic, don’t tell me this horror is Yola’s doing.”

  “Strange to have someone swear by my name while I am standing next to them,” the Primordial Goddess chuckles in amusement. The weight of something unnatural in Zelacryd is painful for the ancient deity and she struggles to hide her anguish. “Yola wanted Trinity and Nyx to be pro
tected while they recovered. To do that, she needed to alter all of the people who were already here. She is not a subtle or practical goddess, so she removed the aura of every living creature within these walls. They are not even zombies. It is strange that they can function like they are alive and still doing their jobs.”

  “Sounds like golems, but more advanced and necromantic,” the channeler says with a violent shudder. Now that she is aware of the empty vessels, their presences makes her feel sick to her stomach. “These two would have noticed the voids if they weren’t damaged. Let’s hope they can get out of here before things get worse.”

  “Hope is one of the few things gods and mortals share,” Gola states, raising her staff to strike the ground. The sense that she is being watched causes her to pause, the idea of someone attempting to seal her more of an irritation than a fear. “It appears there is nothing else we can do here. If you would be so kind as to open a portal back to Helgard, I will use it to make my way back to Ambervale. I would do it myself, but I am tired and want to go back to bed even though I cannot fall asleep. Not with all that is going on within my realm. Thank you for helping me, my eldest child.”

  Casandra holds out her arm for the yawning phoenix, the molting bird climbing up to nuzzle her neck. With a final glance at her most powerful descendants, the brown-haired channeler creates a fiery doorway on the floor. Gola’s chair glides to the portal and tips forward, the drowsy goddess sliding into the magical exit. Eager to escape the chilling emptiness, Casandra leaps into the doorway and leaves the horror of Zelacryd behind.

  10

  Luke remains quiet and still while he is jostled within the satchel of his new owner, the boy running awkwardly through the streets. He tries several times to figure out where he is, but all he can see through a small hole are gray cobblestones. Schoolbooks, loose paper, and pencils repeatedly bang into the champion, making it impossible for him to focus long enough to use his sound sight. Drawing one of his fake sabers, Luke makes the hole a little bigger and clings to the frayed edge to avoid getting tossed around. It is still a terrible journey as the boy’s belongings repeatedly smack the half-elf’s backside. After what feels like hours, the few glimpses of shadows that he can catch tell him that it is early evening.

  “I’m in the city, Luke,” Dariana whispers in his head. She calms him before he can shout and draw attention to himself. “Talk very low and I will hear you. It is difficult to read your thoughts while you’re in the doll. The person who has you is a young boy, but I dare not delve deeper into his mind.”

  “Good to hear from you,” the warrior replies as he rolls into one of the satchel creases. “All of us got separated. What’s the situation look like?”

  “I think I should lie to you.”

  “Or you could tell me the truth and I won’t believe you after that line,” the half-elf wryly says while pushing a half-eaten chunk of bread out of his face. “Are you with Nyx? We didn’t find her in the ship, so we’re assuming she’s okay.”

  Dariana loses contact for a few seconds before returning, her voice becoming a comforting presence. “I’m here with Catarina and Bessaria. We’ve been told that Nyx and Trinity avoided your fate, but Yola scrambled their minds. Both of them have been sent to a safe location while we search for all of you. We have a week before your bodies are no longer viable, so we will start the hunt in the morning. I contacted you because you appeared to be the closest person to where we currently are.”

  “You could always get me now,” he suggests, sensing that there is more to the story. He decides not to pry since he doubts he would be able to do anything in his current form. “I should warn you that Yola split Sari into fifteen dolls. Focus on her and tell the others to get to Rainbow Tower.”

  “I will do my best, but I’m unable to locate Fizzle,” the telepath claims, showing Luke the drite’s faint thoughts. The strongest emotion is a desire to fly, hinting that he is trapped and unable to see the sky. “I’m hoping to locate him by getting closer. If we can gather all of you then we can split up and I’ll use you as beacons to find him. It will be taxing since I’m not at my full strength.”

  “What happened?”

  “Only Yola can reverse the curses, so I had to create a fake Dariana to retrieve her.”

  “Then you really should get me now.”

  “I’m sorry, but I’m asleep while talking to you.”

  The connection snaps when the satchel is abruptly dropped to the ground, the boy having returned home while the champions were talking. Holding his nonexistent breath, Luke waits patiently as he listens to the heavy footfalls on the wooden floor. He can hear the boy walk away and close a door, so he climbs to the top of the school supplies to cautiously stick his head out of the flap. Unlike the mess inside the satchel, the small bedroom is clean and organized. All of the furniture glistens with fresh polish and books are neatly stacked on all of the shelves. It takes a few minutes for Luke to realize that there are no toys in the room, but he can imagine that they are in the closet or one of the dressers.

  “I promise not to make a mess, mom!” the boy shouts as he returns. He carefully places a plate on his desk, the sandwich dropping a few crumbs on the smooth top. “I knew I needed a bigger plate. Mom hates messes.”

  After closing the door, the brown-haired boy tiptoes to the satchel and opens it as if he is terrified of making any noise. He carefully takes Luke out and hangs the bag from an empty hook on the wall. Returning to his sandwich, he puts the fake sabers into the figurine’s hands and places it next to a small pile of thin books. The boy tries several poses, finally stopping when the weapons are crossed in front of Luke’s chest. He eats in silence, stopping to clean every time a crumb falls on the desk instead of the plate. Due to his constant cleaning, it takes fifteen minutes for the boy to eat the small meal.

  “My name is Dennis. I did a lot of homework for my classmates to earn you,” the blue-eyed boy whispers to the half-elf. Hands neatly folded on the desk, Dennis rests his head on his forearms and examines the doll. “I’m not supposed to have toys because they distract from studies. It would be really bad if my mom found you, so we have to be careful. Just to warn you, she gave away all of my baby toys once I started school. Not sure she’d be very gentle with you. I’ll be right back.”

  Dennis takes his empty plate and leaves the room, making sure to gently close the door behind him. Luke remains in position, fighting every urge to run for the open window. He can hear the symphony of rain on the eave and risks a glance to see that a spring storm has struck without warning. A distant flock of gulls call out in glee as they soar through the curtain of warm drops. Shouts from people caught in the sudden downpour nearly distract the half-elf from the return of his new owner. Luke swiftly moves his head back to its original position as Dennis steps inside.

  Before the door can close, a thin-fingered hand catches the edge and a tall woman in black clothing pushes her way into the room. She has the same brown hair and hazel eyes as Dennis, but it is her look of exasperation that tells Luke she is the boy’s mother. It is an expression that he vividly remembers his own mom having for most of his childhood. Though he notices there is a spark to this woman’s eyes that would have chilled his nerves if he still had them. The way she stands reminds him of a warrior, but there is something both different and familiar that he has trouble putting his finger on.

  “What is that?” the woman asks, pointing at the figurine. Her strides are long and barely make any noise as she approaches the desk. “I told you that toys are a distraction and we can’t afford such luxuries. If your father was still alive then I’d think differently, but I need you to focus solely on your education and making friends outside of this house. Do you want your mother to be a burglar for her entire life?”

  “You could always stop and find a real job,” Dennis argues, regretting his words right away. He steps back as if to avoid a blow, but his mother never makes a move toward him. “I only wanted a Luke Callindor figure. He’s an
inspiring hero and everyone in my school has at least one champion toy. If it makes you feel better, I was going to get you a Sari doll because you’re pretty and stealthy like her.”

  “I congratulate you on your flattery,” the woman replies with a smirk. She picks up the toy and juggles it in her hands, stopping when she thinks she sees it cringe. “Where did you get the money for this?”

  “Some of my classmates paid me to do their homework,” the boy replies as he inches closer to his mother. With a quick movement of his arm, he takes Luke from her and backs toward the wall. “I made sure to give them a few wrong answers and not the same ones on each paper. I still have better grades than them and I forged their handwriting to keep myself clean.”

  “Very good, but I wish you wouldn’t use those skills,” she says, leaning on the chair and tapping her chin with a nail that looks to have been chewed on. “It’s the perfect weather for my job, so I have to leave in an hour. How about this? I’ll take the toy and lock it in the safe. Of course I’ll change the combination, so you can’t get at it when I’m gone. You are my son after all, so I know you’d leap at the chance to sneak a few hours with this thing. You can have it back if you’re one of the top three students in your class and make five new friends by the end of the month.”

  “I know what you’re going to do!” Dennis shouts, holding Luke to his chest. His mother bites her lip, fearful of the looming outburst. “You’re going to sneak my toy in another kid’s house like you’ve done before. That way it’s gone and I’ll never get it back. I bought this with my own money and I can do whatever I want with it.”

  “Calm down, Dennis. We don’t need to have another fight like this.”

  “If I can’t have this toy then nobody can!”

  The boy turns to the open window and hurls the figurine at the flooded street below. Luke lands with a small splash and curses as the current carries him away. He can hear Dariana trying to talk to him, but he is unable to respond as he struggles to get his fake body to fight against the water. The way he bobs in the stream makes it impossible to move the way he wants, so he focuses on finding some debris to use as a raft. To his horror and surprise, he hears a dull sucking sound and cranes his neck to see that he is steadily approaching a sewer drain. With renewed desperation, he thrashes in the water and prays that someone will see him. Luke even tries to imitate the sound of a kitten calling for help in case a stray cat is nearby. Nothing works and an undertow drags him beneath the surface where his body is banged against the solid cobblestones.