Sari inches closer and is surprised to see the faint image of the ring on top of the halfling’s melting gloves. “I’m going to guess that cutting off your hand wouldn’t work. Then again, I don’t know any thieves who would willingly do that. Is there anything else you feel like sharing with us? I can see your eye twitching.”
“As I said, we know of a way to contact General Vile and get him to lead us to Shayd,” the Lich answers as the glove falls away. The hand reaches out to stroke Sari’s cheek and lingers on a strand of her blue hair. “My master created a special passage for Vile to follow since he was the only one who lacked the ability to create portals. It will only open for him, so our help requires that you follow the path of a necrocaster. That is all we will talk to you about in regard to our business. Our other interest is none of your concern. Unless you can tell us where a mutual friend and her missing army can be found.”
The gypsy spins her dagger and taps the point against Nimby’s ring finger, which earns her a scowl from the halfling. Sari shrugs and is about to speak when she realizes that it is not the time or place for a personal question. She puts the weapon away and turns her attention to their hosts, who have been patiently waiting by the fireplace. Knowing that they are complex illusions, the gypsy searches for any sign of their true nature without disbelieving them. The way Cyril leans against the wall and how Willow adjusts a tiny globe on the mantel proves that they can still interact with their surroundings. A quick look at Kira for help does nothing since the heiress is busy watching Nimby, the warrior unwilling to turn her back on the thief. Clearing her throat, Sari makes a circle with her finger to get the other woman to face the powerful casters. An awkward exchange of pointing and head jerking ensues, neither one wanting to be the one who asks the question.
“Nyx was four when the accident happened,” Cyril explains, the dark-skinned caster unwilling to wait any longer. Taking his wife’s hand, he gives her knuckles a kiss that lingers as a spark of energy. “It was the second month of her training and the lesson was on controlling her power. She had been unwittingly casting minor spells, so we thought it was time. Nyx was startled by the strength of her own aura and accidentally created a body-sized fireball, which made her panic even more. We thought we could contain the inferno, but she did something that blocked our magic. Later we realized that she must have drained us by accident. The whole thing happened in an instant. One second we were alive and the next we became what we are now. No longer alive, but not really dead.”
“How did that happen?” Kira asks while she holds Cyril’s staff. For a brief moment, the weapon becomes cracked and smoldering. “Nobody knew about this? You’ve traveled away from Rainbow Tower since then. How could people interact with you without even suspecting your true nature? I don’t know much about magic, but it feels like somebody should have figured this out long ago.”
“For the first few years, we expected to be discovered. Then, we simply decided Nyx had done too good a job at covering the accident,” Willow answers, offering her staff to Sari. Waving her hand over the thin object, she reveals that it is twisted and partially melted. “The instant we died, she knew what she had done. So much power in such a small child and her heart was left exposed to the world for what must have been the longest second of her life. Nyx probably thought she was making a wish when she invented the spell that created us. My husband and I are illusions, but we also possess our original spirits due to our daughter fusing us to these fake forms. We can be wished away for a few minutes, but we will always return until Nyx ends the spell. Being powerful casters, people always assumed we were very polite and used our magic to leave upon request. The Lich can appreciate this complicated use of necrocasting. I would be lying if I didn’t find it both amazing and frightening.”
“I am at a loss for words,” the necrocaster replies, politely urging Nimby to stand. The halfling’s eye turns red to thoroughly examine the unique constructs, the intricate energy mesmerizing him. “Such beautiful work that I would never have noticed if I didn’t know to look for the proper signs. I’ve never seen anything like it before. Perhaps we should forget about the path and our own time sensitive interests. I’d very much like to find out the details of how Nyx managed to create you.”
Cyril scowls at the halfling, but is unsure if he should look at Nimby’s face or the arm that is the source of his irritation. As a soft glow forms on his lips, a calming hand on his shoulder prevents the caster from doing anything rash. He politely takes his staff from Kira while his wife gets him a glass of water from a nearby table. Making sure everyone is paying attention, Cyril has a drink and casts a spell to reveal his insides. All of the organs are faint mirages that are being enveloped by blue energy that they realize is the water. The liquid is swiftly processed into raw magic and used to strength the illusionary body.
“Our daughter has no conscious recollection of doing this to us,” Cyril explains, handing the cup to Sari. He waits for the gypsy to check for a trick, but all she finds are a few droplets of normal water on the rim. “After a while, we didn’t want to tell her. Even though she created a type of false resurrection, Nyx killed us. That’s a burden I’m happy to keep off her shoulders for as long as possible. This also means that she has no idea how it was done. I doubt she could repeat it since she has more control and awareness of her power now. More importantly, Willow and I believe the only reason it worked was because it was immediate. Our spirits did not have time to fully realize the situation, much less move on, before we were revived.”
“This is far too confusing and we need to continue traveling,” Sari whispers while pulling a tiny sapphire out of her shirt. She is a little hurt that Kira shows no surprise at seeing her communication orb in the gypsy’s hand. “If you could spare us some traveling supplies, we’d greatly appreciate it. I’m going to be nice and not ask for enchanted manacles. This means I’m going to trust you, Nimby. The rules are going to be simple. Betray us and I’ll kill you. Attack Luke again and Kira will kill you. If the Lich does anything against us, you lose the hand and we dump it and the ring into the ocean. Now, I have to take care of something in private.”
“Are you sure telling Nyx about this is a good idea?” Kira asks, following Sari to the door.
The gypsy smiles and gives the other woman a kiss on the cheek, which delivers a calming spell. “No, but she has to know the truth. The longer we wait, the more it’s going to hurt. We leave in an hour.”
10
The strange flying vessel resembles a large boat with an accordion-like sail projecting from each side. Awkward and ungainly, the untested creation has thousands of flight gems screwed into the hull. They give the dark wood a strange glow that makes it easily visible from the ground even when it is within the thick clouds. A large pedestal rises from the ship and passes through the magical dome that prevents people from getting blown off the deck. Strapped into a chair, a goggle-wearing gnome diligently works the levers and dials that adjust their direction and speed. He only lets go of the equipment when he needs to take a sip of hot tea, the high-altitude cold still managing to slip into his heavy clothes. Attached to the prow of the ship is a long pole designed to cut through the strong winds. Metal plates have been bolted to the wood in order to fortify it against the pressure and force of traveling against the air currents. Most of the gnomes are running around with their tools to fix problems as they appear and make notes to improve on the design. The only reason they continue working without fear is that nobody has felt a void, except for one terrifying moment when they nearly put an exhausted sailor at the helm.
Nyx stares at four gnomes dangling from ropes that run over the railing, the workers hurrying to replace expended flight gems. The channeler is barely aware of her surroundings as she runs her thumb over her amethyst necklace. Putting extra pressure on the jewelry, she stops once one of the facets pierces her skin and draws a little blood. Gazing blankly at the tiny droplets falling from her finger, she tucks the pendant into her shirt
and puts her head on the polished railing. The half-elf’s palms massage the pommel rubies of the sabers that are strapped to her hips, the familiar weapons feeling out of place on the young woman. Focusing on her feet, Nyx wonders how long it will take before she finally cries. The fear of being numb to death crosses her mind, but she refuses to fall back into her old habits. With a shuddering breath, the tired woman stands straight and prepares to ask the nearest gnome if they need any help.
“You’re not fooling anybody,” Catarina states while she jots down some notes. The raven-haired inventor waves from atop a barrel, which is no more than a few feet away. “That message from Sari has you so rattled that you never noticed me sitting here. I drew the short straw, which means I get the fun of talking to you. Not even sure how I got dragged into this, but a friend of my father is a friend of mine. Timoran did say it would be nice for a clear perspective, but I think he simply doesn’t know what to say. Although, if anyone understands what it’s like to lose a loved one in an accident, it’d be a gnome. Perhaps it was Cessia’s blessing that you learned this while on my ship.”
“You didn’t kill your parents and rebuild them as sentient illusions,” Nyx bitterly retorts as she uses a sleeve to wipe her nose. She touches her cheeks and feels relief at the sensation of tears on her fingers. “I’m a living weapon and a monster. This whole thing with me being able to exist alongside normal people was nothing more than a delusion. Imagine if I do the same thing to Delvin. Maybe we’ll have kids and it will happen when I’m old and-”
The slap across Nyx’s face is quick and painful, the impact enhanced by the leathery glove that the gnome is wearing. “You don’t have time for those kinds of worries and questions. We’ll be arriving in or around Freedom pretty soon, so you need to get your head together. For your information, an experiment going wrong and killing a loved one is more common than you would think. The big difference is that people like me can’t take it back like you did. Every gnome in Never Coil would gladly give up their favorite tool or even a hand to learn what you did. Honestly, I’m really curious as to how you did that.”
“Can we not talk about that?” the champion requests while she leans on the railing. She watches the forest go by, the ship’s presence and droning hum driving every winged beast into the trees. “I keep trying to think back to that day, but I don’t remember any of it. To be honest, I’m confused on what I should feel. Willow and Cyril continued to raise me even after the accident. They never let me know the truth. Should I be angry or grateful? Do I even have the right to go back to Rainbow Tower?”
Nodding her head, Catarina hops off the barrel and jogs over to a worker to give him a fresh set of notes. The other gnome shuffles through the papers before tucking them into his boot and heading below deck. Rubbing her red eyes, the inventor whistles to the pilot and points for him to direct the ship more to the south. With a yawn, Catarina grabs a heated canteen and enjoys the cherry-flavored tea that warms her stomach. Offering it to Nyx, she shrugs at the rejection and reclaims her seat on the barrel.
“First, I should apologize for being distant and blunt. This maiden voyage isn’t working out very well and I’m thinking of having us land in the water,” Catarina explains, her bronze boots creaking as she shifts. Not wanting the telescoping heels to go off by accident, she removes the shoes and wiggles her toes. “When dealing with the unknown, most first attempts at discovery end in disaster or death. Sometimes you get both for your trouble. There’s really no blaming anyone. Only thing to do is learn from the mistakes and find the silver lining. As you said, your parents still raised and trained you. Regardless of their condition and the fact that you caused it, Willow and Cyril turned you into the woman you are. If they hated you or wanted you to feel guilty then they’d have acted differently. Instead, they loved and protected you like the daughter they always wanted.”
“I guess so,” Nyx softly mutters. She is unsure if she should take offense at being compared to the flying ship, which jerks violently in an unexpected gale. “This is so hard to wrap my head around. I can remember growing up with them and never thinking anything was wrong. Not once did they disappear like Sari described. To me, they were my parents and teachers. I can’t shrug off that belief. You know, the same question keeps running through my head, but I have no answer.”
“Why aren’t you angry?” Delvin asks as he joins his fiancée. Putting an arm around Nyx’s shoulders, he nods a silent thanks to Catarina. “You wonder why you aren’t punishing yourself for what you did. In fact, you feel so removed from the event that you’re worried you will forget the truth. That causes fear and self-doubt because you fear the accident can happen again. Maybe all of us are sentient illusions created by you and you’re really insane. For all you know, the only true creature in Windemere is you and everyone else was killed and reborn by the next Great Cataclysm named Nyx.”
Catarina hops off her seat and takes another drink before turning to walk way. “Well, this is going poorly. All I ask is that you don’t damage my ship. It’s having enough trouble. Nice knowing you, Delvin.”
“You’re not at your best right now, dear,” Nyx whispers while poking at the warrior. For a terrifying moment, she thinks he is fading away before realizing that the tears in her eyes are blurring her vision. “The pathetic thing is that you’re right. All of those thoughts have crossed my mind, but none of them have stuck. It wasn’t like I controlled my adopted parents’ thoughts and actions. Sari even made it clear that they were proud of me, which makes it difficult to hold onto my anger. How are you holding up?”
“Fizzle scolded me for questioning Selenia’s actions, so I’m doing better,” Delvin replies with a smirk. He gives the half-elf a kiss on the cheek, his lips lingering on her skin for an extra second. “Dariana helped him talk to me in his native tongue because he had a long speech to give me. The little guy even got Timoran to write it down for me to read if I ever falter. I’ll give you the short version. None of this is entirely about us. Selenia, Willow, and Cyril made decisions out of love. They could have saved themselves and left us to suffer, but that wasn’t in their nature. Think about how many times we’ve nearly died saving our loved ones. This is the same thing, but we’re on the other end of the scenario. At least that’s my situation since Willow and Cyril are still alive.”
“Are they?”
“I see no reason to think otherwise.”
“Because I basically turned them into ghosts.”
“Wasn’t Luke a ghost at one point?”
“An entirely different situation since I didn’t cause it and we put him back in his body.”
“Willow and Cyril can be touched like they have physical bodies.”
With a sigh, Nyx pulls Delvin’s arm tight around her shoulders and presses her temple against his lips. “You are determined to make me see the bright side of this mess. Well, you can stop. It isn’t that I think you’re right. So much has hit me at once that I don’t know what to do besides push forward. I keep fearing that I’m going numb. Maybe the ritual is creating emotional issues since I’m absorbing Luke’s aura and he’s being tortured. There has to be some connection between the residue and the source. What if he’s feeling the worst of my pain, which is why I’m having trouble?”
“Dariana checked that a while ago and couldn’t find any evidence of that,” Delvin replies as they watch the coastline come into view. He notices that the channeler is staring at him, her eyebrows raised to deliver a silent question. “Fine, she did it a few minutes ago after eavesdropping on your conversation with Catarina. My point still stands. By the way, we were told to contact Willow and Cyril if you get too upset. Tzefira and Kevin have been told the truth as well and are ready to join in the conversation. I probably should have started with that message. Proves you have a very loving family that refuses to let you be sad for very long. Uh, Freedom is raising their bridges and preparing catapults to shoot at us. Should we do something, Catarina!?”
The gnome inventor w
aves from the prow and puts an enchanted whistle to her lips. “All crewmen and passengers come to the top deck. We will be handing out the emergency flight gems while aiming for the water. Anyone nearly three hundred pounds and named Timoran will require an extra gem. Thank you for helping with this experiment and I’ll understand if you seek a new project upon our return to Nevra Coil. Any suggestions for improvements will be greatly appreciated. Preferably in written form.”
Shaking her head, Nyx pulls a piece of paper out of her pocket while using her magic to maintain her balance on the shifting deck. Licking her finger, she writes a simple message and tucks it into her pocket. Rocks soar toward the flying vessel and the channeler has them explode into clouds of dust that spell out that they are friendly. When another volley is sent, Nyx repeats the spell to reveal her name and warn the city that the ship is crashing into the ocean. Freedom goes silent as the elevated bridges sink back into their ground level positions. Satisfied that there is no more danger, the half-elf heads for Catarina and hands her the written message.
“I’m forced to agree with you,” the gnome admits after reading that Nyx’s suggestion is to never attempt this invention again.
*****
Silverstar Manor is filled with hired help who are finishing preparations for the upcoming celebration. Crimson banners have been placed on poles around the courtyards, the embroidered symbols emanating enough heat to fend off the early winter chill. A hedge maze is being built near the west wing, the nature priests under orders to have the tricky path lead to a play area for the children. The caterers hurry up and down the paved walkways with supplies to build their lavender tent and begin cooking. With such an important event, the chefs are thankful that the bards have offered to play relaxing music while they work. The energetic songs help to drown out their anxious employer, who is paying them enough to get away with most of his panicky comments. Lord Gideon shouts blunt orders and swift apologies for his tone from a raised dais, the portly nobleman refusing to rest like his wife has been sternly suggesting. Lady Adara remains nearby with a drink in her hand and a finger twirling a silky tress of her red hair, a sign that she is considering locking her husband in a closet until he calms down. She casually waves at a figure leaning over a distant porch railing until the black-haired guest half-heartedly returns the gesture.
Ritual of the Lost Lamb Page 19