“I always feel as though I might never see your walls again. May the might of Durag keep you and all your citizens safe,” Aedyn prays. He pats his horse on the head and gently spurs it into the dense forest.
2
The Lich inhales deeply after he steps out of the dark passage and into the brightly lit laboratory. The pitted walls are coated in blue, crystalline mold, which magnifies the torchlight and pushes the shadows into the farthest corners of the cavernous room. The Lich fondly remembers the smell of powdered bone incense and bubbling herb mixtures that surrounded him during his training days. The necrocaster glides among the crude metal tables, which are covered in brewing potions, hardened wax, and scattered notes. He could never understand how his old master was able to find anything in a lab that looked so cluttered. The Lich stops when he comes to a large, rocking chair made of dark red wood. Five piles of gems and gold coins rise to the stalactites behind the oddly mundane chair. A smile crosses his skeletal face when he recognizes a smoking burn mark on the ceiling.
“You still find that memory amusing?” asks a voice from the shadows. “I gave up trying to remove your final gift a long time ago. I consider it a reminder to never take on another apprentice.”
“I said I was sorry, master,” the Lich humbly apologizes. “I was young and foolish. I have since learned to be more careful with my magic.”
“I do not doubt it since you still exist under his thumb,” the voice whispers without trying to hide its disdain. “I warned you about working exclusively for monsters like him. Your lust for power will prove to be your downfall just as I predicted on the day that you left.”
“Can you please reveal yourself, Kalam?” the Lich requests. “I have something important to discuss with you.”
“Your master has need of my services,” Kalam says, his voice dripping with boredom. “Why should I be willing to help him this time when I have refused every other offer?”
“This time is different,” the Lich vehemently swears. “Please, teacher. I wish to discuss this to your face like gentlemen.”
A fireskin wearing the tattered remains of black leather armor steps out from behind one of the piles of gems. His smooth scales have been bleached of color and his eyes are an eerie gray. A tuft of steely hair is on his chin and he strokes it softly with his right hand. His vampiric nature is obvious since his reptilian jaws make it impossible for Kalam to hide his five-inch long fangs. A nine-foot staff of charred oak with a rough-edged, metal demon’s claw screwed into the top is gripped in his left hand. The caster uses the staff to help him get to the rocking chair since he is missing his left foot. Warm blood seeps out of the chair once he sits down and his scales absorb the liquid before it can pool on the ground.
“Gentlemen,” scoffs Kalam with a sneer. “A Lich and a vampire fireskin are not the types of creatures one would use that word to describe, especially considering you were not a gentleman until you met me.” He waves his hand and a stool skitters across the floor toward the Lich, who stops it with his bony foot.
“I sense that you are not happy to see me. Do you regret ever meeting me?” the Lich asks.
“You always jump to conclusions without analysis. I do not regret our meeting or my decision to train you,” Kalam replies. His scales begin to show a red tint as he absorbs more blood. “A Lich without an understanding of magic was an enigma that I refused to let slip through my fingers. I still remember the days of teaching you how magic works and the most basic of spells. You were an undead sponge that could absorb anything I threw at it. If I were to regret anything, it would be my expectations of you. One should realize that apprentices are just like one’s own children. They never listen and rarely follow the path that you set for them.”
“You wanted me to hide in a lab to build monsters and horde treasure,” the Lich angrily argues. “There was a world out there that I could change to my whim.”
Kalam laughs with a sound that resembles a shattering tree branch. “You forget that this world holds heroes. It is better for creatures like us to stay in the shadows and come out only when the risk is minimal. Our survival lies in our ability to remain in our lairs and ignore our desire for power.”
“Old fool,” the Lich hisses.
“Young fool,” Kalam hisses back with his forked tongue worming out from behind his teeth.
“I do not have time to get into a philosophical debate, teacher. At least, not until my business with you is settled,” the Lich claims. He clasps his hands in his lap as he waits for a response.
“I see. So, your new master has sent you to destroy me. I felt it was only a matter of time before he considered me a threat,” Kalam says as he leans forward. He begins to mutter a spell until the Lich literally throws his hand into the vampire’s mouth. Kalam yanks the skeletal hand off his tongue and tosses the disconnected extremity to the ground. He looks disgusted as he bends down to drink a geyser of blood that spurts from his chair. It takes a few deep draughts to remove the taste of rotten bone from his mouth.
“That is not why I came here. I have a proposition that my new master has little influence over. It is a plan of my own design that has brought me to your doorstep,” the Lich says. He picks up his hand and reattaches it before sitting on the stool. “Please, hear me out before you strike at me. It is in your best interest.”
“A plan of your own design? I must say that I am intrigued and cautious. Please explain,” beckons the vampire with a grin.
“What do you know of the Callindor family?” the Lich inquires.
“The same thing that everyone knows about them along with some personal grievances,” Kalam answers, his voice delicately edged. “The gods only know how many times that family has gotten in my way. One would think that someone like me would know better than to keep his lair so close to the town that they call home. Then again, I am very attached to these moldy walls. I would also like to point out that I was here first. Should I assume that you want me to help you destroy them?”
“That is part of the reason for my visit. We are willing to pay you ten thousand in gemstones and give you some new slave girls,” the Lich says nonchalantly. “I noticed that you were nearly out of slaves when I walked through your dungeon.”
“I can get new slaves whenever I want and I am not lacking in gems. Not that I wouldn’t mind having more, but I don’t see why I should agree to help. I have no interest in fighting Talos Callindor or his retired son,” Kalam claims as he casually examines a collection of potions. “There is no reason for me to get involved in your plan.”
“It is neither Talos nor Ilan Callindor that I’m concerned with. Ilan’s pesky son has become a thorn in my side,” the Lich says, hate dripping from his words. “He will be arriving in Gods’ Voice soon and we believe that he will return to Haven. The cities are less than a week away from each other and we have heard rumors about his engagement circulating through the local taverns. He will have to visit his family to clear up the confusion.”
“Do you wish for me to send the boy a congratulatory gift?” Kalam sarcastically asks.
The Lich’s eyes glow brighter from his annoyance. “This is serious.”
“Then make it sound serious,” Kalam impatiently growls. “You are telling me things that do not concern me. If you want me to lead the youth to my lair or create an army to attack Haven then I still refuse. There is nothing for me to gain aside from gems and a few tasty treats. It is not worth the risk of losing my home.”
“I knew that the chance to kill a Callindor and the payment would not be enough for you. So, I have some other incentives for you, teacher,” the Lich says with a proud grin. “The young Callindor has two allies that might be of some interest to you. One is the treasured apprentice of your old rival, Cyril. She is a powerful caster with a specialization in fire magic and the potential to unlock forbidden spells. I have evidence that she used the forbidden genocide spell in Hero’s Gate. A useful tool if you could turn her to your side.”
“Hmmm. You have part of my interest. If I was to turn a caster of this girl’s power into a vampire then I could use her against Queen Ionia. It would also be a chance for me to hurt Cyril. That coward warded all of Gaia against me, so I can’t make any move toward him,” the smiling vampire explains, rocking back and forth in his chair. “I sense that this girl is not your best incentive. I believe it is time for you to reveal your final card. I know you too well, Tyler. You love to save the best for last.”
“Isaiah will appear if the Callindor and Cyril’s apprentice are threatened,” the Lich reveals to his old teacher. He watches the undead fireskin carefully, his words hanging in the air. Minutes slowly pass while Kalam stares at the Lich with his cold, gray eyes.
“My brother? Well, that changes a few things. I have not seen my brother in one hundred years and I have been wondering when I would get another chance to destroy him. The brat keeps himself hidden from me at all times,” Kalam says with an evil glint in his eye. “So, the children must be in danger for my brother to appear. As much as I would hate to waste my energies on harmless flies, it sounds like I will not have a choice if I am to get my great battle. I can create an undead force powerful enough to keep the warriors of Haven busy. That should take a week.”
“Your hatred of your brother is that deep?” the Lich inquires.
“You would despise your brother too, if he was the one behind your downfall. I could have been the greatest caster of Windemere if he hadn’t tricked me. He knew I would stop at nothing to surpass him in power. He knew I would find his map to the relic staff. He knew that an ancient vampire guarded the staff,” the vampire rants as he struggles to his foot. “Every misfortune that has happened to me since that day has been my brother’s fault. I will make him suffer thoroughly. Maybe destroying those children before his eyes will give him some added anguish. They must be very important for him to be involved.”
The Lich quickly nods his agreement. “They are two of the future champions of Windemere who will stand against my master. You realize that if they reach their full potential and fulfill their destiny then they may come after you some day. The champions will usher in a new era of heroes who will hunt every evil-hearted being down.”
“Future champions and an age of heroes? That is a simple fairy tale that does not concern me. Unlike your master, I do not do anything that would draw the attention of destined champions. I stay in my lab and create new forms of life,” Kalam proudly declares, spreading his arms wide. “Now, I will battle my brother and let my minions take care of the rest. If my minions fail then that is what Gabriel has decided. My goal is to defeat and torture Isaiah and nothing else. I guess this means that we have a deal, so we should discuss the payment.”
“By this afternoon, I will deliver ten thousand gold worth of gems that can be used in a magical capacity,” the skeletal necrocaster promises. “One of my companions is gathering some women as part of the deal. Those will be delivered in two or three days due to the difficulty in getting such an item.”
Kalam limps over to the nearest table with a look of disinterest on his face. He taps at a bottle of green liquid before grabbing a pinch of red powder from a pouch. The necrocaster drops the powder into the bottle, which causes the potion to turn bright blue. Liquid begins to drip out of the bottle until the glass bursts into a cloud of powder. Kalam turns to the Lich with a serious expression. The vampire vanishes for an instant only to reappear in the face of the Lich.
“Let me guess. Brothel girls from Gaia,” he whispers in a monotone voice.
“Sorry, teacher, but they are the best that we can get without bringing too much attention to ourselves,” the Lich apologizes.
Kalam’s scales turn blood red as his anger boils. “It is always brothel girls! I never get an heiress or a virgin. Those are always given to demons and fallen dragons while the poor necrocaster vampires are stuck with over-used women. Even with the new laws of Gaia where the girls have to wear anti-disease rings to keep them clean, their blood still holds the foul taste of . . . use. Just once I would like an elven maiden or a female forest tracker or . . . or . . .”
The Lich clears his throat. “A gypsy girl?”
“That would be delicious,” the salivating vampire replies.
The Lich grins under his cowl. “She will be yours before the week is done. I promise.”
“Why so long?” Kalam asks curiously.
The Lich’s red eyes dim slightly. “She escaped during the elimination of her clan. Don’t worry though. One of our best agents is hunting her, so it shouldn’t be too long before the girl is captured.”
*****
“She tricked me again,” Trinity growls as she drags herself out of the river. She looks at the top of the thirty-foot waterfall with a cold, angry stare. Trinity is still amazed at the detail of the landscape illusion that caused her to walk off the edge. The chaos elf thanks the gods that she landed in a deep part of the river instead of smashing into the rocks.
“I always thought chaos elves were the masters of tricks,” laughs a female voice from the trees.
“We are, but my experience with gypsy magic is rather limited,” Trinity begrudgingly admits. She walks toward the slippery cliff until a dagger strikes the ground in front of her. The chaos elf stops and looks around the trees for any sign of her prey.
“Then, let me warn you about my kind,” the gypsy announces, her voice echoing among the rocks and trees. “We don’t like being hunted. Following me is unhealthy. You already fell for my illusions and survived. You shouldn’t push your luck.”
Trinity gently claps her hands and keeps her eyes on the top of the waterfall. “As a fellow trickster and caster, I feel I should applaud your skills. I honestly thought that I was stepping onto a rope bridge instead of walking off a waterfall. Skill like yours is rare. Now, little girl, why don’t you come out of hiding and make this easy?”
Sari cautiously steps out from behind the trees at the top of the waterfall. Three throwing daggers are loosely held in her fist while she takes a seat on a large stone. Her brightly colored clothes make Trinity wonder why she is having such a hard time finding her among the browns and greens of the forest.
“That’s a good girl. Are you willing to come down here?” Trinity asks with a fake smile.
“You look smart, but you act stupid,” Sari bluntly replies.
“This coming from the child who revealed herself to her enemy,” the chaos elf points out. “How do you know I can’t kill you from down here?”
Sari grins impishly from her high perch. “How do you know this is the real me?”
“Damn gypsies. I can never see through their blasted magic,” Trinity mutters, the sound of rushing water masking her words.
“If you want to talk without yelling, I promise to let you climb up the other side of the waterfall,” Sari offers. The throwing daggers vanish into her skirts as she puts her hands behind her back.
Trinity watches the gypsy carefully as she walks toward the slick wall. Looking up, she can see enough handholds to easily get back to the top. With a delicate grunt, the chaos elf queen begins to scale the wall. From where she is climbing, Trinity can barely see Sari’s blue hair blowing in the wind. She grabs a long vine when she gets halfway to the top of the waterfall. Before she can attempt to swing to Sari’s side, a glint of metal flies through the air and severs the vine. Trinity flails wildly in the air until she can catch another crevice and return to climbing.
“Even if you did make it over here, I can disappear into the forest before you reach the top. So, please stay on your side,” Sari requests with a yawn. She gets to her feet and fixes her skirts while she watches Trinity climb the last half of the wall. The chaos elf gracefully flips over the edge and lands in a crouch with a stiletto in her hand. She takes a small bow when the gypsy applauds, but quickly remembers why she ended up going over the waterfall in the first place.
“Hey! Don’t mock me,” Trinity snaps.
“I wasn’t mo
cking you. That was a good show,” Sari swears, juggling two of her daggers. “Now, leave me alone.”
Trinity doubles over with laughter. “You can’t honestly believe that I will do as you say.”
“There is no reason for you to be following me. Your friends destroyed my clan and left me with nowhere to go. You have done enough damage to my life!” Sari shouts, a sudden surge of sadness running through her body. A tear trickles down her face and she swiftly turns away from the chaos elf.
“I’d be lying if I said that I didn’t feel sorry for you, but you are an unfortunate loose end. I can’t let you run around Windemere and return to cause my master some unexpected trouble,” Trinity says, flexing her sore shoulders. “If it makes you feel better, I promise I won’t kill you.”
Sari turns to look at her doubtfully. “Would your friends stick to that promise?”
“Maybe.”
“You might as well have said no.”
“I’m surprised that you haven’t asked me why we attacked your clan.”
Trinity can see Sari bite her lower lip to halt her tears. A trickle of blood runs down Sari’s white skin before dripping off her chin into the churning river. Three river sharks risk going over the waterfall as they rush to the drops of blood. A fight breaks out between them until two are washed away by a sudden wave in the river. Trinity watches the pair of sharks twist in the air as they plummet to the rocks below. She can see more waves coming down the river and cautiously steps away from the rising water. The chaos elf can only assume that a nearby dam has burst, which means she has very little time to capture the gypsy.
“I don’t care why you did it,” Sari angrily blurts out.
“Then, I guess you weren’t really attached to your clan,” Trinity coldly counters. A throwing dagger cuts her cheek and slams into a tree behind her.
“I loved my clan more than anything else in this world, but it is not the gypsy way to dwell on the past. I look to the future where I will be safe and happy,” Sari proudly announces. “Now, leave me alone and tell your friends to forget about me.”
Legends of Windemere: 03 - Allure of the Gypsies Page 5