“I’m waiting for the right time to tell everyone about my sort of engagement,” Luke informs him. “With that in mind, will you come to dinner tonight, so I only have to tell the story once?”
“And to defend you from your father?” Talos asks, flashing a knowing glance at his grandson.
Luke grins and nods emphatically. “That would be helpful, but that’s not what I wanted to talk about now. I have a small problem right now. One of my friends is destined to defend Windemere from some ancient darkness. I offered my help, but I don’t know if I made a mista-”
Talos’s open-hand smack sends Luke’s head slamming against the side of the house. The half-elf is dizzy and confused as he struggles to sit up. His cheek feels swollen to his touch and his mouth has gone partially numb.
“I never want to hear you say that again, Luke Callindor,” Talos sternly demands. “Your word is your bond. If you promised to stand by this person’s side then you will do it without question. That is the way of a Callindor. There will never be a time when you consider letting your friends fall because of your doubts. Do you understand me?”
“I swear on my life and courage,” Luke declares, rubbing the aching side of his head. “Though, you didn’t have to hit me.”
“The hell I did! You earned that love tap. Next time you say such things in my presence, I will put you through the wall and I won’t let you pass out until you fix the hole,” Talos rants. In the blink of an eye, the rage and fury of the elf vanishes and is replaced by the kind smile of a loving grandfather. “Now, let’s get to work on Stiletto’s memorial.”
Luke stares at his grandfather in nervous disbelief. “You scare me.”
“That’s only the teacher part of our relationship,” Talos assures him with a friendly smile.
“I think I’m going to make Stiletto’s memorial on my own,” Luke claims, getting to his feet. “It would be the right thing to do since I raised him from a puppy. I’ll see you at dinner, grandpa.”
Luke is a few feet away when Talos whistles at him. The half-elf turns around in time to see a glinting ring sailing toward him. With a cocky grin, Luke thrusts his arm forward and catches the smooth ring on his left ring finger. He notices that it isn’t really metal, but a glossy petrified wood with dancing pixies carved around it. Luke twists the ring around his finger until a patch of tiny leaves is on the top. They are a healthy green and feel like real leaves even though they look to be molded from the same wood as the ring’s band. An odd warmth ebbs into his finger and runs up his arm to the back of his neck the longer he stares at the ring.
“Thanks, grandpa. What is it?” Luke asks, examining the ring.
“That is the ring of Uli and it has been in our family since before the Great Cataclysm. My father gave it to me after I survived my first adventure. I gave it to your father, but he returned it after he retired from the road and swore off adventuring,” Talos explains as he swiftly walks across the yard. “Now, I give it to you hoping that it keeps you safe and that you find a way to unlock its true power. This power has been dormant for centuries and our family has no records of what it can do. Each Callindor who wears the ring of Uli is entrusted with the hope that its power will be awakened. I trust you will surpass the rest of us and make me proud, grandson.”
“I will. Thanks again, grandpa.” Luke smiles wide before sprinting toward the nearby forest.
7
“I sense that you have some doubts about my plan,” the Lich says as he sits in the dimly lit banquet hall.
Most of the light comes from a polished, bronze chandelier that dangles high above the floor. The flickering candles sit in skulls with their tops neatly sliced off. Half-eaten food and empty bottles of wine cover the long table’s crimson tablecloth. Trinity sits several chairs down from the Lich while she lazily pokes at an uneaten stuffed pheasant. She looks up at the sound of shuffling footsteps and scowls at the sight of a few zombies wandering in the nearby shadows. They bump into each other as they search for scraps of food to eat.
“I wouldn’t say that I have doubts. It may be best to say that I have some concerns,” the chaos elf responds.
“I’m not surprised. You don’t trust me,” says the grinning Lich.
Trinity leans back in her chair and stretches like a cat. “People like us do not have the luxury of trust.”
“Kalam left an hour ago with his army,” the Lich tells her. “Feel free to voice your concerns to me while we have the privacy.”
“And let you turn me over to Kalam for what I say? I’m not stupid enough to fall for that,” Trinity declares with a laugh.
The slow creaking of a door catches their attention and they turn to see Sari meekly entering the room. Her bare feet make very little noise as she cheerlessly makes her way to the table. The bright colors of her skirts are covered with patches of dirt and filth. The gypsy’s face is layered in grime with faint streaks running from her eyes to the tip of her chin. Trinity can’t help but feel sorry for the poor creature that once gave her a thrilling chase through the forests of Serab.
“Are you done eating?” Sari asks, her voice a lifeless whisper.
“It wouldn’t be right to have this pheasant go to waste. You may have it, but then you must finish your cleaning duties,” Trinity says, pushing her plate to Sari. The girl licks her cracked lips at the sight of the delicious food, but she quickly turns away.
“I’m not allowed to eat your food,” the gypsy drones.
“Do as she tells you, girl! You are a servant after all,” the Lich says, his curiosity about the women piqued.
“Can’t argue with that,” Sari claims with a very happy, upbeat voice. Sari takes a deep breath and reaches out to tear a leg off the pheasant. She ravenously devours the meat and quickly rips off the other leg. Trinity and the Lich watch while Sari eats the pheasant as if she hasn’t eaten in weeks.
“Thank you for the food. I’ll get these dishes out of your way, milady,” Sari says, giving Trinity a polite bow. She nimbly picks up and balances all of the plates and platters in her arms until the dishes are stacked high above her head. Without dropping anything, she turns on her heel and makes her way for the door.
“How is she going to open the door?” the Lich whispers in mild amusement.
Trinity smirks, her attention locked on the gypsy. “I have no idea. The girl is full of surprises.”
Sari lifts her bare foot to the door and manages to grab a thin part of the gothic handle with her toes. The dishes jostle and clang together as she hops backwards in order to open the door. Sari stops for a few seconds before letting go of the door and rushing through the lightless opening. A deafening bang fills the banquet hall when the heavy door slams shut.
“It’s a shame that we gave her to Kalam,” Trinity mentions.
“Why is it a shame?” the Lich asks, hate boiling in his eyes. “She is a disgusting gypsy. They are not to be trusted since they have no loyalty to anyone outside of their family-like clan. If you could even call those packs of lawless fools a family.”
“I sense some hatred toward her kind. I’d ask if you want to talk about it, but I don’t care,” the chaos elf says with a wide yawn.
“I wouldn’t tell you anyway,” the Lich grumbles. He begins tapping his skeletal finger on the table. “Maybe I’ll take the gypsy along with Kalam’s spellbook when the time comes. I could always use another test subject.”
Trinity’s eyebrows rise in curiosity. “Do I detect a double-cross?”
“Calm yourself, Trinity. It should not be a surprise that I am using my old teacher to reach my personal goals,” the Lich casually answers. “As I stated before, I win no matter what happens. If Kalam dies then I can claim his research without a fight. If he destroys our enemies then our master will consider me as a genius manipulator. Well, he might at least give me some reward for forming this plan.”
“What if Kalam kills Luke, Isaiah, and Nyx, but he is given credit? You would walk away with nothing, except a pat on t
he head, while your old teacher claims the real reward,” Trinity explains, pulling out a long, needle-like dagger out of her sleeve. A flick of her wrist sends the glowing weapon soaring through the air, striking a shuffling zombie in the head. The undead creature moans in confusion before it suddenly falls apart at the joints. “I can see our master giving Kalam a trapped reward, which would bind your old teacher to our cause like our master has wanted to do for years. That would make you highly expendable since we would have no need for two necrocasters.”
The Lich laughs, his crimson pupils growing until they completely fill their sockets. “I have a plan to counter that. You see, Kalam is taking a very big risk attacking Haven for two reasons. One is that he wishes to fight his brother and prove that he is stronger. I find this to be his biggest flaw and I have used it to my advantage. Isaiah is already on his way to Haven thanks to a dream vision that I asked Yola Biggs to send him last night.”
“Impressive planning,” Trinity admits. She leans on the table and listens intently to the Lich’s plan.
“The other reason that Kalam is taking such a risk is that he believes his other great enemy cannot find him. He has a constant protection spell over him, which shields him from location spells and scrying. This keeps him hidden from Queen Ionia who is said to be keeping a constant eye out for him,” the necrocaster reveals to her. “Unknown to Kalam, I have already dispatched a messenger to Ionia of Darkmill. She will arrive too late to get involved in the coming battle, but she will arrive in time to see Kalam leaving the area thanks to my perfect timing.”
“What if Ionia comes here and we get caught in their fight?” she asks with a worried look in her violet eyes.
The Lich waves away her words as if they were annoying gnats. “That shouldn’t be a problem. He has his lair warded against Ionia.”
Trinity leans forward, her worry transforming into curiosity. “Then, how will she get to him and destroy him?”
“She will have to send others to destroy Kalam,” the Lich explains, his voice dripping with condescension. “It will probably be Nyx and Luke if they are still alive. It could also be Talos Doubleblade if the youths are dead. Either way, Kalam will be so busy dealing with them that we can easily steal his spellbook. He won’t know it is gone until it is too late and he would never risk facing our master for the book. That is if he survives everything.”
“It sounds like you’re making this up as you go along,” Trinity points out.
“I have to leave my plan open for all possibilities, so I am going with the most likely scenarios. I am hoping that Kalam is defeated by his brother in the coming battle. If he does return to his lair in defeat, I can persuade him to attack Haven again,” the Lich says matter-of-factly. “I would talk him into using our forces instead of his pathetic undead hordes. The worst that happens is that he succeeds in killing all of our enemies, which would inevitably leave him weak and defenseless. If that happens then we can dispose of him without a fuss.”
Trinity gets to her feet and stretches her back. “You really don’t like your old teacher.”
“He lives in the past and refuses to join the present or look to the future,” the Lich snarls, disgust and condescension in his cracking voice. “I would be wasting my time if I held emotions for a fool of his caliber. It is better to use him and be rid of him at my earliest convenience.”
After some thought, Trinity admits, “He is a gentleman, but he doesn’t have the ambition needed to join our ranks. Sometimes I get the feeling that he is far too soft for what he does.”
The Lich rises to his feet and glides over to Trinity. She takes a step back from the decaying caster and wrinkles her nose at the smell of dead flesh. He cautiously looks around the room to see what is around. He notices that there are still some zombies meandering through the shadows. A hiss-like whisper escapes his lips before he sends a swarm of silent energy blasts, which envelope the zombies. The creatures mindlessly moan as their bodies melt into sticky puddles.
“This conversation is between us and only us. You will not like what happens if you betray me, dear Trinity,” the Lich warns her.
“Stop with the dramatics. We both know that if I betrayed you, I would have to prepare for your retaliation. You would never touch me,” Trinity gloats. She turns to walk away from the Lich until he clears his throat and slaps a hand on the table.
“True, but that gypsy makes for an excellent bargaining chip,” the Lich mentions with a grin that makes his jaw crack. Trinity stops in her tracks and looks over her shoulder at the Lich.
“Why pull her into this?” Trinity asks, slightly worried about where the conversation is turning.
“Because you have an attachment to her,” the Lich answers.
Trinity glares at the Lich and growls defensively. “I respect her as a rival and feel sorry for her being caged. I know far too well what she is going through.”
“You sure there isn’t more to it?” the Lich asks, hoping to goad Trinity into revealing more weakness.
“Let me just say that I have a gut feeling about her,” Trinity carefully answers. “I believe that she will become very useful if we keep her alive.”
“I’m sure that is truth, queen of lies,” the Lich says. “Emotional thoughts like this will get you in trouble.”
“Then, let the trouble come,” the chaos elf snaps, storming out of the banquet hall. She slams the door hard enough to shake the chandelier while the Lich chuckles to himself.
*****
Ilan Callindor puts all of his weight on his wooden cane as he glares at his son from across the kitchen. Vixen and Talos calmly set the table for dinner while Nyx and Aedyn work to make bowls of salad. Ilan runs a dirty, callused hand through his black hair before tucking it behind his pointed ears. Small clouds of ash and smoke float off his fire-licked skin every time he shudders in the cool, evening air. Luke continues to stand in the opposing corner of the room with his arms crossed and a defiant look in his emerald eyes. By the time dinner is prepared and put on the table, neither of them have moved. The others quietly gather slices of spiced beef and fresh rolls on their plates while the intensity between father and son continues to rise.
“Would both of you grow up and talk to each other?” Talos snaps when he can’t take it any more.
“The least you two can do is sit at the table. It is the first time in a year that we have eaten as a family. Please, sit down,” Vixen pleads, her voice melodic, but stern.
“Fine,” spit Luke and Ilan. They sit down at opposite ends of the table.
“I see you gave him the ring, father,” Ilan mentions after he takes some food.
Talos takes a deep drink from his water cup. “Yes. He is my only grandson and the ring must be passed on. You knew he would receive it no matter what Luke chose to do with his life.”
“That ring does nothing but encourage him to be an adventurer. It helps him ignore the dangers,” Ilan argues, slamming his hand on the table.
“You give your son too little credit,” Talos contends.
Nyx is cutting up a thick slice of beef when she interjects, “I think Luke ignoring danger isn’t too far off the mark.”
“Do you hear the girl? Luke is leading a dangerous and reckless life!” Ilan shouts. He ignores Vixen putting more food on his plate and angrily grabs his glass of wine.
“Nyx is exaggerating, dad,” Luke mentions. He gives Nyx a steady stare that tells her to keep quiet, but she returns the look with a confident grin.
“Is this true?” Ilan asks, his piercing, green eyes darting to the caster.
“Yes and no. I’m sorry, Luke, but I can’t lie to your parents. Your son has a habit of getting into dangerous situations and . . .” Nyx politely begins.
“This is exactly why I did not want him to be an adventurer!” Ilan roars at his father.
“You should let her finish before you explode, child,” Talos calmly suggests. Ilan glares at the old elf and turns his attention back to Nyx.
Nyx
blushes slightly and uncomfortably stares at her lap. “As I was saying, Luke does get into a lot trouble. If it isn’t a monster or a trap then he is mouthing off to people who end up beating some sense into him. It is usually when he is protecting someone else that he gets into the most trouble. The truth is that Luke only ignores the danger if he is trying to help someone. Otherwise, he does use a small amount of caution and restraint.”
“There you have it. He is an honorable Callindor,” Talos victoriously declares.
“More like a sacrificial fool like many who have come before him,” Ilan retorts. He takes a quick bite of his food and glares at his son. “Do you have anything to say for yourself, Luke, or are you going to let your friends defend you?”
Luke quietly finishes his fork full of salad before answering. “Why should I bother saying anything? You have made up your mind that I shouldn’t be what I am. Since I was a child, you tried to hide the world of adventuring from me. You told me nothing about your life before you met mom and settled in Haven. For the gods’ sake, I still don’t know how you damaged your leg, dad. Even now, you believe that story will encourage me to disobey you. You still look at me as nothing more than a child whose head is stuffed with stories about fools and dead heroes. Since that is what you believe, how could I possibly say anything to make you understand me?”
“You could try explaining yourself,” Aedyn politely suggests.
“That won’t be necessary. I know what he will say,” Ilan interrupts, his impatience growing. “He wants to earn the fame and reputation of a Callindor. That is the only answer in his thick skull, so there is no reason for me to bother hearing his explanation. I’ve heard it all before and it makes me sick to my stomach.”
Luke slams his fists on the table as he rises to his feet and glares challengingly at his father. Ilan slowly gets to his feet and leans on his polished cane as he meets Luke’s glare with a face of unreadable stone.
“Why don’t you say what’s really on your mind?” Luke dares his father.
“What would that be?”
Legends of Windemere: 03 - Allure of the Gypsies Page 16