“I remember coming here when I was a child. It was maybe a year before we moved on to Gaia,” Sari whispers as the city passes underneath them. She sees a few people wandering the mist-edged streets, their blank stares at the griffin making her sad. “It was so shiny and happy. What could have happened here?”
“I did,” Nyx replies, a shudder running through her body. “It wasn’t that long ago that we were here fighting the goblins and I cast the genocide spell. I must have awoken something. Whatever it is must be incredibly powerful and aggressive to have sucked the soul out of Hero’s Gate so quickly. What’s that beyond the eastern side of the wall, Luke?”
Wheeling above the docks and earning startled shouts from the people below, the griffin whips around the edge of the eastern wall. She stops in mid-air, rising high enough to avoid any archers who might see her as a threat. A vast gathering of tents and wagons run from the L’dandrin River to within fifty yards of the forest’s edge. They can see hundreds of warriors with all manner of weapons and armor moving among the tents. A large tent has been erected in the center of the camp with its long banner whipping in the windless air. The banner emblem is that of a salamander being pierced by a black arrow on violet background.
“They must be the mercenaries that Lord Highrider told us about,” Sari says, waving to a group of relaxing warriors. Only one of them waves back while his friends suspiciously eye the griffin. “Well at least one of them is friendly.”
“I think we’ve seen enough, Luke,” Nyx whispers, her heart beating hard enough for Sari to feel it through her back. “Land at the northern entrance and let’s hope we can get in without a fuss. I won’t be surprised if some of the guards haven’t been told about us yet.”
“You think anyone will recognize you?” Sari nervously asks. “Luke told me that you were barely in the city before the goblins attacked.”
“Those scarecrows on the rooftops have black hair, imitation caster robes, and purple button eyes,” Nyx replies in a low, sad voice. “I don’t think they’ve forgotten about me. Some of those scarecrows are surprisingly detailed. A few even have copies of my amethyst necklace.”
The griffin makes a graceful landing on the dirt road about twenty yards away from the northern entrance. The twenty guards at the gate immediately raise their weapons, most of them glaring angrily at Nyx as she slides off the griffin’s back. Sari quickly steps in front of Nyx and is about to cast a charm spell to calm the guards when Nyx pinches her shoulder. Sari looks back to see the caster shaking her head, silently telling the gypsy to hold her spell back. The guards move aside to make way for a knight wearing full platemail and a helmet decorated with a plume of silver hair. He grips the battered shield on his left arm, ready to block any attack.
“That woman is not allowed in Hero’s Gate,” the knight declares, his voice booming through the closed visor.
“On whose authority?” Sari replies. She crosses her arms and glares at the armored warrior.
The knight is flustered by the defiant gypsy and pats the hilt of his broadsword to intimidate her. “It is by the orders of Lord Highrider and Duke Solomon. We demand that she get back on her griffin and leave. If she refuses then we will arrest her for her crimes.”
“He’s bluffing, Nyx,” Sari says, casually turning her back on the knight and facing her friends. “If the orders were for you to be banned from Hero’s Gate then there would be no threat of arrest for being outside the city. They would simply arrest the criminal. Also, the mention of crimes implies that you’re a wanted woman. Somebody would have tried to bring you back for a trial. There’s also the fact that you’ve met with several nobles, including Duke Solomon, since you left the city. Nobody would let a wanted criminal anywhere near the Duke and that news travels fast.”
“Things change,” growls the knight. The large man is about to draw his broadsword when the griffin takes a step forward, her wings spreading out to their full wingspan. “Keep your beast in check or I will slay it, caster.”
“Keep yourself in check, knight,” Sari angrily snaps. She notices several of the guards inching closer to their commander. “Tell your men to back off because I’m no longer in the mood to play games.”
“Don’t do this, Sari,” Nyx whispers, already stepping off the road. “We can go to the mercenary camp and meet with the temporary commander. We’re probably expected there since the mercenaries saw us. Fighting the guards will only make things worse.”
“Your cowardice will save your life,” the knight cruelly declares.
Sari immediately draws two of her daggers and spins them in her hands. “Now I know you’re nothing more than a pathetic worm in metal skin. You’re a disgrace to your men and your ruler. You should hand in your sword at the barracks and crawl back into the sewers that puked you up.”
“Watch your tongue, trickster whore! I follow the orders of Lord Highrider and Duke Solomon without fail!” the knight shouts, drawing his broadsword and pointing it at Sari. His men rush to stand with him when the griffin threateningly rears back and spreads her wings again.
“Lord Highrider and Duke Solomon are the ones who asked us to help,” Nyx says, stepping in front of Sari and holding out her hands. She drops to her knees and hangs her head, her hair falling over her face. “They want me to fix the mistakes I made, which I swear I will do. Please understand that I never meant to cause problems for your city. I would have gladly stayed to help you if I could. I should have rushed back once I was done with the Duke, but I was too scared. So, I ask that you grant me entry and allow me to fix the mess that I have made.”
“Silence!” the knight yells as the men whisper amongst themselves. “You say that Lord Highrider and Duke Solomon sent you. I say you used your magic to manipulate them into granting you entry to the city that you tried to destroy.”
The knight is about to advance on Nyx when a thick, heavily tanned hand slams onto his helmet and spins him around. All of the guards move away from the towering, bare-chested man with red hair and deep, blue eyes. Unlike the platemail-armored guards, this muscular warrior wears black breeches with patches of chainmail around his hips. The knight’s eyes are locked on the gorgeous great axe strapped to the man’s back, its black and orange pattern glinting in the morning light. As if the knight is nothing more than a doll, the large man tosses him aside and turns to block the path of anyone who hopes to get at Nyx and Sari.
“You are threatening the help that has been sent to us,” the man states, his voice powerful and stern. He rubs at a set of old scars on his right shoulder, drawing everyone’s attention to the old bite mark.
“I apologize, Sir Wrath, but I do not believe it is safe for this woman to be within the city limits,” the knight rapidly says, sheathing his sword and bowing. “Aside from the danger she poses to the citizens, many inside the city may attempt to confront her or take her life. There could be riots, which will make our situation worse. It is in everyone’s best interest that she stay out of Hero’s Gate.”
“That is not your decision,” Sir Wrath points out. He nods to the gathered guards, who slowly go back to their posts. “I will personally escort them into the city where it has already been announced to the public that Nyx is an invited guest of Lord Highrider. Any who attempt to bring harm to Lady Nyx will be drafted into the mercenary camps regardless of gender, race, or age. That order comes directly from our temporary commander.”
“We understand, Sir Wrath,” the knight says before returning to his men.
“I never knew they allowed barbarians to become knights,” Sari says as she bows to the large man. “You’re a barbarian right, Sir Wrath? City-folk and savannah-folk don’t really come in your size unless they have orc blood in them.”
“You may call me Timoran because I am no knight,” the large warrior explains with a friendly smile. “I have been part of the city’s defense force since the goblin swarm incident. My acts of valor and heroism have earned me a position within Lord Highrider’s council, but it is n
ot an official knighthood. As a gypsy, I am sure you can agree with the barbarian belief that titles are only for politicians, soldiers, and priests.” Timoran looks around the road with an expression of dismay on his face. “I was hoping your warrior friend would be with you, Lady Nyx. He promised me a drink after the bandit hunt, but you had to leave so quickly.”
The griffin screeches and rears up as her wings pull into her back. The beast’s body shrinks and her fur transforms into a golden brown smoke that floats to the ground. Timoran’s hand is on his axe until the powerful griffin is replaced by the slender forest tracker. Luke dusts off some remaining feathers from his shoulders and grins at the stunned barbarian.
“Glad to finally have your name, Timoran. Whenever you want that drink, I’ll be available,” Luke announces with a bow.
“You know magic?” Timoran nervously asks, his voice subtly rising in pitch.
Sari leans over to Nyx to whisper, “I sense our large friend is scared of magic. I’ll try my hardest not to tease him.”
“I am not scared of magic,” Timoran says, causing Sari to jump in surprise. “I am merely suspicious of it. Manipulating the essence that the gods have given us is a dangerous trade that can be easily abused.”
“Would it make you feel better if I told you that my powers are gifts from Uli and they aren’t really magic?” Luke asks. He approaches Timoran and extends his hand, which is enveloped by the barbarian’s solid grip. “It’s easier to think of me as being the vessel for the spirit of a griffin that lost her body.”
“Spirit workers I understand and trust,” Timoran declares with a sigh of relief. “We have those in my tribe and they are all trustworthy allies. They are also incredibly wise. I am surprised about your spirit companion. One must be pure of heart and spirit to be accepted by a noble creature such as a griffin.”
“It’s a long story,” Luke says. He looks up at the wall to see several citizens setting up more scarecrows. All of them are cautiously watching Nyx, but none of them are brave enough to call out to her.
“I feel like I’m not wanted here,” Nyx mutters under her breath.
“You will have to earn their trust through your words and actions,” Timoran states. He tenderly eyes the caster, who is unable to hide her fear. “I have some advice, Lady Nyx. Do not let these people see your fear. Many will see your fear as a sign that you will bring about another incident. You must mask it with the determination to help those who hate you. Doing so shall prove to them that you are not their enemy. That is the only way you will win them over and settle your heart.”
Nyx nods her head and takes in a deep breath. “I’ll try my best.”
“If things get bad then I’ll take care of her,” Sari claims, spinning her daggers and making them vanish up her sleeves. “Nobody upsets Nyxie while I’m around.”
“Then she is in capable hands, little gypsy,” Timoran says with an amused smile. “May I have the name of her tiny, loyal bodyguard?”
“I am Sari, survivor of a fallen clan and childhood friend of Lady Nyx,” she announces, spreading her arms and dipping into a low bow.
“It has been a warm meeting, little gypsy,” Timoran says, clapping his hands in front of him in his tribe’s gesture of respect. “Now, please let me escort you into the city and give you more insight into recent events. Unfortunately, we are under orders by the temporary commander not to speak about the dangers you will face. She has requested that she be the one to talk to you, in order to evaluate your reactions and usefulness.”
“I can hardly wait for that meeting,” Nyx whispers, following Timoran to the entrance. She straightens her back and clenches her fists as she steps into the city that despises her.
*****
The streets of Hero’s Gate are clean and bright, but the adventurers feel the anger and fear brewing beneath the surface. They see it in the eyes of the citizens, who stay on the sides of the roads, scowling at Nyx as she walks next to Timoran. Some spit at her feet and make rude gestures before ducking into the nearest building. As the small group walks further into the city, they see fewer boarded up buildings and more busy stores and beautiful homes. Even in the bustling sections, the three adventurers get the sense that they are not welcomed. The tension becomes so potent that Nyx anxiously pulls out her purple amethyst necklace, gripping it tightly in her hand until the points of the triangle break her skin. Timoran tenderly loosens her grip on the necklace when he notices a few drops of blood fall from her hand.
“How long did the clean-up take?” Luke asks, trying to break the awkward silence.
“We disposed of the goblin corpses by the end of the first week by burning most of them in the trampled western fields,” Timoran explains, nodding to a few curious citizens. They shrink back into their homes, their eyes locked on Nyx. “Sadly, there were several buildings that were filled to the ceiling with dead goblins and we were forced to burn them to the ground with the bodies inside. That is another decision that resulted in people harboring an ill will toward Lady Nyx.”
“Just call my Nyx,” the caster quietly whispers.
“I’m confused on why they blame Nyx for all of this,” Sari says, her eyes constantly scanning the street. “If she hadn’t cast that spell, the entire city would have been destroyed by the goblins. Didn’t anybody try to defend her?”
“Plenty of people defended her. DragonEye, the mayor, Lord Highrider, myself, and many of the guards came to her defense,” Timoran answers, patting Nyx on the head to comfort her. His hand is big enough to effortlessly palm her head, which gets some laughter from a group of nearby children. “Unfortunately, an influential political group rose out of the citizens and placed all blame on Nyx. They painted all of her defenders as traitors, forcing many of us in the guards to remain silent or risk being reviled. We knew the city needed us more than Nyx’s reputation, so we swallowed our tongues. Then, incidents began happening to the more vocal and powerful defenders until only Lord Highrider was left. Several assassins have tried to kill him, but they found the man to be more than they expected. I am proud to say that I assisted in his defense during the last attempt.”
“Incidents,” Luke repeats with an anxious look on his face.
Timoran stops and sighs heavily as if the act of remembering the stories is tearing at his heart. “The mayor was killed by thieves during a burglary. The culprits were caught by the temporary commander and executed at the docks. It was a heavily criticized act by the townspeople, but she wanted to make a powerful first impression. She got her point across and the criminals have been more cautious, but the fear of the mercenaries has made things more difficult. As for DragonEye, I wish I could give you a clear answer. The night he returned from delivering Fritz Warrenberg’s body, DragonEye was murdered. The tower siren had gone off, so we went to investigate and found him butchered. The tower has been magically sealed by the priests and we can only imagine what killed him. Whatever the killer was, we assume it has moved on because nothing so brutal has happened since.”
“I hope you’re right about that. I don’t want to fight something that could tear a dragon to pieces,” Luke admits, his mouth dry from the thought of a dragon killer in the area. He attempts to wave to a child playing on the street, but the small boy refuses to acknowledge him. “Do you think this anti-Nyx group is going to be a problem for us, Timoran?”
“Let’s not worry about them, Luke. They’re within their rights to hate me. I can’t stop them from trying to blame everything on me,” Nyx says, keeping her eyes down to avoid meeting the angry stares around her. “I remember a few groups like this showing up in Gaia over the years. They always have some grudge against someone more powerful than them, so they look for a cause that the citizens feel strongly about. They connect their target with the opposition to that cause and they gain a sudden rise in support. Most of them don’t even believe in the chosen cause and only want to find a way to vent their anger and frustration. Others are out to tear down a popular figure for some perverse
boost of self-esteem and joy. Those kinds of groups are easily undone when they’re proven to be manipulative liars who are using the passion of the citizenry to push a personal agenda.”
“You got into politics back home?” Sari asks in surprise. “I never thought you were interested in that.”
Nyx is about to answer when they turn a corner and find themselves in front of a large crater. Black smoke is wafting out of the hole that runs forty feet down the road and is wide enough to prevent anyone from passing. One of the nearby buildings has collapsed into the hole, its roof pressed against the face of its front side neighbor. Luke wrinkles his nose at the smell of rotting meat that hangs in the air. He is about to get closer to the hole when Timoran pulls him back and points at a nearby building. They can see a simple walkway attached to the front of the building, the crude stairs gradually running up to the roof.
“To pass, you must use that walkway and traverse the rooftop paths. Most people avoid the paths and this area, so you will not be bothered,” Timoran explains, keeping a cautious eye on the smoking pit. “There are signs that will lead you to a tavern where you will be welcomed. At the very least, you will not be turned away. I apologize for not being able to join you, but I have an errand to run for our temporary commander.”
“I have two questions, Sir Wrath,” Sari announces, kicking a stone into the pit. She steps behind Nyx when she hears a bubbling hiss and a sulfuric smoke rises into the air.
“Again, please call me Timoran, little gypsy,” the large man requests with a warm smile.
“Sorry, Timoran,” she humbly apologizes. “So, why don’t you call this temporary commander by her name? Also, what is with this smoking, foul-smelling hole?”
“I like that you are direct, Sari,” Timoran answers, his laugh reminding the adventurers of a loud drum. “The temporary commander prefers to make personal introductions to those she will work with. It is an odd quirk, but the mercenaries claim that their success is due to a healthy dose of paranoia. I am sure you will get used to their methods. It is difficult to talk about this person without revealing any information, so I request that we change topics.”
Legends of Windemere: 03 - Family of the Tri-Rune Page 6