Tzefira’s ears twitch and she gently places the shirt in her lap. “Did you say Hamilton Military Academy?”
“Yes, I took an assignment to protect Duke Solomon’s heir when she was attending the academy,” Luke answers, keenly aware of the growing tension in the air. “I get the feeling that you’re not a fan of Selenia. This conversation better not end with me getting hit because that happens far too often in my life.”
“I promise not to hit you, but only because I don’t want to call for the healer,” she says in a steady voice that Luke knows is hiding her primal fury. “I will merely say that Selenia and I have a messy history. We were rivals in our younger days until an unforgiveable act on her part. She took something very precious from me with the intention of giving it back, but she never made good on her promise.”
“You could always go to her and take it back,” Luke suggests, unsure if he sounds helpful or funny.
“By now she’s made it entirely useless, so there would be no point in asking for its return,” Tzefira rapidly responds. She grabs a pillow and hurls it across the tent, her tongue anxiously rolling in her mouth. “As I said, it’s a messy history and it doesn’t concern you. Let’s finish our discussion, so you can return to Hero’s Gate before the krypters come out for their nightly hunt.”
“I’m not sure what else you want to discuss with me,” Luke claims, running a hand through his blonde hair. He finds a twig stuck in his ponytail and slowly works it out of the knots, trying not to pull too many hairs from his head.
Tzefira patiently waits for him to stop fidgeting before she talks. “I’m curious about Nyx. I investigated her background, but I found very little. She was raised and trained in Rainbow Tower, which explains her powerful and honed aura. After leaving Gaia, she has battled Trinity of the chaos elves, faced various demons, and destroyed Kalam the vampiric necrocaster. Many people talk about her ability to cast spells without movements, components, or incantations. Yet, nobody knows how she came to learn such an unheard of casting style. With all of this information, I still have no details about her birth or childhood. I’m hoping you can share that information with me.”
“You should ask Nyx about it,” Luke calmly states with a relaxing sigh. “It sounds like you know all the basic stuff about Nyx, but you would need to ask her for the details. She trusts me with her secrets and that’s a trust I refuse to break.”
“That is very commendable and it tells me that she’s special to you,” Tzefira softly says. A wry smile crosses her face as a thought occurs to her. “The healers and I heard her mumble in her sleep about a younger brother and a younger sister. I found no information about her having siblings, but I wouldn’t be surprised if she was talking about you and Sari. It makes sense considering how you two have been openly protective of her since your arrival. A makeshift family helps me infer that your dear Nyx is an orphan. Possibly adopted by the masters of Rainbow Tower because of her power?”
“If that’s what you choose to believe then you’re free to do so,” Luke whispers, rolling to his feet and stretching his back. “I’m returning to Hero’s Gate and I’ll see you in the morning. I trust that Nyx will be sent back to us in time for breakfast. It’s not that I don’t trust you, Tzefira, but I won’t be able to eat until I know she’s okay. I’ll send a message to Timoran, so he is with us when she arrives and he can start guarding her immediately. Enjoy your night, commander.”
Tzefira watches the young warrior leave the tent, proudly grinning at the way she made him uncomfortable. She turns her attention to Nyx’s shirt and spends several minutes repairing it. With delicate care, she drapes the shirt over the support beam and changes into a dark blue nightgown. Due to the constant warmth of her body, she is unable to feel the chill in the autumn air, which makes her sigh in dismay. Tzefira makes a pile of pillows next to the cot where Nyx is sleeping, creating a simple bed. The mercenary lies on the pillows and crosses her arms over her chest, her body remaining rigid and tense.
“You have good friends, child. Never fail them,” Tzefira whispers before falling asleep.
4
The rowdy tavern is filled with the sounds of clinking mugs, belching, and the drowned music of a bard’s lute. Many of the customers are yelling to drown out the distant screeches of the krypters that prowl outside the city walls. Even the waitresses join in the clamor to calm their rickety nerves and earn extra tips from the drunks. An occasional crash, followed by a torrent of curses, erupts from the kitchen where the dwarven chef and his halfling assistants scramble to fill orders. The chubby bartender and his beautiful orcish wife are equally busy keeping the alcohol flowing into barely clean mugs. Several times throughout the dinner rush, the towering orc woman has to throw an ambitious drunk out from behind the bar.
“I’m out of booze, so who’s next?” Sari slurs from her table. She scans the nearby crowd, picking out a young, brown-haired elf. She grabs him by the belt and pulls him her table. “Buy me a drink and I’ll give you a kiss, sexy ears.”
“Yes, ma’am,” the elf stutters, excitedly snapping his fingers at the nearest waitress.
The redheaded waitress giggles as she picks up a mug of ale and delivers it to Sari’s table. She patiently waits for the gypsy to make good on her promise. By the young woman’s count, this is the tenth hapless victim Sari has snared for free drinks since she sat down two hours ago. Admiring the gypsy’s blue hair and stunning body, the waitress does not feel sorry for the young men who are being manipulated. Chances are it is the only time in their lives they will be able to kiss a genuinely wild gypsy.
“Don’t let the poor boy wait,” the waitress teases, noticing that Sari has gone for her ale instead of the elf.
Sari slams the half-finished mug onto the table and pulls the elf into a rough kiss. “You taste like maple syrup and sweat. Not sure I like it, but thanks for the drink, sexy ears.”
The young elf is about to say something when a hand drops onto his shoulder. The grip is loose and relaxed, but there is a quiver of power running through the fingers. He can see Sari scowl and roll her eyes at the mysterious newcomer, so the elf nervously steps into the crowd without turning around.
“I’m glad you remembered me,” Sari says. She leans back in her chair, her relaxed body nearly sliding to the floor.
“We can talk now if you want to,” Luke humbly suggests. He cautiously sits across the table from Sari, his eyes never leaving her piercing gaze. “That is unless you’re too angry and drunk to talk.”
“I haven’t stabbed you in the chest, which is a good sign,” she mutters over the lip of her mug. “By the way, why are you interested in the stiletto I’m carrying?”
“Is that really important right now?” Luke asks, signaling to a waitress for a drink and some food.
Sari stares at the half-elf with a wistful, predatory look in her emerald eyes. “It weighs heavily on my mind.”
“It looks identical to the stiletto my father made to go with my sabers,” Luke explains. He leans forward as Sari pulls the sheathed weapon out of her skirts and lays it on the table. “You can see how the vine-design etched into the hilt matches my sabers perfectly. It is a unique design that has my initials hidden within at three points. Last time I saw that stiletto, it was sticking out of Kalam’s shoulder and my aura was getting knocked out of my body. I guess you could have found it in Kalam’s lair when we were breaking out, but Nyx’s spell should have destroyed the dagger.”
“Well, I found this in Kalam’s lair and it definitely isn’t magical,” Sari admits, gently fingering the stiletto’s hilt. “Maybe Trinity or the Lich magically repaired it with the hope of using it against you. Neither of them seemed to believe you were really dead. They were very busy, so I could have stolen the stiletto before they could cast a trap on it. Do you want me to give it back?”
“That weapon always brings me trouble, so you can keep it,” Luke states with a charming smile. He reaches out to touch Sari’s hand, but she quickly pulls away. �
�I’m really sorry about all of this, Sari.”
“Do I disgust you?” she bluntly asks. She smirks at the horrified expression on Luke’s face. “Does the very sight of me make you want to vomit or gouge out your eyes?”
“No!” he exclaims, earning the attention of a yawning, black-haired man. “You’re a beautiful and exciting woman, Sari. Any man who has you in his life should consider himself blessed by Cessia.”
“Why is the one man who is lucky enough to have me in his life treating me like I have face rot? Choose your words carefully, Luke,” Sari coldly warns him. She licks her lips and snatches Luke’s half-finished drink as soon as it hits the table.
Luke rests his elbows on the table and braces his forehead against his clasped hands as he thinks. He can feel Sari’s booted foot rhythmically tapping the underside of the table while she patiently waits for his answer. A waitress places a large plate of sauce-soaked ribs in front of Luke, causing Sari’s stomach to rumble like distant thunder. He pushes the food to the middle of the table, making sure to grab two big ribs before he lets go of the plate. Sari gleefully grabs a rib, ravenously biting into the meat and tearing it clean off the bone. Her hands and face are a mess by the time she finishes the first rib, but a mumbled spell cleans her off.
“It isn’t that I don’t want you in my life, Sari,” Luke begins, causing her to freeze with a rib pressed almost at her lips. He smiles when her tongue darts out to lick at the sauce. “I just don’t want to do anything that causes you to walk away. I mean, what happens if we fall in love or you fall in love with me, but I still love Kira?”
“What happens if we get drunk and you get me pregnant?”
“I don’t know.”
“What happens if you return to Kira and find that she has someone else?”
“I don’t know.”
“What if a horrible spell hits us and we’re permanently trapped in each other’s bodies?”
“Now, you’re being ridiculous.”
Sari flicks a bone at Luke, who catches it between two fingers and drops it on the plate. “I’m not being any more ridiculous than you. Anything can happen between now and forever, so there’s no reason to waste time worrying. I don’t understand why you’re unable to wrap your head around this, Luke. You act so brave when fighting, but you’re a coward when it comes to dealing with me. Is it really so hard to enjoy being with me until Kira claims you for good?” Sari pauses with a cruel smile on her face. “I think I get it now. You want both of us.”
“What if I do?” Luke defensively asks. “I like having you as a friend-”
“Stop with the friend talk,” Sari snaps as she kicks the table, knocking over her empty mug. “You’re trying to figure out a way to have me and Kira, you greedy bastard. I can’t say I entirely disapprove of your ambition, but you have to learn to share. Besides, do you even have the stamina to handle a gypsy and a Bor’darukian at the same time?”
“That isn’t even close to true and you know it,” Luke says, ignoring the attention they are attracting. “What about you, Sari? You act like you’re fine with having to walk away, but we both know you’re terrified of being alone. The idea that Nyx and I will leave you some day is the reason you sneak into one of our beds at night.”
“My entire clan was recently killed. Can you really blame me for not wanting to be alone?” Sari hisses, her hand grabbing the stiletto and slipping it back under her skirts. “At least it makes more sense than a cowardly boy who doesn’t trust his own heart. If you fell in love with Kira then there shouldn’t be any fear of me breaking that bond.”
Luke glares angrily and grabs a mug of ale off a passing tray, chugging it in one swift movement. “You’re a gypsy, Sari. You could easily seduce any person you wanted, especially one as confused as I am. If your natural charms failed then you could simply nail me with a love spell.”
“I would never do that!” the gypsy shouts, jumping to her feet. “I’m not some manipulative sex fiend.”
“Because that first kiss we shared was so innocent and tender. You nearly suffocated me since you wouldn’t let go,” Luke declares, rising to his feet. The tavern becomes quiet as the pair continue their fight, which many customers begin making bets on.
“I don’t remember you trying to push me away, hero,” Sari growls, jabbing a finger into Luke’s chest. “In fact, I distinctly remember you pulling me closer and holding on after the kiss. We agreed it was mutual lust, so stop trying to make me out to be a seductive tramp.”
“Well, maybe it was a mistake,” Luke angrily says. Barely holding back his temper, he gently slaps her hand away. “Maybe all of this was a big mistake.”
Sari’s face turns red with rage and she swiftly grabs the plate of ribs to hurl it at Luke’s head. The forest tracker ducks, letting the plate hit a drunk behind him, and he quickly grabs a half-finished mug of ale to throw at the gypsy. Sari dances away from the liquid, which splashes onto the floor in front of an approaching waitress, who slips and crashes to the floor. Oblivious to the yelp of surprise and pain, Sari rushes at Luke and tries to kick him in the side. He catches her leg and pushes her away, giving her enough momentum to spin around for another kick at his head. Instead of striking Luke, her foot smashes into the nose of a cheering drunk, who collapses between them. A wave of excitement ripples through the crowd, making Luke and Sari move closer to each other.
“Uh-oh,” Sari whispers.
“I think we went too far,” Luke says with a nervous laugh.
The tavern explodes into chaos as drunks beat each other with fists and furniture. The waitresses run to the kitchen where the dwarven cook is cheering and yelling through the order window. Luke and Sari try to stay near each other as the wild crowd swirls around them. They avoid getting involved in the giant brawl for a few seconds, but they are inevitably forced to defend themselves. A black-haired man in dark leather armor breaks out of the crowd and charges at Luke. Sari spins and ducks, avoiding a thrown chair and sweeping the man’s feet out from under him. Luke hits him in the forehead with an elbow strike, sending the crazed drunk toppling backwards.
“Thanks for the save,” Luke says. He picks up a chair and swings it over Sari’s head, shattering it against the chest of the half-orc trying to grab her.
“I forgot how much fun a bar brawl could be,” Sari laughs, jumping onto a table to punch someone in the face. “Things are getting a little tight over here. Either more people are piling into the tavern or they’re remembering we started this fight.”
“Why don’t they stay down?” Luke asks as he boxes the ears of an elf.
A halfling leaps off a table at him, but Luke catches him by the ankles and hurls him over the crowd. He watches the halfling awkwardly flip before disappearing into the crowd with a loud crash. Luke is sure the small brawler broke a table, but he is unable to check as two more drunks charge him. He leans back, nearly bending in half, to allow their punches to soar a few inches away from his body. Their fists meet with a dull impact and they curse in shocking pain. They stand in confused silence as Luke whips his body back up, driving his palms into their chins with enough force to knock them down.
“They’re acting rather rude, aren’t they?” Sari happily announces. Several drunks have cornered her on the table, swinging their arms in wild attempts to either hit her or grab her. The gypsy easily dances and flips around their attacks, her skirts making it hard for them to get a clear view of her legs. Occasionally, her feet lash out to strike one of her attackers in the head and send them to the floor.
Luke hits a mug-wielding elf maiden in the stomach before spinning around to backhand a half-orc across his pronounced jaw. He glances over his shoulder to see Sari hopping off the table. She is grabbed by a drunk, but is floored by a stiff kick to his groin. The crowd closes in as the other brawlers realize that Luke and Sari are the strongest fighters in the tavern. The pair are pressed back-to-back by the advancing mob, who pause to decide what to do with them. They hear slurred suggestions rangi
ng from feeding them to the krypters to stripping them naked and kicking them out on the street. One loud voice starts screaming for a beheading and cannibalism until a sudden crack cuts off his words.
“Hold on tight,” Sari whispers. She entwines her arms with Luke’s and grips his hands tightly. “Your shoulders are going to hurt.”
Two of the larger, meaner drunks approach the pair and forcefully grab them by their arms. Luke is easily lifted off the ground, but they are unable to detach him from Sari, whose body refuses to budge. The man holding her spends several minutes pulling at her shoulders, arms, and waist without making any progress. His friend drops Luke and walks around to help, each of them reaching under Sari’s skirt to grab a leg. Sari grins evilly as their faces turn red from exertion and the crowd stares at her in sobering confusion.
“I think they need help!” she yells while waving her arms. More men walk out of the crowd to grab her by the limbs and waist. Several minutes of grunting, cursing, and whimpering pass before a dwarf cries out in pain. He holds his back as he hobbles away, no longer able to stand straight.
“You can still move the guy!” shouts a voice from the crowd.
Luke nervously glances at Sari, who can only shrug and hold him tighter. A fresh group of burly men step out of the crowd to grab Luke with a lot less care than the ones who handled Sari. The half-elf takes a deep breath and grits his teeth before they violently pull, causing his shoulders to scream in pain. He kicks out at the men holding his legs, but the one pulling at his right arm hits him on the top of his head with a wooden mug. Luke fights the wave of dizziness coming over him and focuses on wiggling his legs free.
“I have an idea,” says a drunken woman, who is standing on a table. “You can hack his arms off at the shoulder and move him away from the girl.”
“Isn’t that extreme?” Sari asks, glaring at the laughing woman. Sari’s eyes bulge in fear when she sees a dwarf drunkenly stumble through the crowd with an axe in his hand.
Legends of Windemere: 03 - Family of the Tri-Rune Page 10