“I guess I’ve nothing else to say to you. You obviously have a greater grasp on living than I did at your age.”
“The life of a caster is different than the life of a warrior.”
“Not every warrior began life as one,” the mercenary quietly mentions, moving her hand through the air as if casting a spell. Nyx recognizes the graceful motions as a complicated light spell, but nothing happens. She can see a look of sadness and loss spread over Tzefira’s face.
“You were a caster?” Nyx gingerly asks.
“It must have been about fifty years ago that I was still able to cast magic,” Tzefira answers with a small, lukewarm smile. “I wasn’t as strong as you, but I had enough power to hold my own. It took over sixty years of training to reach that level of skill. In my youth, I had to get my eyes treated by healers fifteen times a year because I was reading spellbooks in bad lighting. It’s funny how it takes a lifetime to perfect a skill, but you can lose that in a heartbeat.”
Nyx ignores the warning in her head and inquires, “What happened?”
“I failed and I lost my magic. It’s as simple as that,” Tzefira replies in a tone that tells Nyx not to pry any further. “The details don’t really matter. I entered a fight I couldn’t win and it cost me my beauty, my magic, and . . . other things.”
“I’m sorry.”
“You have nothing to be sorry for, Nyx.”
The half-elf is about to say something when a gasping mercenary barges into the tent. She can hear the healers half-heartedly warning the warrior about the healing steam, but they give up when the tent flap closes. She can see their silhouettes shrug nonchalantly before going back to their posts.
“We have a problem, commander,” the mercenary declares before the steam hits him in the face. He sways on his feet, shaking his head clear. “The krypters have been seen in the forest.”
“That isn’t anything new, Marcus,” Tzefira states, sitting up and covering herself with the sheet. “Put that lid on the pot, so we can focus.”
“Yes, commander,” the mercenary says with a salute. He struggles to lift the heavy lid and slide it onto the pot. “The krypters are different than before. They can change shape now. One of our scouting parties was killed by a group of krypters disguised as a flock of ducks. We no longer have any way to track them or prepare for their ambushes. Most of the men are refusing to go into the forest and wish to focus on the thieves instead. They’re scared, commander, and I can’t blame them.”
“What does Conrad have to say about this?” Tzefira asks. She waits for the mercenary to turn away before angrily glaring at Nyx.
“He’s attempting to recruit a following to lead a revolt,” Marcus nervously answers. “Beyond that, he feels it’s in our best interest to remain in the camp and decide on if we wish to remain in Hero’s Gate. He believes the risks now outweigh our payment.”
“That isn’t something I wanted to hear,” Nyx interrupts from her cot. “I hope you aren’t surprised, Tzefira. He has a perfect opportunity with you injured and the men scared out of their wits.”
“I’m more disappointed than surprised,” Tzefira states, her growing frustration pushing away any calmness left by the steam. “I hate to admit that he has a point. We’re going to have to reevaluate our tactics and purpose. The goblins have been taken care of and the thieves have become less of a problem. I haven’t heard about Sari’s progress with them, but they’re certainly quieter since she infiltrated the guild. Do you think you could make it to the city and check on her, Nyx?”
“Give me a few hours of rest and I can do it. I don’t want to wander too far away from the healers until my stomach settles,” she replies, massaging her aching belly. “I probably won’t be able to find her, but I’ll see if I can get her a message.”
Tzefira gets to her feet and leans against one of the tent poles. “You might be able to get some hints about her activities from Timoran and the guards. Now, I have to handle this krypter problem. We might have to attack them during their night appearances, which isn’t ideal. If they can take the form of ducks then I wouldn’t be surprised if they can turn into bats or something that blends into the darkness. I’m surprised they haven’t tried flying into Hero’s Gate already, but they’ve never made a serious attempt at invading.”
“They’re scared of the Flooding Falls,” Nyx casually says.
“I never considered that,” Tzefira whispers, nodding to the half-elf. “Maybe we can use that if things get desperate.”
“One of the scouts has a suggestion,” Marcus mentions with a crooked grin. “It’s not a traditional idea, but he says it will keep the rest of us safe. He’s quite adamant about his plan working.”
“One of the scouts has a suggestion,” Tzefira repeats. She looks at Nyx, who rolls her eyes in agreement. “I’m sure this scout has a perfect plan that he swears would be easy to put into action as long as we let him do it his way. I’m also guessing this is a plan that requires he go into the forest alone.”
“Not exactly,” Marcus insists, looking from his leader to Nyx and back again. “He just won’t need any of us.”
“What exactly does this scout have in mind?” the mercenary leader asks, her voice full of caution and curiosity.
“Dammit, Luke,” Nyx mumbles, covering her face with her pillow.
*****
Luke carefully makes his way through the forest, his sound sight picking up every noise louder than a falling leaf. He looks up to see a dryad lean out of a tree trunk and point to the east. The forest tracker nods and waves back to the pack of goblin warriors following him. All of them are armed with simple spears and their red skin is protected by crude animal hide armor. They do not look very threatening, but Luke has already seen them take down a krypter disguised as an elk. He gladly admits it was impressive the way they swarmed over the monster before it could react. The only injury his forces sustained during the encounter is a single broken horn, which is a sign of courage and prowess among the goblins. Ever since then, the goblin with the broken horn has marched at the head of the pack and occasionally scurries over to Luke to discuss hunting tactics.
“So, big people no swarm?” the goblin asks for the tenth time in an hour.
“Not exactly, but I guess some large armies fight that way,” Luke answers, having given up trying to explain the details of human combat tactics. “We use a tactic called divide and conquer where we get an enemy force to split into smaller packs. Then we surround and destroy the smaller groups. Do you have any non-combat questions?”
“No,” the goblin proudly admits.
“Of course,” Luke mutters, putting his finger to his lips. The goblin feels around his own mouth with his fingers. “The signal I just used means we have to be quiet now.”
“Oh . . . sorry,” the goblin sheepishly whispers before going back to the pack.
Luke pushes the small pang of guilt out of his mind and refocuses his attention on his surroundings. A large heron flies above the small group, causing the goblins to raise their spears in preparation for a battle. Luke makes an ‘X’ with his arms before the goblins can do anything and they slowly put their weapons down. They are still confused on how Luke is able to tell the difference between a real animal and a disguised krypter, which puts them on edge. Several times, he has tried to explain that the krypters lack heartbeats and he can sense a void in the creatures, but he is not sure they understand him.
“Excuse me,” whispers a beautiful dryad, stepping out of the tree behind Luke. “I have found something strange in the east. Do you want me to lead you there?”
“What did you find?” Luke asks as the dryad reaches out to caress his cheek. He can feel a wave of calming pleasure ripple through his body. “What are you doing?”
“Sorry,” the dryad apologizes, swiftly taking her hand away. “You are very attractive and would make me a strong clutch of children. My people find forest trackers very appealing, but they have become so rare. We must settle for farmers
and the occasional knight. If you are willing to give me some of your seed, I would be very grateful.”
“I’ll think about it,” Luke awkwardly says, noticing that the goblins are staring at him. “Can you tell me what you saw to the east?”
“Your face has changed color,” the dryad mentions in amusement. “Is this what your people call embarrassment?”
“Well, you did just publically ask to have sex with me,” Luke says, silently wishing the dryad would drop the subject.
“Sex?” the dryad repeats as if the word is unknown to her. A sudden look of realization appears on her face and she smiles coyly at the half-elf. “You misunderstand me. What you call sex is for entertainment or to pass the time for my people. For you to mate with me, you need only give me permission to take some of your aura through a kiss. You common folk always jump to the wrong conclusions when it comes to magic folk. Though, I am pleased that you thought I was worthy enough to entertain you.”
“Well, if it’s just a kiss then you have my permission once we finish this hunt,” Luke assures the giddy dryad. The leaf-covered fairy jumps up and down in joy until Luke places a gentle hand on her shoulder. “Now, please tell me what you saw to the east.”
“There are a herd of dread boars,” the dryad reports with a big, beaming smile. “I counted ten of them, but they are not acting like themselves. They are standing still and snorting to each other instead of butting heads. Also, there are only five dread boars who live outside of the swamp and they are preparing to hibernate in the western thickets.”
“That sounds like the krypters,” Luke says with a worried sigh. “I’m not sure we can go up against them if they’re disguised as dread boars. I’ve only tangled with one of those beasts and I had my grandfather with me. The thing nearly gored me within the first minute because I didn’t expect it to be so fast and aggressive.”
“We no like dread boars,” one of the goblins announces. “They crush us.”
Luke turns to the goblins and sees fear in their crimson eyes. “Follow me to the dread boars and take to the trees before they see you. I’ll find a way to get them to change back into krypters and then you can swarm them. I’m sure if the krypters think their new form is useless, they’ll change back.”
“I know what could work,” the dryad whispers, wrapping her arms around Luke’s neck and smelling his hair. “Dread boars are powerful and fast on the ground, yet they fear predators of the sky. You possess the spirit of a griffin, which is stronger and faster than them. Let her guide you to victory. Can I have my kiss now, in case you die?”
“I won’t die,” Luke bravely states. “Please show us where the dread boars are.”
The dryad pouts and releases Luke before stepping into a nearby tree. He watches her pass through the trunk like a specter, a trail of brown mist beckoning him to follow. The goblins mutter to themselves as they follow Luke. He looks back to shush them, but their instinctive fear prevents them from obeying. He can already hear Tzefira telling him that working with the goblins was a bad idea, pointing at this incident as proof. Luke ignores the goblins and his own worried thoughts when he realizes they are walking toward Hero’s Gate. Their path is a slow, wide circle that crosses over itself after twenty minutes. The dryad stops and beckons for Luke to join her at the edge of a clearing while the goblins silently clamber into the branches.
Luke peers into the clearing to see ten powerful dread boars milling about a few yards in front of him. Most of the fallen trees have been trampled under their large, metallic hooves and a few of the gigantic beasts have bits of tree trunk impaled on their gnarled, crimson tusks. Their dark amber fur is matted and caked with dried mud, which flakes off when they brush against each other. A ridge of coarse, black hair runs along their backs with several dread boars missing tufts. Being so close to the giant beasts, Luke vividly remembers how quickly they can thrash their head and break into a thundering charge. The confined space could work in his favor, but he is sure the krypters will have no qualms about knocking over more trees to get at him. A loud roaring squeal erupts from the biggest of the dread boars, causing Luke to smirk because the sound is nothing like that of a real dread boar. He touches the dryad’s cool arm and gently pulls her back into the trees, so they can talk comfortably.
“I need a place to transform and get airborne,” Luke whispers into her curved ear. “It’s too tight here and I don’t have a clear path to the sky.”
“I can ask the trees to give you room,” the dryad says.
The slender fairy steps over to an old oak and casually leans against its rough bark. She runs her hands along the tree while whispering in a soft, musical language. Luke tries to pretend like he is not paying attention while his Uli-given gift of translation deciphers the strange language. He can hear the dryad make a deal with the tree about gifting it and its family with some of her children. Luke is still trying to figure out what she is talking about when the surrounding trees slowly bend away from each other. They make a large gap that Luke can easily fly through in his griffin form.
“The trees have agreed to help,” the dryad declares. “They have also agreed to house our children and become spirit trees.”
“Our children?” Luke nervously asks. “I’m not going to ask about this any more. Though, I will pray to Uli that Kira doesn’t get mad.”
The dryad looks at him curiously. “What is a Kira?”
“It’s too complicated to get into right now. Excuse me,” Luke replies, stepping away from the dryad.
The transformation is slower than normal because the griffin and Luke try to remain quiet. Feathers sprout from his head like blooming flowers and his body covers itself in warm fur. Luke can feel the wings grow from his back, but they stay close to his sides instead of stretching to their full length. When the transformation is complete, Luke balances on his haunches and hungrily eyes the open sky. Taking a final glance at the oblivious dread boars, Luke darts into the sky and circles the area. He can feel the griffin revel in the strong winds as it climbs high above the forest.
“This will be more difficult than flying and diving,” the griffin warns Luke in their shared mind. “I want you to do a constant spin while diving at full speed. You need to time your leveling perfectly or you will crash into the ground. Keep doing that and you will be able to kill them while remaining safe. Just be careful because you will have to hit their flanks and escape before they have time to react to your presence.”
Luke squawks his understanding and makes a small loop, breaking into a high-speed dive. He holds his wings and feet tight against his body as he starts to spin. He can barely see the dread boars when he hits his top speed, so he uses his sound sight to pinpoint the ten voids. As he nears the trees, Luke realizes that he is going to miss the clearing entirely and makes a sharp turn. He slams into the side of the nearest dread boar and pushes it across the clearing, scattering the others. The spinning force drives his beak deep into the beast’s skin where he hooks one of its thick ribs. Before the other dread boars can charge, Luke snaps the rib and soars back into the sky.
“That was too close,” the griffin says as they circle back around. “Do not worry about breaking bones. Aim closer to the rump, so you hit the entrails. If those other boars ground you, they will kill you within seconds.”
Luke dives again and strikes another boar from above, the impact snapping the powerful beast’s spine. The creature screams in rage and thrashes about as if its backbone was still in one piece. As Luke repeatedly spiral dives into the clearing and damages the dread boars, he realizes that they are barely reacting to their injuries. They cry out in pain, but nothing he does seems to slow them down. Hovering above the bucking dread boars, he can see the dryad lurking at the edge of the clearing and the goblins cowering in the treetops.
“This is not working,” the griffin declares in frustration. “If they have maintained their undead resistance to injury then maybe they are still weak against whatever it is your swords have recently d
one. This means my presence is no longer necessary. We should make a final, head-on attack to make space and then change back.”
With a roaring screech, Luke whirls around in the air and makes a powerful spiral dive at the biggest dread boar. He strikes it between the eyes, his beak shattering the beast’s dense skull and puncturing its brain. The lumbering boar topples over as Luke transforms and draws his sabers. With a cocky smile, he stabs the downed beast in the neck, expecting the disguised krypter to explode or melt. Instead, the dread boar’s eyes open wide and it rises to its feet. The dread boar violently thrashes its head as Luke holds onto his saber for dear life, praying to Uli and Gabriel for the mysterious energy in the blade to awaken. He plants his feet on the ground and leaps over the dread boar, his saber cutting through its flesh and bone. The beast drops to the ground and turns back into a krypter with its head barely attached by the throat.
“Run!” screams the goblins when they realize Luke is in trouble. He can hear the terrified creatures drop from the trees and flee into the distance.
“I can’t really blame them for that,” Luke mutters as he backs away from the snorting dread boars. Their eyes are locked on his sabers, but they become braver with every step they take toward Luke.
One of the dread boars rears back to slam its front hooves on the ground and charge. Luke leaps onto its head and is about to stab the beast through the eye when another dread boar rams them. He jumps onto the new attacker, immediately flipping off and landing sabers-first on one of the more docile beasts. It screams and rolls as Luke scrambles onto its side, barely avoiding being crushed. Several of the dread boars charge with their heads thrashing, but they only shred their fallen friend as Luke jumps out of their way. He hops and flips from one rampaging beast to another until he is on the other side of the clearing. All of the dread boars turn to face him, their hooves tear grooves into the ground.
Legends of Windemere: 03 - Family of the Tri-Rune Page 24