Charms of the Feykin

by Charles E Yallowitz

  Even though the room is located in the center of the temple, the walls and ceiling are transparent and show the outside world. Unlike the decorated throne rooms that the champions are used to, there is nothing on the walls to help maintain a sense of being inside. The illusion is enhanced when only a faint outline of the entrance remains after the doors close. Patches of dirt in the corners have given birth to slender trees where pink hummingbirds flit around the aromatic flowers. A chattering noise brings attention to a crimson monkey that is no bigger than a newborn kitten, but has a prehensile tail that runs to the floor. Far in the back of the room, a black and white tapir eats from a trough carved out of a hollowed log. The animal stays away from a set of rounded stairs that run toward a pair of thrones, the chairs created from entwined vines. Soft flowers are in place of the cushions, one set of dark green and the other a vibrant yellow.

  Standing in the middle of the room and flanked by gurgling pools of water, a table is covered with a map of the jungle. With his back to the door, Delvin has yet to realize his friends have arrived. The former Mercenary Prince is leaning forward while rubbing his chin, a spark of intense thought in his ice blue eyes. His brown hair is neater than usual, but a few small tufts remain sticking up in defiance. Instead of his chainmail, the champion is wearing the purple silk shirt and tailored pants that one would normally see on a relaxing noble. Delvin’s elegant bastard sword is propped against the table leg while his enchanted shield is upside down on the table and being used as a fruit bowl.

  “I think we have guests, Mr. Cunningham,” announces the same voice from the door. A ghostly figure appears behind the champions and walks to the warrior. “It is rather rude to ignore your friends. They’ve been worried about you and the Queen and I am sure they are tired from traveling. War plans can wait for a little while.”

  “Guess you’re right, Zohara,” Delvin replies while massaging his neck. Turning to face his friends, a smile gradually appears on his clean-shaven face. “I’ve been wondering when you five would get here. Guess you had a harder time in Stonehelm than we expected. Anyway, now you’re here to help stop the Order from wiping out the Feykin. I assume Frog told you about the situation. Wait a second. Why is it rude for me not to respond immediately, but you can stay invisible, Zohara? I think it’s only right that my friends see you.”

  The specter shimmers as it takes the form of a beautiful woman whose skin is as black as a moonless night. Her blonde hair reminds the champions of cascading light, the perfect tresses flowing down to her ankles. A simple gown of crimson satin covers her body, the garment held in place by two thin straps that blend into her flesh. Avoiding eye contact with her guests, the woman adjusts a golden necklace that holds a sapphire orb within its frame. Matching bracelets are on her wrists, the only differences being the one on the right has a yellow diamond and the other holds a piece of pure green jade. Running her fingers through her hair, Zohara creates a vine-like circlet around her head and turns it until a red rose bud is facing forward.

  “Welcome to Rhundar. I am the High Priestess of the Four Sisters and the Feykin’s spiritual defender,” the woman says with a low bow. The movement reveals that her gown has an open back, which exposes a pink scar along her spine. “Thank you for coming here. I hope you are willing to help us fight. At the very least, I ask that you let your friends continue their work since they’ve promised to lead us.”

  “I assure you that we are here to help,” Timoran states as he approaches Delvin. The barbarian extends his hand and relaxes when the other warrior happily accepts the offer. “It is good to see you again. We were very worried after Fizzle arrived in Stonehelm. He was barely alive.”

  “Zohara sent people to find him, but the Order got in the way,” Delvin explains, his eyes falling to the bone ring on his friend’s finger. Deciding not to ask, he walks around Timoran and greets the others. “Sorry for not contacting all of you. We tried, but there was a lot of magic being thrown around your area at the time. Our messages were sent in random directions. Zohara said there was a caster duel going on.”

  “That would probably have been me defeating Trinity. For good,” Nyx replies with a wide grin. Her happiness deflates when Delvin shakes her hand and walks back to the table. “She’s still alive, but no longer working with the Baron. So where’s Sari? Or should I call her your Queen and . . . wife?”

  The brown-haired warrior laughs and takes a seat on the table, a genuine smile on his face for the first time since their reunion. “Sari is the Queen and I’m the King, but there’s nothing romantic about it. The Feykin didn’t know what else to call us even though I suggested we both be called Generals. That reminds me, Zohara. Where is my fellow leader? Is she off with her new toy causing trouble or is she going to actually help me?”

  “Frog went to bring her. I believe she is in her room,” the priestess reports, joining Delvin at the table. Her hand slips into his and she leans her head on his shoulder, which earns a short-lived glare from Nyx. “The truth is that Delvin and I are engaged to be married. We fell in love the moment we saw each other. Our powers are beautifully compatible as are our personalities, which means we will be perfect rulers for the Feykin. I’ve never been so happy in my life. Part of me wants to thank all of you for sending him to me.”

  “You’re welcome,” Dariana replies, unsure of what else to say. Sensing anger and sorrow from Nyx, she moves to put an arm around the channeler’s shoulder. “Well, Timoran is married and the new King of the Snow Tiger Tribe. His wife is an amazing woman that you really should meet, Delvin.”

  “Then congratulations, Sir . . . I mean, King Wrath,” the other warrior declares with a quick bow. He takes an apple out of his shield and tosses it to Fizzle before claiming a pear. “Too bad you didn’t bring any of your people along. A pack of barbarians would make this whole thing a lot easier. I’m trying to find a way to end this war in one battle, but the Order is scattered and their main city is well protected. We’d lose too many since most of the Feykin aren’t real warriors. They’re hunters, but that requires different tactics than one uses in a war. You’re oddly quiet, Callindor.”

  Luke is startled out of his trance and yawns, his hand cautiously running along his scar as if it will open again. “Sorry about that. I must be more exhausted than the others. The temple you were attacked in had a connection to the Chaoswind weapons, so my old wound reacted. Frog and Plume saved my life, but the stress seems to have taken its toll. Guess I don’t bounce back from nearly dying as quickly as I used to.”

  “Then maybe you should let it stick,” a familiar voice states from the entrance.

  Wearing a red and yellow layered skirt and a blue top of expensive silk, Sari proudly walks into the central hall. A crown of ice is on her head, the accessory blending into her sapphire hair, which rolls down to her waist. Every barefoot step creates the faint jingle of bells, the simple instruments tied to her ankles. A trail of frost is in her wake, the path sprouting tiny flowers that Zohara erases with a muttered spell. The gypsy smiles at all of her friends, except for Luke who receives a stare that one typically reserves for their most hated enemy. Sari takes her time giving hugs to the others and lingers on Nyx, her lips planting a delicate kiss on the half-elf’s neck. The touch delivers a wave of calm that the channeler subtly shakes off before it can take a firm hold of her emotions.

  “I’m sorry about that, Nyxie,” the gypsy whispers, nudging her head toward Delvin and Zohara. She eases her hold on the channeler and blindly snaps her fingers at the entrance to close the doors. “If you need to talk then come to my room. Just knock beforehand because Phelan and I might be busy with our own planning. That can be meant in any way since he’s both my royal advisor and beloved consort. He’d be more than that, but it seemed tacky to get engaged after Cunningham announced his own rushed nuptials. Sorry about that. Didn’t mean to bring up the sore subject.”

  “I’m . . . Congratulations, little sister,” Nyx says, her words devoid of emotion. The other
s seem far away and the young woman can only feel a blossoming numbness that emanates from her chest. “Where’s your new boyfriend?”

  “He was right behind me, but we’ve had a busy morning. It’s also possible that he wants to avoid a certain heartless jackass,” Sari answers, spinning on her toes to check the room. Handing Nyx to Dariana, the gypsy skips over to the table and freezes the map until the parchment shatters. “Still looking over your pictures instead of taking action? I’d like to point out that my followers have eliminated fifty cultists in the last twenty-four hours. The only thing your people have done is make weapons and eat more food than they deserve. How about you stand down from your title and settle for being a pretty face, Cunningham?”

  “If it wasn’t for me, your very small collection of goons would have eaten all of our supplies. As it is, we’re running out of food and you keep using our best hunters for pointless scouting missions,” Delvin argues, moving the fruit away from the gypsy. The tension in the room rises and the other champions worry that their friends are about to come to blows. “We shouldn’t be pushing for a long campaign. One strike with all of our forces can turn the Order into nothing more than scattered bands of zealots. You’re pushing for a genocide just like our enemies, which is a dangerous line to cross. How about you stop acting like you know how to wage a war and go back to bed with your new toy?”

  “At least I didn’t sleep my way to leadership.”

  “I was appointed before Zohara and I got engaged.”

  “That doesn’t mean you weren’t having sex beforehand.”

  “How many men did you go through before you settled on Phelan?”

  “As if anyone could be considered settling after wasting time with the disaster known as Luke Callindor. A zombie would be a step up from him.”

  The hummingbirds zip through a hole in the invisible ceiling as the room heats up enough to wilt every plant. Tendrils of fire whip around Nyx as acidic tears roll down her face, the drops burning holes in the stone floor. Dariana tries to stay close and calm the half-elf, but she is eventually driven away by the intense flames. As the channeler’s temper grows, thunder shakes the building with enough force to move the table several inches. When Sari rolls her eyes at the display, Nyx unleashes a wordless scream and absorbs all of her looming spells before she loses control. The kneejerk reaction makes her queasy and she crumples toward the floor, only to be caught by Delvin. She immediately shoves him away and accepts Timoran’s arm until she can stand on her own.

  “We’ve been worried about you two all this time,” Nyx says, her eyes filled with tears that spark with lightning. The sight of Sari chuckling causes her to flick a dart of air that impales the table between the gypsy’s fingers. “Keep pushing my buttons, little sister, and I’ll feed you that crown. We came here as quickly as we could. Timoran left a lot of unfinished business behind since we thought you two were captured or dead. Now we find you ruling the Feykin, engaged, and fighting with each other. I don’t know about anyone else, but I can’t take this. Not after being worried for so long. Both of you can stay away from me until you either grow up or are ready to go for the temple. Just leave me alone.”

  Delvin pats Zohara on the shoulder before gingerly approaching the crying channeler. “Can you get rooms ready for our friends? Give Luke an actual room and not a spot that you wouldn’t put a cockroach in, Sari. Nyx and I need to have a private conversation.”

  *****

  The two champions are quiet as they walk through the streets in search of a secluded place to talk. Without going into details, Delvin has claimed that the central temple is not safe because of the threat of spying spells and the curious workers. For a brief moment, Nyx hopes he is going to reveal that he is pretending to be in love with Zohara and there is more to the situation than she realizes. Yet he refuses to take her hand or make eye contact, which makes the long walk more disheartening and gut-wrenching. Coming to the edge of the city, they take a seat on a slick rock and watch a pair of large, black birds hunt for lizards across the river. Their crimson crests and wide feet with razor-like talons remind Delvin of a monster he once fought in Bor’daruk. He considers bringing the subject up, but the forlorn expression on Nyx’s face causes him to hold his tongue.

  “I can’t disagree with you,” the warrior states after the silence has gone on for too long. He pats her hand, yanking his fingers away when she tries to return the gesture. “Sari and I have differing opinions on how to handle our enemies. Typically, we get along and our debates don’t get so heated. I think she’s upset that Luke is here since she’s creating a new life and moving on from him. What I’m saying is that you didn’t catch us at our best. Guessing Zohara’s announcement didn’t help.”

  “Are you staying in Rhundar when you get married?” Nyx asks, wincing at having uttered the wrong question. Her hand reaches for her amethyst necklace and she shudders when her knuckles rub against the faded tattoo. “If you are then I think you should give me the Compass Key. We’ll need it for Dariana’s temple and the gods only know what else.”

  “You’ll need me too,” the warrior replies while taking the relic out of his pocket. He turns it in his hands, but makes no move to hand it over. “Even if I’m married, I’ll continue traveling with you. It’s been made clear that all of us are needed to defeat the Baron. Still, I do understand that you want someone else to hold onto it. My situation makes me unreliable.”

  Delvin is surprised when the six orbs spin around the central pearl and the artifact floats out of his hands. The matching tattoo on Nyx’s skin becomes clearer as the real Compass Key gets closer, a few blurs of energy passing between them. She gasps when the enchanted markings are torn from her chest, a crimson circle left behind by the harsh removal. With a loud sucking sound, the relic reclaims its stolen energy and falls into the channeler’s lap. Gently touching her raw skin, Nyx can feel tiny pinpricks of blood seep through her damaged flesh. Reaching into her pouch, the half-elf gets a handkerchief that she presses to the tiny wounds and winces at the roughness of the silk.

  “At least it didn’t fuse to my chest,” Nyx replies with a half-hearted smile. She checks the cloth and sighs at the sight of crimson splotches. “So . . . I don’t know how to ask this question nicely, so I’ll be blunt. Did you really love me or was it just a passing fancy? I mean, I understand if you love Zohara now, but I want to know what happened. It just feels like everything changed without an explanation.”

  “I’m surprised you haven’t figured it out,” Delvin says as he stands and stretches his sore legs. The warrior picks up some stones to casually skip across the river, making sure to aim away from the territorial birds. “You never gave me a clear answer and Zohara was honest with me. It did take me a few days to believe I wasn’t using her as a substitute for you. After that, the emotions grew stronger and I proposed. Things did move quicker than expected, so I can see how you’re having trouble with this. Guess you can’t play your games any more. If there was any real emotions on your part then you simply waited too long and have to accept that you made a mistake.”

  The temptation to strike the smug warrior surges through Nyx’s mind, but the fact that he is right causes her to hang her head in guilt. “You didn’t answer my question. Did you really love me or was it nothing more than flirting? Maybe you were only interested in me because of my aura. After all, I’m a channeler and my kind attract other powerful beings without realizing it. I assume a fount would count. Being away from me for so long undid the effect. Then again, the problem is that after thinking for a while, I realize that I-”

  “Don’t say it!” Delvin snaps, cutting off his companion’s words. Hurling the last of the rocks across the water, he watches the predatory birds charge into the jungle. “Get over me and accept that it’s over. Not that it ever really began. I have to wonder if you’re doing this on purpose, Nyx. Yes, I believe I loved you, but you never returned the feelings. Now that I’ve moved on, you want to continue the games. That isn’t fa
ir to me or Zohara.”

  “And this happening to me is fair?”

  “Then you should have said those words earlier. Now you don’t have the right to say them.”

  “I was going to, but Stephen damaged my throat.”

  “Of course you blame him.”

  Unable to stop her temper, Nyx throws a punch at Delvin’s face. His shield rises at the last moment and her fingers break against the solid metal. With an array of curses and a wounded expression on her face, Nyx backs away to nurse her shattered bones. She is about to cast a spell when Delvin places a healing potion on the ground and backs away. There is a glint of shame and sadness in his eyes that helps to ease her anguish, but part of her is still screaming to lash out again. The doubt and condescension in his voice rings in Nyx’s ears, which prevents her from calming down entirely.

  “I’m really sorry about that even though it was your own fault,” Delvin states, remaining beyond the channeler’s reach. He waits for her to finish the potion and easily catches the glass bottle that is tossed at his chest. “To be honest, I didn’t want you here. Not so much for my own feelings, but I worried that you’d have trouble coping with the changes. I’ve known the truth for a while and was waiting for you to be honest. Now look where we are. This mess is why the message we tried to send asked that you and Luke go directly to the top of Binhadar Falls. Sari and I knew you two being in Rhundar would be a distraction. She suggested telling you to stay in Stonehelm, but we need you guys to help with my temple. Anyway, that should clear the air and give you the explanation that you wanted. I’m going back to my fiancée to continue planning this war. Maybe I’ll see you at dinner.”

  With his hands in his pockets, Delvin walks back into the city and leaves Nyx at the river’s edge. He stops for a moment, his eyes scanning the surrounding area in search of something that is out of place. Unable to find the source of his sudden unease, the warrior continues on his way and never looks back. Once he is gone, Timoran and Fizzle slip out from behind a building and hurry to check on their sniffling friend. They are surprised to find her wearing the Soothing Hands, but the enchanted gloves are not reacting to her thoughts. All they do is throb and sputter, creating nothing more than illusionary blobs of light. It is as if she has nothing for the artifact to work off of, which causes her to throw them to the ground. With a friendly chirp, Fizzle swoops down to gather the gloves and drops them at Nyx’s feet.