“He’s right,” the young woman says in a strained voice. Taking several deep breaths, she tries her best to hold off the sobbing. “I should have been honest before we parted ways. Even if I wasn’t sure, I could have said something. This mess all my fault and I feel like an idiot for worrying so much. Now I wonder why I came rushing here so quickly when I never gave him a reason to think I cared for him beyond friendship. Even our one kiss was done out of survival instead of love.”
“You were concerned about a loved one, fire sprite,” Timoran bluntly states, offering his friend a chunk of berry-filled bread. He tousles her hair when she accepts the food, the contact bringing a vague smile to the half-elf’s face. “Besides, something is very wrong here. Our friends are not acting like themselves and they are not trying to hide the changes. This encounter, which I apologize for eavesdropping on, helps prove a theory that Fizzle and I were discussing. Even if Delvin was able to shrug off his feelings for you, he is not the type of man to be so cruel. I saw firsthand what Stephen’s cursed weapon did to him and it had everything to do with you. He was murderously protective and impossible to reason with. Emotions that deep cannot be erased so easily without the aid of magic.”
“Fizzle agree,” the drite whispers from his perch. Eyes narrowed to slits, he keeps his eyes on the distance and stands guard over what he believes is a secret conversation. “Not sure what wrong. No spell on friends. Maybe fake friends?”
“A doppelganger or shape-shifter would have a habit of slipping.”
“Fizzle think brain spell.”
“I asked Dariana to search for that, but she had something else to check.”
“Could Delvin and sari be ghost toys?”
“Good point, my friend. I did not consider possession.”
Nyx wipes the tears from her face, taking strength from her companion’s words. “Thanks for helping me clear my head. I’ve been so focused on confessing to Delvin that his engagement made me miss things. You’re right that he was too cruel and a little evasive. Almost like he didn’t want our conversation to go for very long. Felt like he didn’t want me to try and talk about this later either. I can think of so many scenarios from doppelgangers to mind control. Not to mention that these Feykin could have powers that I’ve never heard of. We don’t have a way to find the truth without causing trouble. This is going to hurt, but I’ll play the role of wounded woman for now. If there’s manipulation going on then we need to make the ones behind it think they have us fooled. Personally, I’m betting on Zohara since she’s got her hooks into Delvin.”
“Is that not too obvious?” Timoran asks, shying away when he receives a fire-edged stare. “I only mean that you should not pick one target. It could blind you to the truth.”
“I can still dream of what I’d do to her if she’s the one behind this,” the channeler argues with a lick of her lips.
Nyx moves to rub her amethyst necklace when her hand grazes the moist blood covering her chest. Eyes wide, she remembers that the Compass Key had been in her lap and she searches the area for the relic. Finding it on the ground, she relaxes and turns the colorful object over in her hands. Nyx gazes into the amber orb, which is connected to Delvin and she is surprised to see a coil of darkness in its core. Checking Sari’s sapphire, she barely sees the same infection within the darker facets. The other orbs are flawless, but she can see several black lines running along the metal and into the central pearl. Running a finger around the setting, the channeler feels a tremor from whatever magic is attacking the artifact.
“Agents of the Baron can’t see the Compass Key,” Nyx whispers while putting the chain around her neck. Adjusting the piece of jewelry, she makes sure it dangles in the middle of her chest and catches the light. “I’ll give this back to you when we’re done here, big brother. For now, I want to do a little fishing. Where’s Luke?”
“Come to think of it, he vanished soon after you and Delvin left,” Timoran answers as he enjoys the wicked smile on his friend’s face. “I hope he is okay. Then again, it is Luke we are talking about. I am sure he has already found some trouble.”
*****
The base of Binhadar Falls is covered in mist and the pounding water makes it impossible for Luke to use his sound sight. Sitting on the edge of the pool, he closes his eyes and lets the noisy surroundings envelope all of his senses. Concealed within the cloud, the forest tracker enjoys his isolation and falls into a gentle meditation. Luke holds off a deep trance and drifts within his mind to find that the various animal spirits are sharing in his exhaustion. Scratching Stiletto between the ears, he examines the dog and is concerned to see that his old friend’s fur is getting ratty. Moving among the others, he finds that Lucy and Pike are in similar conditions, their natural glow reduced to a mild shimmer. Each one has the remnant of a wound that mirrors the one on his torso and he wonders if the only reason he survived the trauma is due to having the others in his body. Their fatigue is so pronounced that he can smell smoke and hear the creaking of a being that he has managed to keep locked away since it was incapacitated by Dariana. Hoping the other spirits can recover quickly and hold the real monster at bay, Luke rises back to his psyche’s surface and opens his eyes.
It is an unnatural plop in the basin that causes the warrior to draw his blades and roll to his side. Hampered by the mist, he barely sees a pair of long, curved daggers clang off the stone and send sparks into the air. It takes a second for the half-elf to realize that the mysterious attacker is running on the water, their feet making faint splashes that stand out against the waterfall. Using Stiletto’s sense of smell, Luke is able to track his unseen opponent and backflips when the person tries to stab him from behind. Stumbling along the slick rocks, the forest tracker considers the possibility that he is fighting Sari and focuses on deflecting the daggers that flick out of the cloud. One of the weapons cuts his arm, which goes numb from a poison that is swiftly purged from his body thanks to the snake fiend’s natural defenses. With the toxic liquid gathered in his mouth, Luke waits for his enemy to come at him from behind again. Spinning to the side, he releases the poison as a wide spray and paralyzes a blue-haired Feykin.
“Going to guess that you’re Phelan,” Luke mutters, smacking the daggers out of the young man’s hands. The warrior is knocked away by a fist of water that erupts from behind the falls, his fatigue making it difficult to stand again. “Part naiad, huh? Now I’m going to negate the poison I hit you with and we’re going to talk. Otherwise, I might do something I’ll regret.”
“What kind of champion makes threats?” asks the slender Feykin through clenched teeth. A dome of water appears around his barely clothed body, preventing the forest tracker from getting close. “I don’t need your help. My mother was a river nymph, not a naiad. We might not be as strong and versatile as an ocean fae, but we have our tricks. I’ll get this poison out of my system within a few minutes. Then we’ll fight some more.”
“That’s not recommended,” the half-elf growls, his exhaustion weakening his defenses. For a second, his eyes resemble those of a reptile and a red glow can be seen in the back of his throat when he talks. “I’ve been through a lot, which is causing a small problem. One that I really hoped would never appear again. So it’s safer that we talk. I’ll even put my sabers away to prove I don’t want to fight.”
Luke’s hands shake and he swears he is sprouting metallic claws while he puts his blades in their scabbards. The water dome dissolves and Phelan is able to move his stiff limbs, a pair of water daggers materializing in his hands. Both men show signs of a looming bloodlust, but it is the Feykin’s determination that buckles first. No longer maintaining their existence, his weapons splash to the ground and he shows his palms to the half-elf. There is still a pulse of hatred emanating from Phelan’s chestnut-colored eyes and his muscles are tensed in preparation for battle. A rumbling snarl from Luke shakes the ground, the noise slowly turning into a more human sound.
“It’s a good thing Sari despises you. I
can smell the unnatural scent seeping out of your pores,” Phelan says while keeping his distance. A wave of his hand causes the fog to envelope the two men and hide the confrontation from prying eyes. “She knows you used her to stave off loneliness. Just a cute, injured woman that you could use and cast away once things got too heated or you no longer needed her. I’m surprised she didn’t try to kill you on sight, but maybe that’s because she wants you to suffer.”
“I admit I hurt Sari, but your reasoning isn’t even close to the truth,” Luke replies as he grips his sabers’ hilts. Running his thumb around the pommels, the champion licks his lips like a hungry predator. “No matter what is going on between Sari and myself, it’s none of your business. I wouldn’t be surprised if she’s using you to keep her company. As you know, Sari has nightmares when she sleeps alone. Then again, you do seem very protective of her. No rational thought or even an attempt to be nice. I’m going to assume she hit you with a charm spell, which makes sense for the strange version of her I saw a little while ago. You’re nothing more than a naïve replacement.”
“Watch your mouth, bastard.”
“I don’t behave for errand boys. Sari can face me herself if she has something to say. Not like she had a problem hurling insults earlier.”
“She doesn’t know I’m here.”
“Then leave and we’ll pretend it never happened.”
Phelan revives his daggers and acts like he is about to leave, but sprints at Luke when the half-elf starts to turn away. The champion leans out of reach, watching the weapons blur a few inches in front of his face. With a surprisingly powerful kick to the chest, the half-elf sends Phelan slamming against a nearby building. The Feykin stands his ground as the forest tracker approaches with drawn blades, the warrior hacking up flecks of heated metal. A few feet away from his opponent, a burst of agony sends Luke to his knees. He can feel the spirits raging within his body and mind, both of which are at the breaking point. Dropping his sabers, the champion is defenseless as the Feykin lifts his head and puts a dagger to his throat.
The loud smack of an open hand against the back of Phelan’s head echoes throughout the area. Delivered with enough force to knock the young man out, Dariana lowers the Feykin to the ground and makes sure to ease the blade away from her friend’s neck. Putting her hands on the sides of Luke’s face, the telepath coaxes the thrashing Sword Dragon spirit back into a slumber that she fears will not last much longer. She can sense that the monster has found a way to syphon energy from its host, granting it the strength to fight against its prison and take advantage of momentary weaknesses. With the angry creature subdued, the other beasts relax and sink back into a healing trance, which the half-elf nearly shares before shaking his head clear. Not wanting to draw any attention to the delicate situation, Dariana cradles her friend and hurries into the mist where they can talk.
“How long ago did that monster wake up?” she asks while peering into the forest tracker’s eyes. The flecks of gold are still noticeable in the chocolate orbs, but the black ring of corruption has yet to shrink back to its normal size. “I thought I removed that spirit, but he has a deeper connection than I imagined. There might not be a way to eradicate him without causing long-term harm to you. At best, you would lose your powers, but there would also be the chance that it leaves you in a coma.”
“I always had a feeling he was still in there, but didn’t have enough proof to make you worry,” Luke explains with a weak chuckle. Reaching into his pocket, he searches for a piece of jerky before remembering that he ate it hours ago. “The Sword Dragon has been more noticeable since we left Stonehelm. All I can figure is that he feels left out and is tired of watching weaker beings take control of my body. Seems me accepting Pike really made him angry. So when the Chaoswind reaction happened, he used the ripple effect to gain the upper hand against the others.”
“I created stronger barriers, but you may hear him talking. That’s the best I can do right now,” Dariana whispers, her mind tracking Phelan. The groggy Feykin is poised to enter the mist and stops when he decides that he has made his point. “Sari’s new lover is rather aggressive. There’s no enchantment on him, so he genuinely cares for her. This reaction might be connected to the way she’s described your actions. After observing the Feykin, I sense that they are highly emotional and susceptible to mood swings. Perhaps it’s something in the jungle and Sari is reacting to it as well.”
“Then explain Delvin,” the half-elf counters, his eyes fluttering from fatigue. Curious about his own abilities, Luke touches every cell of his body and releases a mild charge that has been built up by the griffin. “That cleared my head, but my body is growing weak already. The crash from using the lightning to wake up is going to be severe, so I’ll need your help getting to our rooms. Do you think our friends are being controlled?”
Dariana wrings water out of her shirt and does her best to wipe her face dry. The irritating mist and deafening waterfall make it hard to concentrate enough for a city-wide scan. Noticing the condition of her companion, the telepath decides it is for the best since half of the champions are currently out of action. With Phelan no longer a threat, she takes Luke by the hand and guides him along the river. The silver-haired woman drapes his arm over her shoulders as they follow a long, circuitous path to the Air Tower. Dariana frowns at the fact that each champion has been placed in a different building, which is another sign that they are not entirely welcomed in Rhundar. She is tempted to discuss the problem with Luke until his eyes briefly roll back into his head.
“I scanned Delvin and Sari when they were arguing,” the telepath admits, nodding to a few curious Feykin. The locals shy away from the strangers, a few of them sprouting wings to fly out of reach. “There are no signs of mental tampering or magical manipulation. As strange as they are acting, their minds are clean. Even a doppelganger or a demonic shifter would have a sign that reveals their presence. For all intents and purposes, we’re dealing with the real Delvin and Sari who are now ruling the Feykin.”
“So they’ve really changed.”
“Maybe, but there’s another option.”
“Which is?”
Dariana makes her words invisible to everyone in the city, except for the friends that she trusts. Even from the other side of Rhundar, her calm voice touches the ears of Timoran, Nyx, and Fizzle. “Please keep this thought a secret. It’s possible that we’re dealing with a fae-blooded psionic who is stronger than me. In that case, we’re in a lot more trouble than we thought. To be completely honest, my friends, I’m scared.”
“Well this mess keeps getting better and better,” Luke mutters before he yawns and passes out.
5
With Fizzle perched on his shoulder, Timoran pushes through the crowd that has gathered on the stairs of the temple. His keen ears pick up scraps of conversations, most of them nothing more than idle chitchat. A few Feykin talk about the dwindling food supplies thanks to the Order being so close to the city borders. Others voice their concerns about the strength of the barrier around Rhundar and how every citizen knows a person who has been captured within the last two months. Pretending to tighten his laces, Timoran eavesdrops on a pair of warriors discussing what they would do if their leaders called for a march on the Order’s prison. The pair speak of using wind and earth magic in ways that the barbarian is sure would impress any caster. He smiles at their youthful enthusiasm, but silently prays to Kerr that they never get the chance to put their risky plans into action. Continuing on his way, the champion struggles to glean as much local gossip as he can and wishes that Dariana had not stayed behind with the others. By the time he reaches the temple entrance, his mind is spinning from all of the stories and rumors that he has collected.
The doors open at his touch and guards step out to keep the crowds back, forcing Timoran to squeeze between the spear-wielding Feykin. Following the sound of voices, he adjusts his sheathed great axe and does his best to walk like a king. After a few steps, the barbarian realizes h
ow foolish he must look and goes back to a relaxed gait that eats up distance like a charging bull. With Fizzle zipping ahead, Timoran tries to find his way back to the central hall, but stops when he passes a sand-filled chamber. Seeing steam flowing from the doorway, he mistakes the thick vapor for smoke and hurries to make sure there is not a fire that could threaten the entire building.
Instead of an inferno, the barbarian discovers that every plant that has been brought over from the Bor’daruk region is frozen solid. The intricate mural of the city is now scratched to the point where only people who have visited the region would recognize the remains. Shards of ice have pierced the ceiling and there are several slick patches that are hidden by the damp, messy sand. Fizzle dives into Timoran’s heavy vest for warmth when a freezing wind whips around the room, shattering some of the more fragile plants.
“It would seem Sari is holding a grudge,” the red-haired man whispers while backing out of the room. He moves slower and scans the hallway for signs of trouble, noticing that the birds are nowhere to be found. “There is tension in these walls. The animals have fled because of several violent outbursts. It is a good thing our friends remained behind. You and I have the better temperaments to handle this type of thing. Besides, this is only a council meeting. I am sure we will only have to listen to the royal advisors give their opinions.”
Charms of the Feykin Page 11