Nickle Brickle'Bee: In the Halls of Harbordeen: Nickle Brickle'Bee, #2

By Sterling Nixon

Nickle Brickle'Bee and Jason Burntworth are having the best year of their lives. That is, until they run into a Demon that should be safely trapped behind the FireWall. The creature steals a valuable artifact, which enables it to spawn more Demons like itself. In pursuit of the artifact, Nickle and Jason follow the clues to Harbordeen Academy, one of the most prestigious schools in EarthWorks. They team up with Sharlindrian and go undercover to reveal the truth of this new enemy. But, will they succeed in time?

• Language: English
• Publisher: S&J Publishing
• Release date: Aug 25, 2021
• ISBN: 9781951780135

Sterling Nixon

Born in the humorously nicknamed city of Lost Wages, Sterling Nixon has lived in numerous places across the country, making it difficult to pinpoint a true hometown. He is known for his work in suspense and fantasy genres, often blending these elements with historical and speculative fiction. His narratives are characterized by intricate plots and compelling character development, making his books engaging to a wide range of readers. Currently, he resides in Idaho with his wonderful wife, three children, and a pair of beloved bunnies his kids adore.

Book preview

Nickle Brickle'Bee: In the Halls of Harbordeen

Nickle Brickle'Bee, Volume 2

Sterling Nixon

Published by S&J Publishing, 2021.

This is a work of fiction. Similarities to real people, places, or events are entirely coincidental.

NICKLE BRICKLE'BEE: IN THE HALLS OF HARBORDEEN

First edition. August 25, 2021.

Copyright © 2021 Sterling Nixon.

ISBN: 978-1951780135

Written by Sterling Nixon.

Dedicated to Alcea, Avelyn, Benjamin, Britain, Bryce, Chase, Claire, Dante, Elle, Jaiden, George, Lacie, and Samuel

NICKLE BRICKLE’BEE

IN THE HALLS OF HARBORDEEN

STERLING NIXON

S_JPublishing (3)

© 2021 by Sterling Nixon

All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system or transmitted in any form or by any means without the prior written permission of the publishers, except by a reviewer who may quote brief passages in a review to be printed in a newspaper, magazine or journal.

The final approval for this literary material is granted by the author.

First printing

All characters appearing in this work are fictitious. Any resemblance to real persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental.

ISBN: 978-1-951780-11-1 (Trade Paperback)

978-1-951780-13-5 (eBook)

978-1-951780-17-3 (Hardback)

S_JPublishing (3)

Printed in the United States of America

Dedicated to Alcea, Avelyn, Benjamin, Britain, Bryce, Chase, Claire, Dante, Elle, Jaiden, George, Lacie, and Samuel

NICKLE BRICKLE’BEE

IN THE HALLS OF

HARBORDEEN

Prologue The Book of the Red

Chapter 1 The Drink of Elvenduur

Chapter 2 The Dwarf Enforcement Unit

Chapter 3 In the Streets of EarthWorks

Chapter 4 Faces of the Brood

Chapter 5 A Piece of Cloth

Chapter 6 The House of Sible

Chapter 7 Cracken Tumblr

Chapter 8 Abby

Chapter 9 Returning to Tortugan

Chapter 10 A Change in Plans

Chapter 11 The Tri’Ark Council

Chapter 12 The Hard Lives of Elves

Chapter 13 Long Hours and Short Breaks

Chapter 14 The First Day

Chapter 15 The Best Accommodations

Chapter 16 The Home Room

Chapter 17 The Art of Mystic Magic

Chapter 18 Mushrooms and Magic

Chapter 19 Dance of the Elements

Chapter 20 Sneezing Trees and Secret Meetings

Chapter 21 Pushups and Handshakes

Chapter 22 Signup Sheet

Chapter 23 Flamiche with White Truffles

Chapter 24 Demon Hunting

Chapter 25 Burgers and Bad Guys

Chapter 26 Tryouts

Chapter 27 An Inch of Progress

Chapter 28 Coffee and Limeluck Grass

Chapter 29 Principal Munich

Chapter 30 Magic of the Mind

Chapter 31 Taking Risks

Chapter 32 Planets and Stars

Chapter 33 The Beginning of Something

Chapter 34 Out the Window

Chapter 35 The Voice of Mother Nature

Chapter 36 The Demon Guard

Chapter 37 A Slight of Hand

Chapter 38 Winter Break

Chapter 39 Snipe Hunting

Chapter 40 Art is Subjective

Chapter 41 Trouble Brewing

Chapter 42 Marbles and Mushrooms

Chapter 43 The Team of Harbordeen

Chapter 44 In the Cafeteria

Chapter 45 The Best Climber at Harbordeen

Chapter 46 Future Plans

Chapter 47 Tiberian Pompullain MeithDwin

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Prologue

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The Book of the Red

Sweat beaded on Esmerelda’s brow, dripping past her mouth and pooling onto her chin. She clutched the book harder against her chest, adrenaline whipping through her small frame. She had an ugly smile, so she rarely did. But in this moment, in this triumph, she could not help but grin. Her crooked teeth shined in the dim light.

She cast a Mystic spell in front of her, shifting her gravity. What was once a wall now became the floor. She continued her dead sprint up a long wall that resembled more of a tower. This had once been a remarkable city, the center of all magical power. Now it was nothing but decay and rot. Without the presence of magical creatures, the structures had deteriorated so quickly that many of them were now only piles of rubble.

She cast another Mystic beam, hitting the floor, raising her into the air. Her body became a spear as she shot through a small gap in the tower. She shifted her gravity again, now turning the roof into the floor. It was an impressive use of magic and would have even the Thieftians admiring the mix of agility and speed.

Nothing but darkness greeted her as she raised the book in the air. I have it. For several long moments, nothing happened. She spun around, looking for movement. I have it!

A voice came from the dark and a small light followed. Grimling stepped forward, a freshly lit Rune Candle in hand. Impossible. Is this another one of your forgeries?

Esmerelda frowned, her crooked teeth forming into jagged lines. She was not a pretty Human, but she was fierce. I have it, Grimling. In two months, I have accomplished what you couldn’t do in twenty years.

Grimling stepped closer, eyeing the book with skepticism. What is that? Your third forgery? Does this one actually have words on the inside?

Before Esmerelda spoke, another woman stepped forward, her timeworn features illuminated by moon rocks. Let me see.

Esmerelda suddenly turned gleeful again, like a child given a sucker. She stepped forward, bowing low before the women. Yes, of course, oh great Listener.

The Listener was an ancient woman, her hair wiry and white. She took the book in hand, turning it back and forth with care. As her hands traced the design, a warmth trickled through her fingers and up her forearms. It was a familiar sensation, one that she had not felt for decades. Where did you find this?

The Museum of O.

On display?

No, Esmerelda replied, her voice sounding childish now. The one on display is a fake. This was in their Archives, locked up in a dark and obscure part of the building. But it has to be the book. It just has to be. It was guarded by an Asminian Chest, not to mention a Crushing Hex.

If that were true, Grimling answered. Then how did you possibly recover it. It’s another fake.

It is not a fake, Esmerelda hissed, her voice taking a bitter edge.

Don’t judge so quickly, Grimling, the Listener pronounced. There’s something different about this copy.

Probably just Hexed, Grimling suggested. There’s no way this bookworm could have broken into a chest of Asminian stone.

I didn’t break into it, Esmerelda countered. I was holding the light for the Elf who was transporting it. The Baroness’ plan worked. They were moving it to keep it safe. All I had to do was take out one Elf Arcon before we left the Archives.

You took down an Elf Arcon? Grimling jeered. This story just keeps getting better.

He didn’t see it coming, Esmerelda said quickly.

Did he have armor? the Listener asked, doubt creeping into her voice.

Yes….

Grimling laughed. No Elf Arcon in full plate could be taken down by a regular Human.

He had armor, but he removed his helmet as he examined the book. Once his protection was incomplete, a simple Alteration Charm changed his perspective long enough for me to replace the book with another. And then I fled before the guards could be summoned.

But they know who you are, Grimling answered. Within a day, everyone in EarthWorks will know of the wannabe Elf who stole a fraudulent book.

Esmerelda straightened up to her full, unimpressive height. I had changed my appearance with Transformation magic, and so I was not detected. But I have never wanted to be an Elf. I hate them—and I will be the reason they are destroyed.

Grimling grumbled but did not reply, instead deferring to the Listener.

I must awaken the Baroness at once, the Listener said.

It can’t be, Grimling answered. You and I are some of the most powerful Magicians in our classes, and we have never even come close to its recovery. How could this bookworm have stumbled across it? She spends more time behind a desk than she does in the real world.

The Listener turned away, her hands trembling. She did not look forward to raising the Baroness, but this was important. This could be the book. She closed her eyes, forcing magic to flow through her body and towards the cocoon of flesh on the other side of the room.

Despite the Baroness’ weakened condition, the Listener was always overwhelmed by the wash of power she felt emanating from the strong creature.

The cocoon split and cracked, releasing a red light that fractured the room. The Listener narrowed her eyes, allowing her energy to be absorbed by the Baroness. She felt her life-force weakening, felt it slipping from her as her breath shortened.

Then the Baroness exploded out of her cocoon, her hands reaching to the sky. She roared so loudly that it filled the space and echoed for miles in the distance. The creature was small for a Demon but still much bigger than the other three. It was ribbed with sharp, angular dagger-like bones. Her power eclipsed, sending chills down the spines of the three onlookers. But then she shifted and faltered, her moment of strength draining. With a groan, she fell to her knees, her breath coming up short. The red light from her body faded before finally disappearing.

Her body wilted and shrank, turning her into the form of a woman. The Listener stepped forward, grabbing a blanket from a shelf as she did. The blanket had been Charmed to produce a pulsing cold wave as it was wrapped around someone’s body. The Listener threw it over the Baroness, who was now shivering from the heat of the room. The Baroness coughed and spurted, her body trembling from pain and weakness.

Help me up, the Baroness said, her voice only a whisper. I’ve still not been able to heal my wounds from the FireWall. Curse that Rote magic and all those who wield it.

The Listener complied, pulling up the creature by the arms and setting her on her feet. In her Human form, the Baroness was shorter than all the others, and also the most frail. Her body appeared burned and bloody, especially around the shoulders and knees.

Why do you wake me? the Baroness hissed. Have you been able to enact my plan? Have you succeeded, or do you continue to fail?

We might have, oh great Baroness. I think we found it.

The Baroness straightened at the Listener’s words, forcing energy into her body. And then she saw it, the book in the Listener’s hands. The Baroness reached out her hand, twisting it into the shape of a claw. The book responded in kind, pulling away from the Human and flying towards the center of the room.

The book drifted for a few feet before it stopped and cracked open, a white light pouring from its pages. With this, the Baroness straightened, her back rigid. The strength that was absent before now seemed to grow. Then she began to cackle, a deep resonating sound that was both unearthly and addicting.

Is it the book? the Listener asked.

The Baroness smiled, something that she had not done since she had escaped. As she stepped closer to the open book, the other three did as well. Their most prominent features became highlighted the closer they came.

Prepare for the ritual, the Baroness whispered.

The ritual? Grimling replied weakly. Are we ready?

If you are not now, you never will be, the Baroness replied. Prepare yourselves for power unfettered. Prepare yourself to join the ranks of the Demon Lord.

Chapter 1

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The Drink of Elvenduur

Sharlindrian Avish MeithDwin kept her back straight as if a board had been tied to it. She was the perfect picture of poise, her hair elegant and flowing, her eyes bored but wise. Inside, however, she felt like her stomach was constricting into knots. She allowed her toe to tap against the foot of the bench, but other than that, she held motionless, as her duty and station required.

She was in an expansive hallway lined with gold molding, floored with mosaics, and held up by marble pillars. It was the epitome of luxury, as well as it should be. It was the Elven Administrative building, better known as the Enclave—which incidentally, was also the name of the Elven government. Although this structure was the largest Elven building in the city of EarthWorks, its lavish decorations were not new to Sharlindrian. She was an Elf, and that meant a lot more than just comfort.

For almost all of her life, she had also believed that most people lived this way. She had met other creatures, of course, mostly servants or messengers, but until she was ten, she had never been to the bustling heart of EarthWorks. But then, one day, she simply disobeyed her father and took a Taxi-Lator to the center of the city.

When she boarded the vehicle, she was not even asked for money. The little Beast’Head simply nodded very respectfully and took off, taking her everywhere she wanted to go. As she landed in the heart of the city, right where Battlemace Road meets Moldy Mushroom, she was both amazed and disgusted by what she saw. Creatures were everywhere, all jam-packed into narrow streets and in questionable conditions. She must have bumped into more people on that single day than she had ever done so in her entire life. The experience had been eye-opening but also punishing, as her father had grounded her for six months.

The next time she went out into the city, she was much more discrete. After that, she had visited a dozen times before her father officially took her to the city for the first time. She had to pretend to be surprised, as well as disgusted. Her father had not taken her to the city for fun or adventure; he had done so to teach her how superior Elves were to every other creature.

Look how they live, Ander Ashwin MeithDwin said. See how they crowd in, living little better than rats. And this is how they are most comfortable.

It had been an unfair assessment, as Sharlindrian knew well. But it had also been eye-opening. From that point on, she realized that in the Elf Quarter, what she saw and heard about EarthWorks was very much different than reality.

Her father was a Captain in the Praetorian Guard at the time; now, he had been promoted to Lord of the Praetorian, commander of the entire Guard. It had not been an unexpected promotion, but it had been sudden, as two Elven families had recently fallen from grace. Most of the old families did not oppose this rise publicly, but they certainly expressed their discomfort privately. The MeithDwin family was becoming one of the dominant powers in EarthWorks, and this promotion, would put them just below the influence of the Piere De Houel, the family of the High Elven Goddess. It had taken two hundred years of careful planning and maneuvering to get to this point, but now, everything was falling into place.

And then Nickle and Jason literally rolled into her life as stray cats running from a storm. And they proved so different than what she had expected. So different from what she had been taught.

She gave an imperceptible sigh.

After two hours of waiting, a Satyr in a red and gold tunic bowed low, placing his hand across his chest. The Lord of the Arcons will see you now.

Sharlindrian nodded curtly, a palpable anger momentarily burned through her body. "If my father wanted me two hours later, why didn’t he schedule me two hours later," she thought. But she knew this had been intentional, as everything he did was.

She was escorted up a flight of stairs and into an office. The room was massive and could have easily fit Nickle and Jason’s apartment inside. She pushed all thoughts of her two Dwarf friends down as she met eyes with her father. She curtsied, bowing low.

Her father gave a slight nod, his expression stoic, and returned to the papers at his desk. He was arrayed in fine Elven armor, one that was so ornate and detailed, it seemed like it should have belonged in a museum. It was silver with gold trim and accented with red. The armor did not show any sign of them, but as every Elf knew but few mentioned, the armor contained Dwarf Runes as well. They were not displayed on the outside of the armor, as this would be a compliment to the Dwarves, but on the inside. This had been a recent change to their armor construction, as the previous versions were not as durable as Dwarf Tines.

After a minute, Sharlindrian began to speak. You summoned me, Father….

He raised up one finger, prompting her silence.

It was another minute before he dropped the sheet of parchment onto his solid marble desk. He stood, his hands naturally slipping behind his back. He paced the room, glancing to an area of portraits on the far wall. Sharlindrian followed his gaze to the collection of paintings. There were dozens of them, all of them arrayed in the finery of their station.

Who are you?

I’m your daughter.

Who are you? Ander repeated, his voice emphasizing ‘you.’

I’m Sharlindrian Avish MeithDwin.

You are of the House of MeithDwin, and my only child, making you heir to all of my title and privilege. You are destined to be the Lord of the Arcons. It took us centuries to earn this position, and we will not lose it. And one day, if you can walk the line of perfection, that position will be yours. The sun is just starting to rise on the House of MeithDwin.

Sharlindrian looked at the portraits before her, and she felt the intensity of each of their piercing glares. She knew these people; they were still all alive, most of them were so old that they had completely forgotten their age. She knew each of their honorable details and triumphs, but she doubted any of them even knew her name. She was always called ‘girl’ or ‘child’ or ‘softling.’

Having immortal family members was not as fantastic as one might think. Of course, Sharlindrian never had to feel sad when any one of them died because they never did. But since they were all still alive, it made living up to their expectations that much more difficult.

They had stern expressions, except for one—her uncle, although she was not allowed to call him that. In truth, she did not even know his name as it was never uttered by any one of the MeithDwins. She actually had no idea what kind of expression her uncle had on his face since someone had long since burned it out of the canvas, revealing the wall behind. It seemed like such an odd thing to do, even to Sharlindrian, who knew how Elves dealt with rebellious family members.

She knew little about her uncle, except that he was now a Dark Elf, whatever that meant. He had done something so horrible that his name, title, and every possession had been stripped from him. She would not even know he had existed if it were not for a few paintings—all of them with missing faces.

She snapped her eyes away from the frame and focused on her father.

You are no longer a child, said Ander as he continued to pace the room. And cannot act like one.

I will remember my place, Sharlindrian replied coolly.

Do you still spend time with those two Dwarves?

She hesitated to answer, knowing that she should tell the truth. Her father always seemed to find out anyway. So she decided to tell a partial lie. Not much anymore—I have all my material for the book I’m working on.

Ander stiffened. How is the book coming along?

Very well, Father, she replied coyly. It would have been impossible to write without meeting with the Dwarves regularly. So, I appreciate your permission to meet with them.

What is the title?

Pardon?

What is the title of the book?

Dirt…diggers, Sharlindrian said, her voice slightly pitched.

Well, Ander replied. The title is horrible—it will need more work. When you’re finished, I’d like to look it over. Anything that has the name MeithDwin on the front cover will surely be a bestseller, but the content has to uphold the family name.

Sharlindrian sighed. She had thought this lie would be perfect since it gave her an excuse to befriend the Dwarves. But if she were going to maintain the deceit, she would now have to actually write a book.

But I am glad to hear that you won’t need them anymore, Ander replied as he folded his arms across his chest. His voice briefly took on a soft tone he rarely used. I know you were always in disguise when you were in public with them, but there are ways to see through disguises. However, I do realize you’ve done well in covering your connection with them. Nothing has gotten back to me. Ander paused for a moment, his mind briefly lost in thought.

You know, he continued, his voice falling so low it was barely audible. Your mother would write books—all sorts of books about Piddlers, of all things. She never published them; they were too trifling for her station. You remind me of her.

It was a rare occasion when her father talked about her mother. She had died a long time ago while giving birth to Sharlindrian. She had never heard many details about the incident, and despite Sharlindrian’s incredible gift at research, she could not find anything on the subject—not in her father’s personal library or at the Archives.

Ander suddenly seemed to remember himself, and his voice returned to its crisp tone. I’m glad you got the material for your book, but no more. You can’t spend another second with those Dwarves. There’s too much at stake and nothing to gain, even for a bestselling novel.

But, Father, Sharlindrian replied quickly. That was our deal. You allow me to see them on occasion so I can work on my novel, and in return, I go to Harbordeen.

Ander approached, a slight smile on his face. And the deal is done. The Academy starts in a week, and you have much preparation to do in that time. Plus, the MeithDwin Matriarch was just raised to the level of a Duchess. We must embody perfection now more than ever.

Sharlindrian swallowed, searching for a reply.

The fact is, child, Ander said, it’s not safe now.

What do you mean?

Well…someone…has escaped.

Escaped? From Patmose?

No, this is not a normal prisoner; this is someone that escaped from behind the FireWall.

Sharlindrian’s eyes opened wide. A Demon?

Ander walked closer to his daughter, affording her a tight smile. Just promise me that you will never see those two Dwarves again.

What do they have to do with this?

Nothing, but that does not mean they can be trusted. It would only take a few grams of dust to pay those two Dwarves off. They love gold, and it blinds them to almost everything else. For the right price, they would not think twice to betray you. It’s in their nature. Just as you can’t blame a pet rabbit for eating your prized tomatoes, you can’t blame a Dwarf for seeking gold before all else.

All right, Father.

Promise me.

Why?

Just promise me.

Sharlindrian swallowed before finally nodding. Fine, I promise.

Good, Ander said. He stepped over to a chest, his hands briefly hovering over the locking mechanisms. The next second, the locks clicked. The chest opened up of its own accord, increasing the light in the room. In it were two small vials—each one was like a miniature sun—a multi-colored liquid swirled inside. Supposedly, everyone saw a different color in the Drink of Elvenduur.

Ander pulled out the two flasks, setting one before Sharlindrian.

She took the flask and pulled off the cork. Even though the Drink of Elvenduur did not have a taste, she hated drinking it. It somehow made her feel claustrophobic, as if her lungs were collapsing in on her. But once a year, she, along with all the Elves, were expected to drink it. She did not know why; that was just what they all did. She tipped up the bottle, letting the liquid slip down her throat and settle in her stomach.

The potion had a warming effect on her body, and within moments, her skin started to glow more brightly. Most creatures assumed that Elves’ bodies naturally glowed with light, but few actually knew the truth. It was the Drink of Elvenduur that created this effect. Hundreds of products sold in EarthWorks claimed to mimic this same result, but none ever came close. Only Elves had discovered the secret to the Elvenduur, and they were certainly not going to share it with anyone.

Ander finished off his drink and closed his eyes, allowing the liquid to fill him with strength. It’s a great time to be a member of our House, Sharlindrian. Now, do your family proud, and excel at Harbordeen.

Chapter 2

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The Dwarf Enforcement Unit

Jason Burntworth.

Jason stood, a broad smile on his face. He was in the middle of a Cohort of Dwarves, Nickle by his side. They both wore freshly polished armor, their axes slung to their backs, ready to begin their shift. They were the most junior Dwarves on the Dwarf Enforcement Unit or the DEU as it was better known. He stood in a large room lined with pillars, a pale light shone from high above. This was known as the Dwarf Socket, the largest and most used government building in EarthWorks. It was part police station, part courthouse, and part holding facility.

No need to stand up, said First Class Pivot Breton Markmire. We can see you just fine from there.

Jason sat back down.

Where’d you go? Markmire grumbled.

The crowd of Dwarves erupted into laugher.

Markmire gestured with his hands. All right, stand up, Tenderfoot.

Jason gestured with his chin to the symbol on his shoulder guard as he stood. Second class Bevel, Sir.

Is that what that is? the Dwarf said, his voice taking on a mocking tone. I thought someone spilled their coffee on you.

The whole room again filled with laughter.

All right, settle down, everyone, said Centurion Rupert Blackbeard, a burly Dwarf with a beard so long it was tucked into his belt. We wanted to recognize the heroic efforts of Jason Burntworth, who ran into two Gnomes yesterday that were unconscious in the alley between Dumpkin and Dury. Apparently, they had drunk some bad milk and passed out. Without Jason to burp them back to health, they would have most likely had indigestion for days. I also want to congratulate you for getting out the vomit stains that were left on your armor.

Jason nodded.

All right, sit down, Markmire said. In other news, we’ve noticed the plants on Dilapidated Road have recently experienced an explosion of growth. We suspect the Goblins are somehow behind it.

Jason looked to Nickle, and Nickle swallowed.

After some investigation and a little recording, we still have no idea what is going on. But we did come across this little clip that some of you might find interesting.

On the wall behind Markmire, a video came to life. It was fuzzy at first, but soon the lens focused and zoomed in. In the distance, there was a Dwarf in full battle Tines, standing next to a planter. The Rune Camera zoomed in even more, slowly filling out the features of the Dwarf. It was Nickle.

The Dwarf was looking around, obviously making sure no one was watching. Then, he reached in, grabbed some of the dirt, and put it on his tongue. The Rune Camera slowed, making Nickle’s expression shift into an awkward, and admittedly, humorous position.

The Dwarves exploded with laughter.

Nickle turned red.

Markmire smiled. After seeing this, I thought about mandating everyone to take a sack lunch. If you lads need a lunch break, just call it out over the Comms. No need to rummage through the planters.

More laughter followed.

Blackbeard cleared his throat. We’ve got swing shift finishing soon, so let’s finish up with muster. No more stalling, Markmire. Get to it.

Markmire straightened up, as a child does when they are freshly scolded. The Dwarves all eased in their seats as the noise settled back down.

Brackenshire and Boondoggle, Markmire said.

Present, two Dwarves said at once.

You’ve been assigned to work Festival Street.

Dang, Jason whispered to Nickle. I was hoping we’d get that one. That assignment always has the most excitement.

Boddy and Bobby.

Present, another two Dwarves answered.

You’ll be working everything from Magical Mayhem to Glut Road.

Oh, come on, Jason said under his breath. They’ve had that assignment for the fourth night in a row. That’s where all the Cennarians and Satyrs are protesting.

On and on, Markmire droned, assigning each Dwarf present to their nightly task. Jason was sitting up straight, his ears seemingly pointed forward in