“I guess this part of the game was inevitable,” the man sighs as he reaches out to close the portal. “You truly are a bastard, Gabriel.”
*****
The strong musk wafting off Tanki the Goblin God causes Gabriel and Zaria to wrinkle their noses. Standing within the evening-cloaked forest, the elegant gods wait patiently for their more primal brethren to arrive. Tanki scratches at his red skin, which jingles the bells that he has braided into his glossy, bronze hair. The three ivory horns on his head glow and hum, causing him to tense and cling to his crude spear. With the hiss of a cornered creature, the crouched goblin backs away from the arriving deities, his black eyes focused on a leather-armored man whose body is pierced with a glistening longsword.
“Why are you here, Anceron?” Zaria asks of the blonde-haired man. She smiles at the wolf girl, who wags her tail and leaps onto a nearby rock. “This was supposed to be between us and the nature gods. Did you invite him, Silvestris?”
“Nope,” the Nature Goddess replies in a high-pitched voice. She scratches her wild, brown hair, freeing several dry leaves from the eternal knots. “He said he curious. I told him nothing will be destroyed, but it not stop him.”
“I didn’t realize this was a private gathering,” the Destruction God says, his voice full of agony. He adjusts the sword in his chest and a trickle of blood runs down his back. “Although, is there anything more natural than destruction?”
“Mushrooms, water, wind, trees-” Silvestris rattles off, her voice cut off by a stern cough from Gabriel. She bounds over to the black-haired god and bows to him, her tail tucked between her legs out of respect. “I got your message from Uli, but I not know what you want do with me. My hands tied by the Law of Influence even if you give me wiggle room. After all, spells in question made by mortal.”
“That man is not mortal,” the Destiny God declares as he faces Tanki. The goblin jabs his spear at Anceron, causing the handsome man to grab the hilt of his blade. “Leave your weapon sheathed, destroyer. You know you make the smaller gods nervous. No offense, Tanki, but you are short of stature. My comment was not in regards to your power.”
“Visions have already been sent about awaiting champions, but these ones are not easily controlled,” Tanki reports, surprising Gabriel. The goblin grins, revealing filthy teeth and a blue tongue. “I spoke with your core energy to discern your request. That’s part of my area and your primal aura screams whenever you’re upset.”
“No wonder you stay away from him, dear Tanki,” Zaria mentions with an awkward smile.
The gods stop when a group of staggering figures stumble out from behind the nearby trees, their eerie sighs rattling through the forest. Anceron has his hand on his sword, but eases his grip when he sees the unarmed farmers. The group wanders around, a few passing through the gods, who retain their phantasmal forms. Blank expressions are on the mortals’ faces, making them resemble zombies without the decaying flesh and rotting stench. Minutes after they arrive, the farmers walk back into the forest where the thick mist envelopes them.
“Interesting,” Anceron whispers, the smell of destruction on the bitter wind. “Something has plunged them into a zombie trance. Why is this important to you?”
“The servants of our old enemy have cursed this forest. Any mortal who leaves the path will hear a gentle song and be plunged into a wandering amnesia,” Gabriel answers, fighting the urge to whistle the tune. For a brief moment, he wonders if he created this curse in his youth, but decides that such a fact is unimportant. “This is all to keep the champions away from the girl, which means we can send visions to help. It is also within my power to grant other gods some flexibility with the Law of Influence as long as they help with my agenda.”
“Perhaps you should have done something to destroy this girl,” Anceron says, ignoring the burst of energy from Zaria. “She has always been a source of trouble. If you wish, I can send a follower to take care of this. I’m well within my rights as long as most of the forest is wiped out.”
The Purity Goddess dashes forward to grab the sword in Anceron’s chest and violently yanks it out, sending a spurt of blood onto her white dress. The stain vanishes as the god falls to his knees and gasps for air, his body wracked with mind-shattering agony. Zaria walks away with the weapon on her shoulder, a cold expression on her alabaster face while the grass is bathed in the Destruction God’s blood. The redheaded deity waits for him to be laid out on the ground before hurling his blade within his reach. He grabs the sword and jams it back into the gaping chest wound, the weapon acting like a plug to stop the torrent of blood.
“My chosen will not be harmed,” Zaria growls, causing Silvestris and Tanki to move away from her. She meets Gabriel’s challenging gaze with a withering look. “Nobody asked this one to come here, so he brought the attack on himself.”
“So pure,” the Destiny God teases.
“Anger can be as pure as love.”
“So why we here?” Silvestris asks, her ears nervously twitching. “I go work right away when told.”
“The goblins of this forest are immune to the curse because our enemies have overlooked them,” Gabriel explains, keeping his eyes on Zaria. The goddess waves her hand over Anceron, reviving the weakened god and cleaning his soaked clothes. “I will need you to send another vision to your people, Tanki. Unless you were able to predict what Silvestris will be asked to do here. I need our dear Nature Goddess to convince the trees to build a safe path from the road to the sleeper. They must only absorb the cursed breeze and one of Tanki’s goblins can be chosen to act as a guide. You two can go over the particulars, but the champions must reach the girl. It is time for her to get back into this game whether we like it or not.”
Ivory horns shimmering, Tanki grumbles to himself as he pounds the butt of his spear against the moist ground. He hunkers down and burrows into the earth, the gaping hole closing behind him. Instead of following the older god’s example, Silvestris scratches her hindquarters with her clawed foot and makes herself comfortable on a rock. She watches Gabriel and Zaria, child-like curiosity etched into her features.
“Why send champions to girl this time? What happen other times this happen?”
“The only way to dispel the curse is to wake the sleeper. In the past, our enemies urged the champions into the forest, but we can take the initiative now that the Compass Key is on the field,” the Purity Goddess answers, her voice sounding tired and worried. “Don’t make the path too easy to find because there are greater dangers around her. Anyone who wanders into her range can be killed or worse. I hope the goblins stay away until they have the champions on hand.”
“I’m intrigued, but this is no longer my concern,” Anceron interrupts, earning a scowl from the other deities. “There’s something brewing in the south. It appears to be a war, but there’s an undercurrent that has my attention. I sense your champions will be involved, so I’ll be watching to see what happens. Don’t worry, Hell Lord, I promise not to get involved in your plans. I’m merely an observer . . . for now.”
A tear appears in the air behind the Destruction God and he steps through, the gaping hole swallowing him whole. Silvestris is gone by the time Zaria and Gabriel turn to where she was sitting, the only sign of her departure a tuft of soft hair on the ground. The remnant sinks into the mottled stone and creates a coating of furry moss.
“I assume you wish to stay here,” Gabriel says to the redheaded goddess. He squints into the darkness where he sees more wanderers moving through the trees, these moving more stiffly than the farmers. “It will be at least a day before they meet her. Not to sound like I care, but you should get some rest. You are not yourself.”
“Because I put Anceron in his place?”
“That and your glow is dim, my old rival and ally.”
“I will see you back at Ambervale when this is over, Gabriel.”
“I would tell you not to get involved, but you never listen to me when it comes to her.”
Severa
l silent minutes after Gabriel disappears, Zaria lets out a musical sigh and merges with the mist. She weaves among the trees and cursed mortals, none of them noticing her presence. The goddess is near the edge of a clearing when a purple barrier appears and deflects her rapid approach. She returns to her solid form and gets as close to the powerful shield as she can. Sparks of magic burst from the glistening dome, leaving burn marks on her dress that she ignores. All of Zaria’s attention is on the canopy bed in the middle of the clearing where a cloaked form is sleeping.
“Only a matter of days now, Dariana,” the goddess whispers, wiping a pristine tear from her cheek. “Only a matter of days.”
1
“I told you it wouldn’t work, Cunningham,” Nyx whispers, gently smacking her friend on the shoulder. The slender half-elf glances at the darkening sky and shivers at the feel of sinister magic on the growing breeze. “We’ve wasted too much time with these stunts.”
“It was worth a shot,” Delvin half-heartedly contends. The armored warrior scratches his head, cringing when he catches a knot in his messy, brown hair. “It looks like it’s time to get back to Rodillen. We’ll try again after the Day of Darkness.”
“At least our friend didn’t try to fly away this time,” Sari points out while she sits on the bridge’s metal railing. The blue-haired gypsy yawns, stretching her arms until her blue top reveals her slender belly. “Come on, Timoran! He can’t be that much of a problem. It isn’t like he’s a griffin this time.”
The three adventurers watch as their redheaded friend hauls in a dazed noble shepherd, the black and brown dog violently shaking its head as it leaves the misty forest. Timoran puts the animal on the bridge and remains poised to pounce if it makes a run for the trees. Instead, the dog rolls onto its belly and whimpers, its dark eyes staring forlornly at its wagging tail. Fizzle darts around the beast to cover it in a rainbow mist, clearing its head of the magical fugue. When the purple drite’s breath is blown away by his translucent dragonfly wings, a blonde half-elf has replaced the dog. Luke Callindor stays on his back and clutches his griffin talon necklace, a look of utter confusion on his dirt-marked face. He accepts the hand that Timoran offers and slowly gets to his feet, letting his muscular friend guide him to the others. Fizzle lands on Nyx’s head, taking comfort in the feel of her powerful aura as the evil energy thickens in the air.
“I believe we have run out of ideas,” Timoran states, helping Luke lean on the railing next to Sari. He touches his tiger-striped great axe for comfort, his keen ears picking up the stirrings of undead in the forest. “We have a day to gather information and come up with a new plan. Unless the Compass Key is no longer directing us here. Could it be acting strange because of the Day of Darkness?”
“I doubt it,” Delvin calmly replies. His icy blue eyes stare into the trees and he swears he sees shambling forms in the distance. “The Compass Key has been pointing here ever since we returned to the Island of Pallice. That was a week and a half ago. Did you catch any scents in the forest, Luke?”
“Nothing out of the ordinary, but the curse could have been cast from anywhere,” the forest tracker answers, resting a hand on Sari’s exposed knee. She pulls it away and hops off the railing to let him touch her shoulder. “Timoran’s right about gathering information. I took several diamond spheres from the treasure vault I found in the Garden of Uli. We can bribe a bunch of locals to see if they’ve heard anything.”
“Because thieves never lie,” Nyx scoffs as she pulls her black cloak around her shivering form. Her short, black hair ignites with a low flame to keep her warm even though she knows it is not the winter chill that has her feeling cold.
“Hey!” Sari snaps before she can stop herself. She blushes and smirks at the others, her emerald eyes twinkling in the dying sunlight. “Sorry about that. I know you didn’t mean me, Nyxie. You’ve just been a little snappy at everyone lately.”
“Can we not get into this until we get inside?” Timoran requests, leading the way to the city side of the L’dandrin River. The railing glows bright red and the stone bridge splits down the center to fold into itself, pulling the adventurers to shore. “What is happening?”
The small group watches as a small ship emerges from around a nearby bend and steadily drifts by them. A few seconds after the vessel passes, the bridge stretches across the river and locks back into place. Luke inches forward to step on the first slat and puts all of his weight on it, expecting to fall through. The brown stone is surprisingly solid, but he can hear the odd click of something metallic in the ground.
“Gnomes and their inventions,” he whispers with a warm smile. Luke turns around in time to catch a glimmer of sadness on Nyx’s face. He stands and arches his back, feeling his stiff spine pop. “I just remembered that Nyx and I made a contact during our last visit to Rodillen. We can go see her now and meet everyone at the True Rigging Inn. I promise we won’t be longer than an hour or two.”
“Who did we meet here that didn’t try to kill us?” Nyx asks, rubbing her amethyst necklace. The half-elf’s face lightens up and her mouth grows into a wide smile. “Oh, that woman! She might know what’s going on if we ask the right questions and she’s in a good mood. Though, we can always wait a day or two.”
“No, I think you two should visit this person right away,” Delvin chimes in, taking Fizzle off the caster’s head. He strokes his friend’s horns, which causes the drite to flutter his red dragonfly wings. “It’s best that we get this taken care of immediately. We all know Stephen and the others will have something waiting for us in Bor’daruk. They already had two months and I don’t want to give them any more.”
Nyx nervously bites her lower lip. “But-”
“Delvin is right,” Timoran declares as he turns toward the shadowy Rodillen. He draws his weapon and hefts it onto his shoulder to make sure it is visible when he enters the famed city of thieves. “We will have to be pushing forward tomorrow at dawn.”
Sari squeezes her best friend’s shoulder before moving to Luke and whispering in his pointy ear. “Nice try lying to us about a fake contact. It would have worked if Nyx didn’t stumble with the follow up. You’re a good friend and I wish you luck. Maybe I’ll have time to set up something special at the inn.”
“Are we back on?”
“No . . . for Nyx. I’m going to go, Luke,” the gypsy says, gingerly touching the half-elf on the cheek. She turns on her heels and catches Delvin by the arm as she walks by him. “I need your help, dear leader. A very important mission that you’ll enjoy.”
Nyx is watching the others disappear into the gloom that is growing thicker by the minute when Luke puts an arm around her shoulders. She forces a smile as he leads her to Rodillen, their friends nothing more than shadows far ahead of them. When they pass through the city entrance, he guides her in the opposite direction of the inn. Doors and windows are closing and the sound of roof traps being set fills the air. Luke notices some of the curved tiles on top of the buildings shifting to reveal the glint of hidden arrows and spears. The normal tension of a night in Rodillen, a city ruled by the thieves’ guild, is enhanced by the lightless sky of the Day of Darkness. Within minutes, the only illumination is from the enchanted street lamps, but half of them have been broken by those who prefer the darkness.
Luke is about to speak when he feels the tip of a dagger against his back, causing him to groan in dismay. Before the simple thief can utter a demand, the forest tracker flips over him and presses a drawn saber against the man’s throat. Nyx joins in the fray by putting her fingers against the thief’s forehead, fire coating her hands up to the cuticle of her unkempt nails. The heat from her magic causes the terrified man to sweat, but the weaving flames never touch his skin.
“My name is Nyx and that is Luke Callindor. I’m sure you’ve heard of us,” the caster growls, her violet eyes sparking with tiny bolts of lightning. A breeze opens her cloak, revealing a red shirt that churns like lava. “Neither of us are in the mood to deal with your kind ton
ight. Run away and warn your friends that we should be left alone. If thieves continue to annoy me and my friends, I will personally lay waste to the guild with every spell I can imagine.”
“The guildmaster won’t like this,” the man argues. He tenses at the feel of Luke’s saber pressing against his throat and Nyx’s flames licking the tip of his pointy nose. “But I’m sure he’ll be okay with it for a night. It’s the Day of Darkness after all, so nobody really wants to be outside.”
The thief sprints away as soon as the half-elves let him go, the pair waiting until his footsteps disappear. Nyx takes a seat on a crate near the entrance to an alley, which she covers with a small barrier. Luke leans against the wall next to her and stares at the disturbingly empty sky. None of the four moons can be seen and all of the stars have been blotted out by the global darkness. His attention returns to the city and he focuses on his sound sight to track the hidden thieves that are going about their nightly business.
“So what’s been upsetting you, big sis?” Luke quietly asks.
“How are you handling things with Sari?” Nyx swiftly counters, refusing to look her best friend in the eye.
“I should have seen that coming,” the warrior says, reaching over to flick the caster’s nose. His head gently moves to the side as an invisible finger pokes him in the temple. “Sari and I are surviving. It’s awkward and we occasionally slip up when we talk. We haven’t kissed, shared a bed, or done anything as a couple since we decided to cool things down until we meet with Kira. I’ll admit I’m on edge a little because of this and I want to get the whole thing over with. That’s really it, so answer my question.”
Sleeper Of The Wildwood Fugue (Book 7) Page 2
