Luke cuts a big slice that he passes to Timoran and a sliver that he hands to Nyx. Before the half-elves can fight, the barbarian switches plates and holds his out for extra. The forest tracker gives his friend another slab and serves everyone else, aware that Delvin is patiently waiting to share his news. With a flip of the knife, he finishes slicing the cake and gestures for the warrior to speak. Luke is out of his seat when Delvin tries to talk with a mouthful of cake and nearly chokes on the moist dessert. The half-elf gives him a solid smack to the back, which helps him dislodge the food from his throat.
“I’ll take that as a compliment, Mr. Cunningham” Sari teases, handing the gasping warrior a glass of water. “Take your time and share the big news when you’re ready. We’re cooped up here for at least twenty more hours. No rush.”
“Fizzle can share his news first,” the former mercenary says in a strained voice.
The drite licks chocolate frosting off his lips and sits on the table, his tail curled around his waist. “Fizzle invisible when stealing apples, which allowed hear. People talk about mist making head funny, but not scared. This happen many times in past. It always go away, so we need wait it out.”
“More or less,” Delvin mentions, rubbing his scruffy chin. “Can I have the Compass Key, Timoran? I want to test a theory.”
“Of course, but it is only reacting to Nyx since we are going to her temple,” the bare-chested barbarian says, removing the relic from its chain around his neck. “Do you believe someone has tampered with it to send us into this trap?”
“No, but I think we’re looking for something else,” the warrior states as he focuses on the Compass Key. The six gemstone orbs are cold to the touch while the central pearl is strangely warm. “I noticed when it sent us here that the diamond was reacting along with Nyx’s ruby. So I’m going to concentrate on it and see what it does. Get ready to save me from my own curiosity.”
The Compass Key hums and the diamond spins in the silver setting, grinding against the hardened metal. A flickering illusion of the misty forest appears above the table and everyone briefly sees a ghostly form standing in the middle. Delvin drops the Compass Key when a blood-curdling screech builds in intensity, the noise stopping before it can be heard downstairs. He shoves it back to Timoran, who moves away and struggles to catch his breath. The artifact falls to the floor where it continues humming to itself for a few more seconds.
“What just happened?” Luke asks, bravely picking up the relic. He focuses on the diamond, but stops when a sudden wave of despair washes over him. “That was scary and . . . I don’t know how to explain it. Almost like someone was calling out to me.”
“It’s the sixth champion,” Delvin says as he chews on another bite of cake. He covers his mouth to yawn and looks at his stunned friends, realizing that the thought never occurred to them. “There’s something about the sixth champion that makes it different than us. I don’t know what that is, but there are plenty of facts to prove something is off. This is a person who stepped onto the path before the rest of us, but we’ve never met him or her. It’s bizarre and a little unsettling.”
“Maybe this person has simply been in a different location,” Sari suggests, sipping at her ale and eyeing the Compass Key. “It could even be possible that the Baron captured this champion and is experimenting on her like Stephen did to me. I still believe it’s that woman Luke and I saw in our visions.”
“You’re probably right, Sari, since she didn’t start appearing until we retrieved the Compass Key. I’m sure she’s using it as a conduit to interact with us,” the brown-haired warrior explains as he gets to his feet. He lets out a long breath and thinks hard about what he is about to say. “I found some other information. The bartender confirmed that the strange mist has appeared many times over the centuries. Each time it went away, a group of adventurers had gone into the forest in search of a goblin guide. Apparently, the goblins are immune to the influence of the mist and they can lead people down a safe path. The mist doesn’t affect anyone who remains on the road, so we can get through in relative safety.”
“So we need to get a goblin,” Luke says with a shrug. He takes his first bite of the cake and pats Sari on the shoulder before swallowing. “That should be easy. We’ve handled them before and know how to behave around them.”
“I think you are missing the real point,” Timoran interjects. His hands shake as he takes the Compass Key and puts it back on its chain. “Other groups of champions have gone into the forest to handle this. They either died there or freed the sixth champion to end the curse. Either way, this person keeps ending up back here, so they are the only previous champion to continually survive. One has to wonder how old this woman is and what information she has about the Baron and our path.”
“Way to kill my birthday party,” Nyx mutters, drawing everyone’s attention to her. They notice her mouth is filled with marshmallows and her voice is coming from thin air. “Sorry to be the selfish one here, but there’s nothing we can do. We need the sixth champion, so we need to go into the forest and get a goblin guide. Besides, we’re in the dark unless Isaiah shows up to get questioned. So let’s stop dwelling on this and enjoy ourselves. If that’s not enough then look on the bright side. We’re going to meet a new friend soon.”
Sari cuts herself another slice of cake, holding it up high to propose a toast. “Happy birthday to Nyx. Happy belated birthday to Timoran. Hopefully our new friend is a nice person. Cheers!”
It is an awkward clinking of plates with Luke dropping the rest of his slice on the table where Fizzle quickly devours it. The drite groggily crawls off the table and curls up on the open floor, swiftly falling asleep. The forest tracker is about to pick Fizzle up when a finger taps him on the shoulder.
“I want to talk to you in private,” Delvin whispers while pointing at the ceiling.
*****
The roof of the inn is covered in hidden traps, so the two warriors carefully walk along the narrow eave. The pure darkness makes it impossible for Delvin to see anything, which forces him depend on Luke to guide him. He can hear the half-elf moving ahead of him, but the steps are scattered and inconsistent. The random footfalls are surprisingly faint, causing him to forget the initial reason for their private meeting. The question is on his tongue by the time they reach a spot that the forest tracker is sure is safe to stand on.
“Why are your footsteps so strange?” Delvin asks, leaning against the chimney.
“I’m using the wind to help with my balance and keep me a hair off the ground,” Luke admits as he tries to keep his breathing steady. “Pulling an ability out of a spirit without transforming is still difficult, but I’ve nearly mastered Stiletto’s senses. He’s easier than the griffin, but that’s not why you called me up here.”
Delvin gazes into the darkness when a series of lights erupt across the street. He hears yelling and cursing as a pair of thieves hurry out of the alley, their departure illuminated by the continuing explosions. One of the men has smoke wafting from his legs, which still have a few flames around the cuffs. The other is a woman who is nursing a badly burned arm, apparently ignorant of the fire at the end of her long hair.
“I’ll be brief because I want off this roof,” Delvin says, his eyes following the thieves until they disappear behind a building. “What did you talk to Nyx about? I understand if you can’t tell me, but I’m worried. She hasn’t been herself in a long time and I want to know if she’s going to need protection.”
“It’s the Stephen issue like you and Sari have been saying,” Luke calmly states. He gets closer to his friend to avoid yelling, aware that prying ears are everywhere. “She feels helpless and fears that he’ll use all of us to control her. I hate to say she’s given up fighting, but Nyx talks like him winning is inevitable.”
“That’s not good,” the brown-haired warrior mutters. Out of habit, he is about to start pacing when his friend stops him with a firm grip on his arm. “Whether Stephen can block her magic or sh
rug off any damage she causes, we need Nyx to be strong. Otherwise, we’ll spend the entire fight protecting her, which gives him the advantage.”
“That’s probably what he wants.”
“I don’t follow.”
Luke flips over Delvin and lands on the edge of the chimney, leaning close enough for his face to be seen. “This idea just came to me. It’s possible Stephen is scared of Nyx because she has the power to kill him. Imagine what she would do if she cut loose on him and his powers were unable to put up a real defense. Keeping her scared and helpless would prevent this.”
With a tired sigh, Delvin rubs his eyes and thinks about what would happen if Nyx unleashed her full power on Stephen. An amused smirk appears on his face, but it swiftly vanishes when he remembers everyone will be standing nearby. The amount of destruction is difficult for him to imagine, so he decides that it would be nothing short of a localized obliteration of everything. Delvin shivers at the thought of Nyx killing Stephen, her friends, and anything else that happens to be in the area.
“Even if she wasn’t scared, it wouldn’t happen. She wouldn’t want to hurt any innocent bystanders, including animals,” he claims, holding up his hand to stop Luke’s argument. “This is a pointless conversation. I was hoping you made some progress with her or found another reason she was upset. After all, she won’t talk to the rest of us about what’s on her mind. Not for any length of time.”
“You should consider sitting down and having a serious talk with her.”
“I tried that and all I got was deflections, avoidances, and she knocked me into a lake when I pushed too hard,” the warrior says, his voice edged with frustration. “Nyx has to find the strength to carry on and depend on us just like we depend on her. I won’t let her fall into Stephen’s hands without a fight.”
“For the love of Uli, if Stephen is giving us this much trouble then I’m really scared about the Baron,” the half-elf claims with a crooked smile. The dour expression on the other warrior’s face causes him to clear his throat and stop smiling. “He’s strong enough to keep Stephen under his control, which means he’s worse. Going along with the idea that we’re being groomed to face the Baron, I’d be willing to bet that Stephen is supposed to force us to the level of power and teamwork we’ll need for the real battle.”
Delvin slaps Luke on the back, his hand sweating even though the air holds a chill. “I never thought of that and I think we should share it with Nyx. Your theory means Stephen doesn’t have to be fought alone, which can give her courage.”
The shrieks of the undead can be heard from the forest and it quickly mixes with the screams of their hapless victims. Both warriors realize that the people who are trapped in the misty forest are easy prey for the creatures that rule the Day of Darkness. Luke growls and the sensation of feathers ruffling around his neck makes him shiver in anticipation. He can smell decay and blood on the foul wind, which makes his stomach twist.
“We should have done something,” the forest tracker whispers, his voice edged with bitterness and anger. “Those people could have been saved if we worked quicker and ventured into the forest.”
“I hate to be a cynic here, but we couldn’t have done anything. All of us are forced to react to whatever the Baron and his agents do instead of taking the initiative,” Delvin says as he moves around Luke. With his eyes adjusted to the darkness, he can see the ladder that will lead him into the alley next to the inn. “I guess Nyx isn’t the only helpless one here. Get some sleep and we’ll head out as soon as the Day of Darkness is over.”
Luke nods and waves to his friend, but refuses to leave the roof. Stretching his legs and crossing them beneath his body, the half-elf makes himself as comfortable as he can on the chimney. He spends several hours listening to the distant sounds of the undead hunting in the darkness.
2
Trinity cracks her knuckles as the pack of ghouls melts at her feet, their decaying bodies getting steadily devoured by potent acid. Her eyes glow a deep red to help her see through the pure darkness and observe the cursed forest that surrounds her. She can barely make out the separate trees even with her night vision spell, but she can see the thick mist drifting through the air. Reaching out to the forest, Trinity yanks her hand back when a chill runs up her arm and along her spine. Her sight becomes hazy and distorted for a few seconds, recovering only when she drops her spell and rubs her eyes.
The enhancer gems in her palms and forehead burst to life when the chaos elf focuses her aura on the spaces between the tendrils of mist. It takes her some time to locate the curse, which rides the quick and gentle breeze that weaves through the trees. Extending her aura, Trinity snares the powerful spell, intending to inject it with enough magic to double its potency. She is surprised when it bucks and becomes violent, the struggle making her lurch forward. The invisible tether appears as a rainbow rope and she coils it around her arms to gain some control, but it only makes her helpless when the curse pulls harder. With an echoing crack, Trinity strikes a tree and the snare snaps, allowing the panicked spell to escape into the thickening mist.
“My father never remembers how tricky this curse is,” Stephen says, appearing next to the caster as she stands. He snaps his fingers and the bleeding gash on her forehead vanishes. “I find it disheartening that he barks orders and never pays attention to how things have changed over the centuries. The old man is showing his age through ignorance and anachronism.”
“Are you here to help or make my life more difficult?” Trinity asks while she searches for the curse again. This time she is unable to pinpoint its location, driving herself into frustration and a pounding headache. “Damn sentient curses are a pain to alter. One needs the magical reflexes of a god to catch this one.”
“Or be a Chronos,” her companion points out, clapping hands. The sentient curse appears on his arm, taking the form of a serpent made of mist. “Then again, there’s no point in doing what my father asked. The champions will enter the forest in the morning. The gods have already prepared the same tricks they always do at this stage, but they don’t think we’ll get involved this time. Let this little one enjoy what little time she has left.”
He flicks the curse back into the misty forest and watches it dart away. For the first time, Stephen notices the puddles of melted ghouls around him. One of the bubbling pools has flowed to the heel of his black boot, leaving an ugly mark on the expensive leather. With a disgusted scowl, he wipes the damage away and the foul-smelling ichor sinks into the ground when he lowers his foot. The smell of rotting plants fills the air as the grass dies and the nearest tree turns black.
“You realize this is now a sign that we’ve been here,” Trinity angrily says, setting the tree on fire and blowing the ashes away with a wind spell. “Why do you always make things harder than they have to be? Go back to Bor’daruk and leave this to me.”
“I’m sorry, but this is where I need to be, your highness,” the black-haired man replies with a lick of his lips. Something about the common gesture is different, making Trinity wonder what is on her companion’s sadistic mind. “It’s a tradition that I be here when the sixth champion wakes up. I always enjoy the look on her face when she realizes she has to go through the same hoops again only to end up back here. It gets more delicious every time.”
“Why not kill her like the others?”
Stephen flashes an evil grin that chills the chaos elf to the bone. “That wouldn’t be fun. This champion is special and has been prized by Gabriel and my father for centuries. Both of them went too far with her creation.”
“I still don’t follow.”
A faint voice emerges from the forest and the nearby trees twist, their bark snapping from the unnatural motion. Trinity cannot make out the words, but a wave of sorrow and loneliness washes over her. All desire to cast a defense spell is drained from her mind and she falls to her knees. Her body shaking, the chaos elf is unable to fight the tears that stream down her face, along her neck, and slip under her shir
t.
“Stop it or I’m coming in there to punish you!” Stephen calmly shouts. The voice abruptly stops, releasing Trinity from its clutches. “Best to be careful. She gets desperate during her moments of partial lucidity. Those are becoming more common with ever slumber. This time she managed to contact Sari and Luke. She’ll eventually be able to break the curse and wake up of her own power. Probably have to locked her in the Chaos Void the next time, but I’m not the one who makes that decision.”
Trinity stares at her companion as she recovers her senses. “You’re telling me that the champion who made me feel miserable is still asleep?”
“Her powers are stronger when she’s asleep or in a trance. It makes her incredibly dangerous,” Stephen answers with a twinge of pride in his voice. He caresses the chaos elf's cheek, wiping a remaining tear away with his thumb. “I know you’re wondering why we don’t kill her, but all I can say is that she’s special. Not like you and Nyx, so she isn’t competition for my pleasurable affections. The thought of that truly sickens me, which is not a sensation I’m used to.”
“Can you tell me what she is?”
“It’s better for you to see for yourself.”
Trinity frowns and considers letting the matter drop, but her curiosity gets the best of her without much of a struggle. Casting magic sight and reaching out with her senses, she searches the forest. Weaving around the voids that signify undead and dodging the crazed curse, the young woman hunts for anything out of the ordinary. Within minutes, she tastes a great power that was originally masked by the sentient curse and layers of defensive barriers. The instant she slips through the final shield, her world erupts in a blinding light and her senses are rocketed back into her body. Trinity is barely able to breathe as she realizes that she can no longer see, only calming down when Stephen touches her face and restores her sight.
“That . . . She . . . It . . . By the gods, she can’t be what I think she is,” the chaos elf whispers in shock, her heartbeat still drumming in her ears. “Why would Gabriel create something like that? How did he even find a being like that?”
Sleeper Of The Wildwood Fugue (Book 7) Page 4
