Sleeper Of The Wildwood Fugue (Book 7)

by Charles E Yallowitz

  “No!” Luke yells as one of his metal wings stretches out. He fails to stop his back muscles from flexing, which flicks the wing enough to behead the bear. “I’m not going to eat it, you evil bastard. I swear, I’m never calling on you again. If I can find a way to destroy your spirit, I’ll do it. Even the snake fiend is upset with you and it doesn’t understand why the rest of us are so angry.”

  “Luke okay?” Fizzle asks while cautiously flying around to face the chimera. He is scared at the sight of sharp teeth in the creature’s beak and a pair of fiery, red eyes. “We need find way to reach sleeper. Luke losing fight.”

  “That fool lost the song and his senses are scattering,” growls a feminine version of Luke’s voice. With a roaring screech, the teeth fall out and the eyes turn golden brown. “Our friend and the stubborn dog is battling the Sword Dragon, so I have taken control of the body. Drastic measures are needed to end this journey.”

  “Fizzle do what griffin ask.”

  “Keep up and make sure the rope holds.”

  The griffin’s body spasms and its wings shatter, the metal falling away to reveal soft feathers. With a violent rush of wind, the beast smashes through the thick canopy and soars into the afternoon sky. The hallucinating adventurers are pulled behind the griffin, all of them pretending to fly and making various bird sounds. A roaring screech rips through the air in an attempt to silence them, but instead they imitate the noble beast.

  “Make them be quiet,” the griffin sternly requests. Fizzle passes over his friends and uses his rainbow breath to temporarily silence them. “Thank you. This should only take a moment and I will try to be gentle with them. I would have done this earlier, but I did not think Luke would have such a problem with the other spirits. Your friends may be bumped, bruised, and shaken by the end of this.”

  Stretching her sense of hearing and combining it with Luke’s powers, the griffin focuses on locating the song that will lead her to the mysterious sleeper. Once she finds it, she dives back into the woods, dragging a cheering train of adventurers behind her. Their whoops turns into loud curses when the griffin smashes through the trees and its passengers are battered by branches. Only Fizzle notices the amused smile on the powerful beast’s face before she heads back toward the clouds.

  *****

  The crackling of energy rips across the sky as the chimera pierces the glistening barrier, which recovers as soon as the last of the adventurers is safely through. Fizzle is quick enough to cushion his friends with a pillow of soft wind, but their screeching guide crashes into the solid ground. Wings crack and twist as she helplessly thrashes, her body contorted by the battle of the five spirits. Black fur sloughs off to be replaced by scales, which pop to reveal a fresh pelt. The beast’s tail grows and turns into the metal tail of a Sword Dragon, pounding at the grass until it falls off at the rump. With an agonizing scream, the entire body shrinks and Luke takes his true form, but with a ruby embedded in his forehead.

  “Fizzle wake others!” the drite announces, casting a spell on his tail. He rapidly smacks the others in the back of the head, jolting them out of their hallucinations. “Luke in trouble! Fake dragon take over! Luke not warn us of danger!”

  “I’m going to kill him after I save him,” Nyx growls, racing over to the forest tracker. She is knocked back when he spits a fiery orb at the ground in front of her. “At least he’s fighting the thing. Though I might have to do something disgusting to save him.”

  “What’s that?” Delvin asks as he cuts the rope off everyone.

  “I can shut down his aura.”

  “I cannot let you do that,” Timoran snaps with a guttural snarl. “That is a true violation of his energy. Only the most evil of creatures would do that.”

  Nyx deflects another fiery orb, the deadly projectile hurtling into the sky. “I didn’t say I wanted to do it or that I would enjoy it. I agree that it’s a terrible, horrific thing to do to a person, but I’m willing to do it to save him. I’d rather have him alive and hating me than us having to kill him because his body is taken over by a monster.”

  “How Luke stop last time?” Fizzle asks, landing on Delvin’s shoulder.

  Sari dashes by Nyx and spins out of the way of another attack, the gypsy swiftly making her way to the half-elf. With a shimmering enchantment on her lips, she kisses him deeply and feels his body relax. Tasting a few bitter tears rolling down his cheeks, Sari maintains contact in the hopes of her love spell giving Luke the strength to win the fight. She breaks away when a loud crash startles her and several hands of force yank her to Nyx’s side. Touching her lips, Sari stares at the sight of Timoran pushing against the forest tracker’s hands, which have become metallic dragon claws. The struggling barbarian roars in the half-elf’s face and delivers a solid kick to the groin, sending his friend crumpling to the matted grass.

  “He tried to kill me,” the gypsy whispers as Nyx helps her stand. “Did you have to hit him there?”

  “I was not in the position to be kind and his gut was protected by metal scales,” Timoran replies, cautiously watching the injured warrior. He chuckles at a thought that he decides to share. “It is not as if you were using that part of him lately. We will get him to a healer before you have need of his services.”

  “You know it’s bad if Timoran is nervous enough to make a joke,” Delvin mutters with a wry smile. He draws his longsword and rolls his shoulder, causing Fizzle to take flight. “Where are we?”

  The warrior keeps an eye on Luke while turning his attention to a canopy bed sitting in the middle of the serene clearing. The white curtains are bound by golden cords and the wooden frame is untouched by the elements. Ebony sheets are tight around the thick mattress, the fabric’s ephemeral shine shifting beneath the gently sleeping form on top of them. Tucked under a crimson blanket, the only movement from the figure is the steady rising and falling of her chest. The only visible part of the woman is her head, silver hair splayed across the ivory pillows. With every breath of the sleeper, the soothing scent of cherries, vanilla, and chocolate fills the clearing. Whenever the mysterious woman breathes in, the smell changes to that of a stagnant pond.

  “We’re with the sleeper,” Nyx says, smacking Delvin on the shoulder. “She isn’t going anywhere. We need to get Luke under control before he transforms into a Sword Dragon and kills us.”

  “He seems incapacitated,” the warrior replies as he gestures at the groaning half-elf. The sight of Luke curled up and holding his stomach, makes Delvin cringe in sympathy. “You really hit him hard, Timoran.”

  “To be honest, I used very little of my strength,” the barbarian admits, scratching his head in confusion.

  Fizzle takes a quick look at Luke, darting in and out of his face within a few seconds. “Luke sweaty and growly. Not sound like right pain.”

  “He’s also holding his stomach instead of his groin,” Sari points out, drawing two curved daggers. “This isn’t going to go well, is it?”

  Nyx cracks her knuckles, her right hand coating itself in black aura and her left hand shimmering with white. “I’m sorry, Timoran, but I have to do something. There is a more difficult and precise method to save him. If I remember the spells involved, this should work like an aura scalpel. I’ll simply extract the Sword Dragon from his body.”

  “Nice and gentle, right?” Delvin nervously asks.

  “Of course . . . he’ll live.”

  The opposing energies crackle between her fingers as she walks towards Luke. The forest tracker jumps to his feet and roars at the approaching caster, metal wings painfully bursting from his back. The ruby in his forehead glistens as his hands become razor sharp talons and he charges at Nyx. With a scream of rage, she ducks under the claws and dives forward to slam her aura-coated fists into her best friend’s chest. Her swirling spells pulse through Luke’s body, which violently shudders and distorts as it resists the burrowing magic. An ear-piercing scream erupts from the warrior’s mouth before the Sword Dragon’s spirit is ejected from hi
m. A corner of the clearing is bathed in crimson and gold fog that settles on the grass.

  “That was harder than I thought,” Nyx gasps, collapsing in a heap. She grunts when Luke falls on top of her, but neither of them have the energy to move. “Problem solved. Let’s wake up our new friend.”

  “Not just yet, Nyxie,” Sari whispers as she inches toward the caster.

  The adventurers move to defend the fallen half-elves from the spectral Sword Dragon that rises from the colorful fog and shakes the forest with a heavy footstep. The solidifying beast spits a swarm of ghostly orbs that Timoran bats out of the air. Fizzle casts a quick spell to send them into the sky, the drite scared of being caught in the middle of a forest fire. Everyone ducks to avoid a slash of the monster’s tail, which sheers off the top of the canopy bed. With a surge of power, the narrow-bodied Sword Dragon grows to its full height and shatters the barrier around the clearing. It spreads its golden wings and shreds the surrounding trees as its aura finishes taking a corporeal form. When a red gem emerges from its steely forehead, the beast unleashes a rain of flaming orbs.

  “You are not wanted here, creature,” a woman’s calm voice announces. “The rest of you are cordially invited into my world.”

  Without warning, blinding cracks of light ripple along the Sword Dragon and it screeches in agonizing pain. Parts of the beast disintegrate, leaving the towering creature with gaping holes in its crumbling form. No longer interested in battling, the monster attempts to escape, but one flap of its wings sends them crashing to the ground. All of the adventurers can feel a tremor in the pit of their stomachs as if something is pulling at their core.

  “What’s going on?” Delvin asks, kneeling next to Nyx. He glances over his shoulder at the sleeper who remains motionless. “What is she?”

  “I have no idea!” the caster responds as the Sword Dragon’s spirit collapses into itself and explodes.

  4

  The marble walls are white with pulsing veins of crimson and a pure light flows through the open windows. Silk curtains have been left untied to wave in the soothing breeze and caress anyone who walks along the hallway. With every gentle gust of wind, the smell of lavender and sandalwood enters the pristine building. Beautiful statues sit in evenly spaced alcoves, each one of a long-haired woman holding either a sword or a goblet. Her clothes differ from statue to statue, some even portraying the figure naked. Banners of white with a solitary glowing star emblazoned on each one hang from the ceiling beams and remain motionless even when the wind touches them. Only a few rooms run off the hallway, but their wooden doors are closed and locked. The voices of those inside are low and muffled to the point where one barely notices they are there after a few minutes.

  “He’s starting to wake up,” Sari whispers, dabbing a moist handkerchief on Delvin’s forehead. “How’s Timoran doing?”

  “I am awake,” the barbarian responds as he stands and groans. He slumps against the wall, enjoying the feeling of cool stone on his skin. “This appears to be a Zarian temple, but it seems different than the ones I have visited. Unless we are in a section that does not have the columns and stained glass windows one typically sees.”

  “It’s the Zarian Monastery that was lost in the Great Cataclysm,” Nyx answers while staring out the window. She takes a seat on the sill and gestures for Timoran to join her. “Take a look out there and you’ll see.”

  Outside is a beautiful garden that surrounds a star-shaped pond where ducks swim around in search of food. A yellow stone statue of Zaria stands in the middle of the water, her dress giving off the illusion of swaying in the wind. The courtyard is surrounded by three-story buildings of flawless marble and clay roof tiles, each one identical except for a different colored leaf embedded in the door. Nyx and Timoran can see a collection of wooden huts along the nearby hill where cows, sheep, and goats graze under the eyes of a trio of young shepherds. A solitary cave sits at the top of the hill, but it is too far away for them to see any details. Every flicker of movement within the gaping entrance can be mistaken for a trick of the light, but Nyx is sure there is something alive within the shadows.

  The midday sun makes it difficult for the observers to keep staring into the distance, so they turn their attention back to the courtyard. White-robed figures wearing crimson crowns of leaves go about their chores, cleaning the grounds and tending to the flowers. An elderly woman sits on a wooden bench, her palms facing up as she prays to Zaria. Two younger priests run through the courtyard with steaming cauldrons, the pair getting yelled at whenever the liquid inside sloshes onto the alabaster cobblestones. Others are beating the dust from carpets and using their spells to cast the billowing clouds into the sky. It is nothing more than the daily activities of the monastery, but something feels strange about what they are viewing.

  “How do you know this is before the Great Cataclysm?” Timoran asks as he looks down the hallway. A priestess walks out of a nearby door, going about her business as if the adventurers are not there. “Strange that we were not seen.”

  “Zaria’s order stopped using isolated places like this after Windemere changed. She felt it was more important for her followers to be among the people,” Nyx explains, reaching down to take Delvin by the arm and help him stand. She eases him against the window and tries to coax the wind to cool him down. “I don’t have any magic here. How about you, Sari?”

  “Not a thing, which has me worried,” the gypsy replies. Her eyes grow wide and she grabs the half-elf by the shirt, nearly tearing it down the middle. “Luke! I don’t know why I forgot about him, but he’s not here.”

  “Maybe he was missed by the blast since he was under Nyx,” Delvin groans, his voice raspy and harsh. The warrior pulls out a waterskin from his pouch and takes a long drink to ease the pain in his throat. He stares at the bag when he notices that it does not get any lighter. “I remember someone saying we were invited and then the Sword Dragon spirit exploded. There was light and . . . that’s not important right now. It seems we’ve been sent into the past. Stephen must have put a trap on the sixth champion. He’s a Chronos after all.”

  “I don’t-” Nyx begins before she is interrupted by Sari.

  “That means Luke is alone with him or trapped somewhere. We’re missing Fizzle too!”

  “He’s right-” the half-elf tries again.

  Delvin’s coughing fit cuts her off, giving the warrior time to voice his opinion. “That makes sense. Fizzle and Luke are the two that can hurt him. So, Stephen put them somewhere else if he sent them into the past at all. I’m willing to bet Fizzle still has his magic and that’s how we can get home.”

  “What is the point of sending us into the past when we would only appear at the point where we left?” Timoran asks. His temples throb as he tries to wrap his mind around the concept of time travel. “Unless we return at the approximate point where the time we spend here is added to the time we left. Does that make any sense? I must admit that this entire idea does not make any sense to me.”

  “Shut up!” Nyx screams in frustration. The hallway shimmers and quakes at the caster’s rage, the motion wrenching everyone’s stomach. “We’re not in the past. No such magic exists unless the gods have it, but there’s no evidence for that. These are memories of someone who was alive during this time. Haven’t you noticed that people have come within sight of us and not reacted to our presence? That’s because everything is locked in place and nothing we do can change things.”

  “Then Luke and Fizzle must have woken up first and wandered off,” Sari guesses, feeling foolish for jumping to conclusions. “That doesn’t explain why I couldn’t remember either of them. Who do we look for first?”

  “Fizzle’s outside,” Nyx states with a tired groan.

  The adventurers gather around the window and scan the courtyard for the drite. It takes them a few seconds to notice Fizzle darting around a large apple tree on the far side of the garden. He desperately snaps at the crimson fruit, his hungry whimpers ignored by those around
him. Every attack is met with an empty mouth and the tantalizing fruit remains dangling among the emerald leaves. With a pout, Fizzle lands on a branch and sticks his tongue out to lick a moist apple. He cries when all he can taste is the air and he stomps his foot, which causes him to pass through the tree. The drite falls into the bushes below and crawls out looking dejected, his tail limply dragging behind him.

  “So we can interact with the scenery as long as we do not try to harm it,” Timoran casually says, holding his great axe into the sunlight to get Fizzle’s attention. He puts the weapon away in time to catch the excited drite. “Now we need only find Luke. Though I wonder why he left us undefended.”

  “Luke not leave,” Fizzle declares, hovering above his friends. He coughs and yawns, his eyelids feeling heavy. “Hands reach from floor and take. Luke not look good. Fur and feathers and scales and pain. Fizzle not sure where Luke go.”

  “Male or female hands?” Delvin asks, stroking his chin.

  “Like Nyx hands, but not rough.”

  “Hey!” the caster snaps.

  The warrior politely holds up his hand to silence her and turns back to the window, his eyes narrowing as he peers at the distance. He sees a pair of stars streak across the sky, but he loses them in the blinding sun. Blinking the colorful spots away, he looks down in time to see a vaguely familiar figure step out of a building and move throughout the courtyard. The young girl is not as tall as when he saw her in the clearing, but the silver hair makes her stand out among the followers of Zaria. The beautiful tresses roll down to her ankles, never touching the ground even when she crouches. Unlike the priests and priestesses, she is wearing a pure white dress with long sleeves and no shoes. A mob of children run around the girl as she balances a pile of books in her arms and gracefully walks to a large elm.