“You sure have a lot of energy for someone who hasn’t eaten in a week,” Sari replies with a smile. She offers a piece of jerky to the confused woman who greedily snatches it out of her hand. “Makes me wish we hadn’t wasted the feast ring two days ago. You’d be able to devour it on your own.”
“We’re just glad you’re awake,” Delvin says as he extends a hand to help Dariana down from her mount. He pats the camel on the rump and it transforms back into Fizzle, the drite spitting a glob of rainbow saliva. “We were breaking down camp and you wandered back in with what you’re wearing now. The dress seems to be magically bound to you, so we couldn’t change you into more suitable clothes. Sari used her powers to bathe you, so you’re not dirty. Though those strange sparkles on you were impossible to get off.”
“I must have been playing tag with a few of the fae goddesses,” she explains, limping along until Nyx helps her. The numbness in her legs is not as bad as she expected, so she is able to move on her own after a few minutes of shaky steps. “The gods held a party since I had not seen them in a while. Not everyone came, but many did and they were rather . . . insistent that I try Eporwil’s new recipes. It is not an activity I typically indulge in, but who can say no to a goddess that is sitting on your chest. Though the food is probably what caused me to fall into a slumber for so long since I believe Nexus the Dream King made the cake. I’m glad my mother gave me enough energy to make it back to all of you. Where are we?”
The awkward silence helps Dariana sober up entirely, the faces of her friends intently staring at her. She notices that only Sharne remains from the Helgardian tribe and there are foreboding coils of black clouds in the distance. As they come to the top of a dune, she sees that the clouds are really smoke pouring from a towering volcano. Cracked, ebony earth with veins of red run from the base of the crimson mountain to the edges of the dunes, the remains of what was once a lake of deadly lava. The occasional pop and hiss can be heard as heat pockets find a way to the surface, their location found only by a winding trail of haze. A single path of sand runs to the cliff-covered volcano and is fringed by the remains of ancient archways. There is no sign of the missing pieces of what must have been an elegant canopy of sandstone that once covered the walkway. All that is left are the curved sides that have spent centuries getting battered by the desert winds. Focusing on the sides of the volcano, Dariana can see strange marks in the stone, as if something attempted to maul the mountain.
“My tribe is staying a mile away in case things go poorly,” Sharne says, petting Fizzle’s head when he lands on her shoulder. “As the Palqua, it is my duty to see that the scepter is taken care of. So I will be going with you. Fizzle has promised to protect me from harm. Though, I don’t know what could possibly be left in there after all this time.”
“You’d be surprised,” Luke responds while he hands Dariana her clothes.
“Give her some privacy,” Nyx states, creating a curtain of sand around the silver-haired woman. “Are you going to be okay in Helgard?”
Dariana throws the remains of her dress over the barrier where Luke catches it. “I’ll be fine, but I believe I owe you my story. I promise to be brief.”
“Only if you wish to share,” Timoran politely replies.
She parts the barrier and adjusts her sapphire top until it is tight around her body, but not choking her. The golden lion design on her back shimmers in the morning sun and gives the illusion of leaning its head back to roar. Her black pants are dotted with the glittering sparkles from her body, which creates an odd starry sky pattern. Wanting to clean her face and hands, she walks to Sari and steps into the gypsy’s water bubble. Dariana comes out the other side, drenched and cleansed of the goddess dust that now swirls around her friend. They stick to Sari’s dress and hair, much to her sheer delight.
“As you now know, I am the daughter of Baron Arthuru Kernaghan and Zaria the Purity Goddess,” Dariana declares in a solemn tone while she stares out over the hardened lava. “Long ago, my father found a way to become the God of Destiny, but he was swiftly dethroned by Gabriel. Arthuru was unable to create any destinies because Zaria tempted him with the promise of her flesh. She was a virgin goddess and she sacrificed her status to stop him from killing the other gods and disturbing the balance of fate. The result of their tryst is me.”
“So you’re a goddess?” Luke asks, scratching his head. “I thought the gods couldn’t get involved in mortal affairs.”
“I’m a mortal with an extremely long lifespan. I don’t age, but one day my body will crumble to dust and I will be left a benevolent spirit,” she explains while leading the way down the dunes. Dariana projects her voice into the minds of the others, allowing her to focus her eyes on the looming volcano. “People like me are not born true gods, but we can become one by the age of five if we wish and are permitted. There’s a ritual where we’re given a domain and granted a deity’s aura. The other gods decide if there is a need for such an ascension and if the person in question will abide by the Law of Influence. If we grow too old then we are no longer viable candidates. Although, true mortals are able to be turned into gods if the situation is correct. The entire thing is complicated and hasn’t happened in centuries.”
“I am confused on how you were raised since being mortal would forbid Zaria from interacting with you,” Timoran says, carefully walking down the sandy incline. He steps on a part of the dune with no traction and falls to the hardened ground. “Be careful, my friends. There are sheets of glass beneath the sand. They must have been made by the heat of the volcano or the lava lake. Thankfully, all of this has hardened and cooled.”
“It is said that the volcano will erupt again when Helgard is claimed,” Sharne mentions while she gingerly makes her way to Timoran. “This will become a lake of lava once more unless the new master does something different.”
“I’ll definitely reconsider having this place surrounded by a death trap. At the very least, I’ll put up some railings or barriers,” Nyx claims, kicking at an isolated piece of basalt. She gets a shield around her when a crimson vein spits lava at her, the hot liquid splattering against the spell. “Looks like the lake is becoming active now that the scepter is near. So how were you raised, Dariana? I remember the vision of you being in the Zarian Monastery.”
“I lived on Ambervale for my first year to allow my mother to nurse me,” she answers while cautiously moving along the edge of the dunes. She holds up her hand, stopping everyone from walking into a sudden spurt of lava. “Then I was sent to the monastery to be raised by her high priestess. I lived there for a very long time. I remember when Mylrix the magic plane merged with the physical realm. That should tell you how old I am. Anyway, you saw how my time at the monastery ended. It was soon after the Great Cataclysm that I learned of my father and was chosen as a champion.”
Dariana takes a step onto the sandy path that is lined with the jagged remains of at least ten sandstone arches. Fire and lightning crackle along the remains of the rune-covered canopy, the damaged pieces unable to contain the ancient aura. The spells are thick and wild as they lash at the ground and puncture the basalt, releasing the churning lava that has been locked away since the volcano went to sleep. As if reacting to the noise, Helgard rumbles and spews a rain of ash that color the surrounding dunes a drab gray.
Sari uses her water bubble to cool the flowing lava while Luke rushes ahead to yank Dariana away from an incoming spell. Before he can get her to the others, a bolt of lightning strikes the sand behind him and turns it into a patch of slick glass. He slips and falls with Dariana landing on top of him, the impact knocking the wind from his lungs. A fiery spell runs along the ground, narrowly missing the pair when Dariana rolls them to the side. Some of the lava flows over the edge of the walkway, which Luke pushes them away from with a controlled gust of air. They are struggling to get up when they feel the heat of an incoming fireball.
Timoran leaps over his friends and bats the spell out of the way before a glistening
barrier surrounds everyone. Nyx holds the scepter above her head as she leads the way through the path of fire and electricity, her spell flowing from the ruby. Deadly magic ricochets off her magic shield and explodes on the basalt, creating geysers of lava. By the time they reach the far end of the path, the air around the adventurers is emitting steam and the straining caster is covered in sweat from exertion. When everyone is safe and near the simple entrance, she stomps her foot to create a shell of stone and glass along the path. The violent spells bounce off the enchanted material, creating more geysers in the basalt field.
“That should hold if we need to escape,” Nyx says as she falls to her knees. She opens her mouth to say something when a burst of water hits her in the face. “Really, Sari? We’re in front of an active volcano with who knows what inside and you drench me?”
“You looked overheated and I wanted to help. This isn’t the time for pranks, Nyxie,” the gypsy replies as she helps the caster stand. “I have a question, Dariana. If you traveled with previous champions then shouldn’t you know about some of these dangers?”
The woman sighs and looks at the slab of red stone sitting between two unlit torches. “It’s not as simple as that. I’m bound by certain rules because of my situation. One of the rules is that I wipe my mind of any information that would be helpful to the next set of champions. I never remember the dangers of the temple even if I have an inkling of being here. Helgard is especially strong in the back of my mind because it is the one I’ve been brought to the most. I’m sorry that I’m not much help.”
“It isn’t like we expected this to be easy,” Delvin says while he approaches the door. He knocks on the rough stone and jumps back expecting something to happen. “That’s odd. There’s nothing really magical about this door like the previous temples. Come to think of it, Helgard has a different feeling than the others.”
“The previous temples were secluded from the rest of the world, but this place has the smell of one that has been left exposed,” Timoran replies, taking the Compass Key off its chain and turning it in his hands. “I expected a complicated entrance like before, but there is nothing here. A lone traveler could make it down the pathway if their reflexes were keen or they had a defensive spell like Nyx used. Some may even be able to hurry across the hardened lava. This is if there would be any danger in the first place since the area is responding to the scepter’s return.”
“It’s possible that the Beast of Palqua destroyed the original entrance along with my people’s original city,” Sharne says as she takes a seat on the base of a fallen column. She picks up a chunk of marble that was once part of a statue’s face. “The city of Palqua once sat upon the cliffs of the volcano. You can still see parts of the pathways and stairs along with deep gouges from the beast. This tells me that the monster rampaged out here before it was sealed within the scepter.”
“I do know that entering a temple through an alternative entrance makes things more difficult. I think a few champions were destroyed attempting that with Helgard,” Dariana claims while watching the continuing spell storm revive the lava lake. “Maybe the archway path was the original entrance with a pattern of spells or it was a race to get through before they release the lava. This doesn’t help us since it’s destroyed.”
“Someone sealed Helgard, but Gabriel wouldn’t allow for it to happen in a way that permanently closes it,” Nyx mentions as she taps the door with the scepter. A faint line of energy runs through the middle of the rough stone, but only the caster is quick enough to notice. “I think I saw something. Can I have the Compass Key, Timoran?”
The barbarian reluctantly hands her the relic and cringes when the caster presses it to the door. Lines of white energy race along the stone, gathering near the bottom to form a glowing lock. Nyx can feel the entrance rumble and shift, but a loud groaning of rusty gears is all that occurs. Struggling to react to the Compass Key, chips of stone and ancient dust fall away from the rough edges of the doorway. With a creaking clunk, the entrance shudders to a stop and the shining lock fades away.
“That was rather underwhelming,” Luke says, throwing a rock at where the lock had appeared. He ducks when the projectile is rocketed back at his head. “Then again, Nyx might be onto something. Guess we should look for clues like the other places.”
“No need for that since this isn’t the original entrance test,” the caster declares as she screws the Compass Key onto the top of the scepter. She smiles at Timoran who is backing onto the path, the echoing sound of the spells hitting the protective canopy making him even more nervous. “I’m guessing whoever sealed Helgard and the Beast of Palqua created this lock. It’s powerful and you need both items to reveal it. Strange since the Compass Key was supposed to have been lost ages ago.”
“That’s my fault,” Dariana states, raising her hand and looking at her feet. “The Compass Key is found by every group of champions and it returns to Gaia whenever they fail. I help revive the ghosts inside and depower it, which is why I stirred upon its revival. Gabriel uses my power to wipe everyone’s memory of it ever being found, including that of my father. After all, I’m the being he used to make the initial curse that wiped all memory of the Baron from Windemere. In my defense, I was still in my mom at the time.”
Everyone stares at Dariana with their mouths partially open, their minds slowly processing what they have heard. Nyx shakes her head and mutters about having her fill of life-altering revelations for one day. Bracing herself, she aims the scepter at the door and focuses her magic on the ruby. There is a sense of resistance from the monster inside, but she urges it to behave long enough for her to tap its power. A key of fire lances out of the scepter and impales the hidden lock, turning to open it and sinking into the stone. The white lines reappear to create the pictures of a dragon and a large bird, both of which are depicting breathing fire. Sliding into the sides of the volcano, the doors open to release a gust of hot, stale wind. The remains of at least ten skeletons are strewn across the entrance, but the adventurers can see that there are more bodies within the darkness.
“Why do I get the temple full of corpses?” Nyx groans, tossing Timoran the Compass Key.
*****
The darkness entombs the small group and absorbs all of the sunlight that comes through the open entrance. Only the glowing ruby of the scepter is able to emit enough light for Nyx to lead the way. Faded pictures of great battles, powerful casters, and bizarre creatures are etched into the stone walls. They make for a minor distraction from the snapping of bones that can be heard with every step. Skeletons and mummified bodies litter the long hallway, many of them clothed in rusty armor or scraps of robes. The crimson light occasionally bounces off coins and gems that are scattered about the ancient corpses. Sari bends down to scoop up a sapphire, but immediately drops it when she gets a sinister sensation from the item. Nyx glares at her for the noise of the gem hitting the stone floor and pushes her way to the gypsy.
“Please don’t touch anything,” she hisses into her friend’s ear. The look of fear in Sari’s eyes swiftly dissipates the half-elf’s annoyance. “What’s wrong?”
“The wealth on the floor isn’t magical, but it’s cursed,” Sari whispers, hugging Nyx for comfort. Her skin feels like it is trying to crawl off her bones as the corrupted aura teases her senses. “They’ve been marked by violence. I don’t know who these people are or how they got in here, but they suffered before death.”
“All of them were former champions,” Dariana states through telepathy. She bends down to touch a gold coin, cringing at the nerve-twisting sensation. “It would seem that Helgard is the depository of dead champions. Not all of these people died here. I can read some of their deaths off residual aura. Drowning in the Island of Pallice, falling from Garden of Uli, and those are the humane ones. I sense a lot of fire too.”
“Wouldn’t be Nyx’s temple without that,” Luke nervously jokes, crouching to examine a broadsword. The metal is scorched and brittle, crumbling at his touch.
“Whatever did this created enough heat to destroy tempered steel. Really old Verenstone Dragons can do that, but I don’t know of anything else.”
“I did see the symbol of a dragon when I researched Helgard,” Nyx says as she returns to the front of the group. She creates a shell to defend against fire, the barrier shimmering briefly before the darkness devours the light. “Stay in a group, so I can keep us protected. Dariana, Sari, and I can attack the dragon from inside the shield if there’s really one up ahead. Follow me and no more touching stuff.”
They continue through the darkness until the hallway splits into two, a metal door sitting in the center of the dead end’s wall. Nyx shines the scepter’s light down the path on the left and is surprised to find that it is clear of bodies. The polished stone is pristine and the pictures on the walls are clear as if time has never touched them. When she checks the right hand path, she finds the opposite. Fleshy corpses are piled waist high, leaving a narrow path through the low, fly-covered stacks. Squinting into the darkness, Nyx thinks she sees a curve in the hallway, but the stench of decay from the bodies makes her eyes water. Returning to the other path, she is about to take a step onto the clean floor, but stops with her foot off the ground. She steps back and sends a tiny fireball into the hallway, watching it curve out of sight in the distance.
“Is everything okay?” Sharne asks, clinging to Fizzle’s tail.
Nyx puts her finger to her mouth and backs away from the path, her free hand coating itself in force magic. The violet energy grows and hardens into a solid fist that she delicately taps with the scepter to make sure it is complete. Using a jump spell for a boost of power, she leaps at the rusty door and smashes the entire wall down in one strike. The impact is enough to shake the hallway and curtains of lava fall to block off the other paths. The sound of flowing liquid and the smell of melting bodies reveals that the barriers are racing along the hallways. A balmy heat fills the area, but a cool breeze from the room ahead gives them some relief and clears the dust from the air.
Sleeper Of The Wildwood Fugue (Book 7) Page 33
