Sleeper Of The Wildwood Fugue (Book 7)

by Charles E Yallowitz

  “Let me in!” he shouts, lifting the Reflector Blade to strike the fire wall. The barrier gives an inch before a molten fist erupts from the flames. Delvin ducks the deadly attack and backs up, the bastard sword steaming. “I guess I’ll go around.”

  “Stop this and stick to what Nyx said on the stairs,” Timoran demands as he cautiously approaches his friend. “She told us to destroy the altar, so the others can join us. We do not know how long they can last down there. We need to work together.”

  “She needs me. This sword can defeat Sutter and end all of this. If I charge at the fire wall with the Reflector Blade ahead of me, it should push through.”

  “I agree that it will puncture the barrier,” the barbarian calmly says. He gingerly moves forward, stopping when the other warrior stomps his foot. “Yet I can see it pulling you into the fire as well. The sword would make it through unscathed and you be severely injured. You may even die. That is nothing more than a foolish waste. Come with me to destroy the altar and trust that Nyx can handle Sutter for now.”

  “I won’t abandon her.”

  “I am not saying that.”

  Delvin stares suspiciously at Timoran, a mad glint in his eye. “I get it now. You want me to handle that blood altar while you save Nyx. You’re just like Stephen. Well I’m not going to let you be the hero.”

  The foam flying from the warrior’s mouth is enough of a warning for the barbarian to prepare for a slash. Remembering what happened the last time his Deflector Axe struck the Reflector Blade, Timoran blocks the attack with his bracers. The force of the blow knocks him off-balance, but he is quick to recover and sheath his great axe to avoid a mistake. He is pushed back by the wild slashes and jabs, each one more chaotic than the last. They are nearly across the volcano when a swing manages to graze the large man’s chest, which leaves a burning cut that stings with every gust of hot air. Choking down his primal rage, Timoran catches Delvin’s arm and punches him in the face with a fraction of his strength. The smaller warrior’s nose is broken and he is stunned, but there is no sign that he is about to give up.

  “I apologize for this,” the barbarian whispers before lifting his friend into the air.

  With a tight spin, he hurls Delvin back to the altar where the warrior bounces a few times and rolls down the stairwell. Timoran sprints as fast as he can to the opening and draws his weapon in case there is a danger. He sees his friend sprawled on the stairs, the man’s eyes clenched shut and his breathing rapid. When the barbarian puts his foot on the top step, Delvin weakly swings the bastard sword at his toes. Leaping to safety, Timoran decides to leave his friend and work on destroying the altar.

  When he gets within a few steps of the altar, a pair of skeletal arms burst from the bloody object. They reach for Timoran’s wrists, but he swiftly hacks them at their elbows. The fallen limbs melt into the stone as several more emerge to push him back. One of them catches the barbarian by the ankle and holds him long enough for two more to punch him in the stomach. Their barbed knuckles leave bleeding cuts in his flesh and he roars with renewed rage. With several violent swings, the barbarian cleaves through the swarm of limbs and charges at the altar. As he raises his great axe over his head, two arms with wide hands lance out to grab him by the neck. Driven by fury, Timoran marches against the strength of the altar until he can bring his weapon down on the sinister object’s flat top. An explosion melts the arms and sends the barbarian flying, but the Deflector Axe fails to undo the evil magic. Landing next to the stairs, the large warrior is about to get up and try again when a foot stomps on his bleeding stomach to pin him down.

  “You’re in my way,” Delvin growls as he lifts the bastard sword with both hands. His skin is pale and his eyes are sunken as the curse courses through his mind. “Nyx will be mine.”

  Timoran strikes Delvin in the knee with the side of his axe and flips up to his feet, dropping his weapon. He grabs the hilt of the bastard sword before his friend can recover his balance. The two men wrestle as the curse pushes Delvin deeper into madness and reaches out to infect Timoran. The barbarian roars and slams the smaller warrior into the bloody altar, but a knee to his gut weakens his leverage. Pushing off the base of the shrine, Delvin forces his friend back and they awkwardly crash to the ground. Rolling back and forth, both men refuse to release the Reflector Blade until the former mercenary bites Timoran in the neck with enough force to draw blood.

  “Stop wasting my time!” Delvin roars as he yanks the bastard sword away. “You’re putting Nyx in danger!”

  “If you destroy the altar then our friends will be free to join us,” Timoran quickly says, his hands already up in preparation to catch the blade. “Once Luke is here, he can fly you across the volcano and drop you onto Sutter. You have done that before with him and it is like a knight on his noble steed. Nyx will see you as the hero instead of myself or Luke.”

  “That does make sense. If you go for Nyx and I have to kill you then the others will be witnesses to your betrayal. I do it now and she won’t believe me.”

  With a single slash, Delvin destroys the skeletal arms that try to stop him. He charges when the path is clear and swings at the altar with an overhead chop. The bastard sword stops an inch from the evil object due to all of his muscles painfully locking. His body relaxes and he tries again only for the same thing to happen. Even his attempt at a kick ends with his joints freezing before he can touch the altar.

  “My body won’t let me hit it,” Delvin whispers as his mind gains a moment of clarity. He stares at the bastard sword and watches the steel turn black with faint faces laughing within the tar-like surface. “The curse likes the evil magic of the altar. It won’t let me attack something it sees as a kindred spirit.”

  “Then drop the sword and let me do it,” Timoran requests, grabbing his great axe. “Do it before your mind is lost again.”

  “No . . . I’m not letting Stephen beat me,” the determined warrior replies with a choking cough. The curse rages within his thoughts, but he holds onto his remaining scrap of sanity. “I swear to every god that ever existed that I won’t fall to that monster. Not even his cursed blade, which I’m going to claim as my own, will stop me. Nyx once said I had a blinding aura, so let’s see if I can use it.”

  “You are neither a caster nor a priest.”

  “I don’t care.”

  “I will take your head off if you fail and become a monster.”

  “Thank you, but I won’t fail.”

  Delvin focuses on the evil blade in his hands and rushes at the altar again. He tries to deliver another chop, but the bastard sword stops like before. Instead of giving up, the warrior battles against his own body and continues pushing. A burst of energy knocks him away and he skids across the ground, leaving a line of blood as his shirt tears and his elbow is shredded. The curse surges against his sanity and the sinister voice whispers in his ear, the hateful words twisting his stomach. Feeling weak and defeated, Delvin closes his eyes and falls to his knees as the curse envelopes his mind.

  It is a single spark within the darkness of his vision that stops him from being entirely consumed. He desperately reaches out for the golden energy with a hand that is steadily unraveling. A final burst of willpower helps him reverse the damage and he grabs the spark as soon as his fingers are solid again. Delvin’s world is bathed in light as the curse is purged from his body. His eyes open to reveal twin orbs of burning aura, the energy dripping down his face and under his shirt. The lines of magic run to his hands where they infect the cursed blade, transforming it from black to gold.

  Taking a steady breath, the warrior sprints at the altar and strikes it with the glowing bastard sword. The energy from Delvin drains into the putrid blood, which crystallizes and cracks at the base. He makes another swing, which cleanly removes the top of the altar and shatters the base. He watches the remains fall into the volcano where they explode against the magma. A wave of dizziness washes over the warrior and he nearly tumbles over the edge, but Timoran grabs
him by the back of his shirt.

  “Do you know what happened?” the barbarian asks, not expecting a clear answer.

  “I . . . purified my body and the sword,” Delvin answers as he steps away from the volcano’s mouth. He taps his blade against Timoran’s great axe, causing his friend to brace for a spell that never happens. “Seems I went too far and removed most of the magic. This isn’t anything more than an indestructible sword now.”

  “You are a mystery, my friend.”

  “I’m really sorry about everything I said and did, Timoran.”

  “It was the curse and nothing more.”

  “Those emotions-”

  Delvin is cut off by the barbarian grabbing his face with one hand and saying, “I know how you feel about her and the curse enhanced your emotions. Those darker forces may be inside you, but you are a good man. So we will put this behind us. Now let us wait for the others and . . . what is that?”

  Delvin turns in time to see a slender form falling into the volcano. He is not sure what he is looking at until he sees someone else leap after the first figure. The glowing light around the second person is all the two warriors need to know that it is Nyx. Racing to the edge of the mouth, all they can do is watch as the two forms plunge into the magma.

  *****

  Nyx curses under her breath when the walls of fire trap her and Sharne with Sutter. She can see Timoran and Delvin on the other side of the barrier, but it is impossible for them to break through. Pointing the scepter at the Ifrit, she moves forward and motions for her companion to stay behind her. Flames run through the caster’s hair and lightning crackles around her eyes in an attempt to intimidate the lesser demon. He grins and bursts into flames that are powerful enough to make the half-elf sweat.

  “I have to admit that nobody has ever tried to scare me with my own element,” the Ifrit says with a deep chuckle. The fire around him dies down and steam drifts from his muscular frame. “I hope your friend warned you that I will not hold back. I expect the same from you even though you’re at a disadvantage. No champion who claims fire as their weapon has a chance against a creature who thrives off it.”

  “We don’t have to do this, Sutter,” Nyx states, realizing that a pitched battle could get Sharne killed. “Help me claim the temple and I’ll set you free.”

  The demon throws a punch at the caster, which is deflected by an air shield. Nyx counters by growing an iron spike from her hand and stabs Sutter in the leg. She detaches from the metal weapon as it melts over the wound and sinks beneath the crimson skin. With a burst of light in her enemy’s eyes, the half-elf moves to his side and hits him with a paralysis spell. She holds her breath while the blue cords envelope the demon and lock him in place.

  “I hope you use this time to think of a real plan,” Sutter growls as he struggles against the irritating spell. “This is an interesting sensation. All the champions I have killed come at me with combat magic. Not sure if you’re cunning or weak.”

  “Why won’t you be the guardian of Helgard?”

  “Because I hate it here!” the Ifrit roars as he tries to grow. The cords around his body strain against his muscles and crack before he calms down. “As I told the drite and the large man, I no longer remember the Chaos Void. Returning there would feel wrong, but I refuse to remain in this prison. That is why I had myself altered, so I die forever if killed on this plane of existence. I thank you for destroying Nuerin and returning the scepter with the true guardian inside. Yet even with those victories, I must retain my pride since it is truly all I have left. Our battle must continue until one of us is dead.”

  “You want her to do a mercy killing?” Sharne politely asks.

  The lesser demon raises his arms and the paralysis spell shatters. “I want her to fight me with all her strength as I do the same. I am still the final test of Helgard. All of these centuries of waiting for a champion to destroy me will not end with me laying down. So far I am unimpressed by this channeler.”

  “Answer me one question before we fight,” Nyx requests as she moves between the demon and the nomad. She snaps her fingers to put a protective cylinder around Sharne, the violet energy vibrating. “What’s the point of this scepter? I’ve heard it have a few names and been told it contains a monster. Yet I have no idea what it was really meant for. I know it’s a strange question, but it’s been bugging me since I entered Helgard.”

  “I sense you’re stalling, but it will be in vain,” Sutter says with a cruel smile. Reaching out, he taps his claws on the ruby and shudders at the familiar power running up his arm. “It was nothing more than a trinket that Nuerin took a liking to. It had been sitting in the treasury since the early years. I never understood why Gabriel put fortunes in each temple or where he got the wealth from. Makes one wonder what the champions were to be used for after the Baron is killed. Something to think about. Will your battles ever truly be over?”

  The spell that Nyx has been preparing behind her back sputters when she loses her focus, causing the Ifrit to smile. He stomps on the ground to send a narrow wave of fire at the half-elf who dives out of the way. She hurls a lightning bolt that hits Sutter in the forehead, blinding him and knocking him back. Taking the opening, she batters the demon with fists of solid wind and drives him towards the edge of the volcano. With a yawn, Sutter takes a step backwards to drop into the magma and disappear from view.

  “This won’t be good,” Sharne mentions as she presses against the far side of her protective cage.

  Nyx looks across the volcano to see Delvin and Timoran fighting, her attention stolen for a precious instant. When Sutter leaps out of the magma, she is barely able to create a shield to block his punch. Molten rock covers the half-elf, the coating solidifying around her spell when the Ifrit roars. Leaving burning footprints on the ground, he approaches the shell and sighs in disappointment. Nyx loses her temper at the sound and bursts the thick covering with an explosion. Whipping her arms, she hurls the chunks of basalt at Sutter who puts his hands up to melt and absorb them. The pair circle each other with Nyx creating blue flames in her free palm and the lesser demon growing gloves of intense heat.

  “You’re still holding back,” Sutter says in dismay. “What has you scared?”

  Nyx blasts the Ifrit with a plume of flame that tickles him until she changes it to an icy cloud. He falls to his knees and his skin turns a lighter shade of red as frost appears on the tips of his mane and tail. Pounding his fists together, Sutter emits a burst of sweltering heat that warms him up and makes Nyx dizzy from sudden dehydration. She stumbles and tries to shake her head clear, but she can barely remain conscious. Raising the scepter over her head, the half-elf conjures a raincloud that drenches her and cools her off. The cloud fires lightning and wind to keep Sutter at bay as it gives Nyx the water she needs to recover. She grabs her creation and turns it into a hurricane that she fires at the lesser demon. He is shoved back, but it is not strong enough to knock him off his feet.

  Sutter is about to charge Nyx when he notices her eyes briefly shift to his right. He turns to see that Sharne is nearby, the holy woman cowering in the protective shell. For a moment, the Ifrit considers ignoring her, but his demonic nature urges him to use her against his enemy. He pounces and grabs the defensive spell that protects her from his claws and flames. Sutter lifts the screaming woman over his head and tosses her into the volcano. He aims for her to fall a few feet away from the wall to give Nyx a slight chance at saving her.

  “Save her or-” Sutter begins to say.

  The caster does not stop to hear the Ifrit talk as she leaps into the volcano. A gust of wind drives her after Sharne and she cancels the defensive shield to grab the holy woman. Nyx creates a new shell around them, but she has no idea if she can protect them from the churning magma. Desperate and terrified, she hugs Sharne close and prays to Gabriel, Gola, and Cessia with all her might. As if in response, the scepter envelopes the two women in a cocoon of crimson light that plunges into the molten rock below.
/>   *****

  “Such a disappointment, but I shouldn’t have expected anything else from you,” a female voice says as Nyx wakes up. “You’re horribly trained and a specialist. I should have let the volcano eat you. Then again, that’s still an option if you fail here. Don’t worry about your little friend. I have no problem with her and her people kept me safe for centuries. I’ll send her home when we’re done here.”

  Nyx finds herself covered in ashes and standing within a large nest of charred trees. She shakes the gray flakes from her arms and hair, earning a derisive laugh from the woman before her. Clothed in a black dress that sparkles like a starlit sky, the pale-skinned lady scratches the head of an orange bird perched on her exposed shoulder. The vibrant animal nuzzles her chocolate brown hair and coos into her ear. With a gentle nod, the woman sends the bird to Nyx and it flies around her, its long tail feathers tickling the half-elf’s nose. While the young woman is distracted, her hostess silently glides closer. The bird sparks and soars away as the woman roughly grabs Nyx by the chin and their matching, violet eyes meet.

  “You must be Casandra,” the young caster says, unsure if she should be scared or in awe of the channeler. “So why are you here and is that bird what I think it is?”

  “It’s a phoenix and the true guardian of Helgard,” the woman answers, letting go of Nyx and whistling for the bird. It lands on her head, already looking a little bigger than before. “The demented champion that you and I destroyed found me during her travels. She told me of her destiny and promised a land for all of my children. The channelers have not had a place to call their own since the early days of the ancient Race War. I took her up on the offer and . . . was betrayed. The phoenix and I were combined to make her great beast and we attempted to destroy her. You know the rest of the story.”