Curse Of The Dark Wind (Book 6)

by Charles E Yallowitz

  “It’s gotten so bad that we need to call in favors,” the mayor explains with a pride-crushing sigh. Crossing her arms, the tired halfling glances at the elevated walkways and gathers her thoughts. “I don’t know how far along your friend is. The bigger and stronger the beast, the longer it will live. This also means the infected creature suffers more. We think amount of exposure might have something to do with it too. A few of our people have seen something we’re calling the Dark Wind.”

  “We saw that too,” Sari interrupts, the gypsy barely able to control her volume. “That’s why we thought it is what it is. There seemed to be some sentience to the thing when it went after Fizzle here. He was able to avoid getting touched and destroyed it when it tried to go after Luke.”

  For the first time, Pam looks at the purple drite and nods her head. “I was wondering why your dragon friend was healthy. You should bring him to John Aneveom who is the head priest of Neberith. He’s on the top floor researching the Dark Wind. Poor guy keeps swearing there’s a way to block the infection, but only a handful of people believe him. Your friend should be able to help. At the very least, a drite’s knowledge and input is always welcome. The few we have in the area have been too sick to be of assistance.”

  “Fizzle go!” the tiny dragon declares. He darts into the air and speeds around the pathways, vanishing from sight.

  “I’ll keep an eye on our little friend,” Delvin says, patting Luke on the shoulder and heading for the stairs. He whistles a happy tune that the nearby halflings mimic, the song spreading throughout the room.

  “He’s surprisingly calm,” the mayor mutters with a crooked smile.

  Her expression fades when Luke pitches forward and collapses, his head banging off the table. His body is wracked with spasms and his eyes roll into their sockets. With his mind feeling like it is being scrambled, the last thing the warrior hears is Nyx and Sari shouting his name.

  *****

  “I’m afraid you’re correct and the Dark Wind is a living curse,” the white-haired halfling says as he finishes examining Fizzle. He brushes powdered herb dust off his light blue robes and settles back into his squeaky chair. “Fizzle’s health tells me that it is a contact curse too, so beasts that avoid touching the Dark Wind will be fine. I might even be able to use that knowledge to create a stronger salve, but I need more supplies.”

  “My friends and I wish to help any way we can, Mr. Aneveom,” Delvin states while examining the bottled herbs and potions scattered around the small office. “The caster I travel with said that destroying the source would end the curse. Is that true, sir?”

  “Please call me John.”

  Realizing that he has been sitting for hours, the halfling stands to massage his tingling legs and limp across the room. He draws a thin book from a shelf and thumbs through it, licking his nimble fingers with every page. The priest mutters to himself, leaving his guests to quietly wait for him to finish his research. Delvin sinks to the wooden floor and crosses his legs, his road weary joints popping with every movement. The sudden noise startles the halfling, who clears his throat and nods apologetically to the warrior.

  “This is a record of the living curses that this temple dealt with over the last two hundred years,” John says as he returns to his seat. He puts his thin glasses on and grumbles when they slide to the tip of his nose. “There are various methods of cleansing. Destroying the source is one possibility along with purification and releasing a counter curse into the region. The other priests and I attempted a large scale purification spell a week ago, but the Dark Wind escaped by entering the high clouds. It was a surprising act of self-preservation, which means you’re right that this curse is sentient. In fact, it has a level of intelligence that has not been seen in this region for centuries.”

  “No destroy source?” Fizzle asks as he crawls across the floor and peeks out the barely open door. “Luke in pain. Fizzle want help, but no idea. Need make Dark Wind go poof. No more time.”

  “Maybe, little one,” the priest replies as he closes the book. He slips his glasses onto his head and puts some cream on the bags under his eyes. “Your friend could last longer than you expect since it is the griffin spirit being attacked. I’ll need to check him when we’re done here and see if his condition can reveal any more secrets.”

  The drite’s wings flutter and he hovers in front of the halfling. “Fix friend now! Then we kill curse.”

  “Patience, Fizzle,” Delvin whispers, standing in case he has to grab the excited dragon. Even as he thinks of a plan, he realizes he is too tired to catch Fizzle and any attempt would probably end with him on the floor. “So it sounds like destroying the source is our only option. At the very least, it means no more Dark Wind can be produced. I’m assuming you need someone to do the legwork on this because you’re tied up here. My friends and I can handle the hunt once we make Luke comfortable.”

  Screams erupt from outside and John scrambles to the circular window, a foul breeze already wafting through the opening. He watches the citizens throwing blankets over the sick beasts and retreating for cover. Straining his neck, the priest sees streams of Dark Wind heading for Fyric from the southwest. They are violently reflected by a barrier of fire that appears around the town and covers it in light and warmth. Buzzing like a swarm of enraged bees, the living curse takes the form of several powerful arms and batters at the shield. Unable to make a dent in the city’s defenses, the streams merge to create a thick river of Dark Wind that flows out of sight. Glancing at the ground, John notices Nyx standing in the open with rolling flames surrounding her body.

  “That caster is a force to be reckoned with,” the priest says, turning back to Delvin with a nervous smirk. “It appears the Dark Wind has decided to attack Fyric directly. This makes me wonder if there’s something else going on here or even a specific target.”

  “The Dark Wind was designed to draw my friends and I to the area and infect Luke Callindor,” Delvin explains as he listens to the voice of the mayor shouting orders. The warrior goes to the small window, enjoying the crisp breeze that flows into the room. “The thought crossed my mind when I saw how violently he reacted to the curse compared to the animals. Our enemies are behind this epidemic, which means this has something to do with us. I was hoping it was nothing more than an attempt to stop us from getting to the Widowhorn, but now I’m worried there’s more to this. I apologize for bringing this disaster to your doorstep.”

  “So you’re the champions that all the gods are whispering about,” John declares with a small laugh. His hazel eyes glimmer as he stares at Delvin with renewed interest. “Priests all over Ralian have heard of you during their prayers. We’re not sure what’s going on, but it appears it’s bigger than most of us expected. Guess I should show you the location of the Dark Wind source and leave it in your hands.”

  “You knew where this is coming from?”

  “Yes, but a barrier is blocking everyone from getting there.”

  Fizzle hisses and weaves his tail in the air. “Stephen make shield. Want only us to fight. Fizzle smell trap.”

  “It’s amazing how often traps fail when the target knows about the danger,” the warrior says while patting the drite on the head. “Not as often as one would like, but it happens. Some of us made a mercenary career out of ruining plans.”

  Rummaging through the papers on his desk, the priest hunts for a long scroll that is notched along the edges. He unrolls the parchment, revealing a faded map that shows the northern shore of the L’dandrin River to the southern edge of the Guldrack Mountains. John examines the scroll to locate the small dot that he wants to point out to Delvin. It is a faint pinprick of ink that takes his strained eyes nearly a minute to find. A voice in the back of his head reminds him to gets his vision checked again, but the halfling silences it with a fake cough.

  “Make a plan and recover your strength,” he whispers, his finger quivering on the crinkly parchment. “Your enemies have corrupted the Cave of Winds, which provi
des the pure breeze to our lands.”

  “Why are you so scared?”

  “It is holy ground, so there’s no telling what such corruption has produced. There’s bound to be something angry and evil inside.”

  Delvin puts his hands in his pockets and heads for the door, shaking his head in amusement. “Story of my life these days, sir.”

  *****

  The Widowhorn rumbles as the titans stomp and bellow around its rocky base. With a solitary arm sticking out of their chest, the towering creatures grab boulders and spin to hurl the stones at their ascending targets. Their projectiles explode against a crackling barrier and the three-eyed giants shield their faces from the rain of jagged shards. The titans shake the mountain and rile the horned spiders that scramble out from between the forked peaks. Seeing the small band of chaos elves, the brown-haired arachnids swarm forward. Their curved horns strike the powerful shield spell and the first wave is sent tumbling down the mountain by a burst of paralyzing force. Several of the titans grab the fallen spiders to drag them away and prepare the giant arachnids for dinner.

  “I think we’re as high as we’re going to get,” Trinity announces. She snaps her fingers at the rushing spiders, scattering them with a bolt of lightning. “Can you maintain the shield while I prepare?”

  “We’ll do our best, your majesty,” three female chaos elves declare.

  Focusing on the violet enhancer gems in their foreheads, the trio of young women hold hands and chant. A sputter of energy encircles the small group, causing the rest of the band to draw their weapons. The spiders surge forward to strike the weaker barrier and pushes the spell along the mountainside. All of the chaos elves are jostled from the violent movement, which stops when Trinity fires several acid blasts into the swarm. Rapid snaps of her fingers sends a barrage of wind blasts and force javelins at the arachnids, knocking many of them to the titans below. The eight-legged creatures are about to retreat when a boulder explodes against the barrier and the spell shatters with an ear-wrenching crash.

  “We’re sorry, Queen Trinity,” the casters says as they collapse from the strain. Three of the warriors catch them and ease them to the ground. “We’re not strong like you.”

  “This feels like a suicide mission, your majesty,” states an axe-wielding woman.

  “It seems that way,” Trinity mutters under her breath. “Everyone gather before me. Now!”

  The chaos elves get into a circle in front of their queen, who takes several steps back. Her heels touch the edge of the mountain path, leaving her in view of the titans. She lashes out at the spiders with a wave of lightning and patiently waits for the screaming giants to continue their attack. When she hears the rush of wind from a flying boulder, she spins around and hurls a churning spell at the large rock. The projectile hollows out and slows down, landing over the tightly packed chaos elves to protect them from the monsters.

  “Time for some unrestrained fun,” Trinity purrs with a cruel smirk. She lifts her arms over her head, letting her limbs abnormally stretch to an upper ledge. “Titans are not to be killed, but Stephen never said anything about the horned spiders.”

  With the creaking of rubbery bones, her arms retract and yank her up the mountain. The horned spiders follow the lone chaos elf, expecting her to be easy prey. Trinity grins as she coats her body in violet aura and dives at the swarm, the caster thrilled that she can cut loose. She kicks the nearest spider off the mountain and grabs the light brown stone, her hand enchanted to adhere to the sheer surface. As if she was on horizontal ground, Trinity rushes forward and beats back the creatures with precise kicks and punches. Several times she jumps out into thin air, a glowing tether appearing between her body and the wall. With a loud snap, she rockets back to slam down her booted foot and rattle the Widowhorn with a quake spell. Many of the horned spiders topple to the hungry titans before the survivors scurry back to the safety of their webs.

  A boulder comes spinning through the air and Trinity sinks into the mountain to avoid getting smashed. She reappears in the middle of the dent with a worried look on her face. With several rocks flying through the air, the chaos elf races toward the dome protecting her loyal people. A scream erupts from her mouth and shatters one of the projectiles, its size making her think it could have destroyed her people’s hiding place. Trinity hears the other chaos elves shouting for her to let them help when she leaps onto the thick dome. The aura around her body flares as she kicks the boulders back at the titans, who catch the giant stones with ease.

  “Give us back emerald!” shouts the largest of the giants. He stumbles back when a blast of lightning turns the boulder he is holding into powder. “You stole emerald from us! We want it back!”

  “Stupid creatures,” Trinity hisses, crouching like a cat waiting to pounce. Clearing her throat, she amplifies her voice to avoid shouting. “You dare call me a thief? All of you know that this emerald belongs in the Garden of Uli. You took it from the last owner who probably didn’t even know what she really had. This baby is going home . . . with a little present.”

  “Not your place! We protect emerald until champion returns! Guardian entrust us now that traitor giant fail!”

  “I honestly don’t care about your politics,” the caster says, rolling her eyes and flicking her wrist. An emerald the size of her head appears in her palm and the titans immediately bow their circular heads. “I have a job to do and you’re in my way. If you continue being pests then my . . . partner will arrive to handle you. Trust me when I say that you don’t want him showing an interest in you.”

  “We can squash tiny creatures!”

  With a peal of laughter, Trinity nearly falls off the mountain. The chaos elf casually juggles the emerald as she struggles to regain her composure. Her action causes several in the crowd of giants to gasp and reflexively reach for the gem. The look of fear and horror on the titans’ chubby faces makes her happy enough to calm down.

  “I’ve wasted enough time on you,” she declares, levitating the jewel between her hands. She stops her amplifier spell and lets her voice return to normal, coughing at the tickling in her throat. “Time to plant another surprise, champions. This one is all for you, Luke Callindor, so I hope you make it this far. Wouldn’t want to upset an old friend.”

  Focusing on the emerald, Trinity sends sparks of violet magic into the large jewel. The pristine shimmer of the gem dims and a darkness appears in its core. Several of the titans raise their boulders to stop her, but freeze when a nightmarish howl erupts from the shadows. The horrific sound echoes throughout the mountain while the wind wraps around Trinity. She bites her lower lip when the emerald rumbles as if something is trying to break free. Taking careful aim, she hurls the gem into the sky where it hits a massive barrier. For a brief moment, everyone sees the silhouette of a towering warrior in spiked armor appear among the clouds. The image is torn apart by the crackling energy as Trinity and her loyal people disappear in a burst of yellow fog.

  7

  Sari yawns and rolls out of the cot, drifting to the floor thanks to her enchanted boots. Her body creaks as she stands and groggily staggers to the bed where Luke is sleeping. She uses a handkerchief to gingerly wipe the black foam from the corner of his mouth and kisses his forehead, letting her moist lips linger on his clammy skin. Feeling her stomach rumble, the gypsy leaves the side of the bed and takes a seat at the solitary table by the window. Passing through a crack, the cold wind and warm sun gives Sari goose bumps while she takes some dried fruit from a bowl on the sill. Reaching under the table, she draws a slender decanter and takes a quick shot of the sweet fae water.

  “Isn’t it too early to drink?” Zander asks as he knocks and enters. A muttered curse escapes his lips when Fizzle darts into the room, the drite’s tail skimming the blonde man’s head. “I brought some fresh medicine from Priest Aneveom. He wants me to remind you that he makes no promises about this curing Luke of the Dark Wind.”

  “Leave it on the nightstand and I’ll give it to hi
m,” Sari replies before taking another swig the soothing drink. She corks the decanter and tosses it onto her cot, stumbling as she gets to her feet. “I’m not drunk. Luke had an episode during the night and I used my aura to calm him. I don’t have as much magic as Nyx, so it left me exhausted.”

  “Then let someone else take over. I’m sure your friends would be happy to watch him for a bit.”

  “Sari have pride,” Fizzle says from his perch above Luke’s head. “Fizzle can watch while Sari sleep. Fizzle full of apple and energy.”

  “Listen to the drite before you collapse,” Zander urges the gypsy.

  A childish frown is on Sari’s face as she drags a chair to the bed and places the bowl of medicine in her lap. She spoon feeds the dark green liquid to Luke, who whimpers and groans with every swallow. Every time she pulls her hand away, she lets her knuckles stroke his feverish cheek. A shuddering breath wracks Sari’s body and she moves the bowl to prevent her tears from contaminating the medicine. She relaxes when Fizzle lands on her shoulder and nuzzles her neck, his tail patting her on the head.

  “Luke get better. Please get rest.”

  “I’ll take a nap when I finish giving him this medicine,” Sari weakly declares, giving Luke another spoonful. The room spins as a wave of vertigo washes over her. “Stop pestering me and making me mad. I need to focus.”

  “I thought you’d be stubborn, so I brought you this,” Zander says, waving a small vial of crimson liquid at the blue-haired gypsy. “It’s nothing more than a minor wakening dram, which will get you through the morning. Plenty of time to give one of your friends a chance to clear their schedule and take over.”

  “Luke’s been barely conscious all night,” she states, refusing to take the potion. She casually tosses the vial onto the nightstand, not caring if it breaks or rolls off. “Besides, everyone is busy. I saw Timoran helping with the big animals and Delvin is running supplies. I’m sure Nyx is using her magic on the severe cases. So this is my responsibility.”