Curse Of The Dark Wind (Book 6)

by Charles E Yallowitz

  “Thanks, Delvin. I’ll try my best not to be a burden.”

  The brown-haired warrior nods and leads the way back to the tower, his exhaustion setting in as they near the door. Luke hacks up another blob of Dark Wind, enjoying the sight of it transforming into rainbow mist. Once inside, they hang their cloaks and boots by the door and trudge up the winding stairs that seem longer than when they left the tower. Each step is heavy and slow as the climb saps the last of their energy. A chorus of snoring can be heard from the room, which forces them to stop and stifle their laughter.

  “Timoran sounds like a roaring ogre,” Delvin whispers.

  “Actually, that’s Sari. She snores really loud when she’s exhausted,” the half-elf replies as he covers his mouth. “We’ll be asleep before it can even begin to annoy us.”

  “Think I can get away with sleeping next to Nyx?”

  “Go ahead and try it. She won’t punch you until the morning.”

  With another bout of restrained laughter, the warriors slip into the room and find places to get comfortable among the pillows. It does not take long for their own snoring to join the symphony of their sleeping friends.

  *****

  Fresh snow drifts through the air and covers the ground, the brewing storm creating a landscape of unmarred winter. A pack of wolves huddles beneath a wide pine tree, raising their heads at the sound of an approaching horse. Their yellow eyes watch the solitary traveler, who bravely passes within a few yards of the hungry predators. Even with their stomachs rumbling, none of them move when they pick up the scent of an aggressive beast nearby. All they can do is growl and whimper as the easy meal passes by.

  Moving steadily through the billowing flakes, Zander pulls the hood of his cloak as far over his head as possible. The whipping snow flies at his face and lashes at his reddened nose, the cold making it run and sniffle. Grumbling to himself, the monster hunter heads for a rocky outcropping to wait out the worst of the weather. Voicing its concern, the horse whinnies and snorts as it is forced to turn further into the biting wind. The steed pushes its muscles to their limits as it battles through the rising drifts and strength-sapping cold. Both man and beast feel relief when they reach their destination and the crippling wind is blocked. Finding a dry spot to make camp, Zander slides off the horse and removes the saddle to let the animal rest. It patiently waits for its owner to put the feed bag over its head, so it can greedily devour the oats. Once the horse is settled, the hunter takes a sip of whiskey from a flask and chews on a piece of dry, salty meat.

  “Guess we should have stayed in Fyric until morning. I forgot to check the sky for signs of this storm and now we’re stuck. At least I remembered to grab you some food. This is probably for the best. I really couldn’t take those champions any longer.”

  “They do get annoying after a while, don’t they?” asks Stephen as he appears next to the monster hunter. With a solid grip on the other man’s shoulder, the Chronos turns him around and stares into his eyes. “I hope you aren’t siding with my enemies. After I went to all that trouble of not killing you in the desert. It isn’t too late to reunite you with your friends.”

  “My loyalty hasn’t changed,” Zander says, slipping from his boss’s grasp. He yawns and stretches his back, feeling his stiff joints pop. “I assume you’re not going to let me sleep until I give you my report.”

  Stephen shrugs and kneels in front of the horse, reaching out with a gloved hand to stroke its mane. The beast tenses under his touch when it senses the primal bloodlust lurking beneath the man’s skin. He hears the pull of a bowstring and glances over his shoulder to see Zander aiming a simple arrow at him.

  “I need that horse to get through the snow,” the monster hunter growls, sweat beading on his brow. “I know this won’t do anything to you, but it’s all I have. So please leave the beast alone and let’s discuss our deal.”

  Stephen removes his hand from the beast and fixes his loose glove, a bored smile crossing his face. “Tell me what I want to know and I’ll relieve you of your debt. I have a pesky forest tracker and a bunny to hunt down, so I don’t have much time to waste on you. Begin talking so I can be on my way.”

  “Luke Callindor is going to get much worse within the next twelve hours,” Zander reports, taking another swig of whiskey. His eyes flutter at the sensation of warmth that runs through his chilled gut. “I’ve been slipping him the infected herbs that Trinity hid around those hills and outside of town. I even put some into the high priest’s potion. Those idiots never suspected I worked for you since they rescued me from the lumber wasps.”

  “I sense some disdain toward the saviors of Windemere.”

  Zander’s laugh echoes throughout the woods and he holds his sides, the shaking of his body forcing him to sit in the damp snow. Unable to talk through his chuckling, the monster hunter removes his wet boots and slips on a dry pair from his pack. Tears roll down his face and threaten to freeze in the winter air until he wipes them off. With a deep breath and another taste of whiskey, Zander regains his senses and meets the curious gaze of his boss.

  “Those fools aren’t going to save anything,” the blonde man confidently declares. “They’re too trusting and stumble over their petty personal lives. What kind of champion focuses on something other than their quest? It’s like watching a group of children pretend to be heroes. Don’t even get me started on their naïveté, which is why I think all of them are idiots. Besides there’s no money in saving the world, so what’s the point?”

  “That’s why I like you, hunter. You entertain me. Your friends tried to fight me when I threatened all of you. So predictable and boring. Then you attempted to bribe me. I admit that was a first.”

  “Glad to be of service,” Zander mutters as he prepares his bedroll and gets comfortable on the ground. “Now I need to get some sleep before I continue traveling. I trust you’ll be able to find me if you need my services again. That is unless my debt has been paid, but I get the feeling that isn’t the case.”

  “I have one more question,” the black-haired warrior says. He crouches next to Zander and folds his hands in front of him. “You were privy to a lot of information while traveling with the champions. Did you hear anything that would be useful in defeating them? A hint to some of their powers? The location of the Compass Key?”

  Clearing his throat, Zander sits up and runs his hands through his hair. He can feel a painful tightening in his chest when he considers telling Stephen anything that might be a secret. He is not sure if the sensation is Isaiah’s lethal spell or his own anxiety. Fumbling for the flask of whiskey, he takes a few sips and shudders at the harsh taste in his mouth.

  “Don’t know anything about a Compass Key,” the hunter admits, taking courage from the flowing numbness of the alcohol. “I have to be honest with you, Stephen. This fireskin named Isaiah put a curse on me. If I tell you any of the champions’ secrets, I drop dead. Not that it matters because I’ve no idea if I heard anything important. All I can tell you is that I did the job you told me to do and Luke Callindor isn’t long for this world.”

  “That is a shame.”

  “Sorry I couldn’t be more help.”

  “Me too.”

  Zander has no time to react when Stephen’s arm lances out and snaps his neck with one quick twist. The monster hunter’s body falls limp to the ground, his eyes still open as if staring at the world in disbelief. Chanting in backwards words, Stephen casts a spell to decompose the corpse and scatters the man-shaped mound of dirt with a kick. Wiping the dusty remains off his boot, he glances at the horse that is gazing at him in primal terror.

  “No all my kills can be flashy and fun.”

  The sound of hungry wolves rips through the night and the horse slowly backs away from the outcropping. It shivers at the touch of the snow and freezing wind, but it refuses to return to the protected area. A closer howl drives the beast into a panic and it races into the storm, the feed bag still secured over its head.

  “At le
ast one of you had a sense of self-preservation,” Stephen whispers as he scoops up the monster hunter’s badge and disappears in a blink.

  12

  Sari clings to Luke’s arm as they travel by foot through the quiet, snowy wilderness. She can feel his body getting cold even with all of his layers of clothing. A sense of dread grows in her stomach as she considers that the Dark Wind is not even close to being done with the forest tracker. Not wanting to worry the others, the gypsy keeps her thoughts to herself and pays close attention to Luke. Sari is so focused on him that she fails to notice that the air is getting warmer and they are walking through melted snow.

  “Is this heat natural?” Nyx asks as she pushes her hood back and wipes the sweat from her brow. “It’s feeling like spring here and the road is getting muddy. This is why we should have brought horses. You know it’s bad if I’m asking to use those beasts.”

  “They would have had a hard time getting through this too,” Delvin replies as he yanks his foot out of the muck. “Besides we don’t know what’s waiting for us on the mountain. Best not to put any horses in danger.”

  “Fizzle not sense magic,” the drite declares from atop Timoran’s head. “This warmth true.”

  “I need to rest for a bit. Something doesn’t feel right,” Luke announces with a cough. He leans against Sari and feels a pulse of energy run up his left arm. “You know, Delvin and I were looking over a map of the area before we left. There should be a river nearby that can lead us to the Widowhorn. Maybe we can make a raft and go by water.”

  “That is a good idea,” Timoran agrees from the rear of the group. The barbarian fiddles with the Compass Key hanging around his neck, its silver chain glinting in the sunlight. “Though, we would have a problem if the melting snow has created rapids and flooding. We should wait until we reach the river before we decide.”

  The forest tracker doubles over and clutches his aching gut. “How about you guys go ahead and I’ll catch my breath here? I should be fine soon. It must be the Dark Wind reacting to my empty stomach.”

  “You’ve already eaten all of your rations, so you shouldn’t be hungry,” Delvin points out as he takes his friend’s face in his hands and peers into his eyes. “Your pupils are turning black. I don’t have to know about curses or magic to know that’s a really bad sign. Any way we can see what’s going on inside him?”

  Fizzle quickly flies around Luke, covering the half-elf in a patch of colorful fog. The tiny dragon’s breath shifts and trembles as it molds to the warrior’s body. The covering turns a roiling black with only a few rapidly fading blotches of green. An occasional surge of pink runs up the warrior’s left arm to return the aura to its natural emerald, but the progress is swiftly devoured by the Dark Wind. Fizzle darts around Luke in search of the amber light of the griffin, which is nothing more than a faint line around the half-elf’s neck.

  “That’s worse than before,” Nyx says while reaching out to touch the sticky spell. She pulls her hand back and burns off the black ooze that creeps along her fingertips. With a hopeful smile, the caster coats her hands in fire and reaches out to touch Luke’s corrupted aura. “Maybe I can burn it off or push it back. At this rate, the Dark Wind will consume him entirely before we reach the mountain.”

  “Stop it, Nyxie, or you’ll burn him,” Sari states before putting her friend’s spell out with several well-aimed snowballs. “The aura is part of him, so you can’t attack it.”

  “Can we avoid a childish fight here?” Delvin politely requests, getting a closer look at Luke’s left arm. “This pink surge could be useful. If one of us could give his magic ring a boost then it might be able to help him. Fizzle’s aura is already busy and Sari probably doesn’t have the strength. No offense. Do you think you can do it, Nyx?”

  “It won’t be easy. Lock his arm, Sari, so I can get a better look at the ring. Honestly, Fizzle might have the best chance of doing something since he’s still bonded to Luke. That could give him a backdoor into the ring’s aura. If you see an opening while we fight this thing then take it, Fizzle.”

  Covered in protective ice, Sari holds Luke’s arm steady and spits water darts at the pieces of living curse that attack her. “I have him, but I don’t know how long I can hold on. This gunk is already burrowing into my defenses. I’d say you have two or three minutes before I have to release him.”

  With her eyes glowing red, Nyx uses her hand like a magic scalpel to remove the Dark Wind from his left hand. A tendril of black aura fights against the caster by turning into a fanged maw and trying to bite her in the face. She snatches the piece of Dark Wind and yanks hard enough to strip the aura from Luke’s entire arm. The forest tracker clenches his jaw to hold back a scream of pain, which is an expression that punches his friends in the heart. Whispering swiftly, Fizzle spits a spell at the glistening Ring of Uli. His magic strikes moments before the Dark Wind recovers and entombs the limb again. Sari lets go and steps closer to Nyx as they watch veins of pink spread throughout Luke’s aura and the enchantment making the Dark Wind visible fades away.

  “Luke no be eaten,” Fizzle announces, landing on the forest tracker’s shoulder. Coiling his tail around his friend’s arm, the drite flutters into the air and helps him stand. “Fizzle no sure how long last. Move quickly.”

  “I should have said something earlier,” Sari whispers as they continue walking. She can sense Nyx’s eyes boring into her, which makes her feel miserable. “I felt him getting colder and was watching him for signs of getting sick. I didn’t want everyone to worry any more than they had to.”

  “You were an idiot and nearly got him killed,” the caster snaps, fire flickering around her eyes. “How would you have felt if he dropped dead at your feet? Is that when the rest of us would be allowed to worry about him?”

  “Let us not overreact,” Timoran says, stepping between his friends and putting his hands on their heads. “This is not the time to bicker and Luke is better now. We must focus on reaching the Widowhorn and what we should do if he gets worse. I fear we are running out of tricks to keep him going.”

  “Maybe Sari should have taken General Vile alive and gotten some answers,” Nyx suggests, holding up her hands at the gypsy’s tear-filled glare. “All I’m saying is that he might have given us a clue. There’s nothing we can do about it now and I’m sure he didn’t give you a choice beyond kill or be killed. Do you remember him saying anything that could help us?”

  “He was focused on eliminating me on behalf of Stephen,” Sari answers as she slowly calms down. Her eyebrow twitches when she thinks about the encounter with Vile, some of his words and actions standing out in her mind. “Come to think of it, he was trying really hard to make a statement with me. He should have killed me quickly, but he wanted me to suffer. In fact, he said he wanted to do that, but he was under orders to make my pain last. I must have really angered Stephen or posed a threat to his plans. It could be that I have the cure for the Dark Wind inside of me.”

  Delvin clears his throat and walks backwards to face everyone as they all hear the growing sound of a river. “No offense, Sari, but I doubt we could be that lucky. More than likely, you really angered Stephen and he decided to teach you a lesson. Notice that it happened soon after we had a confrontation with him. That was the second time you struck him and I get the feeling he isn’t used to that. I wouldn’t be surprised if I was next on his list, but with instructions to chop my hands off.”

  “You’re grinning about that,” Luke says, taking off his cloak and wiping sweat from his face.

  “I’m not one to enjoy hurting another human being,” the other warrior states, massaging his jaw to get rid of his grin. “But Stephen is a monster. So I did enjoy lopping his hands off. I hope to get his head next time. Does it feel like summer all of a sudden?”

  Nyx leaps forward to grab Delvin by the arm and yanks him back, the pair falling into the warm mud. The warrior is about to ask what has gotten into her when his leg is hit by a brief shot of searing pain. Gla
ncing back, he sees a steaming river running a few feet away. Hot water bubbles and spits at the shore, forcing Nyx and Delvin to scramble away. It is an awkward retreat with the pair tripping over each other and avoiding the sprays of scalding liquid. By the time they get to a safe distance, both of the adventurers are covered from head to toe in mud.

  Sari inches toward the river and swats the hot liquid away if it gets too close. The steam forces her to shed her heavy cloak and keep it folded under her arm. Kneeling on the shore’s edge, the gypsy focuses on cooling the water whenever it strikes her skin. Staying safe takes more concentration than she expects and she puts her cloak back on to protect her from the burning droplets. Within the insulated hood, sweat pours down her face and she feels like she will pass out if she stays near the river any longer. A few quick movements of her hands is all the gypsy can muster before she starts feeling dizzy. Sari frowns at the brief sight of ice in the river, the thin platform swiftly devoured by the hot water.

  “This doesn’t make any sense,” Luke says, taking a seat on a nearby rock. He scans the area with a quick burst of his sound sight, the Dark Wind giving his vision a hazy border. “The river is flowing uphill and the water is scalding, but I can see live fish in there. It’s like they’re immune to whatever is affecting the river.”

  “I believe I can jump across,” Timoran declares before Delvin puts a muddy hand on his arm. “Well, do we have any alternatives?”

  “Water and I don’t get along in the magical sense,” Nyx admits while waving her hands to remove the mud from her body. She snaps her fingers at Delvin and sends his layer of muck flying into the trees. “There’s something odd about this magic. It’s certainly aggressive, but it’s not malicious. If I’m getting that kind of sense from it then I believe we’re dealing with a magical beast. Maybe something still suffering from the Dark Wind, but this is water instead of wind.”