“I hate this room already,” Nyx grumbles as she creates a small fireball in her palm. She rolls it on the ground and watches it follow the motion of the walkway. A sudden lurch and the spell falls over the edge to get sucked into one of the gaping holes. “I don’t want to find out where those things lead.”
“From their position, I assume they spit you out the bottom of the Garden,” Sari guesses while she struggles to keep Luke standing. The half-elf spits up globs of Dark Wind and leans on the gypsy, forcing her to become immovable. “The curse is corrupting him faster than ever. I knew we shouldn’t have sent Fizzle away. He went too far and now the bond is weakened.”
“Actually the bond snapped. I was keeping an eye on it,” Nyx claims, reaching into the room. She moves her hand to the side where it dangles over empty space and has to yank it back before she is dragged into the storm. “If it makes you feel better, it wasn’t Fizzle’s fault. It wasn’t a gradual fade or a tension break. The bond was cut and Fizzle’s magic went flying back as if to rescue him.”
“Not what I want to hear, Nyxie.”
“Let me take him,” Timoran says as he takes the half-elf. He cradles the smaller warrior and is unnerved by how frail his friend looks. “His skin is showing more black veins and he is shivering. I vote we risk the room. Going back will waste time and Luke said that he sensed the throne room was this way.”
Delvin grunts and nods as he stares into the chaotic chamber. His mind has wandered off to consider what Nyx has said about the bond between Luke and Fizzle. The calls from a gathering of beasts can be heard in the distance behind them and a dull, metallic clanging is coming from ahead. With a crack of his knuckles, Delvin takes a few steps onto the pathway and puts up his hand to stop anyone from following. Glass crunches under his boots and he gradually adjusts to the strange movements of the floor. A strong breeze tousles his hair if he stands at his full height, which makes him think Timoran will have to bend down to cross the bridge. The warrior stops to turn around and frowns when he hears soft footsteps behind him. He faces Nyx, who stands with her arms crossed and her eyes fringed with flames, the destructive spell ready to be unleashed at the slightest sign of an enemy.
“Why are you out here?” he asks, expertly hiding his annoyance. “I was coming back to you guys. Strange how the wind isn’t very loud here.”
“The magical protection is partially active,” Nyx says, gesturing for the others to start crossing. She slaps Delvin in the face when the warrior grabs her wrist and motions for their friends to stop. “I won’t stand back and let you protect me. Not when Luke needs us to move quickly. This isn’t the time for chivalry.”
“I agree, but that doesn’t mean we have to be stupid. It’s better for one of us to test the path and see if there are any weak areas that should be avoided. You coming out here means two of us are now at risk.”
“I’m here to make sure you don’t fall into the storm.”
“I’d rather it be Timoran than you.”
“Because I’m the damsel you wish to protect?”
Delvin can feel his cheeks grow warm as he releases Nyx’s wrist and jabs a finger at her shoulder. “It’s because Timoran could save me faster than you. It takes less than a second for you to choose a spell that would allow you to rescue me without falling in as well. Timoran doesn’t need to do that. All he needs to do is reach, grab, and haul me to safety with his muscles. What’s gotten into you?”
Nyx takes a deep breath and wipes a few tears off her nose. For the first time since they entered the Garden of Uli, Delvin notices the bags under the caster’s eyes. She looks exhausted and almost as frail as Luke, which causes the warrior to worry that she has been infected. His fears are erased when the caster defiantly fights back a yawn and growls in frustration.
“Before we became the champions, it was me and Luke. Fizzle was there too, but we had him watching Kellia Solomon,” Nyx explains in a soft voice. She waves to the others with no argument from Delvin and watches as they cautiously step onto the bridge. “I cured him of a poison, been bonded to his ejected aura, and brought him back from death. I’m the one who talks to him when he’s too sad and upset to bother anyone else. It’s always been me . . . his big sister. I’m the one who saves my little brother. I’m through being protected when I should be the one in the lead. This is my job.”
“Sometimes I wonder how mature you really are,” the warrior says before he can stop himself. Holding up his hands, he takes a few steps away from the insulted half-elf. “I’m sorry. I understand what you’re saying and I know how protective you are of him. I’m sure he would be acting the same way if your roles were reversed. All I ask is that you accept that we’re all together on this. It no longer has to be you alone who saves your family. You and Luke have the rest of us here.”
“Thank you,” she whispers as she walks by Delvin. “This position is better. Now I don’t have to cast spells over or around you guys.”
“Now she is simply trying to save face,” Timoran says as he gets near. He struggles to move in an awkward crouch while holding Luke, fearful that he will crush his friend. “This is the worst place to have a conversation.”
“We’ll talk later, big sis,” Sari states as she makes eye contact with Nyx.
They are surprised when Fizzle soars out of the exit, the drite screaming at the top of his lungs. His words are lost as he accidentally plunges into the storm and is flung around the orb-like room. The drite curls into a ball to protect his wings and head, letting the buffering winds direct his flexible body. Fizzle can barely make out the screams of his friends, who are trying to find a way to reach him. Peeking out between his knees, he can see Timoran putting Luke down and hoisting Sari onto his shoulders. The immovable gypsy keeps her arms up in an attempt to catch the drite if he comes close. He prepares to hook her arm with his tail when a roar shakes the walkway, causing Timoran to lose his balance. The last thing Fizzle sees before getting launched into one of the holes is the barbarian slipping off the bridge and Sari diving to catch him.
“I got you!” she shouts as she grabs his hand and turns her power back on. Sari groans from the strain that holding the heavy warrior puts on her muscles. “Pull yourself up before my arms are ripped off.”
“Let me go before you are injured!” Timoran yells, his body waving in the maelstrom. When he is whipped close to the pathway, he grabs the edge to take the pressure off Sari. “This should make it easier, but you must release me. I will be fine.”
“Give me my prey!” the Meraphor screams as it steps onto the bridge. Red eyes appear all over its body, sending crimson light across the chamber. “I will have my prey!”
“What is that?” Delvin asks, diving to block an arrow that is heading for Nyx. The projectile strikes his shield and buries deep enough to scratch his forearm. “Better to dodge than block. I think the arrow tried to pass through the shield and into me like a ghost. This thing is all yours, Nyx.”
“I demand my prey!”
Nyx hurls javelins of fire at the charging Meraphor, but the spells are whipped in random directions by the creature’s chaotic body. Many of her attacks erupt within the maelstrom and their flames surge as they combine with the Dark Wind. One of the fiery lances strikes the ground near Sari and explodes, leaving a smoking hole beneath her locked heels. The pathway creaks and sways from the sudden barrage while Timoran struggles to climb to safety, the flames licking at his body.
“Find out what it’s after,” Sari suggests. Frost grows on her arms and rolls onto Timoran to give him some protection against the fire. “I’m feeling dizzy. I don’t know how much longer I can do this.”
“I’m betting it wants Luke,” Delvin replies as he readies his sword. “Pull your flames back, Nyx, and see if you can use them for defense.”
The warrior rushes the Meraphor while Nyx draws the fire out of the storm. The enchanted winds fight against her, which creates long cuts on the backs of her forearms. She watches Delvin slash at the monst
er, but his attack passes harmlessly through its head. Dancing back, he avoids the quick swings of its bladed arms. Hoping to make an opening, he raises his wooden shield, but the top quarter of it is sheared off. Delvin is sent flying back by a savage kick from the Meraphor, the warrior landing on his side with a crunch. Glass shards stick in his chainmail and he shakes them loose as he stands and cautiously watches his enemy.
Once Nyx has gathered all of the flames, she turns them into crimson gauntlets and charges the monster. With bar brawling her only hand-to-hand experience, her punches are crude and easily avoided by the swift creature. Angered by the interference, the Meraphor lashes out and grazes her chin with a forearm blade. The excruciating pain sends Nyx to her knees and her head feels like it is going to explode. With a howl of rage, the creature raises its arms to smash the half-elf who barely gets a barrier up in time to deflect the blow.
“Break the pathway!” Delvin shouts as he hurls his shield at the Meraphor. It strikes the creature in the chest and shatters within the churning body, irritating splinters jabbing at the red eyes. “Everyone hold on! We’ll find each other again. I promise.”
Enhancing her strength, Nyx raises her red-gauntleted fists to knock the Meraphor away and slams her hands into the floor. Her magic surges through the bridge, which spews crimson energy from the running cracks. The shrieking creature leaps over Nyx and sprints for Luke, but Delvin reaches the defenseless forest tracker first. Praying to Zaria and Cessia, the warrior throws his friend into the storm and rolls out of the monster’s grasp. Timoran stretches to catch the half-elf and nearly has him, but Nyx’s second strike snaps the pathway in half.
Everyone falls into the maelstrom and the Meraphor is shredded into smaller parts. It screams as it is hurled around the room and sucked into the various holes. Timoran and Sari hold hands as they are pulled into the opening in the center of the room. Hoping his other friends will be safe, Delvin struggles to grab Luke and Nyx as they are thrown about the chamber. He catches both of them by their wrists and holds tight while waiting to be launched into one of the holes. An abrupt change of wind drives them toward an opening with alarming speed.
“I’m really sorry, everyone. I think this was a bad plan,” Delvin whispers before he is driven into the floor next to the hole. He loses his grip on Luke, who is whisked into another opening, but he manages to cling to Nyx. The brown-haired warrior slowly loses consciousness as the caster’s momentum pulls him into the exit and they are rocketed down a dark tube.
*****
The buffering winds in the tunnel prevent Luke’s barely conscious body from slamming against the smooth sides. As he is rocketed around a bend, the half-elf grips his sabers with what little strength he has left and closes his eyes. The rest of the journey is a straight path with the air becoming frigid. It is a shock to Luke’s body when he hits a patch of warm wind that envelopes his body and slows him down. By the time he floats out the other end of the tunnel, his speed is reduced to the point where he can gently plant his feet on the floor to stop. Surprisingly, the Dark Wind inside his body settles and he finds his muscles responding to his attempts at movement instead of going limp like before.
The large room that Luke finds himself in is covered with snow and glistening icicles are hanging from the ceiling. Even with the signs of winter, the chamber is comfortably warm and a few dandelions are sprouting through creases in the floor. Tall and narrow windows cover three of the walls with the fourth adorned by a network of ice-encased ivy. He glances at the tunnel opening on the windowless surface, the hole having shrunk to the size of a cantaloupe and covering itself with an amber film of glistening aura. A dark wood table lays on its side, the remains of broken chairs scattered around it. Shredded paintings and broken statues litter the ground as if a clawed beast went on a rampage. There is no sign of a door as he wanders the room, but he feels a stiff breeze as he passes the middle of the ivy-covered wall. Rubbing the frost off a window pane, he looks out over the Garden of Uli and sees that the Dark Wind is rapidly flowing into the castle.
“I don’t like the look of that,” he whispers in a hoarse voice. He spats out a black blob that moves across the floor until he strikes it with his sabers. Pink energy ripples down the blade and disintegrates the ooze, which screeches in pain. “I really don’t like that.”
For the first time Luke notices a large mound of brownish red moss in the center of the room. A purple orchid is sticking out the top of the pile and it twitches as he cautiously approaches. Circling the moss, the half-elf blindly stumbles through the empty frame of a standing mirror. He runs a finger along the weathered wood and looks around for the shattered glass, but the floor is clear of shards. Luke leans in closer to inspect the faded design on the top of the frame, but all he can make out are two odd curves and what might be the straight teeth of a saw.
With a shrug he goes to back to examining the moss and sees the corner of a marble step sticking out of the mound. Hacking away with his sabers and taking several breaks to catch his breath, Luke gradually reveals a dais holding a throne of pure white wood. The rotted remains of a cushion are on the seat and one of the arms is dotted with blue, spiral mushrooms. A crystal star is set into the top of the throne, but it has been cracked in half by the orchid that has sprouted from its core. Luke touches the crystal, which causes it to fall onto the filthy seat and leave behind a tapestry of roots that are embedded in the wood.
“Why does my throne room get destroyed and Sari’s is left alone?” Luke asks as he stares at the frozen ceiling. He sees the remains of a mural depicting Uli the Elven Warrior Goddess, her eyes two small domes of frosted glass. “It’s going to take a long time to clean this up. Maybe my friends can do it while I practice, which sounds rather mean now that I say it out loud. Why couldn’t someone get lost with me? I’m bored . . . and worried that the Dark Wind is up to something. Anybody or anything in here?”
A tightness grows in Luke’s chest before the ivy-covered wall shakes and Dark Wind billows from the expanding tunnel opening. As a ringing appears in the warrior’s ears, a ball-shaped storm rockets into the room and smashes through the throne. No bigger than the half-elf’s head, this compacted maelstrom screeches while bouncing in random directions. Luke feels a sense of dread overtake his body, but he keeps enough control to avoid locking up from fear. He dodges the storm as it leaves dents in the floor and walls, the strange object seeming to aim for the lone occupant.
When Luke leaps over the ball, he is struck in the side by a second storm that rockets out of the tunnel. The forest tracker is sent crashing into the overturned table where he hacks up more globs of Dark Wind. Rolling out of the wreckage, he avoids getting hit and scrambles to his feet. The shattering of glass gives him enough warning to backflip over a third compact storm, the painful pop of his strained muscles causing him to land on his face. From his back, Luke uses his sabers to block the attacks and desperately crawls into the corner. More storms come through the windows and tunnel, each one heading directly for him and ricocheting off his weapons. The half-elf’s body aches from the strain of defending himself and he can feel the Dark Wind roiling in his stomach. A primal excitement touches his mind and he realizes that the living curse knows what is happening.
“You’re not going to win,” Luke defiantly growls. The Ring of Uli awakens and his sabers are coated in pink aura, giving him the strength to stand. “I’m not afraid of you!”
Lightning crackles through the storms and they draw back, converging on the empty mirror frame. They whirl around the clattering object, lifting it onto the dais and hurling the rotted remains of the throne across the room. Once the mirror is safely on the platform, the storms build up speed and repeatedly pass through the gaping center. With a loud crinkling, the glass reforms and reveals a dungeon bathed in hellish light. Swinging manacles hang off rough stone walls and the floor is littered with bones, each one showing signs of being gnawed on by large teeth. The maelstrom orbs pass into the backside of the mirror and
a churning form materializes on the surface. Curved blades hungrily rising and retracting on its forearms, the Meraphor steps out of the glass and faces the half-elf.
“I will defeat my prey,” the creatures hisses in a pained voice. Its movements are slow as it walks down the steps and points at its enemy. “My torture will end.”
“I was kind of hoping you were a dream,” Luke nervously admits as he moves out of the corner.
The young warrior bravely approaches the Meraphor, but falls to his knees when he gets within a few steps of the creature. His torso burns and a primal fear grips his nerves, making it a challenge to stand and raise his sabers. The monster rushes forward with its fist pulled back and Luke clumsily rolls away. His face is struck by shards of stone that fly from the Meraphor’s strike to the floor and he uses the ivy on the nearby wall to drag himself to his feet. Taking a shuddering breath, the forest tracker leaps away from the next attack and keeps running to gain some distance. The monster roars as shattered ice falls off the rear wall and buries the swirling creature up to its waist.
“You don’t like the cold,” Luke says as he sheathes one of his sabers. He hurls a snowball at the monster, but the projectile harmlessly explodes on its face. “Okay, you couldn’t care less about being cold. You’re only angry that you missed. Rather irritable and focused for a simple beast, so I’m guessing you’re a present from Stephen.”
“You are my prey, whelp. I will become whole through you. I taste your fear again.”
“Working on fixing that fear problem,” Luke hisses, enjoying the adrenaline that keeps the living curse at bay. He feels like it has been an eternity since his blood pumped with such exhilaration. “I have to thank you for giving me this thrill again. Might be just what I needed to beat the Dark Wind.”
Curse Of The Dark Wind (Book 6) Page 31
