Curse Of The Dark Wind (Book 6)

by Charles E Yallowitz

  “I don’t see what the problem is.”

  Nyx grabs her friend’s hands and moves them away from her face, pulling the gypsy close enough to whisper in her ear. “I don’t know if I love him. I mean, love him enough to risk my heart. I know he loves me, but what if it’s the channeler scent that Stephen mentioned. This could all be about how I smell and not about the rest of me.”

  “Do you believe that?”

  “I don’t know.”

  “Blurt out the first thing that comes to your mind.”

  “No.”

  “What did you think?”

  “I’m not after Luke.”

  Sari pinches the caster’s palms, using enough force to make her friend cringe. “Let’s not get into that. I need you to focus, so we can save Luke. To do that, I want you to say what is making you act like a stuttering fool. I can drench you in cold water if you need that kind of relief. Work with me, Nyxie.”

  “I want to kiss Delvin again, but I’m scared it would give him the wrong idea,” the half-elf explains, peeking around the tree to see if the others have left the shed. “Hate me or call me an idiot, but I simply don’t know what I feel or if I trust his feelings. Please don’t tell him that I doubt his sincerity.”

  “Your secret is safe with me. By the way, you’re beautiful when you glow like this. For your sake, I hope you’re wrong and this is love because it looks good on you.”

  “Thanks. I think I’m good now. Time to find Luke and Fizzle.”

  Delvin’s loud and panic-tinged voice startles the pair. “You two have to come see this!”

  Nyx and Sari step out from behind the tree and stop when they see liquid Dark Wind flowing along the ground. A few monster corpses are still melting into the streams, but they are gone by the time the adventurers gather in front of the shed. The living curse rolls toward the rear of the castle, not a trace of it being left on the plants that it passes over. With increasing speed, the Dark Wind rushes toward a raised room that has three walls composed entirely of frosted windows. The courtyard side wall has a wooden stairway going up to a stained glass door with ivy sticking out of the bottom. An image of an Elven warrior holding a rose above her head is shown in the colorful portal, a shimmer still within the ancient material.

  “Timoran take point. We’re following this to Luke because we all know he has something to do with what’s going on,” Delvin orders, drawing his longsword and gesturing for the barbarian to go first. He catches Nyx by the wrist to let the others walk ahead, leaning in close to speak in her ear. “I’m here whenever you want to talk about what happened. Take your time and always remember that you can come to me for anything.”

  “I will,” the half-elf whispers, her heart fluttering from him being so close. “Now let’s stop wasting time and rescue my little brother.”

  Nyx slips from his grasp and steps away with a small spin, stretching her arm to signal Delvin to go ahead of her. She remains a few steps behind the warrior and cracks her knuckles as they catch up to the others. With a deep breath, the caster focuses on her magic and gentle flames run into her palms in anticipation of the upcoming battle.

  *****

  The throne room is filled with the constantly swirling Dark Wind, which forces the adventurers to stay near the door. Fizzle is darting around the room trying to use his rainbow breath to fend off the rolling mist, but the colorful puffs are swiftly absorbed by the ravenous living curse. When Nyx attempts to cast a spell, a tendril lances out to wrap around her wrist and slams her against the ceiling. She is tossed across the room and lands in a spot that is clear of the ebony ooze, isolating her from the others. Whenever the caster tries to use her magic, a piece of the curse strikes her with enough force to knock her against the wall.

  Standing in the middle of the Dark Wind is Luke, his arms dangling at his sides and his face nothing but a vacant stare. Dribbles of black ooze are hanging from his partially open mouth and both of his ears. The living curse is coiling around his stiff legs like a pet snake hugging its master. Without blinking, the warrior’s eyes remain locked on the mirror before him where a red-tinted dungeon can be seen.

  “Fizzle try to help,” the drite whimpers as he lands on Nyx’s head. “Fizzle fail. No know what happen.”

  “We’re going to have to wait and see,” she replies. She is surprised when Timoran and Sari put their weapons away, Delvin following after a few whispered words. “Why are they giving up?”

  Fizzle darts to the others and races back to Nyx after a few minutes of talking. “Timoran say guardian give orders. Luke need fight alone. We watch and cheer, but no fight. It Luke test to get strong.”

  “I won’t-” Nyx begins, stopping when Fizzle starts whispering in Draconic. She can sense the sleep spell brewing on his lips, so she pouts and crosses her arms. “Fine, but I’m jumping in if it looks like Luke is definitely going to die. I’ll drive the Garden of Uli into the Widowhorn if it’ll keep him alive.”

  An agonizing scream startles the caster and she pulls Fizzle out of her way to get a clear view of Luke. The forest tracker is arching his back as the Dark Wind plunges into his body through his nose and mouth. His shirt is torn by a few edge tendrils that slice at the fabric to allow his chest to expand to an unnatural size. When the last drop of living curse pushes into the warrior’s shuddering frame, the room is plunged into an eerie stillness. The pounding of their heartbeats is the only thing the other champions can hear while they watch their friend suffer silently.

  With the tearing of flesh, the Dark Wind bursts from the scar across Luke’s torso and enters the mirror. The dungeon vanishes and is replaced by the Meraphor, the creature shifting as it absorbs the living curse. Becoming whole again, spikes emerge from the monster’s shoulders and its body grows a suit of gothic armor. A serrated blade appears in its right hand, a vile aura drifting off the obsidian and pearl hilt shaped to resemble a winged demon swallowing a gray moon. Luke falls to his knees as the last of the Dark Wind leaves his body and the open wound returns to the familiar scar. Stepping out of the mirror, the green-skinned figure towers above the mortal warrior, the familiar demon’s flesh covered in pulsing veins of energy.

  “You again?” Luke asks, failing to hide his fear. His eyes are locked on the Chaoswind Blade that the Hellfire Elf wields. “I thought I was done with you.”

  “I believed the same about you,” the assassin states with a cruel sneer. Its body locks up in pain, its red and black hair standing straight. “You still reek of terror. It disgusts my senses and makes me wish another agent was summoned to handle this task. It is humiliating to have been divided among hundreds of creatures and left in pure agony only to face a whelp who refuses to mature into a worthy opponent.”

  Luke stands and grips his sabers, bracing himself on his back foot. “I’m not scared of you.”

  “True,” the Hellfire Elf claims, taking a booming step forward. It swings the Chaoswind a few inches in front of the half-elf’s face and grins at the tension in its enemy’s muscles. “You are terrified of my weapon. Last time we met, you conquered your fear for a brief moment. A shame it did not continue after my defeat.”

  “Why do you care if I’m scared or not?”

  “Because I want a challenge!” the demon roars as it charges. With a powerful strike, it hits Luke’s sabers and knocks him against the far wall. “I was summoned and tortured for the chance to face a stronger you. Now I find you’re the same weak youth with a few new tricks. I will get more of a challenge from the others, but it will not be the same.”

  His muscles stiff and his body weakened from the Dark Wind, Luke rises to his feet and rushes at the Hellfire Elf. With an awkward flip, he tries to slice the demon’s arm off, but he misses and has to spring away from a quick slash that gouges the floor. He leaps and dives to avoid the flurry of attacks that constantly come a breath away from slashing him. Knowing that one cut from the evil blade could kill him in his current state, Luke focuses on dodging instead of grabbing any opening
to attack. Even an obvious hole in the demon’s defense makes him fear that it is a trap and will lead to his defeat.

  “Fight me like a real warrior!” the Hellfire Elf roars as it swings faster than Luke can move. The sound of the ebony blade hitting the forest tracker’s sabers rings throughout the room. “I will keep battering your defense until you crack! What kind of champion are you!?”

  The half-elf holds his sabers up to block a downward strike, the force driving him to his knees. “A weak one.”

  The Hellfire Elf stops and takes a few steps back, eyeing the young warrior with utter disgust. With a flick of its wrist, the red-eyed demon sheathes the Chaoswind behind its back. It walks toward its enemy, easily deflecting every attack with its armored forearms. A strong kick knocks Luke back and the demon grins when the half-elf stumbles over the leg of a shattered chair. Fighting the urge to finish the warrior off quickly, the Hellfire Elf leaps and pounds on its enemy’s face with savage punches that grow stronger with every strike.

  “You will die soon,” the griffin spirit whispers in Luke’s head.

  “I’m happy to hear your voice,” the warrior says out loud, kicking the Hellfire Elf away and retreating. He can barely see due to the damage to his face, so he uses his sound sight to stay away from the demon. “We need to change now. It’s not just me being weak. The Hellfire Elf is stronger and faster than I remember.”

  “It is a creature that feeds off physical pain and it has been in a state of constant agony for weeks. The demon will also grow stronger as the fight continues. You already lost your opportunity to win by not shattering the mirror while it was trapped. Now you must focus on surviving until a new opportunity appears.”

  “I can win if I transform,” Luke states, rolling away from the Hellfire Elf and putting the dais between them. He focuses on the griffin, but the beast’s consciousness slips from his grasp before he can change. He feels the sensation of ruffling feathers along his neck, but nothing appears. “Why isn’t it working?”

  “The living curse damaged our bond. We are both too weak to make the switch. If you were more experienced with spirits then we could repair the bond in a matter of seconds. The only option is for you to absorb me completely and adopt my powers into your true form. I am ready for such action.”

  “What happens to you?” the half-elf asks as the demon leaps over the dais. The warrior ducks to the side and hits his enemy’s legs with the flat of his sabers, causing it to land on its back. “I sense there’s something you’re not telling me.”

  “My spirit would cease to exist.”

  “No.”

  “If you want to live, you must.”

  “I won’t sacrifice you because there has to be another way.”

  “For you there is no other way,” the griffin snaps, its rage stunning him enough that he is nearly hit by the demon’s shoulder rush. “You never focused on anything other than me. No testing with other spirits or discovering your true potential. This was how it was always meant to be. It is why I was given to you and why you were never told of this possibility. Through me, you will gain your full champion powers and that is what the gods always intended.”

  The forest tracker ducks a punch and slashes at the Hellfire Elf, his saber skittering off the demon’s armored hide. “I don’t understand. You talk like there’s another way, but I was set up to never know about it. How else can I survive this? Tell me the truth, Lucy.”

  “Most spirit workers assume multiple forms to give themselves versatility. One of these spirits is designated as a heart form. If a bond is damaged or broken then transforming into this creature would repair the damage. Such a form is one that is closer to the spirit worker than any of the others. This being and its master are so close that it can even be used to create partial transformations that combine the powers of another spirit.”

  “Tell me how to summon a heart form.”

  “It is one that is closer to you than all others. One does not simply summon a heart form out of thin air,” the beast angrily argues. Her frustration boils Luke’s blood, giving him a burst of energy that helps him drive the Hellfire Elf back. “You lack the experience to transform without a focus item like my talon. The only other object you have is a snake fiend stinger, which is not a creature that you are close to. There is the Sword Dragon’s mark on your aura, but that is something you cannot control. I see no way for you to survive this and that is how it is supposed to be. Accept your destiny and absorb me.”

  “No!” Luke growls, pivoting on his right leg and slamming into the demon. He knocks the demon over the broken table and backs away to catch his breath. “I refuse to get my powers by sacrificing a friend. I’ve lost enough friends to my destiny, so Gabriel can kiss a troll before I lose another. All I need to do is figure out a heart form.”

  Luke drops to his knees and closes his eyes, ignoring the cautious approach of the Hellfire Elf that remembers the last time it thought the youth was defenseless. He focuses on his thoughts to figure out a spirit that he can summon without a focus item. A distant voice yells and curses at him, which he barely acknowledges is Gabriel trying to send him a vision that fails to fully take form. The sound of paws on the floor to his left causes him to open his eyes and he sees a glowing four-legged figure rushing forward. The ghostly beast growls at the demon as it rushes through the monster’s legs.

  “Stay in this form for a few minutes to restore me,” the griffin whispers as it sinks back into Luke’s mind. “If you are lucky, you may learn other tricks from this. After all, you have proven to be anything, but predictable.”

  The Hellfire Elf tries to reach the forest tracker before the hazy spirit, but he is thrown back by the surge of cleansing energy. Luke grows fur all over his body and his face extends into a long snout with a mouth full of sharp teeth. He shrinks as a rapidly wagging tail sprouts from his twisting hindquarters and his extremities become paws. The warrior’s pointy ears become more pronounced and shift to the top of his head. With a final flash of light, the half-elf is gone and has been replace by a snarling dog.

  “Where did the noble shepherd come from?” Nyx asks as she watches the Hellfire Elf back away. An idea bursts into her mind and she grabs Fizzle by the tail. “Is that who I think it is?”

  “Luke’s doggie back!”

  “The creature that tried to uncover me at the academy,” the demon hisses with an excited grin. He reaches back to grab the Chaoswind, but releases it again. “I killed you once without this blade. I won’t need it this time either.”

  Stiletto growls and snaps his jaws at the demon, the dog remembering how he had been killed. A powerful wind whips up around the room and he races at the Hellfire Elf with incredible speed. The noble shepherd bites a chunk out of the demon’s thigh and immediately turns around to latch onto the other leg at the knee. When the confused assassin tears his limb free and whirls around to strike, Stiletto is already out of reach and running in a wide circle. The dog builds up speed as he comes back toward the demon, his fur matted from the strong gales pushing against him. Drool flying from his slavering mouth, Stiletto leaps and sinks his teeth into his killer’s throat.

  “You are more trouble than your master!” the demon shouts, frantically pulling at the dog in an attempt to get him off. A toothy grin crosses the monster’s face as the wounds grow longer and deeper. “There is a flaw in your attack. My blood is toxic.”

  Demonic ichor pours from the wound and into Stiletto’s mouth, which causes the dog to let go and vomit. The Hellfire Elf approaches to strike, but pauses when the noble shepherd looks up with an almost human smirk. With a low growl, the beast spits some of the blood at the demon’s face and rams into its stomach with enough force to send the assassin tumbling over the broken table. Sprinting in another wide arc, the dog heads for the rising Hellfire Elf’s armored back.

  “A dog can never beat a demon,” the monster snarls, turning to strike the approaching animal. “Even one enhanced by magic.”

  Stiletto
stands on his rear legs as he gets near and spins, his body transforming back into Luke. The warrior’s injuries are healed and there is a gentle aura coating his body, the amber and emerald energy shining soothing light into every corner of the room. His sabers deflect the demon’s fist, but he draws them back before they can cut into the armored flesh. The Hellfire Elf is surprised when the forest tracker leaps away instead of striking.

  “Still a coward.”

  “No,” Luke confidently says, bouncing lightly on his feet. He points his sabers at the Chaoswind Blade and matches his old enemy’s grin. “Draw that weapon and we’ll finish this. I’m done being scared.”

  The Hellfire Elf draws the evil sword and immediately moves to block, Luke seeming to instantly appear in front of him. The half-elf leaps over the demon and flips upside down to kick it in the back of the head, practically gliding out of reach of the counterattack. Every one of the forest tracker’s moves melts into the other like they always do, but there is more grace and fluidity to them. A powerful gale whips around him, which he uses to enhance his leaps and redirect his jumps. Many times the Hellfire Elf swings at him while he is in midair and Luke uses the wind to launch himself higher. A laugh escapes from the warrior as he revels in the blissful speed and agility that comes from accessing the griffin’s mastery over the surrounding air, a few feathers sprouting from his neck.

  “You are playing with me!” the demon roars in anger. A surge of pain wracks its body and it races after Luke, their clashing blades sending sparks in every direction. “Stop dancing around and fight me like a true warrior!”

  “Who are you to tell me what to do?” the forest tracker asks, stomping his foot down and catching his sabers in the teeth of the Chaoswind. “You’re nothing, but a lowly demon who is making a mess of my temple. Get out!”

  With a roaring screech, Luke pushes the Hellfire Elf away and charges forward, his sabers spinning at his sides. He is a blur of motion as he rapidly slices chunks out of the demon and ducks under its wild swings. The Chaoswind clatters to the floor with the severed hand still attached and the monster falls to its knees. The Hellfire Elf roars when Luke cuts off both its legs and kicks it onto its back.