A snapping twig causes all of the champions to draw their weapons, the light from Nyx’s fireball driving the evening shadows away. Limping out of one of the grotto’s crevices, an emaciated man steps into view. His mangled right arm shows signs that its owner attempted to clean the wound, but the smell of gangrene wafts off his body. A deep slice by the shoulder reveals that he tried to hack the limb off and failed to get through the bone. Shredded clothes barely cover his filthy body and there are blisters around his mouth, making the champions wonder how long he has been in the grotto. Upon seeing Fizzle, the wide-eyed man falls to his knees and weeps at the entrance.
“Please don’t do anything else to me,” he begs in a voice that is hoarse and cracking. A gurgling cough wracks his body and he grabs the wall to steady himself. “I’ve suffered enough and have learned my lesson. Either let me go or kill me.”
“Can you tell us who did this?” Dariana asks as she attempts to get closer. She stops when the man howls in fear and curls into a ball. “We aren’t with the people who hurt you. All we want to do is find our friends. If you help us then we can protect you.”
“That abom . . . dragon killed my brothers and sisters,” the man states, pointing a quivering finger at Fizzle. Risking a glance at the hovering drite, the cultist snarls and allows a wave of rage to give him strength. “He left me in a tree where I watched ghosts desecrate the dead. They found me before they left, but there wasn’t any space on the wall. So I was trapped in here with the stench of death around me. I had to feed off my friends and drink scalding water that is tainted by their blood. That blue-haired freak inflicted wounds on me that are agonizing and infected. Forget your help. If you’re with those abominations then you should die alongside them. This world will be cleansed and I will join the fallen with my dying breath.”
“Don’t do anything foolish,” Dariana says, her eyes twitching from the primal fury wafting off the man. A pulse of thought makes her heart stutter, but her legs are paralyzed from the powerful emotion. “Push him back, Nyx! Don’t let him leave the grotto!”
Before the channeler can react, the cultist leaps through the flimsy barrier that has contained him for a month. Drawing a shortsword from behind his back, he charges at Dariana who happens to be the closest target. The man’s skin turns red and steam rises from his pores while pulses of pain slow him down. Clenching his jaw results in shattering his fragile teeth, which tumble down his melting throat. With every stubborn step, pieces of his body drip onto the dirt until his legs give out and he collapses. Still conscious and suffering, the cultist oozes across the ground and soon is nothing more than a bubbling puddle of fleshy goo.
3
With Dariana meditating on a log and the others sleeping in a sealed tent, Luke keeps watch from the branches. The end of summer heat has forced him to shed his shirt and boots, the damp clothes left on the ground with his friends. Unlike the trees of his homeland’s forests, the jungle flora is denser and their levels are much more distinct. At first, the half-elf tried to stay in the highest branches, but he quickly realized that he could not react to any danger below. Now Luke remains hidden among the leaves of the lower canopy, his sound sight and Stiletto’s borrowed sense of smell working hard to decipher every noise. The warrior’s eyes are practically useless in the thick darkness, which puts his nerves on edge. Only a single shaft of red and yellow moonlight is coming through the trees due to a hole in the network of branches that will be closed within a week. Even with the constant threat of an attack, Luke is in awe of the jungle’s natural beauty. The vivid noises and scents of life are intoxicating, every piece of the tapestry making him want to wander blindly into the wilderness. His excitement sours when he senses a fist-sized spider that has snared a bat only a few feet above his head.
“So much for spending more time here,” Luke whispers, his dry throat quenched by a sip of water. Movement in the lower branches causes him to freeze, but he relaxes when a familiar voice curses under her breath. “Do I have to ask why you’re climbing a tree in the dark, big sister? You’re going to hurt yourself.”
“I can see in the dark,” Nyx declares as she inches around the vine-covered trunk. The channeler’s eyes have become yellow and cat-like, which matches the retractable claws that help her cling to the tree. “Transformation isn’t something I do a lot, but small changes are easy. I decided to imitate a calico, which wasn’t a great idea. I went too far and gave myself a tail that keeps tickling my leg. Makes me think those fuzzy caterpillars we keep seeing are crawling up my skirt, but I’m too tired to fix it. Anyway, I couldn’t sleep and you’re the only one awake. Do you want to talk or sit quietly?”
Patting the thicker branch above his head, Luke goes back to silently watching the steaming jungle. Nyx makes very little noise as she claims her perch, the bark feeling rough on her exposed legs. Unused to the more revealing clothes, the channeler fidgets with the tight, fire-colored halter top and ebony skirts that she has been wearing to stay cool. The humid air makes the vivid tattoo on her chest itch, the Compass Key markings having only some residual power left. Glancing over his shoulder, Luke considers mentioning that it is a ridiculous outfit since it leaves more skin exposed to bugs. He keeps his thoughts to himself since all of them have been exhausted and tense since leaving the grotto. Without saying it out loud, all of the champions have considered that the one-armed cultist’s fate has also befallen at least one of their missing friends. The restless movements below tell Luke that the others are having nightmares, which he safely assumes involve Sari and Delvin meeting horrible ends.
“I don’t know what kind of magic that was,” Nyx says, her bare foot slipping down to tap her little brother on the head. She jumps when her crimson tail wraps around her leg, the fur tickling her skin. “I’ve been thinking about it all this time and I’ve got nothing. There was the taste of magic, but it wasn’t like it would be with a caster, priest, or channeler. If I wasn’t looking for the spell then I’d have mistaken it for a natural part of the scenery. The constant bleeding of the corpses had the same sensation, but I assumed they were illusions and I always have trouble with those.”
“I don’t think there’s any point in worrying,” Luke replies as dirty toes accidentally dangle in his face. He pokes his friend’s flailing foot to get her to take it back, a brief rain of bark hitting his head. “There are too many mysteries here and the only way to solve them is to find Sari and Delvin. I’m hoping they’re with other fae-blooded, but that could be a problem if they’re the ones behind the grotto carnage. At least for Delvin who wouldn’t be considered one of them.”
“Sari will protect him,” Nyx snaps as she struggles to get comfortable. She pauses to watch a lithe form prowl through the underbrush, the jaguar running away when Luke hits it in the head with a handful of berries. “They could be with someone else too. We discussed a third party being involved in the local power struggle, but it could also be unrelated to the cultists and fae-blooded. We’re also going under the assumption that the fae-blooded are organized and not spread out to fend for themselves. All I know for sure is that these ruins better have answers or we’re stuck.”
“True, but our luck guarantees that our path will lead us into the feud.”
“Love your optimism.”
“It’s obvious since Sari is a fae-blood and she’s already involved.”
“Delvin would-”
The air is forced out of Nyx’s lungs, the sound reminding Luke of a grunting boar, when a black-furred monkey lands on her stomach. The small creature is surprisingly heavy and stares at the channeler with intense, ivory eyes. Chirping and screeching, the adorable beast frantically waves a red stick that is topped with a green stone. Nyx pats the monkey on the head before holding out her hands to relay that she has no food to share. The beast screeches and continues to gesture with its stick, which causes the champion to giggle and scratch its belly. Hanging its head in frustration, the animal hooks its tail on the branch and nimbly swings down to
Luke. It pushes the stick in his face and bares teeth that are surprisingly reptilian in appearance. When the forest tracker hands the monkey a piece of fruit, the beast sighs and crawls back to the higher branch with the snack.
“Little guy seems excited and social,” Nyx says, tickling the furry beast’s head. She is surprised when the monkey whimpers in despair. “Is he trying to talk to us? His reactions are very . . . civilized. He could be a message sent by the fae-blooded. Are you able to understand monkey?”
“I caught a few words when he was screeching, but he’s very erratic,” Luke answers before the beast drops back to him and hops on the branch. The weight of the monkey is too much for their perch, so Luke snags the animal in one hand. He catches another branch before the one they are on falls, nearly hitting Dariana in the head. “He weighs a lot for a tiny monkey. It’s like I’m trying to hold onto Timoran, but I think I can handle it for a bit longer. I heard him say trapped and help, but the rest was too fast. Wonder how he made the little caster staff or whatever this stick is. I only mention it being a staff because of the rock that he wedged into the top. The design seems oddly familiar.”
“Red wood staff with a green rock?” Nyx asks more to herself than her companion. The answer pops into her head and causes a ripple of muffled laughter. “By the gods, this is too funny if I’m right. I think the monkey is Isaiah.”
At the mention of his name, the powerful caster chirps in agreement and clambers up to the channeler. He spins his staff and tries to unleash a spell, but his restrained aura is only able to create a few sparks. Learning his lesson from before, Isaiah settles for crouching on the branch and whipping his tail around. The gentle pat to his head and Nyx’s wide grin makes him feel even more embarrassed, which he demonstrates by harmlessly swatting at her hand. The half-elf’s laugh earns a high-pitched shriek that is answered by another monkey. Isaiah scrambles under Nyx’s skirt to hide from the larger primate that swings by the tree in search of prey. A chorus of hoots fill the air as more of the predatory apes leap through the canopy and disappear into the distance. The black-furred caster ignores the angry glare he gets from the young woman when he crawls out and cowers between her knees.
“I haven’t seen you since we dealt with Stephen,” Luke says while climbing to another branch. He leans over to get a closer look at the transformed fireskin, the creature muttering words instead of random noises. “He’s calmer now, so I can understand most of what he’s saying. Are you sure you don’t want to travel with us? It’s dangerous out here for a little monkey. I understand that you can still make sparks and use some minor spells, but . . . I’ll stop asking. Please tell us what happened.”
“Let me see if I can help him talk. I don’t want to be left out of this conversation,” Nyx interrupts, her curiosity and impatience getting the best of her. Violet streams flow from her hands and wrap around the monkey’s throat, the spell bursting with a small pop. “That didn’t work, but I’m not sure why. The opposing energy isn’t stronger than mine. Unless it accessed his aura at the last second, which wouldn’t have given me time to salvage my spell. The magic in this place is really strange.”
“He can understand you, so I’ll just translate,” Luke whispers, his attention momentarily stolen by an approaching figure. Recognizing it as one of the predatory primates, the forest tracker releases a roaring screech to scare the hunter away. “He can’t come with us because our enemies will sense his presence and attack immediately. They can’t know we’re associated with him, which is why he never revealed our connection. Of course you couldn’t talk since they jumped you from behind, Isaiah. He can’t tell us who transformed him either. By the time he woke up, he was a monkey and had to escape a . . . giant spider.”
With strength-enhancing magic coiled around her arms, Nyx picks up the caster and notices a red tint to his ebony fur. “Whoever attacked you might have done so because of your connection to us. I can’t think of any other reason somebody would do this. The Baron’s agents must be causing trouble and you unwittingly, or purposely, wandered into their path. Can you tell us what you’re doing in the jungle?”
“First, he wonders why we aren’t that concerned with his problem. I guess after the Judges and the grotto, we’re simply tired,” Luke explains with a helpless shrug. Hearing a faint rumble from the monkey’s stomach, he gives the creature another piece of fruit. “Isaiah felt bad about not helping us in Bor’daruk and failing to save you from Stephen. So he came here to scout ahead for Delvin and Sari. Gabriel wasn’t too happy, but he promised only to get a sense of the Baron’s plans and give our friends clues. Isaiah’s doorway spell bounced off a powerful barrier and he got lost in the jungle. He’s rambling now, but it seems he wandered around for a few days because the traveling wore him out. Now he’s a monkey. Well that’s the important stuff and we don’t need to know more than that. I still don’t understand why you won’t travel with us. How about coming with us to this temple . . . not Delvin’s temple, but another one. Can we call them vaults again? I know temple is the correct term. Just hang around the ruins because I don’t want to spend months searching for you out here. That’s if you don’t get eaten by a predator. Not everything will be scared by sparks. Glad you finally see things my way. Now get some sleep, little guy, and we’ll leave in the morning. Do you really think Dariana won’t notice that it’s you in there?”
Exhausted from weeks of surviving in the jungle, Isaiah is unable to continue arguing with the forest tracker. Being around the champions helps the tension seep from his body, so he crawls onto Nyx’s lap before he passes out. Not wanting to fall, the channeler melds part of her body with the tree and creates minor jolts of magic to keep her muscles from stiffening. The half-elves get the sense that their protector has barely slept since his transformation and his only goal has been to locate them. Neither of the champions want to disturb the snoring monkey in case a good night’s rest is all that is needed to restore his stifled magic. If they have any luck, Isaiah will be able to reverse the complex transformation that has Nyx baffled.
“Did you know that some people believe fireskins are part fairy?” Luke asks while running his hands through his hair. Moving slowly, he adjusts Nyx’s skirts to make a simple nest for the monkey. “It’s convoluted, but the rumor is that drites came from dragons and fairies while fireskins came from drites and one of the other two species. There’s no proof to this, but he Order of the Kehryhor might believe it. Isaiah said that he thought he was being stalked, which I didn’t mention earlier because he really needed to sleep. Though, why wouldn’t they just kill him?”
“The same reason they fed fae-blooded to the Judges,” Nyx replies, an edge to her voice that is cut off by a yawn. Her eyes return to their violet sheen and close while she prepares to fall asleep in the tree. “It’s either a hate-fueled game or they want to create executions that distance themselves from the act. Probably done to help them rationalize how they don’t see themselves as murderers. For example, the cult didn’t kill Isaiah. They merely turned him into a monkey with the hopes that something would eat him. Cowardly bastards.”
“But what if it wasn’t the cult that did this?”
One of Nyx’s eyes opens a slit, which betrays a burst of nervousness. “Then we have an enemy with enough power to negate Isaiah, confuse my spells, and leave no clear sign of his or her allegiance. In other words, we’re traveling blind and in the shadow of something that could be as strong as Stephen. Maybe even worse.”
“And you can sleep after considering that?”
The only response Luke gets is a snore that he is fairly certain is fake, but it warns him to remain silent. Dropping a piece of fruit on Dariana’s head to wake her for the next shift, the forest tracker slips into his trance. It is a restless meditation filled with an unnerving vision of total darkness and a sense of looming danger. By the time daylight punctures the darkness of the jungle, Luke is wide awake and happy to see the dawn.
*****
The large
chamber inside the red stone temple is littered with bones and dust-covered pieces of rubble. Having left Isaiah among the mushroom-covered stumps and broken statues outside, the champions quietly search the room for clues. Fizzle remains invisible and perches above the doorway, his eyes never straying from the twin stairwells built into the floor. His attention never straying from the thick darkness, the drite’s eyes occasionally materialize as a pair of glistening slits that one could mistake for a trick of the light. The dais in the back of the room is devoid of all signs that Sari and Delvin had camped there, which Luke finds more suspicious than if he had found their abandoned gear. Bright sunlight flows through holes in the domed roof, revealing thick vines that nobody can find the beginning or end of. Random flutters of wings can be heard from above, but the champions refuse to waste time hunting down what is probably a harmless animal. Spying a few errant feathers on the stone floor, they are sure the noises are coming from parrots or toucans like the ones encountered in the jungle.
Still in her halter top, Nyx is slapping and scratching at her itching chest where the Compass Key tattoo is twisting back and forth. The aggravating sensation stops when she finds a matching symbol on the wall, a dried pile of torn vines sitting below the picture. Some of the ancient paint remains to identify each of the six orbs that circle the ivory pearl in the image’s center, the piece nothing more than a piece of polished marble. A dull power flows down her arm when she touches the stone and the enchanted marking on her skin settles down. Examining the rest of the picture, she assumes the figure sitting in the middle is the Baron and the six skulls at his feet are the champions. Fresh scratches run along the rest of the mural as if somebody wanted to hide the rest of the picture. Nyx swears she sees a drawing that resembles Helgard, but it is too damaged for her to be certain.
Charms of the Feykin Page 7
