Curse Of The Dark Wind (Book 6) (11 page)

Nyder is already marking up the picture with a piece of charcoal as he thinks of ways to improve his ally’s plan. “I can have something put together in a few days and Yola will teleport it to a place near the champion’s location. Best to have it appear to have wandered into the area instead of being sent for a specific reason. Almost like it’s an experiment I lost control of. Not like that would ever happen. Don’t forget to tell Stephen about this, so he doesn’t misinterpret your actions. I’ll report to the Baron and help you recover some of your reputation. It appears the crafty General is back to his old self.”

“Almost,” Vile softly whispers with a smile. “Thank you for helping. I’ll contact you after the attack and let you know how it went.”

Nyder waves as he hops off the stool and walks out of view, the sound of him shouting at Yola echoing throughout the laboratory. The portal is still closing as Vile climbs out of the tree and trudges through the waist-high snow. The champions are far ahead of him, but his new plan means he can take his time. He is starting to relax when a snapped twig causes him to whirl around, his shortsword drawn. All he sees is a distant elk walking through the trees, so he sheathes his blade and continues on his way.

4

Luke glares across the circular table, the other guests in the tavern quietly waiting for a fight to break out. Casually leaning back in his chair is Zander, the monster hunter who is simply happy to be alive. The lean man puts his hands behind his head and winks at the forest tracker, flashing his off-white teeth at the growl he receives. Luke’s rumbling stomach makes it difficult for him to act intimidating, especially after Sari places a bowl of warm stew in front of him. All of the tired farmers and local traders are staring, the village of Sprildon being so small and remote that they rarely get adventurers. Most of the people are poised to run for the forests if these two strangers draw steel on each other.

“I already bought all of you drinks and food. Would it help if I thank you again for saving me?” Zander asks, a mocking glint in his hazel eyes.

“You’re welcome again,” Luke begrudgingly replies. He eats his meal while keeping a constant watch on the monster hunter. “What were you trying to poach? I assume you were trying to get money from a lumber wasp bounty.”

“This is why I try to avoid forest trackers. None of you are willing to face reality. Some creatures are problems and need to be eliminated. They’re beasts and wouldn’t think twice about eating us,” Zander says with a tired sigh. He watches Timoran rise from a nearby table, the barbarian preparing to join the debate. “If you must know, I was passing through to the north since I heard there were a few problem beasts on the shoreline. I tried a shortcut and stumbled into the lumber wasp hive. I’ve enough money that I don’t worry about bounty hunts that are so small. The money I would have made wouldn’t even get me a bottle of my favorite wine.”

Luke meets the hunter’s stare and leans forward. “Those bounties should be stopped.”

“They are used to control high populations of dangerous beasts,” the hunter replies, impatiently tapping his fingers on the table. “Yes, some hunters go too far and kill too many. Those people are demoted in rank or punished monetarily. Most of us aren’t money-loving poachers. We do this to protect people from the monsters of our world.”

“Sounds noble, but it’s still poaching.”

“And you never killed a wild beast?”

“In self-defense or to protect others, but never for the sake of killing.”

“Sounds noble, but it’s still killing.”

“Enough!” roars Isaiah, who is sitting between the bickering men. The black-scaled fireskin slams his staff against the ground, shaking the building and silencing everyone. “I wish to briefly discuss some private matters with these adventurers, Zander. Would you be so kind as to sit at the bar until we are done?”

The hunter puts his feet on the table and makes himself comfortable. “I think I’ll stay. I owe that caster cutie my life and I plan on repaying the debt before we part ways. So I’ll be helping out for the foreseeable future.”

“I don’t trust him,” Luke snaps while the others move closer.

“I’ve nothing to gain by betraying you,” Zander declares. He sweats when Nyx waves her hand and lights the candles on the table, her violet eyes holding an unsaid threat. “Besides, I make it a point not to anger women with the power to grant me a painful, extended demise. I apologize for the cutie comment. Totally uncalled for and rude, milady.”

“I still don’t think this is a good idea,” Delvin mentions, nursing his mug of ale. He draws an empty flask from his belt, the smell of coffee still on the stopper. “If you’re captured by our enemies then they’ll torture you for information. It’s best that you stay out of this and go on your way in the morning.”

“I refuse.”

With a gravelly voice, Isaiah chants a spell and plunges the simple tavern into an awkward silence. The Draconic words flow from his mouth and his thick tail shifts along the floor, creating a rhythmic sliding. The green crystal in his staff shifts to a dull yellow, the inner light growing into a beacon. Strings of aura stream from the red-robed caster’s weapon, encircling Zander, who tenses up and drops his hand to his scimitar. A warmth envelopes the hunter’s heart, the feeling swiftly turning into a numbing chill. The chanting stops and Isaiah smiles at the man, the fireskin’s sharp teeth giving him a predatory look.

“I’m sorry to take such actions, but I placed a spell on you,” the powerful caster admits, signaling the bartender for a round of drinks. “If you repeat any of our secrets to our enemies, you will be struck down by the spell. I will release this curse when I feel you can be fully trusted. Again, I apologize.”

“That is very unethical,” Timoran mentions, cringing when Isaiah turns to him. “With all due respect, I feel that we should have given him more leeway. At the very least, a punishment less than death.”

“I agree with Timoran,” Nyx chimes in.

“I’m fine with it,” Luke whispers over the rim of his mug.

“Fizzle too,” the drite hisses, materializing on Sari’s head. He glares at the monster hunter, his forked tongue flicking out of his mouth. “No like animal killer. Too many come for Fizzle. Want make go poof.”

“You people really know how to make a guy feel hated,” Zander teasingly says. He reaches over to take Sari’s hand, the gypsy smirking at him. “At least you’ve been nice to me this whole time. Would you be willing to grant me a dance? I’m not expecting anything more than that unless you’re interested.”

Sari removes his hand and shifts closer to Luke, practically sitting in the forest tracker’s lap. “I have regular, bed breaking sex with this one. So I’m spoken for and still on the fence about trusting you. I know very little about monster hunters, which means I have to judge you on your actions. Right now I have no problem with you, but your forwardness is a little disconcerting. You come on too strong, Mr. Hunter.”

“May we please get to business?” Isaiah bluntly asks. The fireskin glances around the table, his eyes locking on Zander. “This is your last chance to leave.”

The monster hunter ties his blonde hair back and grabs his ale, silently toasting Isaiah and taking a sip. With a small nod, the great caster whispers a melodic spell that makes the locals yawn in unison. The tavern remains calm this time due to the tone of his words being light and bouncy, their power oddly soothing. Six forms appear around the table, one of them easily recognized as the Island of Pallice. Four of the remaining illusions become clear silhouettes while the final image remains a murky haze. All of the champions curiously examine the vague forms, but none of them are able to identify three of the solid areas.

“These are the six temples of the champions as we once discussed,” Isaiah reminds them, his ivory eyes staying on Zander. “I have been researching them, but I only know the general region that they can be found in. At this time, I have been told by the gods to keep this information secret and let you continue on your path. The Compass Key should be enough for now. Who holds the relic?”

“It’s safe,” Delvin swiftly answers. He smiles at Sari, who closes her mouth and plays along with the bluff. “What new information can you tell us? This is even the same spell you used in Gaia. No offense, sir, but I would rather get some rest than repeat this conversation.”

Nyx sips at her ale before shrugging and downing the drink, the head rush making her wince. “You can spend time with us without having business, Isaiah. Maybe you can tell me about my mother and what she was like as a student. We can talk shop about spells and casting too. I only have Sari to discuss magic with and she’s not really focused.”

“I pay attention when I need to,” the gypsy lazily declares. She bends backwards to look at Isaiah, her hair cascading to the clean floor. “I’m thinking we throw a small party to raise people’s spirits. That is after Isaiah shares his news. Please continue, oh great friend of us lost and confused champions.”

“I come with a warning,” the fireskin says, leaning over the table so that his head is sitting in one of the unknown illusions. “There have been sightings of Queen Trinity and Stephen Kernaghan in the region of Fyric. You will be passing through there on your way to the Widowhorn, so be prepared for a trap. I fear that danger will be waiting for you outside every temple, which means your battles will be greater than any of the previous champions.”

“I have been wondering about our predecessors,” Timoran interrupts, his mouth full of cooked chicken. He swallows the dry food and raises his hand for quiet. “I find it odd that the Compass Key is what opens the temples, but it appears we are the first champions to ever retrieve it. How did people enter the temples without it?”

The fireskin scratches his chin and narrows his gaze at the insightful barbarian. “I never thought of that issue. During my involvement in the prophecy, the few champions who risked the temples always found a way inside. It’s possible that time and the inner corruption has created cracks in the defenses. Though I should point out that no champion has ever left a temple alive until all of you conquered the Island of Pallice. The magic of these places is ancient and unknown to casters of today, so entering through anywhere other than the front door could have led to immediate death.”

“Good to hear. Drinks are on me!” Sari announces, hopping onto her chair and reveling in the applause. “I will never grow tired of that noise.”

The bartender swiftly fills mugs of ale and ladles stew into bowls while the waitresses hurry to the tables. Fizzle flutters onto a three-armed chandelier, the drite watching the patrons cheer for Sari, who is already dancing among the crowd. Timoran gladly takes two mugs of ale, handing one to Zander to help their new companion feel at ease. The hunter politely accepts the drink and wanders through the partiers in search of a woman to regale with his stories. Nyx moves next to Isaiah and is already talking to him about magic, ignoring the occasional advances of Delvin. Quietly watching the steadily growing celebration, Luke snatches two bowls of stew from a passing waitress. His rumbling stomach and charming smile stops her from telling him to return one of the dishes.

“Do we have to throw a party every time we enter a tavern?” the forest tracker mutters while nervously swallowing a spoonful of food.

*****

The rooster goes unnoticed by the adventurers, most of whom are either asleep or suffering the aftereffects of cheap ale. Only Luke and Isaiah are awake and healthy, though the reptilian caster yawns every few minutes. They silently sit on the tavern patio, the young warrior sharpening his sabers and whistling a somber tune. He can feel his companion examining him and glances over his shoulder to see that the fireskin’s eyes are a vibrant gold. The serene atmosphere is broken when the rooster crows again, the noise shattered by a terrified squawk.

“Fizzle no like screech birds,” the drite declares, landing on the patio railing. “Are friends okay?”

“Timoran and Nyx are still asleep. Sari and Delvin are consoling each other over a wooden bucket,” Luke says, chuckling at the image. Spinning his sabers, he sheathes them and gets up to stretch his back. “They said something about one of their drinks tasting bad, so I think someone gave them goblin ale. We’re going to head out once they’re feeling better.”

“Animal killer coming?” Fizzle asks with a scowl.

“I guess so,” the forest tracker answers, his voice dripping with bitterness. “Maybe it’s a good thing and we can keep him from killing innocent beasts for a while. There’s no way I can change his mind since monster hunters are notoriously stubborn.”

Isaiah puffs a red ring of smoke even though he does not have a pipe. “It would appear forest trackers are no better. I never knew such a feud existed. Has it been going on for very long?”

Luke shifts uncomfortably and scratches his head, trying to recall what his grandfather told him about monster hunters. He hates to admit that Zander is the first one he has interacted with beyond threats and brief brawls. With a smirk, the half-elf remembers how much fun it was to get in the way of poachers.

“I believe it’s been going on longer than I’ve been alive,” Luke explains, reaching out to tickle Fizzle’s chin. “It’s rumored that the founders of the monster hunter guilds were rogue forest trackers. They felt the more aggressive beasts were dangers to the civilized world and their populations should be limited. Other animals they decided should be eliminated entirely because of their lethality. Forest trackers have made it a point to conserve the targeted beasts while foiling any hunts we come across. This feud is why we created the protected zones around Windemere.”

“I’m sorry, but this is rather amusing because it reminds me of religious debates,” Isaiah admits with a chuckle. He scratches his shoulder, flicking off a few dead scales. “These fights are entirely about ideology and perception of how things should be, which differs between individuals. Personally, I find such grudges pointless because, as you said, people are very stubborn. I trust you will behave and not kill the man.”