Curse Of The Dark Wind (Book 6) (17 page)

“We’re sorry, Queen Trinity,” the casters says as they collapse from the strain. Three of the warriors catch them and ease them to the ground. “We’re not strong like you.”

“This feels like a suicide mission, your majesty,” states an axe-wielding woman.

“It seems that way,” Trinity mutters under her breath. “Everyone gather before me. Now!”

The chaos elves get into a circle in front of their queen, who takes several steps back. Her heels touch the edge of the mountain path, leaving her in view of the titans. She lashes out at the spiders with a wave of lightning and patiently waits for the screaming giants to continue their attack. When she hears the rush of wind from a flying boulder, she spins around and hurls a churning spell at the large rock. The projectile hollows out and slows down, landing over the tightly packed chaos elves to protect them from the monsters.

“Time for some unrestrained fun,” Trinity purrs with a cruel smirk. She lifts her arms over her head, letting her limbs abnormally stretch to an upper ledge. “Titans are not to be killed, but Stephen never said anything about the horned spiders.”

With the creaking of rubbery bones, her arms retract and yank her up the mountain. The horned spiders follow the lone chaos elf, expecting her to be easy prey. Trinity grins as she coats her body in violet aura and dives at the swarm, the caster thrilled that she can cut loose. She kicks the nearest spider off the mountain and grabs the light brown stone, her hand enchanted to adhere to the sheer surface. As if she was on horizontal ground, Trinity rushes forward and beats back the creatures with precise kicks and punches. Several times she jumps out into thin air, a glowing tether appearing between her body and the wall. With a loud snap, she rockets back to slam down her booted foot and rattle the Widowhorn with a quake spell. Many of the horned spiders topple to the hungry titans before the survivors scurry back to the safety of their webs.

A boulder comes spinning through the air and Trinity sinks into the mountain to avoid getting smashed. She reappears in the middle of the dent with a worried look on her face. With several rocks flying through the air, the chaos elf races toward the dome protecting her loyal people. A scream erupts from her mouth and shatters one of the projectiles, its size making her think it could have destroyed her people’s hiding place. Trinity hears the other chaos elves shouting for her to let them help when she leaps onto the thick dome. The aura around her body flares as she kicks the boulders back at the titans, who catch the giant stones with ease.

“Give us back emerald!” shouts the largest of the giants. He stumbles back when a blast of lightning turns the boulder he is holding into powder. “You stole emerald from us! We want it back!”

“Stupid creatures,” Trinity hisses, crouching like a cat waiting to pounce. Clearing her throat, she amplifies her voice to avoid shouting. “You dare call me a thief? All of you know that this emerald belongs in the Garden of Uli. You took it from the last owner who probably didn’t even know what she really had. This baby is going home . . . with a little present.”

“Not your place! We protect emerald until champion returns! Guardian entrust us now that traitor giant fail!”

“I honestly don’t care about your politics,” the caster says, rolling her eyes and flicking her wrist. An emerald the size of her head appears in her palm and the titans immediately bow their circular heads. “I have a job to do and you’re in my way. If you continue being pests then my . . . partner will arrive to handle you. Trust me when I say that you don’t want him showing an interest in you.”

“We can squash tiny creatures!”

With a peal of laughter, Trinity nearly falls off the mountain. The chaos elf casually juggles the emerald as she struggles to regain her composure. Her action causes several in the crowd of giants to gasp and reflexively reach for the gem. The look of fear and horror on the titans’ chubby faces makes her happy enough to calm down.

“I’ve wasted enough time on you,” she declares, levitating the jewel between her hands. She stops her amplifier spell and lets her voice return to normal, coughing at the tickling in her throat. “Time to plant another surprise, champions. This one is all for you, Luke Callindor, so I hope you make it this far. Wouldn’t want to upset an old friend.”

Focusing on the emerald, Trinity sends sparks of violet magic into the large jewel. The pristine shimmer of the gem dims and a darkness appears in its core. Several of the titans raise their boulders to stop her, but freeze when a nightmarish howl erupts from the shadows. The horrific sound echoes throughout the mountain while the wind wraps around Trinity. She bites her lower lip when the emerald rumbles as if something is trying to break free. Taking careful aim, she hurls the gem into the sky where it hits a massive barrier. For a brief moment, everyone sees the silhouette of a towering warrior in spiked armor appear among the clouds. The image is torn apart by the crackling energy as Trinity and her loyal people disappear in a burst of yellow fog.

7

Sari yawns and rolls out of the cot, drifting to the floor thanks to her enchanted boots. Her body creaks as she stands and groggily staggers to the bed where Luke is sleeping. She uses a handkerchief to gingerly wipe the black foam from the corner of his mouth and kisses his forehead, letting her moist lips linger on his clammy skin. Feeling her stomach rumble, the gypsy leaves the side of the bed and takes a seat at the solitary table by the window. Passing through a crack, the cold wind and warm sun gives Sari goose bumps while she takes some dried fruit from a bowl on the sill. Reaching under the table, she draws a slender decanter and takes a quick shot of the sweet fae water.

“Isn’t it too early to drink?” Zander asks as he knocks and enters. A muttered curse escapes his lips when Fizzle darts into the room, the drite’s tail skimming the blonde man’s head. “I brought some fresh medicine from Priest Aneveom. He wants me to remind you that he makes no promises about this curing Luke of the Dark Wind.”

“Leave it on the nightstand and I’ll give it to him,” Sari replies before taking another swig the soothing drink. She corks the decanter and tosses it onto her cot, stumbling as she gets to her feet. “I’m not drunk. Luke had an episode during the night and I used my aura to calm him. I don’t have as much magic as Nyx, so it left me exhausted.”

“Then let someone else take over. I’m sure your friends would be happy to watch him for a bit.”

“Sari have pride,” Fizzle says from his perch above Luke’s head. “Fizzle can watch while Sari sleep. Fizzle full of apple and energy.”

“Listen to the drite before you collapse,” Zander urges the gypsy.

A childish frown is on Sari’s face as she drags a chair to the bed and places the bowl of medicine in her lap. She spoon feeds the dark green liquid to Luke, who whimpers and groans with every swallow. Every time she pulls her hand away, she lets her knuckles stroke his feverish cheek. A shuddering breath wracks Sari’s body and she moves the bowl to prevent her tears from contaminating the medicine. She relaxes when Fizzle lands on her shoulder and nuzzles her neck, his tail patting her on the head.

“Luke get better. Please get rest.”

“I’ll take a nap when I finish giving him this medicine,” Sari weakly declares, giving Luke another spoonful. The room spins as a wave of vertigo washes over her. “Stop pestering me and making me mad. I need to focus.”

“I thought you’d be stubborn, so I brought you this,” Zander says, waving a small vial of crimson liquid at the blue-haired gypsy. “It’s nothing more than a minor wakening dram, which will get you through the morning. Plenty of time to give one of your friends a chance to clear their schedule and take over.”

“Luke’s been barely conscious all night,” she states, refusing to take the potion. She casually tosses the vial onto the nightstand, not caring if it breaks or rolls off. “Besides, everyone is busy. I saw Timoran helping with the big animals and Delvin is running supplies. I’m sure Nyx is using her magic on the severe cases. So this is my responsibility.”

The hunter sits at the foot of the bed, scratching his head in thought. “I’m confused. Are you and Nyx sharing Luke?”

Sari glares at the man and flicks her wrist to draw a dagger from her sleeve. She spins the weapon in her hand, waiting for her temper to wane. Seconds pass before she wonders why she is getting mad in the first place. A groan from Luke snaps the gypsy out of her trance and she dips the tip of the dagger into the potion. Whispering in a singing music, she directs the liquid to become a stream that narrows and flows into the half-elf’s open mouth. It gently drifts down his throat and his moans are slowly replaced by a light snore.

“Kira Grasdon is my competition. Nyx has her hands full with Delvin’s advances,” Sari explains, slipping the dagger back into its hidden sheath. “You have to realize that Nyx met Luke on her first adventure and they went through a lot together. Both of them nearly died and they lost two good friends. So there will always be a special bond between them, but it’s more like brother and sister. If a romance was going to blossom then it would have happened already.”

“Sounds like you’re convincing yourself,” the man says with a shrug. He leaps back when a dagger thuds into the floor between his feet. “I’m only stating my observations. If you think I’m wrong then ignore me.”

“Or you can keep your thoughts to yourself. No wonder you don’t have any friends.”

“That’s not the reason I lost friends.”

“Ever have any to begin with?”

Zander scowls at the gypsy before taking several long strides to reach the window, the man removing his cloak even when he is standing in the chilly draft. He grips the sill with white-knuckled hands, his eyes roaming the organized activity below. The sight of halfling children tending to a baby pegasus helps him push away the growing sadness in his chest. He adjusts the cuffs of his long sleeves, tightening them to make sure they cannot roll up his arm or shift when he moves.

“My friends and I were on a hunt in the desert two months ago,” he says in a low voice. He turns and raises his shirt to reveal large claw marks running across his chest, the scar’s bright pink color revealing their youth. “It was a giant scorpion hunt to make some money for the family of a fallen hunter. We ran into . . . something that I can’t even describe. It was a monster that attacked us so quickly we never got a clear look at it. I survived only because it gorged itself on my friends. I made it to Bor’daruk and took a ship to Everthorne while I recovered from my injuries. I’m still deciding on if I want to join another hunting party or stay as a solitary.”

Sari puts the empty bowl on the floor and folds her hands in her lap. “I’m sorry for what I said. My clan was wiped out by our enemies, so I know what it’s like to lose close friends and family. I’d never wish that pain on anyone.”

“Thanks, but it’s part of the job. A monster hunter is lucky to make it to retirement. Even then I’ve yet to meet one whose body is in one piece.”

“Why you hunt?” Fizzle asks, fluttering to the window. He basks in the sunlight with his tail swinging in the air. “Find new path.”

With a crooked smile, Zander holds out his empty hands. “It’s the only job I know. I could be a soldier or mercenary, but that’s equally dangerous and I’m no good at taking orders from people who think they’re better than me. Monster hunting pays more too.”

Startling everyone, Luke screams in agony and lunges out of bed. His face slams into the wooden floor, leaving a smudge of blood from a broken nose. With a griffin-like shriek, the half-elf flips over and his back twists as if something is trying to bend him in half. The black foam pouring from Luke’s mouth is mixed with shimmering blood, creating a thick puddle around his head. A gray ooze leaks out of his pores and steadily hardens while he succumbs to a series of body-jerking spasms.

Sari pounces on Luke to hold him down, but the warrior’s thrashing becomes more violent. Gusts of wind erupt around the room, but she locks herself in place to avoid getting hurled away from her friend. Out of desperation, she focuses on her nearly depleted aura, which sputters out of her skin. Her head swims when she tries to give some of her energy to Luke, forcing her to pull back before she loses consciousness. Too tired to move, Sari is defenseless when the wind turns into a fist and streaks towards her. Unable to dodge the attack, she becomes immovable and prays to Cessia the Luck Goddess. The floorboards creak and break away, remaining connected to the gypsy’s legs as she sails into the far wall. The chunks of wood clatter to the floor when she slumps over and her power turns off.

“Can’t you do something?” Zander asks Fizzle. The hunter steps toward the half-elf and is shoved back by the wind. “You’re a dragon, so you should be able to give some of your power to him.”

“Fizzle aura different,” the drite states in a panic. He zips around the room, nimbly avoiding the aggressive gusts and debris until he darts under the cot. “Fizzle could hurt Luke. Only spell Fizzle know for magic ones. Nyx it work, but not Luke. Fizzle too weak to change spell for this.”

“Then make something up or alter the spell! Try it and I’ll take the blame if things go wrong. If it goes right then I’ll buy you some apples. That’s what everyone told me you love to eat, right?”

“Magic apple!”

Fizzle flicks his tail and the green apple from Isaiah appears in front of his snout. As if sensing the threat, the angry wind flips the cot and slams the door in the face of the approaching priests. With the fruit in his mouth, the drite flies around the room and dodges the enraged gales. Unable to find a safe place to eat, the drite lets the wind bang him against the ceiling and walls while he devours the apple, including the core. His purple scales shimmer with a dark gold sheen as he mutters a Draconic spell in a serpentine voice. The wind dies down while Fizzle’s shadow looms across the room and takes the form of a leather-winged reptile. He lands on Luke’s chest as he finishes the incantation, his shadow seeping into the relaxing half-elf.

“Fizzle and Luke share,” the drite says as he comes out of his trance. “Fizzle must stay with friend. Act as second aura. Reinforce Luke. Not perfect, but give time.”