Curse Of The Dark Wind (Book 6) (24 page)

“I hear creatures with wings, but I do not see them,” he whispers as he tries not to crush his companions. “I did see what looked like an opening near the hole that the wind is coming from. It is big enough for me to fit through, so it could be an alternate path. The beasts of the caves must use side tunnels to avoid getting blown out of their home.”

“All we have to do is find the path. I have just the thing to help with that,” Zander says with a wide smile. He pulls a metal funnel from a cloak pocket and puts it against the wall. “I hate using this thing, but it lets me hear anything that’s in or on a wall. I might not be able to get a precise location, so don’t get your hopes up.”

With his eyes closed, the hunter puts the narrow end of the funnel into his ear and shudders at the icy touch. At first, he only hears the expected scampering of rodents and insects. Turning the funnel like a dial, he patiently searches for the sound of wings. Running a hand through his blonde hair, Zander gets frustrated and wonders if the barbarian has globs of Dark Wind stuck in his ears. He is about to voice his opinion when a brief flutter causes him to hold his tongue. Slowly moving the funnel around the wall, he tracks the subtle noise as it grows into a teeth-grinding din. Unable to handle the cold of the funnel any longer, he yanks it out and rubs his numb ear.

Zander moves his jaw to pop an air bubble and return his hearing to normal before facing his curious allies. “I can’t follow them perfectly, but I’m sure they’re living in the ceiling. If I had to guess, I’d say some type of fairy. That means the tunnels they’re using are too small for us. Fizzle could possibly get in there if he finds a vent, but the two of us are out of luck.”

“If you are right then Fizzle can get to the end of the passage,” Timoran says, scanning the ceiling for a hole that the drite can fit through. “Once there, he can use his magic to temporarily block the wind. That way we can make a run for the side tunnel’s opening. Do you agree to this plan, my friend?”

“Fizzle see way in. Be ready.”

He climbs the wall and turns invisible as he crawls among the moist stalactites. Focusing on a faint glow, he swiftly makes his way to the middle of the ceiling. The hole is a tight fit and he pauses every time the Dark Wind rushes a few inches from his tail. He sucks in his tiny gut and scrambles into the vent, expecting to be plunged into darkness. Instead the light gets brighter as he wiggles through the narrow tunnel and emerges into a vast chamber. Fizzle slinks along the floor, heading for the sound of trickling water and keeping his eyes on the swirling, glimmering forms in the air.

One of the erratic creatures flies low enough for the invisible drite to get a clear look. The emaciated humanoid struggles to control its butterfly wings as it hacks up black mist. Patches of blue hair are on its head, the raw scalp seeping white ooze. Fizzle can barely recognize the creature as a pixie due to its haggard appearance and crazed expression. With a thrumming glow of silver light, the tiny figure violently spasms and darts back into the teeming swarm. The entire colony has been corrupted by the living curse, so they are nothing more than feral beasts. As the pixies swoop near the ground, their shining aura reveals the collection of bones on the floor.

Using the shifting light of the creatures, Fizzle searches for a way down to the lower chamber. He tries to move quickly, but he disturbs the skeleton of an eagle and draws the attention of the crazed pixies. They swarm around him and wait for the invisible drite to make another move, their minds no longer able to see through illusions. Minutes pass before they return to the air and Fizzle continues at a slower pace.

His heart leaps with joy when he sees a floor vent several yards in front of him, the distant sound of roaring wind rising from the passage. The screech of the pixies forces him to move cautiously because getting trapped in a tight spot with the flesh-eating colony would be a nightmare. Fizzle is a few feet away from of his escape when he unwittingly crosses a flowing stream. The sound of his feet padding in the water riles the pixies and they see the current moving around his ankles. With an echoing chorus of screams, the swarm emits a wave of magic that peels the invisibility spell from the dragon. The chattering of sharp teeth bounces off the walls as the creatures spread out to surround their prey.

“Fizzle no want trouble,” he announces, spinning to watch all of the pixies. “Fizzle help. Clear Dark Wind. Then pixies return.”

Leaving a cloud of rainbow smoke in his wake, Fizzle bursts off the floor and smashes through the swarm. The drite weaves among the stalactites as the pixies blindly follow, many of them crashing into the hanging stones. Another blast of the dragon’s breath gives him enough cover to double back toward the floor vent. He stretches his body and strains his wings, but veers away when the pixies cut him off. Many of them are hooting and hurling sharpened twigs as they herd their prey toward the other half of the colony.

Muttering a quick spell, Fizzle lowers his head and a shell of force bubbles out of his blunt horns. He bashes through the pixies and hits the wall, creating a deep dent. Fearing that he is about to be surrounded, the drite whirls around and fills the area with his rainbow breath. The sound of screeching and tiny bodies hitting stone causes him to blow the mist away with the rapid fluttering of his wings. For a few seconds, he can only sit in the dent and stare at the confusing sight before him.

The pixies are fighting amongst themselves with half of them trapped in the hallucination caused by Fizzle’s magic. Bodies plummet to the ground as wings are viciously torn from skeletal backs and the victors dive to feast on the fallen. Not wanting to risk his own wings, the drite climbs to the ground and scrambles over the brittle bones. A few pixies notice him and attack, but he swats them away with his tail. With a final glance at the carnage, Fizzle crawls into the vent and plunges into darkness. He pokes his head out of the ceiling in time to see a blast of Dark Wind erupt from the wider opening.

“Fizzle here!” he shouts to get his friends’ attention. “Spell not last long!”

He chants in Draconic and a thick net of prismatic aura flows from his mouth. It sticks over the opening and holds the Dark Wind back, the barrier steadily bloating. Timoran and Zander race down the path as Fizzle drops out of the vent. The warriors are still a ways off as the net is snapping and tendrils of Dark Wind are leaking through the rapidly appearing cracks. Both men yell as they dive into the side tunnel and the living curse explodes into the main chamber. The corrupted gale has so much force that it shreds stalactites and stalagmites as it passes.

“Did you have trouble, Fizzle?” Timoran asks, offering his arm to the drite. “You took a long time.”

“Mad pixies. Dark Wind turn them bad. They eat each other now.”

“Glad we didn’t have to deal with that,” Zander states with a tired sigh. “Although, I don’t like the looks of this place. I can’t even see the other side.”

All three groan as they look out over the chasm before them, streams of Dark Wind rising from the shadowy depths. The echoes of lurking beasts meet the adventurers as they step onto the narrow stone bridge. Blood-chilling sounds can be heard in the distance, some of them growls and others the scraping of claws on stone.

“I regret ever meeting you people,” the monster hunter mutters under his breath.

*****

Zander has lost count of how many times Timoran has slipped off the bridge and slowly climbed back up. All offers of help have been rejected, especially when Fizzle suggested a balance spell. Risking a look over his shoulder, the hunter notices that they can still see the side of the bridge they started on. He hears the barbarian moving again and turns back around in time to see the large man’s foot skid on crumbling stone. It is a small relief that Timoran is able to regain his footing, but it is only a matter of time before he slips again.

“There has to be an easier way,” the blonde man whispers, watching the shadows for signs of movement. “At this rate, Luke is going to die long before we get to the source. I wouldn’t be surprised if Sari dies of old age waiting for us.”

“Stop complaining and keep moving,” Timoran snaps as he slides his feet along the stone. “I am tired of hearing your voice.”

“Well, I’m tired of staring at your scarred backside.”

“Then stare at something else.”

Zander fights the temptation to sneak ahead of the barbarian since it would probably knock him over the edge. Being responsible for Timoran’s death would put him at odds with Fizzle, who he is sure has the advantage in the caves. The scratching of claws on the ceiling and something falling in the distance makes his heart leap into his throat. The hunter watches his companion stop and draw his great axe as the sound repeats from behind them.

“You’re dead if something attacks us here,” Zander hisses, putting his hand on the other warrior’s arm. He smiles in response to the angry stare he receives. “Think about it. You can barely keep your balance, so you can’t fight on this bridge. Whatever is out there either has wings or can crawl on uneven surfaces. One hit and you’re plummeting to your death. You need to focus on staying on the bridge and moving forward.”

“Hunter right,” Fizzle whispers, his eyes glowing red. “Fizzle see things. Dragon wings, but man bodies. Bones on outside. Long claws. Chomping tail.”

“Chomping tail,” the blonde hunter repeats. He curses under his breath and unclips his sleeves from his shirt, stuffing them into his pockets. “If these creatures are what I think they are then you really need to move, Timoran. Put your weapon away to make yourself less threatening, which is asking a lot of someone built like an ogre. Then run, crawl, hop, or whatever you choose to do to get to the other side of this bridge.”

“I can-” the barbarian begins to say.

“These are probably revelers, which means they want trophies. They go for the most dangerous creature to tear limbs, bones, and organs out with every dive. It isn’t for food, but to adorn their bodies with their prizes. Their tail is designed for punching through the breastbone and stealing the heart. This would be easier if we could see them.”

“Fizzle on it,” the drite whispers.

Before Zander can stop him, the dragon casts a spell at the ceiling and the entire chasm is bathed in bright light. The muscular revelers screech in pain and cover their eyes, their mottled skin smoking from the sudden exposure. A ridge of barbed spikes runs from the top of their heads to the base of their spine and they use these sharp projections to dangle from the stone. The sound of snapping tails echoes throughout the chamber, the four-clawed body parts stretching toward the adventurers. Timoran feels a lump in his throat when he sees that each reveler is adorned with bones and dried organs.

“At least we can see the way out,” the monster hunter whispers, nodding to the far side of the bridge. They can see a gaping entrance that leads to more darkness, but it is more inviting than the monsters above them. “I’d say we’re about halfway there. You and Fizzle keep going and I’ll hold these things off. If they think I’m the bigger threat then they’ll focus on me and leave you alone.”

“How?” Fizzle asks while he growls at the creatures.

Zander flashes the drite a wicked smile and cracks his knuckles. “Trust me when I say that I’ve been holding back all this time. Besides, it’s been too long since I earned some money and I’m antsy to get back to work.”

“Good luck, my friend,” Timoran says, sheathing his great axe. He gets on all fours and crawls along the bridge.

“He may look silly doing that, but he’s making better time than when he was trying to walk,” the hunter mutters to himself. Tattoos appear on his forearms with several arrows circling his right and crossed blades on his left. “Let’s see. Each reveler is worth five gold and clearing out a pack is one hundred at least. If there’s a duke around here then I’m in for the perfect payday. Guess these champions were worth sticking with after all.”

Several revelers drop from the ceiling and glide toward Timoran, their tails hungrily swinging forward. A large arrow passes through two of the beasts and the others turn to attack the monster hunter. Dancing away from the biting tails, Zander runs his thumb on the string of his longbow and one of his arrow tattoos moves. It rises out of his palm, its metal head glinting in the light as it settles on the weapon. The revelers are turning to go back after Timoran when the projectile flies through the head of the nearest monster. Its skull is turned to powder and the enchanted arrow explodes against the ceiling, killing three more.

“Do I have your attention now?” Zander asks as he shoots a reveler in the chest. The beast bursts and takes out two of its nearby pack mates. “I’ve got more than enough of these to handle all of you.”

Zander grins when echoing roars rise from the chasm and more revelers soar out of the darkness. Firing in every direction, the monster hunter watches the reptilian predators explode and fall back into the pit. He risks a glance at Timoran and fires at an approaching reveler, the blast nearly knocking the barbarian off the bridge. Before he can run to help, a tail lances down and closes around his longbow. The winged creature yanks the warrior into the air, neither willing to let go of the weapon. The reveler violently shakes Zander, who struggles to keep his eye on the bridge and prays he can return to solid ground.

A loud snap of bone precedes the corpse of a reveler crashing into the one fighting Zander, his longbow slipping free of the tail. The monster hunter flicks a button on his weapon and stretches as far as he can while swinging it like a club. The far end becomes a metal piton that he slams into the bridge, giving him enough leverage to scramble onto the path. Zander rolls to his feet, avoiding several tails that punch holes in the stone. The longbow returns to normal as he pulls a blue arrow from his quiver and fires it straight into the air. A churning ball of cold appears and pelts the revelers with wet snow, causing the warmth-loving predators to screech in pain. Many of them tear at their own flesh in a fit of sudden madness, which makes them even angrier.