Curse Of The Dark Wind (Book 6) (29 page)

“Put those things away,” Nyx says while holding her nose. She throws a minor wind spell at the gypsy, who sticks her tongue out in childish defiance. “Your feet have been in sweaty boots all day. I can smell them from here.”

“They are rather potent,” Timoran politely mentions with a mouthful of cookies.

“Like any of your feet smell like lavender,” the gypsy mutters as she pulls a dropper and vial out of her skirts. She carefully puts a few drops of the aromatic liquid on her feet and massages the oil into her soft skin. “Everybody able to breathe now? Let’s get this meeting started, so we can sleep. I’m exhausted and moody.”

Luke rubs Sari’s belly and yawns, his eyes barely open. “What’s there to discuss? We move on to where the Compass Key told us to go.”

“Nyx and I were talking about that,” Delvin replies pouring water for everyone. He rolls his eyes when Timoran stares pleadingly at his cup. With a sigh, the warrior hands the big man a decanter of wine that he had hidden under the table. “With everything that has happened, we think it best to check the Compass Key again. The Dark Wind might have been a distraction to allow our enemies to move wherever we have to go.”

“Two questions,” Sari announces, rolling into Luke’s lap. The half-elf’s grunt of pain forces her to slip off and settle for sitting next to him. “How could our enemies move a landmark? The Widowhorn isn’t a tiny hill and I assume the other temples are equally sized to house all the traps, monsters, and whatever else Gabriel slipped in there. Stephen is powerful, but I doubt he could move these places without being noticed. Also, why does Timoran get alcohol and I get stuck with water?”

“Because I can control myself and I assume we are leaving in the morning,” the barbarian responds with a smile. He pours half a cup of the sweet wine and hands it to the gypsy, who takes delicate sips to make it last. “Sari has a point. We have been led to believe that these locations are on a massive scale. Also using the Compass Key might bring unwanted attention to us or put a strain on Luke. He is still in a fragile state.”

Nyx takes a long drink of water and rubs her amethyst necklace, the stress of the day catching up with her. “We think the Compass Key isn’t pointing to a place, but a thing. We saw that the Island of Pallice had a guardian and a central object of power, which turned out to be the throne. Both of those could be removed from the temple if our enemies were able to get inside. Maybe they are trying that here, but needed more time to finish. The Dark Wind and Stephen’s plan to use Luke to control me is a smokescreen to prevent us from figuring out their real purpose.”

“Is that genuine thought or wishful thinking?” the gypsy asks, noticing the fear in the caster’s violet eyes.

“A little of both,” Delvin answers while patting Nyx’s hand. “It’s also possible that this is to weaken Luke and make him unable to handle the power of the temple. Either way, something doesn’t feel right.”

Fizzle lands on the table with an apple in each claw, one in his mouth, and his tail wrapped around two more. He greedily devours the fruit, his stomach rumbling loud enough for everyone to hear. Luke is the only one who refuses to laugh at the amusing display, instead moving closer to the drite. He can see Fizzle’s purple scales are duller than normal and his tiny horns have drooped slightly.

“I want you to break our connection, Fizzle,” the half-elf demands, surprising everyone with the request. “This is draining too much of your power. I’ll be fine without your help as long as I take it easy. My strength should return soon.”

“That’s not a good idea, little brother,” Nyx says, silencing him with a stern expression and fire dancing through her hair. “It might only be Fizzle who is keeping the Dark Wind at bay. He won’t be able to reestablish the bond once it’s gone, so we have to play this safe and smart. I know you don’t like being in this position, but you don’t have a choice.”

“I’m strong enough to handle this! I don’t want to be the one that needs protecting all the time. That isn’t the role I was meant to play.”

“Well that’s-” Nyx begins before Delvin puts a finger to her lips.

With a fluttering hop, Fizzle lands in Luke’s lap and looks him in the eye. “Fizzle keep bond to keep friend safe. Only Fizzle break bond. Luke have no choice. Trust Fizzle to know how magic work.”

“I trust you, but-”

“You and I will talk about this later, Callindor,” Delvin interrupts before turning his attention to Timoran. “We’re all tired and tomorrow is going to be the start of another long journey. Can you please give Luke the Compass Key for a minute?”

Taking a long drink from the decanter, Timoran flips open the chestnut case fused to his belt. He gingerly takes the artifact out and slides it across the table to Luke. The half-elf slowly finishes a cookie while staring at the Compass Key, his breathing becoming visibly rapid and shallow. He can feel the Dark Wind writhing inside him as if it is preparing to attack once he touches the relic. Fizzle crunches on an apple and pats Luke on the cheek to assure him that everything will be okay.

Nothing happens when the young warrior lifts the Compass Key, but he feels an urge to bring it to the window. Luke walks among the pillows and turns the relic in his hands, unsure if he is the one controlling his movements. He holds the relic to the circular portal to let the blue light of Tavon strike the central pearl. The half-elf struggles to stay standing when the Dark Wind roils beneath his skin and a surge of pain rockets through his body. He focuses on the emerald and the Compass Key glows brightly, its light turning into tendrils that jab into his hands. As the power of the relic and the Dark Wind fight within his flesh, a beam of green and black energy bursts out of the central pearl. The magic goes out the window and far into the distance, becoming a star-like glint next to the hazy silhouette of the Widowhorn. Dropping the Compass Key, Luke collapses onto the pillows and feels the living curse calm down.

“I told you something would happen,” Sari says as she rushes to her lover’s side. She tries to cradle his head in her lap, but he slips from her grasp and stands. “Don’t push yourself too much. You’re still sick.”

“We have to climb the Widowhorn,” Luke declares while he bends down to pick up the Compass Key. He tosses the relic to Nyx, who fumbles it a few times before gripping it to her chest. “I had a vision while I was unconscious and I didn’t think anything of it. The actual events aren’t important because they dealt with the Dark Wind. Yet I was told that I’m too weak to see the Garden of Uli, which is another location that many believe is long lost or never existed in the first place. I sense that it’s near the top of the Widowhorn, so that’s where we have to go. Given what happened with Sari and the Island of Pallice, it’s safe to assume the Garden is my temple. It also helps that I pray to Uli more than the other gods and goddesses.”

“I can ask Mayor Pam if she knows of a quick way to the mountain,” Timoran offers. He takes the Compass Key back from Nyx and holds the relic in the palm of his hand. “I believe we need to rethink the placement of this. The container is useful, but feels awkward when I run and fight. If you would be so kind, Nyx, I would like you to craft it into a necklace that only I may remove and the six of us can see.”

“Are you sure, Timoran?” the caster asks in open-mouthed disbelief. “I’ve had the chain ready since Gaia in case you wanted to hand it off to someone, but I didn’t expect you to agree. I won’t force the issue.”

The barbarian gently places the Compass Key on the table and smiles warmly at his stunned friends. “I believe it is time I work to overcome my distrust of magic. It is getting worse at a time where we will face many enchanted threats and I do not wish to become a hindrance. I will say that this is not an agreement for you to cast spells on me without my permission, fire sprite.”

“I promise that I will always ask.”

“Great and now I think everyone else should go to sleep,” Delvin announces while grabbing some food and standing. He points to the spot at Luke’s feet where Sari has curled up and is softly snoring. “She has the right idea. Pick some floor and pass out, people. We have a temple to cleanse and a friend to return to perfect health.”

Timoran takes off his gear and puts it in a corner where he piles up enough pillows to make a large nest. Fizzle and Nyx choose a spot near the table, the pair still greedily snacking on the cookies and apples that have been placed between them. Removing his boots and sabers, Luke is about to lay down next to Sari when Delvin taps him on the shoulder. A thick cloak is pushed into the half-elf’s hands when he turns around.

“Put that on and grab your boots,” the brown-haired warrior whispers as he watches the others fall asleep. “We still need to talk, so come on.”

*****

The aromatic breeze makes both warriors lightheaded, but only Delvin savors the sensation. Luke is too busy shivering in the winter chill and pulling his warm cloak tightly around him. The Dark Wind squirms in his chest with every breath and he feels like the infection is about to burst from his mouth. A spray of snow hits the back of his neck as he passes a pair of recovering griffins, who are shaking the white powder off their wings. They watch the half-elf with concern, their acute senses picking up on the weak spirit struggling to survive within him. Nodding good-bye to the lethargic beasts, Luke jogs to fall in line next to his friend.

“Care to explain the outburst?” Delvin asks, waving to the halflings who are tending to the baby Verenstone Dragon. The healers dive for cover when a plume of fire erupts from the tiny beast as it tries to walk. “I know this has been hard on you both physically and mentally, but you were turning into a whining child back there. What’s wrong?”

“I thought I explained myself pretty clearly,” Luke contends. He pulls the hood of his cloak over his head to keep his pointy ears warm and his embarrassment hidden. “I don’t want to be the one who needs to be saved when we’re in trouble. I should be able to carry my own weight in this group. Otherwise, there’s no point in me being a champion.”

“Aside from it being your destiny.”

“You know what I mean, Delvin.”

The brown-haired warrior stops and wipes the snow off the edge of a table. He takes a seat on the cleared space and tries to get comfortable, his cloak acting as a thin cushion. The cold water seeping through the fabric forces him to inch forward until he gives up and hops back to his feet.

“Let me ask you something, Luke,” Delvin says as he leans against the table and crosses his arms. “Is Sari unworthy to be a champion for needing to be rescued from the Island of Pallice? What about Nyx needing to be protected from Stephen? Don’t tell me they get a pass because they’re women. We’ve both been trained by Selenia and have met Tzefira, so we know gender isn’t an issue when it comes to heroism. So why should you be held to a higher standard than everyone else?”

“I don’t know,” the half-elf admits, his head hanging in shame. “Ever think that Nyx and Sari are stronger than me? Stephen targeted them because of their power. He targeted me because I’m the weakest and the key to Nyx.”

Delvin scratches his chin and shakes his head, unable to hide his disappointment in the forest tracker. “You’re all over the place with these excuses. Is this all about feeling helpless? I’ll admit you’re not at your peak right now, but I’ve never thought of you as weak.”

Luke crouches and picks up a stick to trace pictures in the fresh snow. They are nothing more than swirls and crude lines at first, making his friend think he is stalling. Eventually, the half-elf makes six stick figures that are obviously him and the other champions. All of them have something unique about them from Timoran’s larger size to an aura of what Delvin assumes is fire around Nyx. At the end of the line is a simple figure holding two swords and looking rather plain compared to the others.

“I’m going to ignore the fact that all you did with me was make my head larger. Odd how you only gave clothes to Sari, who is the one I’d assume you’d leave naked,” Delvin teases as he kneels on the other side of the picture. He picks up his own stick and goes about adding wings to the Luke figure. “I think the two of us are in the same boat. Neither of us have the strength of Timoran or the magic of Nyx and Sari. We’re warriors at the top of our game and that’s about it right now. Sure, I’m a master strategist and you can transform into a griffin, but we lack the flash of the others that bards will sing about. To those on the outside who only look at power, the two of us have no business being champions. Nothing more than potential fodder for the Baron to flick into the grave while our friends handle the real fight.”

“Where are you going with this?” Luke interrupts, glancing up from his sketching in the snow. He chuckles at the sight of Delvin staring off into the distance. “I know that look. You rambled away from your original thought.”

“It’s still in here somewhere,” the warrior says, tapping the side of his head. He wipes the stick figures away with his gloved hand and snaps the stick in half. “I’ve no idea how you can stay crouched for so long. My legs are already stiff.”

The half-elf shrugs and jumps to his feet, cringing at the surge of pain that ripples through his stomach. He doubles over and hacks up a glob of solid Dark Wind, the living curse squirming and trying to roll away. It hisses and bubbles with rage when a cold breeze carries it toward the sky. The warriors watch as the blob sparks and disintegrates into a cloud of rainbow mist. A fresh gust carries the purified wind over the towers and into the forest where it vanishes within the blue light of Tavon.

“Do you think we’ll become as strong as the others?” Luke asks, rubbing his eyes and yawning. He is surprised when he sees a disappointed scowl on his friend’s face. “What did I say?”

Delvin puts an arm around the half-elf’s shoulders, being careful not to put any pressure on him. “This isn’t a competition, Callindor. It doesn’t matter if we’re as powerful as our friends or if we need to fight twice as hard to survive. In the time that we’ve known each other, I’ve never seen you make a move for power simply to be stronger. You’re focused on the adventure and being brave enough to help others, which holds a level of nobility that is rarer than you realize. Think about that since we might never be able to do things that are on the same level as our friends’ abilities. All we can do is work with our strengths and never give up.”