Curse Of The Dark Wind (Book 6) (39 page)

“Bring me my prey,” it growls as red eyes briefly appear on its chest. With an unearthly howl, the monster leans so far back that the top of its head touches its heels. “I need my prey!”

The Dark Wind swirls around the creature and plunges into its open mouth. The blades reappear on its forearms and jagged spikes grow from its body. With a bitter laugh, the monster rises to its feet and takes a thunderous step toward the drite. Fizzle races out of the garden and veers into the hallway, the Meraphor charging after him.

15

The shattered remains of a glass roof lie along the elevated walkway while the metal frame shakes in the raging storm. Dark Wind tints the maelstrom enough to accentuate the dangerous winds thrashing around the huge chamber. Large holes are found along the rounded walls, but only two of them are found any higher than the path. Faint etchings of birds, dragons, and other flying beasts cover the chamber with a few images emitting a dim, throbbing glow. Standing within the safety of the hallway, the heroes stare across the rattling walkway at the distant exit. They can see that a tunnel of gentle breezes encompasses the bridge, the Dark Wind unable to penetrate the protective magic.

“I hate this room already,” Nyx grumbles as she creates a small fireball in her palm. She rolls it on the ground and watches it follow the motion of the walkway. A sudden lurch and the spell falls over the edge to get sucked into one of the gaping holes. “I don’t want to find out where those things lead.”

“From their position, I assume they spit you out the bottom of the Garden,” Sari guesses while she struggles to keep Luke standing. The half-elf spits up globs of Dark Wind and leans on the gypsy, forcing her to become immovable. “The curse is corrupting him faster than ever. I knew we shouldn’t have sent Fizzle away. He went too far and now the bond is weakened.”

“Actually the bond snapped. I was keeping an eye on it,” Nyx claims, reaching into the room. She moves her hand to the side where it dangles over empty space and has to yank it back before she is dragged into the storm. “If it makes you feel better, it wasn’t Fizzle’s fault. It wasn’t a gradual fade or a tension break. The bond was cut and Fizzle’s magic went flying back as if to rescue him.”

“Not what I want to hear, Nyxie.”

“Let me take him,” Timoran says as he takes the half-elf. He cradles the smaller warrior and is unnerved by how frail his friend looks. “His skin is showing more black veins and he is shivering. I vote we risk the room. Going back will waste time and Luke said that he sensed the throne room was this way.”

Delvin grunts and nods as he stares into the chaotic chamber. His mind has wandered off to consider what Nyx has said about the bond between Luke and Fizzle. The calls from a gathering of beasts can be heard in the distance behind them and a dull, metallic clanging is coming from ahead. With a crack of his knuckles, Delvin takes a few steps onto the pathway and puts up his hand to stop anyone from following. Glass crunches under his boots and he gradually adjusts to the strange movements of the floor. A strong breeze tousles his hair if he stands at his full height, which makes him think Timoran will have to bend down to cross the bridge. The warrior stops to turn around and frowns when he hears soft footsteps behind him. He faces Nyx, who stands with her arms crossed and her eyes fringed with flames, the destructive spell ready to be unleashed at the slightest sign of an enemy.

“Why are you out here?” he asks, expertly hiding his annoyance. “I was coming back to you guys. Strange how the wind isn’t very loud here.”

“The magical protection is partially active,” Nyx says, gesturing for the others to start crossing. She slaps Delvin in the face when the warrior grabs her wrist and motions for their friends to stop. “I won’t stand back and let you protect me. Not when Luke needs us to move quickly. This isn’t the time for chivalry.”

“I agree, but that doesn’t mean we have to be stupid. It’s better for one of us to test the path and see if there are any weak areas that should be avoided. You coming out here means two of us are now at risk.”

“I’m here to make sure you don’t fall into the storm.”

“I’d rather it be Timoran than you.”

“Because I’m the damsel you wish to protect?”

Delvin can feel his cheeks grow warm as he releases Nyx’s wrist and jabs a finger at her shoulder. “It’s because Timoran could save me faster than you. It takes less than a second for you to choose a spell that would allow you to rescue me without falling in as well. Timoran doesn’t need to do that. All he needs to do is reach, grab, and haul me to safety with his muscles. What’s gotten into you?”

Nyx takes a deep breath and wipes a few tears off her nose. For the first time since they entered the Garden of Uli, Delvin notices the bags under the caster’s eyes. She looks exhausted and almost as frail as Luke, which causes the warrior to worry that she has been infected. His fears are erased when the caster defiantly fights back a yawn and growls in frustration.

“Before we became the champions, it was me and Luke. Fizzle was there too, but we had him watching Kellia Solomon,” Nyx explains in a soft voice. She waves to the others with no argument from Delvin and watches as they cautiously step onto the bridge. “I cured him of a poison, been bonded to his ejected aura, and brought him back from death. I’m the one who talks to him when he’s too sad and upset to bother anyone else. It’s always been me . . . his big sister. I’m the one who saves my little brother. I’m through being protected when I should be the one in the lead. This is my job.”

“Sometimes I wonder how mature you really are,” the warrior says before he can stop himself. Holding up his hands, he takes a few steps away from the insulted half-elf. “I’m sorry. I understand what you’re saying and I know how protective you are of him. I’m sure he would be acting the same way if your roles were reversed. All I ask is that you accept that we’re all together on this. It no longer has to be you alone who saves your family. You and Luke have the rest of us here.”

“Thank you,” she whispers as she walks by Delvin. “This position is better. Now I don’t have to cast spells over or around you guys.”

“Now she is simply trying to save face,” Timoran says as he gets near. He struggles to move in an awkward crouch while holding Luke, fearful that he will crush his friend. “This is the worst place to have a conversation.”

“We’ll talk later, big sis,” Sari states as she makes eye contact with Nyx.

They are surprised when Fizzle soars out of the exit, the drite screaming at the top of his lungs. His words are lost as he accidentally plunges into the storm and is flung around the orb-like room. The drite curls into a ball to protect his wings and head, letting the buffering winds direct his flexible body. Fizzle can barely make out the screams of his friends, who are trying to find a way to reach him. Peeking out between his knees, he can see Timoran putting Luke down and hoisting Sari onto his shoulders. The immovable gypsy keeps her arms up in an attempt to catch the drite if he comes close. He prepares to hook her arm with his tail when a roar shakes the walkway, causing Timoran to lose his balance. The last thing Fizzle sees before getting launched into one of the holes is the barbarian slipping off the bridge and Sari diving to catch him.

“I got you!” she shouts as she grabs his hand and turns her power back on. Sari groans from the strain that holding the heavy warrior puts on her muscles. “Pull yourself up before my arms are ripped off.”

“Let me go before you are injured!” Timoran yells, his body waving in the maelstrom. When he is whipped close to the pathway, he grabs the edge to take the pressure off Sari. “This should make it easier, but you must release me. I will be fine.”

“Give me my prey!” the Meraphor screams as it steps onto the bridge. Red eyes appear all over its body, sending crimson light across the chamber. “I will have my prey!”

“What is that?” Delvin asks, diving to block an arrow that is heading for Nyx. The projectile strikes his shield and buries deep enough to scratch his forearm. “Better to dodge than block. I think the arrow tried to pass through the shield and into me like a ghost. This thing is all yours, Nyx.”

“I demand my prey!”

Nyx hurls javelins of fire at the charging Meraphor, but the spells are whipped in random directions by the creature’s chaotic body. Many of her attacks erupt within the maelstrom and their flames surge as they combine with the Dark Wind. One of the fiery lances strikes the ground near Sari and explodes, leaving a smoking hole beneath her locked heels. The pathway creaks and sways from the sudden barrage while Timoran struggles to climb to safety, the flames licking at his body.

“Find out what it’s after,” Sari suggests. Frost grows on her arms and rolls onto Timoran to give him some protection against the fire. “I’m feeling dizzy. I don’t know how much longer I can do this.”

“I’m betting it wants Luke,” Delvin replies as he readies his sword. “Pull your flames back, Nyx, and see if you can use them for defense.”

The warrior rushes the Meraphor while Nyx draws the fire out of the storm. The enchanted winds fight against her, which creates long cuts on the backs of her forearms. She watches Delvin slash at the monster, but his attack passes harmlessly through its head. Dancing back, he avoids the quick swings of its bladed arms. Hoping to make an opening, he raises his wooden shield, but the top quarter of it is sheared off. Delvin is sent flying back by a savage kick from the Meraphor, the warrior landing on his side with a crunch. Glass shards stick in his chainmail and he shakes them loose as he stands and cautiously watches his enemy.

Once Nyx has gathered all of the flames, she turns them into crimson gauntlets and charges the monster. With bar brawling her only hand-to-hand experience, her punches are crude and easily avoided by the swift creature. Angered by the interference, the Meraphor lashes out and grazes her chin with a forearm blade. The excruciating pain sends Nyx to her knees and her head feels like it is going to explode. With a howl of rage, the creature raises its arms to smash the half-elf who barely gets a barrier up in time to deflect the blow.

“Break the pathway!” Delvin shouts as he hurls his shield at the Meraphor. It strikes the creature in the chest and shatters within the churning body, irritating splinters jabbing at the red eyes. “Everyone hold on! We’ll find each other again. I promise.”

Enhancing her strength, Nyx raises her red-gauntleted fists to knock the Meraphor away and slams her hands into the floor. Her magic surges through the bridge, which spews crimson energy from the running cracks. The shrieking creature leaps over Nyx and sprints for Luke, but Delvin reaches the defenseless forest tracker first. Praying to Zaria and Cessia, the warrior throws his friend into the storm and rolls out of the monster’s grasp. Timoran stretches to catch the half-elf and nearly has him, but Nyx’s second strike snaps the pathway in half.

Everyone falls into the maelstrom and the Meraphor is shredded into smaller parts. It screams as it is hurled around the room and sucked into the various holes. Timoran and Sari hold hands as they are pulled into the opening in the center of the room. Hoping his other friends will be safe, Delvin struggles to grab Luke and Nyx as they are thrown about the chamber. He catches both of them by their wrists and holds tight while waiting to be launched into one of the holes. An abrupt change of wind drives them toward an opening with alarming speed.

“I’m really sorry, everyone. I think this was a bad plan,” Delvin whispers before he is driven into the floor next to the hole. He loses his grip on Luke, who is whisked into another opening, but he manages to cling to Nyx. The brown-haired warrior slowly loses consciousness as the caster’s momentum pulls him into the exit and they are rocketed down a dark tube.

*****

The buffering winds in the tunnel prevent Luke’s barely conscious body from slamming against the smooth sides. As he is rocketed around a bend, the half-elf grips his sabers with what little strength he has left and closes his eyes. The rest of the journey is a straight path with the air becoming frigid. It is a shock to Luke’s body when he hits a patch of warm wind that envelopes his body and slows him down. By the time he floats out the other end of the tunnel, his speed is reduced to the point where he can gently plant his feet on the floor to stop. Surprisingly, the Dark Wind inside his body settles and he finds his muscles responding to his attempts at movement instead of going limp like before.

The large room that Luke finds himself in is covered with snow and glistening icicles are hanging from the ceiling. Even with the signs of winter, the chamber is comfortably warm and a few dandelions are sprouting through creases in the floor. Tall and narrow windows cover three of the walls with the fourth adorned by a network of ice-encased ivy. He glances at the tunnel opening on the windowless surface, the hole having shrunk to the size of a cantaloupe and covering itself with an amber film of glistening aura. A dark wood table lays on its side, the remains of broken chairs scattered around it. Shredded paintings and broken statues litter the ground as if a clawed beast went on a rampage. There is no sign of a door as he wanders the room, but he feels a stiff breeze as he passes the middle of the ivy-covered wall. Rubbing the frost off a window pane, he looks out over the Garden of Uli and sees that the Dark Wind is rapidly flowing into the castle.

“I don’t like the look of that,” he whispers in a hoarse voice. He spats out a black blob that moves across the floor until he strikes it with his sabers. Pink energy ripples down the blade and disintegrates the ooze, which screeches in pain. “I really don’t like that.”

For the first time Luke notices a large mound of brownish red moss in the center of the room. A purple orchid is sticking out the top of the pile and it twitches as he cautiously approaches. Circling the moss, the half-elf blindly stumbles through the empty frame of a standing mirror. He runs a finger along the weathered wood and looks around for the shattered glass, but the floor is clear of shards. Luke leans in closer to inspect the faded design on the top of the frame, but all he can make out are two odd curves and what might be the straight teeth of a saw.