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.”
“Won’t you get sick?” Zander asks while he moves to help Fizzle remove the gray shell that nearly enveloped the snoring warrior “I assume he’ll take some of your power for strength, but now the Dark Wind can infect you.”
A mischievous grin plays across the tiny dragon’s face. “Nope. Stephen aura involved. Fizzle bane of Stephen. Fizzle stronger than time man.”
“That’s good to know.”
Zander jumps and draws a knife when Sari tackles Fizzle, the man’s nerves at their breaking point. The weeping gypsy hugs the drite, her words of thanks barely recognizable. Sheathing his weapon, the hunter pats her on the head before carefully lifting Luke into the bed. He can already see a healthy glow returning to the forest tracker’s skin and the stuttering breathing has turned into a steady rhythm.
“I should tell the others what’s going on,” Zander says, feeling uncomfortable around the crying woman.
“I’ll do it,” Sari states as she releases Fizzle and struggles to her feet. “They should hear it from me and I need some fresh air. Thank you for everything, Zander. I’m entrusting Luke to you, Fizzle. I would say not to let me down, but you never have.”
The gypsy gives the tiny dragon a gentle kiss on the snout and smiles at the confused monster hunter. She yelps when she unlocks the door and several priests rush in with their simple weapons drawn. With a casual wave from Zander, she leaves the room and stifles the mix of crying and laughing that is caught in her throat.
*****
Nyx jumps as a female voice from the shadows says, “I never got the chance to tell you this, but I like your new haircut. Sari does good work and you pull off the short look rather nicely. Love the fire effect you’re doing now. Out of fear, anger, or are you trying to intimidate me?”
“I don’t think I’ve seen you since Haven, Trinity,” the half-elf responds as she leans against the town well. �
��Been wondering when we’d get to go another round.”
“Technically, we met again in Gaia, but you were in a trance. Your knight and barbarian fended me off then your teachers caged me,” the chaos elf replies with a friendly grin. Cracking her knuckles, she approaches the well and relaxes next to her rival. “In hindsight, it wouldn’t have been fun if I defeated you that way. I want a real fight with you to see which of us is stronger. No limits or holding back. Full on spell duel until one of us surrenders or dies.”
“Is that why you’re here?”
The cobalt-skinned woman wraps an arm around Nyx’s shoulders, enjoying the tension that her touch causes. “If only that was the case, but I’m under orders not to battle you. I can tease you, torment you, and be a mischievous pain in your mediocre butt, but no fighting.”
Nyx stomps her heel onto Trinity’s foot, causing the chaos elf to curse and awkwardly hop away. Taking advantage of the situation, she charges forward only to get a swift kick to the side of her head. The half-elf leaps back to her feet and throws a punch, but the attack is effortlessly smacked away. Nyx has no time to back away as Trinity moves in and sends her to the ground with a kick to the stomach.
“I’m allowed to defend myself,” the chaos elf states, rolling her eyes at her grumbling enemy. She picks the half-elf up by the chin and shoves her against the stone well. “Try not to embarrass yourself. I’ve been trained to fight without magic while you’re nothing more than a bar brawler. So how’s Luke holding up?”
“You know damn well he’s dying.”
“I warned Stephen that a living curse might be too much for the Callindor,” Trinity replies with a sigh. She reaches out to stroke her rival’s face, a flash of concern in her eyes. “If it means anything, I’m really sorry about this. I’d prefer to kill you and be done with it, but Stephen wants you under his control. Whatever Stephen Kernaghan desires, he either gets or destroys so nobody else can have it.”
“I’m sure he proudly follows in his father’s footsteps.”
“Truth be told, Stephen isn’t even a quarter of the man his father is,” the Chaos Elf Queen states, surprising herself with the statement. “The Baron is cruel, but he can be compassionate and kind when he wants. He understands that ruling purely by fear and intimidation will lead to a leader’s downfall. I know it sounds odd to speak this way about someone who has enslaved my people. Still I begrudgingly admit that he has his a few good points.”
Nyx cautiously backs away and flicks a barrage of minor wind spells to keep her enemy out of reach. “And Stephen?”
“A manipulative monster who sees compassion and loyalty as signs of weakness,” she bitterly replies, the cold breeze helping her hide a shiver of disgust. “Stephen will search for a weakness in order to control or destroy. He loves to play games with people and break them before killing them. That’s why you’re in this position. Luke is dying a slow and painful death, which will bring you into Stephen’s grasp.”
“What does Luke and the living curse have to do with me?”
“Everything,” whispers a sinister voice in Nyx’s ear.
The caster whirls around to face Stephen, who grabs her by the throat and slams her to the ground. Trinity leans down to grin in Nyx’s face and reach out to run a hand through the half-elf’s black hair. With a hint of movement, the hungry-eyed man catches the chaos elf by the neck and lifts both women off their feet. Licking his lips, he strokes their throats with his thumbs and presses them against the solid well.
“I’m very disappointed in you, Trinity,” Stephen coos, leaning in to kiss the tip of her pointy ear. He digs his finger into her neck and stops the bleeding with his magic, but the pain remains at full strength. “I did not want Nyx to know the truth behind my curse. I’m going to make you suffer when we get home. So many delicious punishments that I have planned for you.”
Trinity tries to speak, but the agony from Stephen moving his finger in her flesh takes her breath away. With a sickening pop, he pulls his digit free and blows the wound off her cobalt skin. He callously tosses the chaos elf over his shoulder and turns his full attention to Nyx, his eyes burning with terrifying desire.
“What is it with your crush on me?” the half-elf asks, struggling to hide her fear. She freezes when his hand strokes her arm. “Don’t touch me!”
“Something about your scent drives me wild. So much fresher and sweeter than our dear Trinity,” he answers as he glances at the groaning woman behind him. “I assume it’s part of your nature as a channeler. You’re such a rare breed, so you give off an intoxicating scent to attract compatible mates. Imagine what I could do with two of you under my control.”
“A channeler?”
Stephen kisses her on the nose, enjoying how Nyx makes a chortled whimper and her body tenses. “It had to have crossed your mind if you read about them in your studies. A child with your magic couldn’t possibly be a normal caster. You’re descended from those that were so powerful, the ancient dragons destroyed them before starting the legendary Race War. You can craft spells with a thought and access the aura of Windemere as naturally as breathing. I’m sure you don’t even need to use actual spells. If you were truly unleashed then only the gods could claim to be stronger and it wouldn’t be by much. Such delicious power at your fingertips, dear Nyx, and I’ll control it before long.”
“Let me go!” she shouts. She transforms into mist and explodes, sending the man flying into a tree. The half-elf reforms on the other side of the well, cautiously watching as her enemy stands. “If I was a channeler then my parents, my teachers, or Isaiah would have told me. I shouldn’t be hearing this from you.”
“Unless they had no idea or wished to keep you in the dark,” Stephen explains while wiping the smoke and ashes off his clothes. He casually walks to the well and hops onto the rim, balancing on the edge. “It is strange that Isaiah is clueless about your lineage. In fact, it’s his job to know about such things. I wouldn’t be surprised if he’s refusing to tell you until he deems it the proper time. That old fireskin can be a real bastard when it comes to handling the champions. Strange to hear something like that from me.”
“Isaiah would have told me.”
“I’ve known him longer and he has a habit of keeping secrets.”
“Not from me!”
“Especially from you,” Stephen laughs, crouching on the rim. He eyes the caster with a predatory stare, his tongue running along his lips. “If you knew what you were at a younger age, you could have destroyed cities. These days the old lizard probably fears you’ll do something foolish and challenge my father alone. I can’t blame him for worrying because you wouldn’t be able to win that fight. Not with your temper, which is why I’ll take you under my wing and use you alongside Trinity. I’m your true key to victory, so abandon your friends and conquer Windemere with me. I promise you’ll become my favorite queen and I’ll only use Trinity when you’re unwilling.”
Nyx puts her hands on the well and sends a jolt of electricity along the stone. The spell knocks Stephen off his feet, but he flips and safely lands next to Trinity. He uses her as a shield when his enemy hurls a spiraling ball of ice and snow, the blast sending the chaos elf crashing through a nearby birch. Stephen chuckles as he draws a bastard sword from behind him, the blade seeming to appear out of thin air.
“I’m not going to play games with you,” Nyx declares, throwing a fireball at the black-haired man. She throws up a barrier when he catches the spell on the tip of his blade and flings it back at her. The explosion shoves her back and leaves a burning swath through the snow.
“Of course you will play my games. The alternative is that I kill you and your friends. I would get robbed of fun, but if you’re not going to play then I have very little interest in keeping you alive.”
“You’re either a liar or an idiot,” the caster bravely states. Her body quivering, she marches up to Stephen and smacks him across the face. “I despise you.”
“As if I-” he begins to as
k before Nyx punches him in the nose. “This is fairly amusing, yet pointless.”
“Stop smiling at me!” the half-elf screams as she slaps him again and kicks him in the stomach. “Leave me alone and die!”
“I’ll teach you respect, stupid girl,” the red-shirted nobleman growls, knocking her away with a wave of his hand. He charges Nyx with his blade held high for a downward slash. “I shall be kind and only take an ear.”
“Pineapple!”
“What?”
Nyx’s left arm jerks into the path of the swinging weapon, the thick bracelet around her wrist acting as a shield. A blast of light and sound erupts from the jewelry’s gem-encrusted grooves, leaving Stephen stunned. With a muttered curse, his sword falls to the ground and his arm hangs limply at his side. He tries to flex his muscles, but all he can do is make the limb twitch.
“Smart move, but now you have no magic,” the man points out as he recovers his mobility and weapon.
“Damn Chronos,” Nyx mutters. She steps forward and swings her foot into Stephen’s groin, knocking the air from his lungs. “Touch me again and I’ll fry them off.”
“Not a good move,” Trinity says while she stumbles out of the trees. She takes in a sharp breath, feeling the pain of broken ribs. “You made him mad.”
Stephen lunges at Nyx and swings his bastard sword with enough force to blow the snow off the ground. She creates a shield of ice that deflects the blade, but crumbles under the power of the attack. With a cruel grin, he kicks the half-elf in the stomach and strikes her in the head with the pommel of his sword. Trinity tackles Nyx out of the way of the crazed man’s stab, the weapon slicing across the chaos elf’s back. The wound sprays blood onto the exposed grass when Stephen snaps his fingers and makes it bleed faster. Her senses fuzzy, Nyx runs a fire-coated hand along Trinity’s back to seal the cut. The flame leaps through the air and knocks the bastard sword out of Stephen’s hand, giving the half-elf enough time to charge him. Her magic-infused punch is caught by the wrist and he violently twists her arm, snapping the bone in half.
Curse Of The Dark Wind (Book 6) Page 14