Curse Of The Dark Wind (Book 6)

by Charles E Yallowitz

  Zander clears his throat and raises his hand. “What about me?”

  “Hunter can come too.”

  “Thanks, I think.”

  “Enough wasting time!” Sari angrily snaps, snow whirling around her body. “If you three don’t head out in the next minute, I’m hurling you in there!”

  Timoran puts his hands up as he approaches the fuming gypsy, his axe held so the head is pointing to the ground. He kneels in front of Sari, who fights back her sobs and maintains her furious stare. She crumbles the moment the barbarian gives her a one-armed hug. Warm tears run onto his shoulder as he waits for his friend to release her pent up sorrow. With a high-pitched squeal, she takes in a shuddering breath and slips out of the warrior’s grasp. He pats Sari on the head as she takes a seat next to Luke, the gypsy already looking calmer and more in control of her emotions.

  “I’m sorry, Timoran.”

  “It is okay,” the barbarian assures his friend. He wipes a few tears from his own eyes, revealing that he is as worried as her. “You love him dearly and it hurts to see him in pain. Your patience is running out, but I ask you to hold on a little longer, my friend. Luke needs you to stay strong and protect him while we are away. His life is in your hands and I know you will not fail him. We will be victorious in the Cave of Winds. I promise.”

  “Gale Hollow,” Sari mutters with a forced smirk.

  The large man laughs and hoists his tiger-striped great axe onto his shoulder. “Gale Hollow it shall be and Delvin will forever be remembered as the man who named it. Though I do not know how such things are officially done.”

  “Tell it to a few bards and the entire region will be saying Gale Hollow by the end of the month,” Zander interrupts, his cowl over his head. He pulls on a pair of leather gloves that make his hands shimmer as they move a fraction faster than normal. “Shall we dive into the unknown, General Wrath?”

  “Never call me that,” the barbarian growls.

  “My apologies.”

  Timoran shakes his head and blinks as if his vision is fuzzy. “Forget it. You did not know I have issues with the title. Let us head out before my rage fades and the Dark Wind takes a stronger hold on the region.”

  With Fizzle on his shoulder and Zander a few steps behind, the barbarian sets his sights on Gale Hollow. The roaring wind seems to threaten the three travelers as they approach, making Timoran grin in anticipation of a good fight.

  9

  Luke knows he is in his mind as soon as his eyes open to the sight of gray clouds within his reach. With a grunt, he sits up and looks down at the snow-covered forest. There are no animals within view even though part of him senses their existence. Most of the hidden creatures are subtle heartbeats that he forgets about when he is no longer paying attention to them. He can see Sari curled next to his body and he guesses that the others have gone into Gale Hollow. The forest appears to be serene and pure, but Luke can sense the curtain of death that has embraced the region. Willing himself to see the truth, wisps of Dark Wind appear around the trees and clouds. It is a thick network of misty cords that remind the half-elf of the wire cages his grandfather uses to catch insects. The thought that every living thing in the forest is nothing more than a bug to his enemies causes him to shiver, so he stretches and walks around the sky as if on solid earth.

  “So am I going to meet a god or is this part of the Dark Wind curse?” Luke asks the clouds that churn above him.

  A booming roar cuts through the thick storm in the northeast, revealing the distant Widowhorn. For a second, Luke swears he sees an enormous figure shimmering next to the forked mountain. Without warning, his sound sight turns on and focuses on an undulating form moving around the forked peak. At first, the half-elf thinks he is seeing the powerful high winds of the area, but the silhouette of a mouth opens to reveal long, glistening teeth. When the mysterious beast’s jaws clap shut, his senses catapult back into his skull. Holding his aching head, Luke sinks to the ground and leans against a humming tree for support.

  “It seems you’re not strong enough to see the Garden of Uli,” a guttural voice says from above his head.

  Luke is surprised when he sees Fizzle sitting in the lower branches of the tree. “What happened to your voice?”

  “This is how I would sound in my native tongue,” the drite replies, climbing down the tree and onto an icy stone. He sits on his haunches and pulls an apple out of thin air to casually eat with more refinement than his typical devouring. “You are communicating with the part of my aura that is inside you. I’m limited in my knowledge and you have more subconscious control than I do, which is why I’m slowly eating an apple.”

  “You like apples.”

  “I love apples, but that’s not the point.”

  “What’s the point?”

  “I believe we should take to the air.”

  Another roar erupts from the direction of the Widowhorn, which has become covered by the darker clouds. This time a threatening hiss replies to the noise and a shadowy serpent rises from the wintery forest. Its phantasmal coils pass through the trees as its body bloats, crimson stripes appearing on its hide. The creature calls out to the mountain with a strange combination of a hiss and rattle. There is no reply and the serpent grows agitated, the air thickening with its palpable rage. Luke and Fizzle soar to the clouds to watch the beast violently thrash below, its body denting the ground.

  “It does this when you’re having seizures and coughing fits,” Fizzle explains, wrapping his tail around Luke’s arm. “There is a quiet place that we can use for our talk. Besides, it’s best to get you out of here before the other two notice you.”

  “Other two?” Luke asks as they drift to the south. He slips his arm free and stops, curiosity getting the best of him. “I want to see what’s going on inside my head. I’m assuming that snake is the Dark Wind and it’s angry at something near the Widowhorn. Beyond that, I’m kind of lost since you’re not giving me real hints.”

  Nervously licking his lips, Fizzle grabs the half-elf by the neck and pulls him further away from the chaos. “Do you remember Sari telling you about the dreams she had when in her slumber? This is similar, but you’re not facing your inner self. Your body has become infected to the point where you might not survive the awakening of your true power. Unlike Sari, the essence that would normally guide you in this place has been blocked by the three corruptions within you.”

  “You know what I’m going to ask next,” the warrior replies, scratching the scar across his torso. His fingers stop and he moves them to the skeletal mark on his left arm. “The Dark Wind is one. The Chaoswind blade scar and the Lich’s mark are the other two. Parts of their curses are still inside me.”

  “Correct. You really should think before talking more often because you’re bright enough to figure things out,” the drite says with a toothy smile. He keeps an eye on the rampaging serpent, keenly aware that it is getting closer. “The Chaoswind is a residual energy, but it stays strong because you still fear its touch. As your fear dwindles, so does its influence. The same cannot be said for the Lich. He marked you with his aura and I’ve no idea way. It isn’t a curse and it focuses on your mind. If I had to guess, I would say he was terrified of being forgotten. So, the Lich put a recall spell on you. To your dying day, you will be able to vividly remember every encounter with him.”

  “Guess he wasn’t as inhuman as I thought.”

  “You forget that he was a man once,” Fizzle replies, his scales turning a brighter shade of purple. “We need to go now.”

  The serpent shakes the ground and swings its tail at a quick shadow that runs along the treetops. A serrated blade appears in the new combatant’s hand before it slices into the large creature, the wound spurting foggy blood. From high above, a trio of black fireballs spiral through the sky and burst in the face of the serpent. Fizzle yanks Luke away as a cloaked figure emerges from the clouds to unleash a streak of crimson lightning. The warrior shadow rapidly slashes at the snake while the feat
ureless caster continues its barrage, neither giving the beast a chance to attack. With a frustrated hiss, the embodiment of the Dark Wind explodes and covers the forest in darkness. The only light is a solitary circle in the distance that Fizzle urgently drags his friend towards.

  They land on a bed of soft grass within the pristine clearing that has colorful flowers spiraling out from a central pond. Birds are singing in the trees along the edge of the light, but none of them dare reveal themselves. Even their song holds a sense of fear and misery that seems to press on Luke’s chest. His sadness gets worse when he sees the griffin next to the pond. The noble beast is on her side with her wings splayed across the ground and her head close enough to the water to easily get a drink. Her chocolate eyes are glazed over and her breathing is nothing more than a series of rapid gasps that break into an occasional cough. Luke cautiously approaches the griffin and sits near her back to stroke her cold, knotted fur.

  “Sari was able to get stronger by facing her inner demons,” the half-elf whispers in a choked voice. “Let me go back to the serpent and I’ll destroy it. This is my mind, so I’m the one in control.”

  “This is not your mind, Luke, but your aura,” Fizzle says. The drite scratches his head with his tail as he takes a drink from the fresh pond. “This place is falling into chaos and you lack the training to handle it. The griffin and I are the only auras preventing your destruction, but it’s not enough to help you survive your awakening. If you can rid yourself of the Dark Wind then the guardian essence trapped within your body will return.”

  “Tell me what to do.”

  The tiny dragon groans in frustration at the half-elf’s growing panic. “You can’t do anything to fix this. Your friends must stop the Dark Wind because you’re too weak. It’s in everyone’s best interest for you to conserve what little energy you have.”

  “So . . . I’m helpless.”

  “It wouldn’t be the first time you required rescuing,” Fizzle bluntly states as he grows tired of the conversation. He puffs out a few rings of mist that pop when they reach the edge of the clearing. “From what I remember, each of your friends has saved your life at one point or another. In fact, you’ve been rescued more times than you’ve been the hero. Nimby with the cyclops, Fritz in Freedom, myself against the Lich, and so many other encounters have ended with you being saved. So I don’t see why you’re so upset about being helpless. It’s nothing new for you.”

  “I’ve never been this helpless,” Luke snaps, jumping to his feet. The world spins at the sudden movement and he backs away to avoid falling on the griffin. “All those other times, I got myself into trouble and needed my friends. I kept fighting, so I wasn’t entirely helpless. The Dark Wind is something I can’t do anything about, so it doesn’t compare to past events. Any of my friends would be in the same position if the curse was designed for them.”

  Fizzle nods his head and sits on his haunches, another apple appearing in his hands. “You have a point. I apologize for what I said. Still, I would prefer if you relaxed and conserved your energy. While the others must combat the living curse’s source, you will need to be the one to make the final push against your own infection.”

  The griffin stands and shakes her head to remove the blackened feathers that irritate her skin. She walks across the clearing, bringing Luke and Fizzle’s attention to a young woman with silver hair and ivory skin. The calm stranger looks like a mess with her filthy tunic and brown breeches that are frayed at the cuffs. She stares at the forest tracker with yellow eyes that send a chill through his bones. With a gentle hand, the skinny woman caresses the beak of the griffin and lulls it into a deep sleep.

  “Please do not attack me like your naiad friend,” she politely requests. The woman strolls away from the slumbering beast, her hands slipping into her pockets. “I’m sorry, but I don’t know why I’m here. I was wandering and got lost. I sense you’re weak, so fighting me would result in your demise.”

  “Who are you?” Luke asks, stepping between the woman and Fizzle.

  “An accidental child born from both sides of the coin,” she answers as if her explanation makes complete sense. “We will meet in person in due time. After all, you will be one of my rescuers.”

  “You’re the sixth champion!”

  “It’s possible,” the woman nonchalantly says. Her short hair glows as she examines the details of Luke’s face, every angle and line being absorbed into her memory. “I could be your champion. I may also be an enemy. There’s a chance that I’m nothing more than a future encounter that goes no further than a thank you. The voices have not told me the point of this meeting, but I feel they are mad at me for intruding.”

  The half-elf takes a cautious step away from the woman, part of his mind telling him that something is wrong. “You hear voices?”

  “Yes, but I don’t think many of them know I’m listening. Most of them are muddled, so I only catch pieces. Others are so loud that I have to tune them out, which is a shame because I know they’re telling me things that are important.”

  “You’re a dream walker,” Fizzle states as he takes to the air and cautiously watches the intruder. “A strange creature that follows a dreamer’s voice and drains their energy while they sleep. I thought they were wiped out when they attempted to absorb the Hejinn back in the early days of Windemere.”

  “No. A few dream walkers survived those hunts and they lasted all the way to a month after the Great Cataclysm,” the woman proudly declares, smiling for the first time. Her appearance is comforting and warm with the friendly expression, causing the others to slightly drop their guard. “I thought they were a nuisance and the chaos of the world was already too much. So I put an end to them before returning to my normal duties. Whatever those were. I’m sorry, but my mind is so muddled and I’ve been here for too long. Do either of you know how I can get back to myself?”

  “I’d assume you go back the way you came,” Luke awkwardly answers.

  “I would, but I don’t even know which direction that is. It feels like years since I was inside myself,” she says while holding her callused hands in front of her. Her eyebrow twitches and she peers at the sky, shaking her head in dismay. “I’m sorry, but this place is about to become a mess.”

  The serpent’s rattling hiss shatters the serene atmosphere as the creature looms over the clearing. It batters against a prismatic barrier that appears around the untainted circle, Fizzle urgently chanting to prevent the shield from failing. Every blow sends a jolt of force through Luke, the half-elf falling to his knees in a gradually growing crater. He spits up blood when the serpent hits with enough power to crack the shield.

  “Do you want me to do something?” the woman asks, bending down to stare into the young man’s eyes. She rolls away and flips onto her feet when he coughs up more blood. “I can’t remove that thing, but I can lock it down for a bit. I’ll warn you now that it’s going to hurt. It seems you’re in too much pain to talk. I should probably do it since you’re already hurting and I think mom would be mad if I did nothing. I’m sorry, but I guess a little more agony isn’t going to kill you.”

  The silver-haired woman casually jogs to the barrier and tears a hole in the side, ignoring the howl of suffering from Luke. She leaps into the treetops and bounds across the branches to get the attention of the serpent. The towering beast quickly catches up to her, its mouth opening to swallow the calm stranger whole. Releasing a small grunt, she jumps into the sky and comes back down to drive her heel into the head of the snake. The shadowy creature is stunned as she attacks with a shimmering fist that sends a shockwave of lightning through the sky when it strikes. With a gurgling hiss, the serpent dissipates and the snowy clouds part to reveal a blue sky. Hearing a blood-curdling scream, the woman glances down at two figures lying on a bed of snow and pine needles. She watches as Sari scrambles to hold down the young half-elf, who is having a violent seizure.

  “I guess it was more painful than I expected,” the stranger says with a
shrug before landing on the forest floor. Without giving a second thought to Sari’s desperate calling, the woman tucks her hands into her pockets and walks away.

  *****

  Timoran and Zander squeeze into an alcove as a shrieking gust of Dark Wind races toward the distant entrance. Glowing crystals hum and flicker around the cavern, illuminating the barren stone and gaping pits. The holes become more common as they get further along the path, many of the obstacles requiring that they wait for a pause in the wind to rush around or leap to safety. Each time the two warriors scramble for an alcove while Timoran hacks away at the living curse. It has been a slow journey and both of the men are ready to discuss other ways to traverse the cavern. The pair can see Fizzle clinging to the ceiling on the other side of the path and beckon for him to come over. The drite waits for another rolling stream of corrupted air to pass before darting to his friends.

  “This is more difficult than we thought,” Timoran whispers with a frown. He cranes his neck to peer out of the alcove, pulling back as soon as he sees movement. “I do not know how far down we have gone, but progress is most certainly slow. We need to find a way through these bursts of wind.”

  “It isn’t the wind, but the curse that is giving us trouble,” Zander contends, touching a bleeding cut on his neck. “The smell of decay in here is making my eyes water and attacking the Dark Wind is like fighting sentient mud. There has to be another way to get to the source than walking through this storm.”

  “Fizzle think strange,” the drite says, crawling onto Timoran’s shoulder. “Only one path in caverns? So big and yet little space used. Fizzle wonder if door missed.”

  “It isn’t that strange,” the monster hunter states. He leans out of the alcove and jumps back when a gust nearly drags him into the open. “There are two types of vaults that the ancient people of Windemere would create. Labyrinths full of traps and simple places with long hallways that force an intruder into taking a dangerous path.”