Wandering away from his friends, Luke tries to figure out the purpose for the temple by uncovering the rest of the walls and making his way toward the back. Severed vines, startled snakes, and disturbed insects are in his wake as he gradually makes his way toward the dais. Sweat is pouring down his brow and soaking his shirt as his determined hunt starts feeling fruitless. The murals that he uncovers are either worn away or too confusing for him to decipher. At one point, he reveals a set of metal pieces embedded in the dark red stone, but their associated drawings have eroded away. Turning toward the others, he sees that they are gathering around Nyx to discuss the Compass Key picture. The forest tracker cannot stop himself from continuing his own search, a prickling on the back of his neck urging him forward.
Once he reaches the corner, Luke hops onto the dais and is immediately driven to his knees by a surge of intense pain. His mouth magically clamps shut, preventing him from calling out to his friends. Muscles strain as he tears open his shirt and finds that the scar running diagonally across his body is seeping blood. The picture of a forge surrounded by demons appears in the floor and the suffering half-elf swears there is a guttural voice speaking in a language that makes his skin crawl. Whenever Luke tries to use his power to translate the words, a bolt of agony breaks his concentration and his old wound froths. Blood pools beneath him and he can barely hear his friends racing over, the forest tracker unsure how much time has passed since his torment began. A strong arm wraps around the warrior’s waist and hauls him off the dais, his scar returning to normal as soon as he is clear of the stone. Body shuddering and curled into a ball, Luke is unable to relax until Fizzle hits him in the face with a concentrated puff of rainbow smoke.
“Did he set off a trap?” Nyx asks while helping the warrior stand. She is surprised at how quickly his strength returns and that there is no blood on his chest. “Maybe the people who took Sari and Delvin knew we were coming. I’m so tired of guessing at everything.”
“You act like this adventure should be different than the others,” Luke teases with a half-hearted smirk. As an afterthought, he checks the skeletal handprint on his left arm and the scar that runs across his belly. “These two marks didn’t react at all. Not that I would really count the Lich’s final gift as a scar. The Hellfire Elf gave me this one, so maybe we’re looking at a demon summoning temple.”
“Not trap. Not demon. Too specific. Energy important,” Fizzle whispers as he crawls toward the dais. A scar hidden among his purple scales twitches, which causes the drite to scamper back from the steps. “Feel pain. Old wound prickle. From demon blade. Long ago when Luke and Fizzle first meet. Not think of blade for long time. Fizzle not know why here now. Not here when with Delvin and Sari.”
Slowly running his hand along his scar, Luke sniffs his fingers in search of even a trace of blood. “You mean the Chaoswind Blade. Now that you mention it, the pain I just felt was identical to that. What does this mean?”
“This temple has something to do with the Chaoswind weapons,” Timoran mutters, the barbarian hunkered over the dais. Reaching out to the blood, he pulls back when a few crimson tendrils try to snare his fingers. “There is a power within the stone, which my ring is reacting to and explaining to me. It appears that I can analyze the earth that has been touched by potent magic. What we are dealing with is not an enchantment, but a residual power that Luke inadvertently revived. I assume this is where the weapons were forged and the latent energy reacted to the matching aura found within your scar. My question is what does this have to do with us and the Baron.”
“Well there are some ancient rumors among the gods that involve the Chaoswind weapons and my father,” Dariana mentions, taking a step away from the puddle of blood. Her unease is palpable and causes all of her companions to shift uncomfortably. “You already know that my father was involved in the creation of the Weapon Dragons. Also the corruption and enslavement of the chaos elves. I’ve heard that a few demon breeds were crafted by his hands too. So it isn’t unreasonable to assume that the rumors about him being behind the Chaoswind weapons are true. After all, they are weapons that cause intense pain to those of pure spirit and nature. Such a thing would be the perfect artifact for his agents to use against the champions. Not that he would personally wield them, but he didn’t have anyone besides Stephen in the early days. Handing out Chaoswind weapons would make Windemere more dangerous for heroes and could eliminate champions before they stepped on the path. The rumors state that, aside from the forging in demon’s blood, he added some of his own aura into the metal. This is probably one of the places he sent the weapons to for their final enchantments, which explains the murals. The place is like his own temple.”
“Is there any evil that your father isn’t behind?” Nyx asks, hoping her wry smile softens the question. A helpless shrug and silence is all she receives, so the half-elf puts a friendly arm around the telepath. “Sorry about that. I only meant that it seems the Baron has been very influential for someone locked away. Makes me wonder if the curse was ever strong enough to fully contain him.”
“Gabriel was a new god at the time, so it’s possible he didn’t have full control of his powers,” the silver-haired woman suggests. The sensation of ghostly fingers creeping around her neck makes her jump and she slaps at the area. “Then again, it really doesn’t matter. My father has never been one to accept captivity without a fight. Even when he was mortal, it was impossible to hold him for long. I’m sorry, but we’re wasting time. From what Fizzle has told us, neither he nor our friends triggered the Chaoswind energy when they were here. His wound might not have held enough power to get a reaction until now. Luke was struck twice in the same place, so he had the bad luck to act as a catalyst.”
The forest tracker chuckles and removes the remains of his shirt as he admits, “That does seem to be how things go for me. Most days I can’t tell if the Luck Goddess is on my side or has it out for me.”
A bubbly pop startles the champions and they draw their weapons, each one choosing a different direction to watch. Luke notices pink energy coiling out of his wooden ring, the green leaves on top showing faint veins of white. Knowing that the Ring of Uli is reacting to nearby undead, the forest tracker focuses on the gaping stairwells. Faint shuffling can be heard from below, but it is too dark for him to see any movement. Attempting to use his sound sight, the half-elf finds that a barrier is blocking his senses from piercing more than a few inches into the shadows. When they see the serpentine magic coming of Luke’s ring, the other champions follow his example by putting their backs to the dais and keeping their attention locked on the stairwells.
Fizzle is the only one gazing around the room, making him the first to see slender forms rising out of the pooled blood. Serrated sabers sprout from the featureless figures’ dripping hands and the creatures move down the stairs without a sound. At the drite’s urgent whistling, his friends whirl around and immediately retreat from the swinging blades. Not moving as far as the others, Luke takes the first opening he sees to dive forward and slash the nearest monster with his swords. The pink energy along the blades punctures the moaning golem and causes it to explode, but the forest tracker is driven to his knees by a burst of pain. Grabbing the half-elf by his elbow, Dariana drags him away before two of the creatures can cut his head off. Not wanting to injure his friend, Timoran settles for knocking one of the blood golems away with the flat side of his weapon. The immediate result is Luke gasping for air as if the barbarian has struck him in the stomach.
“This better work,” Nyx mutters as her hands turn blue. Darting in front of the others, she slaps the floor and hits all of the golems with a paralysis spell. “Let’s not wait to see what happens. Run for the stairwells and I’ll put up barriers once we’re through. Distance should be enough to sever their connection to Luke.”
“We retreat too much,” Fizzle complains while creating a wall of hallucinogenic mist in front of the golems. Rising toward the ceiling, he can see more of the creatures ris
ing out of the bubbling puddle. “No stop. Need run fast. Fizzle right behind.”
Nyx fights the temptation to unleash a blast of fire at the charging creatures since the drite’s breath is having no effect on them. Once her friends are inside the stairwell, the channeler leaps into the shadows and weaves a protective net over the openings. She lands hard on the uneven stairs and her head strikes a corner before she is done with her casting. The unexpected pain causes Nyx to reflexively lash out with her aura, which transforms the barrier into a deafening explosion. A wave of fire surges through the chamber and she hears a blood-curdling scream from below, Luke’s voice echoing for several terrifying minutes.
*****
“Is he going to be okay?” Nyx asks as she trails behind Timoran. She keeps her eyes on the limp form of Luke, who is cradled in the barbarian’s arms. “I didn’t mean to do that, little brother. Is he conscious?”
“He’s not awake, so you can stop apologizing,” Dariana whispers from the front of the group. Every step is filled with the fear of a surprise attack as they travel along the gloomy hallway. “We need to remain quiet. There are thoughts in these tunnels, but I can’t tell if they’re friendly or malevolent. Put a shield around yourself and guard our rear, Nyx, while Timoran focuses on protecting Luke.”
The channeler opens her mouth to protest, but finds that her voice has been turned off. With a scowl, she glances over her shoulder and sees nothing more than darkness. The inky black absorbs the dim light coming off patches of mold that remind the adventurers of what one finds on old trail rations. The shining growths are the only signs of life in the tunnels, which Nyx thinks is strange because of all the bones found in the chamber above. Curious about the thick shadows, the channeler walks backwards and flicks a coin-sized disc of light into the distance. She is mildly surprised that the spell is swallowed by the enchanted darkness instead of driving the ebony barrier away. In response to her magic, a cold wind swirls down the tunnel and caresses the champions, its touch making all of them shudder.
Unsure of how long they have been walking, Nyx yawns and becomes slightly unaware of her surroundings. So when she hears the clack of claws on stone, the creature is already out of the shadows and dripping drool on the floor. Whirling around, the half-elf comes face to face with a two-headed dog that has a hairless body of exposed muscle. A row of poison-dripping roses sprout around the beast’s neck and it eats two of the plants to coat its teeth. The beast grinds its jaws and scratches at the floor, leaving deep furrows in the stone. Not wanting to give the monster a chance to attack, Nyx hurls a fireball down the hallway and turns the creature into a pile of charred bones. Turning with a proud smile, she is immediately confused by the angry glares from her friends. Pointing back to the two-headed dog’s remains, the channeler sees that the body is missing. The only evidence of danger is a smoking scorch mark left on the floor by her spell.
“There was a creature coming up behind us,” Nyx argues, meeting the accusatory looks with stubborn defiance. Seeing a bat with icicles for fangs over Dariana’s head, the half-elf fires a narrow lightning bolt that narrowly misses her friend. “An ice bat thingy was about to get you from above. Are you guys hearing and seeing any of this?”
“It has been a clear path the entire time,” Timoran answers while adjusting Luke. The forest tracker coughs up some blood and moans, his arm lifting slightly. “We should find a place to rest. Even stopping here will be helpful since he is in bad shape and we can administer some first aid. It would appear Nyx needs a break as well.”
“We’ll walk a little further to see if we can find a room because I don’t like being out in the open here,” Dariana states while staring at the burn on the ceiling. Reaching out for a second, she touches Nyx’s mind to find detailed images of the creatures. “Sorry about that, but I wanted to test a theory. You are certain about what you saw, which didn’t exist to the rest of us. My guess is that this hallway has illusions that Timoran and I are ignoring. I’m not sure why you would be the one to have difficulty while the rest of us are dispelling without trying.”
The half-elf curses under her breath and does her best to see through an axe-wielding blob coming through the wall. For a second, she worries that this is something real and she is wasting valuable time before it attacks. A fireball appears in her hand, but she holds back out of fear of making another mistake. The fact that the creature is within reach of Dariana and the telepath is oblivious to its presence helps Nyx dispel the figment, the extreme effort causing her eyes to ache. Her nerves twitch as she watches it fade into a blue mist that returns to the wall, but she is unsure if more visions will appear.
“My channeler nature makes me susceptible to illusions. Since they’re made of magic, my mind and aura consider them real,” the violet-eyed woman explains while trying the same trick on the thick shadows. Nothing happens as she scratches her head and winces at the touch of fresh blood. “I didn’t realize I was injured. That blow to the head might be making it harder for me to see through these things. Although, I don’t feel like I have a concussion. Anybody think it strange that there are no turns or alcoves in here? What if you two are falling for illusions of a different kind?”
“It’s entirely possible,” Dariana replies while rubbing her temples. Casting her mind along the hallway, she tries to find the source of the illusions and fails. “Whatever is behind these tricks is too far away. I’d have to push myself beyond my current limits and we’re already down one person. Possibly two. So I will travel with a focus on seeing through illusionary walls. Does anybody know where Fizzle is?”
“Found place!” the drite shouts from the darkness. They barely see his shimmering dragonfly wings in the gloom as he hovers next to a doorway. “It appeared now. Friends need see inside. Fizzle no find traps.”
Nyx hurries ahead of her friends and catches the dragon by the tail, stopping him from going inside the room. There is rubble piled in the corners and the remains of an old fire in the center of the windowless chamber. Scraps of rotten food and an empty waterskin are around the ashes, but there are two items that nearly cause the channeler to charge through the entrance. A pair of velvet and leather boots have been tenderly placed by a cleared spot where a sleeping bag might have once been laid out. The amber laces of the familiar shoes are undone and there is a thin layer of dust on the unmarred toes. On the other side of the room, a round, metal shield has been propped against the wall. Crushed by Nyx’s magic, gems have been used to create the image of a winged stag on the front. Instead blindly retrieving her friends’ abandoned gear, the channeler can only nervously laugh and keep a tight hold on Fizzle’s long tail.
“This is obviously a trap,” Dariana says, putting her face an inch away from the entrance. The telepath hears a dull roar, the sound too far away for her to focus on it. “I’m worried that this is designed specifically for us. Do you think they knew we would come? Maybe these enemies have been tracking us ever since we entered the jungle.”
“I feel like there is a piece of information that we are missing,” Timoran replies while moving behind Nyx. Balls of flame appear on the chamber’s ceiling and orbit a sparking crystal that the others fail to notice. “I can see spells that would normally put me on edge. I believe I know what has been strange about all this. Dariana’s right that these traps are designed specifically for us. Nyx’s weakness toward illusions and my discomfort around spells are being used against us. Our enemies expect us to rush into this room because we see our friends’ treasured items.”
“But there’s no other gear, which is why I didn’t go in,” Nyx adds, the cracking of her knuckles echoing throughout the hallway. A wicked grin is on her face when she sees a faint shudder envelope the room. “Those boots belonged to Sari’s mom, so she would never leave them behind. As for Delvin’s shield, I made it so that he could summon it back to his arm. I doubt he’d abandon it and his captors would have a hard time keeping it away from him. Are there any weaknesses that they forgot?”
“We don’t have time for this,” Dariana claims when she sees Luke cough up more blood. “I will have to risk my own health and usefulness. Please carry me if I collapse, Nyx.”
The telepath’s eyes turn black as she stretches her mind and pierces every illusion that she finds, including those aimed at her friends. Her psychic attacks leave blinding gashes in the spells, which include the room and the darkness that has been following them. Trees and vines materialize around the ghostly wounds as the jungle consumes the tunnel that was never there, the real one having been exited an hour ago. Looking back, the champions can see the red stone temple on a cliff that is at least one hundred feet above their heads. A chorus of voices rings out, their language foreign, but the enraged tone unmistakable. Dariana can feel someone trying to repair the damaged illusions, so she grips the hidden enemy’s mind and has the person run headfirst into a tree.
Nyx releases Fizzle as soon as a purple-haired youth materializes at her feet. The young man is stunned, so it is easy for the annoyed channeler to lift him by the arm and pin him to a rough-barked tree. Bare-chested and slick to the touch, the fae-blood struggles until he sees fire dancing along his captor’s eyes. It takes him a second to regain his courage and change his face to resemble that of Stephen Kernaghan. The image has the same ebony hair, dark blue eyes, and arrogant grin that still randomly slips into her nightmares. Unfortunately for the young man, Nyx gets angry instead of scared and punches him in the nose. The force is enough to send the youth tumbling along the ground and she has an invisible tether yank him back to her hand like a flailing, bruised yo-yo.
Charms of the Feykin Page 8