“I guess strength is not needed when I wish to break a barrier,” the drenched warrior says while the portal slams shut. Reaching down, he yanks the spear out of his flesh and limps to the nearest cage. “I wonder what was kept in here. Strange. There are feathers, scales, and fur among the hay. This is rather disturbing.”
“Get out of here, Timoran,” growls a voice from further inside the room. A screeching roar shakes the dungeon, sending dirt falling from the cracked ceiling. “I can smell and hear you. Part of me wants to eat you. Just forget about me and run.”
Ignoring the warning, Timoran walks toward a figure who is crouched among several smashed cages and dead cultists. He stops and takes a few steps back when he sees a creature that he barely recognizes as Luke. His chimera transformation is unfinished, so the half-elf currently resembles a bipedal dog with a spiked tail and wings of golden feathers. Sharp teeth fill his mouth and he coughs up bits of flaming metal, each violent outburst making his face grow more of a reptilian snout. Falling to all fours, his body loses its ability to stand and bloats with muscles that break his skin. Patches of metal scales are revealed and Luke’s size doubles while he stares at his friend.
“I came to rescue you,” Timoran states, unable to wrap his mind around what he is seeing. A sticky substance drips onto his arm and he notices that there is blood on every surface. “This does not only belong to the cultists. I smell your blood in the mix. Can you get yourself under control long enough for us to reach Dariana or Nyx?”
“I said run!” Luke roars, his arm lashing out with ebony claws. He stops himself a hair’s breadth away from his friend’s face and drags himself back. “Too much pain. Too far gone. Please just run away.”
“A magnificent weapon, is he not?” Gursel asks as he rises from the water on the floor. The Placid wraps his arm around Timoran and hurls the larger man onto the stairs. “Of all the chimeras that I have forced into this world, he is the most impressive. Not only will this young man be unstoppable against the Feykin, but his friends will never dare to attack him. Such is the curse of being a good and noble man. I have been there many times and it leaves one’s work so fragile. One small mistake and all progress is destroyed. That is why I will use him to eliminate nature’s mistakes and revive the purity of the jungle.”
“You have no idea what you are unleashing,” Timoran claims, putting his axe on his back to appear less of a threat to the chimera. Holding up his hands, he focuses on the cult leader and prays he can talk some sense into the man. “We have dealt with this before and it is not something you can control. I am not much help either, so please let me get my friend. Think of the people outside who have no idea what is brewing beneath their feet.”
Gursel nods his head in agreement and turns his arms into water-dripping blades. “I see your point, young man. All of them are here to be protected from the Feykin. So I cannot let anything happen to them. If this chimera is more powerful and volatile than I believe then I need to take precautions. The water in the well will give me the power to shield them from the beast until it departs for the battlefield. Still it is best to give it a plaything and gain some extra time to prepare my defenses. Cutting one of your hamstrings should be enough to slow you down without taking away your ability to put up a decent fight.”
Timoran reaches for his weapon and prepares to charge the cultist, but stops when Luke releases a deafening roar. The tearing of flesh and stretching of muscles echoes throughout the dungeon as he grows to the size of an adult Sword Dragon. His body is covered in patches of fur and scales, both constantly molting to reveal fresh coverings underneath. A glistening ruby is in the center of his metallic head, which scrapes against the ceiling. The chimera emits a rolling growl while straining against the tight space and hungrily eyes the two small figures that are frozen with fear. With a quick snap, Luke swallows Gursel and lets the intense heat of his mouth evaporate the screaming Placid. Unsatisfied with the lackluster meal, the creature turns a predatory gaze on Timoran.
The barbarian races up the stairwell, which is too narrow for the chimera to follow. A flaming orb of metal barrels into the passage and slams into the steps a few feet behind the retreating champion. The heat from the attack makes Timoran sweat and he hears the creature preparing another blast. Not bothering to see if it can be pushed open, he smashes the door with his great axe and forces his way through the incoming flood. Steam fills the stairwell as water hits the hot ore, the vapor making it difficult for the barbarian to take a breath. Sheathing his weapon, he grabs the doorframe and pulls himself into the well where he struggles to swim against the current. The sound of the chimera breaking through the ground and the ensuing screams of innocent people drives him to push himself as hard as he can. With a desperate clamber up the slick wall, Timoran catches the end of one of the vines and swiftly climbs to the top.
The citizens are running in terror as the chimera’s head emerges from the ground and spits several flaming orbs. The projectiles smash into trees and take out a few homes, the distance between buildings preventing the fires from spreading quickly. With his hunger and rage driving him insane, Luke explodes into the air and flaps his golden wings to hover next to the large fig tree. Before he can swoop down for a meal, a spear hits the beast in the eye and he turns to growl at Timoran. The barbarian hurls a rock at his friend’s beak-like snout and sprints in the opposite direction of the locals, the wound in his leg making it difficult to move at full speed. Luke roars in frustration and slams his tail into the fig tree with enough force to partially uproot it before soaring after the fleet-footed adventurer.
14
Severely outnumbering their enemies, the Feykin believe they have the upper hand and bravely march forward. With Delvin at the head of the army, the warriors of Rhundar grow more determined and hungry for blood by the second. As planned, the first wave of cultists fall before a barrage of spears, daggers, and arrows. Before the first few minutes of battle are over, the jungle floor is littered with corpses and the wounded who are trying to crawl away. Blasts of various elemental magic surge forward to stun and injure the small garrison of armored knights that stand among the opposing enemy. There is little concern for the surrounding area, leading to many trees and innocent animals being callously destroyed in the skirmish. Not even an hour has passed before the cultist’s formation is splintered and overrun by the merciless army. Those of the Order who try to retreat are hunted down and brutally killed so swiftly that the Feykin’s progress never falters. Only a handful of Delvin’s warriors have fallen, their bodies trampled and left behind by their shouting brethren.
Their sense of inevitable victory is crushed when a trembling roar causes the advancing army to halt. Screams and clashing weapons erupt when the chimeras and the main squad of cultist knights rush to flank the Feykin. The enraged beasts barrel into the opposing army and tear into their prey, only two of them killed in the initial charge. Fire, lightning, and water soar overhead to strike the monsters while the close range fighters race to eliminate the remaining cultists. Not trained to battle the chimeras, the Feykin army struggles to regain its momentum and listen to Delvin’s orders. Many decide to ignore the warrior, instead following Sari’s lead and attacking in groups alongside her and Phelan. Within minutes it feels like there are multiple forces on the battlefield and none of them are working together. Several times, two or more of the Feykin come to blows since they follow a different leader and think they have an opportunity to remove some of their rival’s supporters. Even with a clear view of the entire mess, it seems like it is nothing more than an unfocused brawl.
“This is ridiculous,” Nyx says while struggling to keep her balance in the canopy. She grips the branches and hurls a few fireballs to strike a horned beast in the side. “We should have seen chimeras coming since they had one in the orchard. Are you able to turn them back into their true selves?”
“I would have to work on them one at a time,” Dariana answers, unsure if she should get involved. She w
atches as two Feykin are devoured by a snake-like creature, which is swarmed and killed by other warriors. “This doesn’t feel right. We should be in there trying to reduce the casualties.”
“I know, but whose side do we choose?” asks the channeler while using a gust of wind to knock a gorilla-headed bear across the battlefield. Avoiding its tentacles, Phelan pounces on the stunned beast and guts it before leaping onto a knight’s back. “The Feykin are going after anything we knocked out. They don’t want to leave any survivors and it looks like their enemies plan on doing the same. Anyone we stun is nothing more than an easy target. We need to get to Delvin and Sari. If we can free them then they can stop this.”
“Fizzle smell Timoran,” the drite announces, zipping around the tree. With a growl, he stops and peers into the distance where a winged form is steadily approaching. “Smell Luke too. Not all Luke. It fake dragon. Luke not Luke. Very mad. Chasing Timoran. Not good. Luke cause many deaths.”
Dariana scans the battle in search of their mind-controlled friends, locating them nearly a mile away from the armies. Becoming impatient, she rubs her temples and tries to figure out why they are so far away from the Feykin. Unprepared for the psychic blow, a wave of murderous aggression and a quick vision of clashing weapons snaps the telepath back to her mind. From what she can tell, both champions have already wounded each other and are patiently waiting for a fatal opening. Without a word, Dariana puts her fingers against Nyx’s forehead and shares what she has seen. The half-elf gasps from the surprising flood of emotions and has to be caught by Fizzle to prevent her from falling out of the tree.
“You handle Delvin and Sari while I go after Luke,” Dariana states, her mind already reaching toward the incoming chimera. A pulse of fury ripples along the connection as the beast recognizes her influence. “Fizzle will come with me and I’ll have Timoran to help. You need to stop our friends from killing each other. Do whatever it takes.”
“But I can’t undo telepathy,” Nyx argues while blindly launching a lightning bolt. She ducks a retaliatory blast of water, a sign that her spell landed near the Feykin forces. “I’ve been trying to find a way to do it, but the curse doesn’t work off my type of energy. Let me and Fizzle contain Luke while you take care of the others.”
“Luke needs me more than they do,” the telepath replies before dropping out of the tree. She sprints along the edge of the battle, her mind still talking to her friend as if she never left. “I fear that Casandra was right. You think too much like a caster instead of a channeler. With all of your power, you should be able to do something to save them. After all, energy is still energy and that is what you control. If you can’t free Delvin and Sari then knock them out. Better they hate you for defeating them than one of them being dead and the other wracked with guilt.”
Muttering curses and prayers, Nyx clambers out of the tree and covers her body in crimson energy. She refuses to go around the chaotic battle, which would cost her several minutes that the half-elf knows she does not have. Instead, the channeler sprints through the combatants and releases a churning barrier that knocks people out of her path. Cultists and Feykin are sent flying, many of them getting stuck in the lower branches of the canopy where they struggle to rejoin the fight. Most of the chimera stay away from Nyx, their primal instincts warning them that she is too dangerous to attack. The only one that dares to challenge the champion is a towering beast with four, sharp-clawed arms and the head of a crested bird. A single peck is all it can attempt before a large hand of stone bursts from below and casually flings the terrified creature over the trees. Locking into place, the rock formation remains and is swarmed by archers from both sides in order to gain some higher ground. With her power on full display, Nyx earns a clear path to the far end of the battlefield and is able to drop her barrier as soon as she passes the last line of combat.
Leaving the clash of weapons and roars of chimera behind, the channeler plunges into the jungle to follow her vague idea of where Delvin and Sari are fighting. It takes several agonizing minutes to locate the sound of metal striking metal, which is in the opposite direction of the battle. Nyx races forward when she hears a shriek of pain, her legs aching from banging against fallen trees and hidden rocks. The glint of a sword appears beyond the distant trees and the weapon appears to be rising for a downward slash. Hurling a lance of fire ahead of her, the desperate half-elf burns all of the leaves off the branches in her path. A shout of surprise and the clattering of a fallen blade helps Nyx relax, but she refuses to slow down until she bursts out of the bushes.
Standing next to a swirling pond, Delvin and Sari stare angrily at the panting channeler. The warrior is shaking his smoking hand and cringing at the feel of a dagger embedded in his other shoulder. His chainmail is damaged in several spots, the broken rings dripping with water and fringed with frost. The gypsy is nursing a deep cut along her arm and moves with a faint limp, her hands constantly spinning her weapons. Her skirts are frayed up to the knees, which exposes a chunk of thorn-laced wood in her shin that was once part of Delvin’s shield. Both of them are covered in bruises and bleeding wounds that are superficial, but have combined to make them pale from early blood loss. Even with their injuries and fatigue, neither champion seems willing to surrender as they try to resume their fight.
“I know I can’t tell you the truth, but you have to listen to me,” Nyx says, approaching with her hands raised. The growls she receives makes her flinch, but she continues until she is standing between her friends. “I’m going to get right to the point. You two are being manipulated into killing each other.”
“Get out of the way, Nyx,” Delvin demands as he reclaims his sword. A gust of wind pushes him away and he sees another do the same to Sari. “None of this concerns you, so leave. I won’t tell you again. Everything you do after my warning will be seen as an act of aggression. So think carefully, Nyx. I’m willing to kill you to get to her.”
“So romantic,” Sari snaps with a grin. The gypsy throws a dagger that cuts Nyx’s cheek and veers an inch wide of Delvin’s knee. “You won’t do anything because I’m going to kill her if she gets in my way again. I’m tired of my fake big sister handling all the big decisions and coming off as the real leader here. These aren’t your people, halfer! Stop acting like you belong in this jungle, much less Rhundar.”
“Would you two listen to yourselves?” Nyx asks, visibly shaken by the threats. She beats the pair away with fists of wind, but the half-elf is knocked aside by a geyser that erupts from the pond. “Does any of what you’re doing sound right to you? The real Delvin and Sari are in there somewhere. We’ve seen it at times, so there has to be a way to break the spell. I don’t want to fight you, but I’ll do it if it means saving your lives.”
Sari giggles and spins on her toes, hurling two sheathed knives at the channeler’s feet. “And what would that solve? If we’re really being mind-controlled then Dariana would have fixed us by now. Accept that we’ve changed and this is how we are. Besides, who would want to manipulate us like this? The Baron isn’t involved here.”
“I don’t know,” Nyx blurts out instead of saying Zohara’s name. A few tears of anguish slip from her eyes and she clenches her fists to help her focus. “I’m not able to tell you. Please trust me and stop fighting.”
“Trust you?” Delvin says with a malicious laugh. The warrior spits at the half-elf and eyes her with utter disgust, his hand gripping his sword as if he is about to strike. “Why should we? You’ve been leading me on since we met and waited until now to care about my feelings. You let Sari get involved with Luke and Kira, which you knew would lead to her getting hurt. All you do is keep us around because you think we’re a family. The truth is that you’re terrified of being alone and will constantly lie to make sure that never happens. There’s no sense of sacrifice in you when it counts. I think we’re long past trusting you, champion.”
Trying to remain calm, Nyx reaches for her amethyst necklace, but her hand clutches the Compass Key inste
ad. Her knuckles graze her chest and she senses the sharp coils that Zohara has placed around her heart. Down to her last idea, the channeler takes a deep breath before removing the relic and tossing it to Delvin, who lets it bounce off his chest. She closes her eyes and focuses on her aura, letting it flow around her core and lick at the deadly curse. Sharp jolts of pain make her skin crawl, the tiny bursts barely a taste of what she knows is about to come. A moment of hesitation makes her falter, but she pushes through her fear when she hears her friends shift their weapons and take a step toward each other. Opening her mouth to speak, a sudden tightness in her chest makes her gasp and fall to her knees. A faint voice echoes in her ears, the angry and insulting words fading as she rises back to her feet.
“Take care of the others for me,” Nyx says, meeting the confused stares of her friends. She can see hints of their former selves in their eyes, which gives her the last push to test her power against the psychic curse. “Zohara is going to sacrifice both of you under the eclipse. She’s the one that’s been manipulating you, which includes her engagement to Delvin. She told me the truth and then cursed me so I couldn’t tell you. Fizzle is under the same curse too, but the main target was me. She wants me to suffer as part of her ritual, which will give her enough power to have the Feykin conquer the jungle. By the gods, this hurts. The spell is cutting into my heart because I’m fighting it. Please believe me and stop trying to kill each other. I don’t want to die knowing you two are still fighting.”
Charms of the Feykin Page 28