Curse Of The Dark Wind (Book 6) (13 page)

High above the shivering adventurers, a form darts and spins through the sky. The griffin rushes to defend the others from the streaks of lightning, absorbing the electricity with her wings. Buffering gales make it difficult to fly straight, so she constantly spirals and drifts to stay near her friends. There have been several times when she has lost them because a thick curtain of black mist envelopes her. She screams and coughs as she battles through the wispy clouds, each time feeling briefly lightheaded from the exertion.

“This storm is insane! Do you think it’s magical?” Delvin asks, edging his horse close to Sari and Zander. “I’ve never seen so much lightning with snow!”

“I can barely hear you!” the gypsy shouts, gesturing to cast a spell. A silver strand winds around everyone’s head, nearly snapping in the storm. “This storm is insane and I can’t control any of the snow. It isn’t magical, but it’s too strong for me to do anything.”

“It’s the region,” Zander explains, pulling further into his bearskin cloak. “Winter storms like this happen two or three times during this season. This one seems to be especially brutal and picked up some lightning from the south. We need to find cover, but there are very few places for the horses. The only place I know of is in the hills to the east. I’m not sure how close we are to them.”

“I can see them in the distance,” Timoran announces, pointing into the storm. Squinting into the whipping powder, the others barely make out the rolling forms on the horizon. “It will not be easy to get there. Maybe Sari can do something about the snow already on the ground.”

“Fizzle no like!” the drite cries, shivering against the barbarian’s back. “Miss hide holes and warm pools. Sari make better?”

“I’ll try, but I won’t make any promises,” she whispers, handing the reins to Zander and pulling the blanket around her.

Sari puts her hands on her chest, feeling the faint warmth of her heart flow into her fingertips and down her arms. The sensation mixes with the cold churning in her stomach, a fresh layer of frost spiraling from her bellybutton. Fighting the temptation to discard the blanket, the gypsy pushes the sparring temperatures from her body. With a gentle hiss, a balmy steam seeps from her pores and gathers around the horses’ legs. The warm mist eats at the snow as the animals walk, eventually drifting ahead to make the drifts easier for Nyx’s continuous spell to devour them completely.

“Is it wise to have both of our casters in trances?” Zander asks, nervously scanning the sides of their path. He sweats and curses when the horse stumbles on a tree root. “We’re in trouble if we’re attacked. I guess we have the drite, but he’s too cold to be of use. His kind aren’t winter weather creatures, so I’m surprised he’s staying with you.”

“Fizzle is a loyal friend,” Delvin replies with a crooked smile. “As for being attacked, I’m pretty sure we’re the only creatures stupid enough to be out in this.”

“We should have stayed in Sprildon and waited for this to pass.”

“I agree, but we don’t always have the luxury of time.”

The monster hunter eyes Delvin suspiciously. “The Widowhorn isn’t going anywhere.”

“The Baron’s agents are ahead of us,” the warrior says, glancing up to watch the griffin deflect a thick bolt of lightning. Biting his lower lip, the brown-haired swordsman tries to shake the nagging worry from his mind. “The longer we take, the more time they have to set obstacles for us. I’m sure they know we’re coming, so we don’t have the element of surprise. Besides, there’s no telling how long we have before the Baron breaks free. This is stuff that you shouldn’t concern yourself with. Once you pay your debt to Nyx, I suggest you go in the opposite direction of us.”

“Don’t worry. I’ve no intention of fighting some ancient darkness.”

A burst of freezing wind strikes the group from the north and knocks all of the snow from the branches, the shock making Nyx’s spell falter. Timoran sniffs the air and turns back to stare at the sky, but he cannot see beyond his allies. Another violent gale hits them from the south, causing the barbarian to swiftly glance at the clouds. The horses slow down, sensing something is wrong, but unsure of the direction of the danger. From above, they can hear another hacking cough from the griffin as the beast emerges from a dark cloud.

“I smell something, but I cannot hold it long enough to identify,” Timoran says, backing up to ride between the other two horses. “I believe we are being hunted.”

“Fizzle agree,” the drite states, his voice shaking from the cold.

“That’s impossible,” Zander declares, refusing to shy away when the barbarian glares at him. “I know this area better than you and most of the predators that could threaten us are ground hunters. They’re not going to be out in this weather unless they’re starving, which means they wouldn’t be as cautious as you’re making it sound.”

“It is on the breeze,” Timoran politely argues, catching another whiff of the mysterious hunter. “I am concerned that I cannot see this predator. It is possible that our enemies unleashed something that can use the storm to its advantage.”

“In that case, we have no idea what’s coming,” Delvin groans, tightening his grip on the reins and Nyx. The half-elf snores gently as her enchanting warmth switches from the snow to pouring into her friends. “This isn’t good. Two of us are defenseless and the rest of us are practically blind. We might have to depend on the griffin entirely.”

A bellowing shriek drowns out the sounds of the storm as a large shadow passes over the travelers. An enormous form moves through the clouds, its mottled wings briefly fringed by the lightning. Dwarfed by the mysterious predator, the griffin growls and flies low enough to graze the taller trees with her tail. She remains on edge and moves higher only to absorb a bolt that is heading for the adventurers below. The howling wind mixes with the sound of slowly flapping wings, the noise seeming to come from every direction.

“It’s circling us,” Zander whispers. His mouth goes dry when a man-sized feather floats across their path. “I know what this is, but it shouldn’t be here. We need to find cover quickly.”

“What is it?” Delvin asks, urging his horse to move faster.

“A roc!”

Several trees are torn from the ground as the enormous eagle swoops out of the storm and narrowly misses the adventurers with its talons. The horses panic and race ahead, desperately wanting to get away from the aerial predator. It makes another clumsy dive and slashes deep furrows into the cold earth, forcing the mounts to slow down. They awkwardly move over the damaged earth and break into a sprint once they are clear of the obstacle. A shriek can be heard as the gigantic bird goes back to circling until the sound of its wings suddenly vanish.

The roc breaks through the billowing snow ahead of them, the beast screeching as its sharp beak nears Delvin and Nyx. A roar erupts from above and the griffin slams the bigger predator into the ground. They roll out of the horses’ path and launch back into the sky, separating to avoid a bolt of lightning. With wheezing coughs, the roc beats the griffin with its wings and bites at her head. Feathers molt off both creatures, mixing with the whirling black clouds that envelope them.

Lightning crackling throughout the sky, the battling beasts slam into the earth behind the adventurers. The griffin is on her back, her front paws batting at the roc’s face. Bracing her hind legs against the large bird’s feathery chest, she shoves it away. The roc awkwardly hops toward the griffin as she rolls to her feet and backs away. She cringes when a bolt of lightning strikes a nearby oak and knocks the burning tree onto the path. Listening to the reckless half-elf in her head, the griffin tears off a flaming branch with her beak. The roc unleashes powerful gusts of wind from its wings, blowing the fire out and sending cinders into its enemy’s eyes. Barely able to see, the griffin escapes into the sky and leads the giant eagle back into the raging storm.

“Griffin in trouble,” Fizzle says, poking his head out of Timoran’s collar. The drite watches the sky, his eyes turning a dark red as he searches for body heat among the clouds. “Roc very weak, but still stronger. Luke on defen . . . def . . . blocking.”

“A griffin would normally have the speed and agility advantage, but the storm must be getting in the way,” Zander mentions, pulling out a pair of glasses. The blue-tinted lenses shimmer as he watches ghostly images of the battle above. “There’s something wrong with the roc too. It’s rapidly molting and I see patches of bare skin.”

“The bird is sick, which is why it has wandered so far from its home,” Timoran states, slowing his horse down to a trot. “It must be confused and disoriented. My concern is that it will infect Luke.”

The monster hunter chuckles as he comes alongside the barbarian, his voice managing to hide his concern. “Griffins are immune to most diseases and poisons, so you don’t have to worry. Still it looks like our friend is tired from blocking all the lightning and flying against the winds. It’s only a matter of time before he messes up and gets his head torn off.”

“You sound far too casual about that,” Delvin says, glaring at the yawning monster hunter. “I’ll wake Nyx and let her take care of it. Unless Fizzle can get up there.”

“Wind too strong. Wings too cold. Luke too close for poof spell.”

Delvin swears and turns his shuddering horse around, his eyes uselessly scanning the chaotic sky for signs of the fight. He shakes Nyx by the shoulder, receiving only a few muttered words of defiance and a lackluster shove to his face. The warrior tries harder to wake the half-elf, but she is too deep in her trance to be easily stirred. Taking a calming breath, Delvin scoops some snow from a nearby branch and puts it down the back of Nyx’s shirt. Still in her trance, she swings her fist back and punches him in the face.

“I believe I warned you that she reacts in her sleep,” Timoran says, reaching over to shake Sari. He pulls his hand back when the frost on her body creeps onto his fingers. “We are without casters or any form of long range attacks. I believe we should remedy this when we reach the next village. One of us should buy a bow of some kind.”

Delvin massages his jaw and curses his lack of foresight. “Some strategist I am. I let all of our casters and distance fighters get neutralized.”

“Hold these,” Zander states, jamming his horse’s reins into the warrior’s hand. “This isn’t me paying a debt since I’m in trouble too.”

Pulling his hood back to tie his blonde hair into a simple braid, the monster hunter dismounts and trudges a few yards away. Watching the battle through his magic glasses, he reaches into his cloak and draws an ebony rod. Zander runs his thumb along the smooth wood and the limbs of a longbow sprout from the ends. A string runs from one side to the other as he draws a heavy arrow from a quiver on his back.

“I call upon The Nameless Mistress of the Hunt,” he whispers into the wind. Nocking the arrow and drawing it back, he takes aim into the storm. “Guide my shot to the heart of the great bird. I promise to honor you with the blood of the beast. If I fail then I accept the penalty of feeling the pain of those I have killed.”

Letting a sudden calm wash over him, Zander raises his longbow higher and to the left of the shrieking roc. When he feels that the time is right, he releases the silver-tipped arrow and watches it streak into the storm. Guided by an invisible hand, the projectile weaves through the chaotic winds and lurches toward the roc. The griffin screeches in surprise when the arrow burrows through the giant eagle’s back and the barbed head erupts from its chest.

“That forest tracker better not whine about this,” the hunter mutters, watching the roc crash to the ground with a dull thud. He rolls his eyes when the griffin lands in front of him, the beast angrily glaring at his weapon. “You’re welcome, stupid critter.”

The griffin growls at the monster hunter and takes a shaky step forward. The foot is already transforming into a slender arm by the time it touches the snow. Her wings shrink into her body, but there is an unnatural shuddering to their movement. By the time the griffin has turned back into Luke, he is on all fours and collapses onto his side. The half-elf violently shivers, his eyes turning into narrow slits as Timoran wraps a cloak around him and carries his friend into the dome of continuous heat magic.

*****

“I see his eyes opening!” Nyx shouts, startling their horse. Her head bounces into Delvin’s chin, forcing both of them to groan in pain. “Sorry about that.”

“I vote we buy a wagon or something to put Nyx behind us during long journeys. She’s a menace around horses,” the warrior jokes while massaging his chin. “Please wake Sari up, Zander. She’ll be angry if we let her sleep through this.”

The monster hunter gently shakes the gypsy’s shoulder, getting her to yawn and gracefully wipe some drool off her cheek. He urges their mount to come alongside Timoran, who has Luke cradled in front of him. Zander is tempted to tease the young half-elf, but one look tells him that it is smarter to be quiet and behave.

“What happened?” the forest tracker asks. He sits up and holds his aching head, cringing until the wave of nausea passes. “I think I remember fighting a roc, but everything is fuzzy and vague. I feel terrible.”

“Such a battle did happen and the griffin was injured,” Timoran explains, slowing down to allow Sari to reach over and take Luke’s hand. “It could be that you have some internal injuries that carried over to your true form. That happened before when the griffin broke its ribs in a fight with the Lich.”

“Something might have happened up there, but only the griffin knows,” Nyx says, her eyes shining gold as she examines her friend. To calm her nerves, she grabs her amethyst necklace and rubs her thumb on the smooth jewel. “Your aura is weak, which could have been caused by all the lightning you absorbed or physical strain. I’m not sure what effect a long term transformation has on you, so I won’t jump to conclusions. Though I’m going to keep a close eye on you until I’m sure you’re okay, little brother.”

Sari playfully frowns at the caster and kisses Luke’s wrist. “Are you going to watch us all the time?”

“This isn’t the time, little sister.”