Curse Of The Dark Wind (Book 6) (35 page)

“On the count of three!” Nyx yells, putting her head an inch away from the stone. “One! Two! Three!”

Everyone touches their pillar and waits for something to happen, but all they get is a minute of awkward silence. Averting his eyes, Timoran touches the Compass Key to the black stone, but the column fails to react. He breathes a sigh of relief and faces the others who are meeting near the wooden step at the edge of the cliff. Fizzle flits from one pillar to the other, the drite too cautious to touch them.

“I had a feeling that wouldn’t work,” Delvin claims, gesturing at the unclaimed white pillar. “We don’t have all the champions here. If it required each of us hitting the pillars at the same time, we’d never get in. Yet the Compass Key sent us here, so there has to be another way. Probably in a specific order.”

Nyx stretches her back and takes a seat on the rough step. “I thought the same thing, but Timoran had a good argument against it.”

“I pointed out that our enemies could enter the Garden by trying every combination. It wouldn’t even take a lifetime to figure out,” the barbarian explains while scanning the cliff for a clue. He snaps his fingers and laughs when an idea occurs to him. “The answer at the Island of Pallice involved the Compass Key. It is safe to assume that this entrance requires the champions to have it as well. Without this artifact, our enemies would be stopped even if they knew the order. At least to get in through the front door since we have been told that there are other, more lethal paths.”

“There was also the threat of death over our heads the last time, which means that will repeat itself,” Luke casually mentions. His eyes fall on the wooden step and he kneels next to Nyx. “Strange how this untreated wood is still in one piece. Get up for a bit, Nyx. I might not be in the best shape for this, so somebody needs to hold my legs.”

Timoran grabs Luke by the ankles as the half-elf flips over the step. The dizzying height stirs the groggy griffin spirit and he fights the urge to kick himself free of his friend’s grasp. Straining his back and neck, the half-elf peers at the underside of the step. He can barely see a message that is etched into the wood and painted a glistening green. Unable to read the ancient language, he memorizes it and pushes himself back to the cliff. Without a word, he reaches into Sari’s skirts and draws a dagger, grinning at her yelp of surprise. Finding a soft piece of earth, he carefully writes the message in the dirt while the others gather around him.

“This was written on the step, but I can’t read it,” he admits as he hands the dagger back to Sari.

“The first line is in original Orcish and the second line is in old Dwarven,” Nyx says. She gets on her hands and knees to take a closer look, her tongue running along her lips. “There’s supposed to be a keyhole somewhere around here, which will activate the pillars. Then we must breathe life into them by the order of those who accepted the path. It’s not a perfect translation.”

“First we have to find the keyhole,” Delvin says, clapping his hands and eyeing the mountain. “I’m going to start over there.”

The champions spread out to search the cliff while Fizzle watches from above. Thinking hard about the keyhole, the drite scratches his head with his tail. From his high vantage point, he can see very few places for such a thing to be hidden. The tops of the pillars are flawlessly smooth and none of the stones on the ground stand out. His eyes shimmer as he searches for illusions, but none of the scenery changes. Nearly an hour passes before Fizzle hears the others quit and return to the middle of the cliff. He is about to join them when his attention is drawn to the strange movements of the clouds. While not within reach, they have drifted surprisingly close to the cliff and ignore the push of the high winds.

“Clouds!” Fizzle shouts as he darts to the ground. He lands on Timoran’s shoulder, nearly driving the barbarian to his knees. “Keyhole not real keyhole. Garden in sky. Clouds are shield and keyhole.”

“That makes sense,” Sari says while eyeing the darkening sky. “A physical lock can be picked, so something like this would be unbreakable. You could probably force your way in with enough power, but that would set off the defenses and warn the creatures inside. Toss the Compass Key into the clouds, Timoran.”

With a nod from Nyx, the barbarian stands on the wooden step and holds the relic in his palm. Timoran hurls the Compass Key into the clouds and watches for it to plummet to the ground. Instead, a burst of lightning streaks from the sky and bounds along the cliff. Everyone leaps out of the way as the crackling energy splits and strikes all of the pillars. The columns spin rapidly to create a compact maelstrom that drives most of the champions to the mountain side of the cliff. Finding himself within a small pocket of calm air, Timoran crouches on the wooden step where the powerful winds cannot touch him.

“How are we supposed to breathe on those things?” Luke asks, putting his hand into the windstorm. He yanks it back when the force nearly wrenches his arm out of its socket. “None of us can get near them.”

Sari points at the nearest pillar, her finger making tiny circles of frost. “The tops of the pillars aren’t spinning. One of us could get up there and jump from one pillar to another. We’d have to touch them in order, which could be a problem if they’re opposite each other. It all depends on the second part of that riddle, but we still need someone who can jump with precision. Luke is too weak and we can’t get to Timoran to explain the plan, which means it’s up to me. I only need to know the pattern.”

“Fizzle could touch,” the drite announces. “Fizzle fly. Better than jump.”

“I agree with Sari,” Delvin interjects, patting the tiny dragon on the head. “There’s probably a penalty for touching the wrong pillar. If something bad happens to you then Luke will lose his fight to the Dark Wind. Besides, we don’t know what will happen if a non-champion attempts to open the path. It could hurt, curse, or kill you.”

Fizzle frowns and flies to Luke, wrapping his tail around his friend’s shoulders. “Fizzle understand. Not happy, but understand. What is order? Yellow, black, white on right. Blue, red, green on left. Fizzle no know.”

“Isaiah once told us that his organization could only learn about champions who had started on their journey. That’s what accepting the path must be in reference to,” Nyx whispers as she watches the storm. Her violet eyes move from one pillar to another, their motion nearly making her dizzy. “The order changes with every generation of champions because it’s never the same role that awakens first. For example, I was the first one this time, but it could have been the sapphire champion in the last group. Why did you pick the yellow pillar, Delvin?”

“It felt right,” he responds with a shrug.

The caster grabs Sari by the shoulders and stares into the gypsy’s eyes. “Listen very carefully because I don’t know what will happen if you breathe on the wrong one. The order is red, green, blue, black, yellow, and white. Do you need help getting up there?”

“Boost me, Nyxie.”

With a slap on the back, the half-Elven caster puts an enhancer spell on her friend. Sari bounces on her toes a few times to get used to her increased strength and agility. The final jump sends her several feet into the air and she drifts down with the help of her boots. As soon as her feet touch the ground, she leaps over the windstorm and heads for the red pillar. Crackling energy ripples around the column when she lands and she feels a numbing pain as she crouches to breathe on the stone. A horrific screech fills the air before Sari is launched off the column and sent careening off the cliff. Her boots fail to stop her wild descent until Fizzle appears to catch her with his tail. The gypsy’s mouth goes dry as she looks down and realizes she nearly plummeted to her death.

“That was terrifying,” she gasps as the drite carries her back to the cliff. She falls to her knees at Nyx’s feet and takes several deep breaths. “I don’t know what went wrong. There was a delay before I was ejected, so we had the right plan. Could it be reverse order?”

“Try starting with the white pillar and then go to the red,” Luke suggests, taking a seat on a large stone. “What if the sixth champion stepped on the path first and was captured? This is a wild guess based on a vision I had.”

“That strange woman?” Sari asks with a knowing smile. “I got that sense from her too.”

Nyx takes the gypsy by the wrist and wraps an aura tether around her arm. “Just in case you’re wrong. I’ll keep this loose unless you get rejected again. Good luck.”

Sari nods and stares at the distant white pillar, carefully judging the distance. With a slow exhale, she leaps to the column and nervously blows on the stone. The pillar releases a loud hum and stops spinning, which gives Timoran enough space to move off the wooden step. Sari jumps over the windstorm and snags the far edge of the red tower with her hand. Pulling herself up and gasping on the smooth stone, she shakes the tension from her limbs while plotting the rest of her course. By the time she jumps for the yellow column, the gypsy is adding flips and spins to her display. Landing on her toes and dramatically holding up her arms, Sari pinwheels to breathe on the last of the humming towers.

All of the pillars sink into the earth, vibrating the cliff with enough force to make everyone struggle to stay standing. The wooden step violently quivers before a long stairway telescopes out of the mountain and pierces the looming clouds. A booming collision, followed by a ringing click, can be heard as the cliff stops trembling. The clouds gradually part to reveal a wall of glass-like stone and a gaping doorway at the far end of the rough stairs. Sitting above the archway is the Compass Key, the relic slowly rotating in its keyhole.

*****

“Wow,” Sari whispers as she stares at the expanse of lush trees that are dusted with fresh snow. The spire of a castle can be seen in the distance, the glittering of moving metal sending beams of reflected light across the Garden of Uli. Soft grass covers the ground and berry-dotted bushes run along the inside of the thick wall. A calm river loops off to the left and Sari can feel an enchanting serenity wafting off the current. The faint scent of cedar is in the air, occasionally replaced by the smell of pine when the winds come from the west. It would be a beautiful place if not for the thick streams of Dark Wind weaving around the tree trunks.

“I’m surprised the living curse is still up here,” Luke says, rubbing his arms even though the chill is deep within his bones. “It’s really thick too. I don’t see any way through this without touching that stuff.”

“It’s denser and lazier,” Nyx mentions, her eyes turning gold. Her curiosity grows as she watches the living curse move and shift like a slumbering snake. “Almost like it’s a different flavor of Dark Wind. I can’t tell if it’s stronger or weaker than the one already in Luke. I really don’t like the looks of this.”

Timoran unsheathes his great axe and sniffs at the air. “The Dark Hazes may prove to be a challenge if we fight them in the open wilderness. Though I feel Nyx will have the power to handle them better than myself.”

“It’s not the demons this time,” the caster replies in a voice filled with frustration and confusion. “There’s something familiar here, but I can’t pin it down. The best way I can explain this is like trying to catch a singing bird within a tornado while blindfolded. It’s on the edge of my senses, but keeps eluding me.”

“Stay alert and move forward,” Delvin orders, drawing his longsword and tightening his shield. “We can’t waste any more time. Fizzle, I want you to stay with Timoran or Nyx because you’re almost as weak as Luke. Both of you in the same spot might be too tempting for our enemies.”

“Fizzle choose Timoran,” the drite declares. With a wide yawn, he flutters over to perch on the barbarian’s head. “Fizzle take to air and retreat if battle starts.”

“I suggest we follow the river, which gives me an edge if we run into trouble,” Sari says as she walks backwards toward the water. She sees the grim looks on her friends’ faces and draws two daggers. “Fine. When we run into trouble. I thought I’d be optimistic. Honestly, how much trouble was the Island of Pallice?”

“Ogres and new world vampires,” Luke answers, jogging ahead of the gypsy. “I’ll take the lead because this stuff is after me. Anyone protecting me will be in danger, so I might as well stay in the open. No arguments.”

The forest tracker draws his sabers and heads into the forest, the others cautiously trailing behind. He can feel their worried gazes on his back, so he focuses on walking and fights the temptation to talk. There is a gentle tug is in his veins, the sensation growing more urgent with every silent minute. Scratching along his torso scar, Luke feels like the old wound is about to split open and release the Dark Wind squirming inside him. In fact, the teeming mass of corruption within his body has become more active ever since he passed the outer wall. It is not pain that runs through his body, but a tickling excitement that reminds him of stalking a predator. The idea that he might be on the verge of violently giving birth to a demon makes Luke sweat and shiver. He is silently thankful that his friends are behind him and unable to see the terrified expression on his face.

Coming to a stop, the forest tracker tenses when a thick arm of the surrounding living curse reaches out to him. Before he can slash at it, the shadowy tendril curls around his body without touching his clothes or skin. Pink sparks of magic fly off the warrior, but they are greedily devoured by the stronger Dark Wind. The living curse uncoils and strokes Luke’s chest, the evil energy hissing with glee at the feel of his heart briefly stopping. The half-elf falls to his knees, his body shuddering and ebony tears seeping from his eyes.

“I’ve got you,” Sari whispers as she hurries to put her arms around Luke. She pulls away when a corrupted tear burns her skin. “What’s happening to him?”

“I’ve no idea,” Nyx answers, kneeling next to her friend to check his aura. The chaotic swirling of black, green, yellow, and pink makes her violently ill. By the time she forces herself to look away, the caster is struggling to settle her stomach. “It’s a mess in there and I don’t know why. I really think I’m going to throw up because the world keeps spinning.”