Sleeper Of The Wildwood Fugue (Book 7) (33 page)

“That’s my fault,” Dariana states, raising her hand and looking at her feet. “The Compass Key is found by every group of champions and it returns to Gaia whenever they fail. I help revive the ghosts inside and depower it, which is why I stirred upon its revival. Gabriel uses my power to wipe everyone’s memory of it ever being found, including that of my father. After all, I’m the being he used to make the initial curse that wiped all memory of the Baron from Windemere. In my defense, I was still in my mom at the time.”

Everyone stares at Dariana with their mouths partially open, their minds slowly processing what they have heard. Nyx shakes her head and mutters about having her fill of life-altering revelations for one day. Bracing herself, she aims the scepter at the door and focuses her magic on the ruby. There is a sense of resistance from the monster inside, but she urges it to behave long enough for her to tap its power. A key of fire lances out of the scepter and impales the hidden lock, turning to open it and sinking into the stone. The white lines reappear to create the pictures of a dragon and a large bird, both of which are depicting breathing fire. Sliding into the sides of the volcano, the doors open to release a gust of hot, stale wind. The remains of at least ten skeletons are strewn across the entrance, but the adventurers can see that there are more bodies within the darkness.

“Why do I get the temple full of corpses?” Nyx groans, tossing Timoran the Compass Key.

*****

The darkness entombs the small group and absorbs all of the sunlight that comes through the open entrance. Only the glowing ruby of the scepter is able to emit enough light for Nyx to lead the way. Faded pictures of great battles, powerful casters, and bizarre creatures are etched into the stone walls. They make for a minor distraction from the snapping of bones that can be heard with every step. Skeletons and mummified bodies litter the long hallway, many of them clothed in rusty armor or scraps of robes. The crimson light occasionally bounces off coins and gems that are scattered about the ancient corpses. Sari bends down to scoop up a sapphire, but immediately drops it when she gets a sinister sensation from the item. Nyx glares at her for the noise of the gem hitting the stone floor and pushes her way to the gypsy.

“Please don’t touch anything,” she hisses into her friend’s ear. The look of fear in Sari’s eyes swiftly dissipates the half-elf’s annoyance. “What’s wrong?”

“The wealth on the floor isn’t magical, but it’s cursed,” Sari whispers, hugging Nyx for comfort. Her skin feels like it is trying to crawl off her bones as the corrupted aura teases her senses. “They’ve been marked by violence. I don’t know who these people are or how they got in here, but they suffered before death.”

“All of them were former champions,” Dariana states through telepathy. She bends down to touch a gold coin, cringing at the nerve-twisting sensation. “It would seem that Helgard is the depository of dead champions. Not all of these people died here. I can read some of their deaths off residual aura. Drowning in the Island of Pallice, falling from Garden of Uli, and those are the humane ones. I sense a lot of fire too.”

“Wouldn’t be Nyx’s temple without that,” Luke nervously jokes, crouching to examine a broadsword. The metal is scorched and brittle, crumbling at his touch. “Whatever did this created enough heat to destroy tempered steel. Really old Verenstone Dragons can do that, but I don’t know of anything else.”

“I did see the symbol of a dragon when I researched Helgard,” Nyx says as she returns to the front of the group. She creates a shell to defend against fire, the barrier shimmering briefly before the darkness devours the light. “Stay in a group, so I can keep us protected. Dariana, Sari, and I can attack the dragon from inside the shield if there’s really one up ahead. Follow me and no more touching stuff.”

They continue through the darkness until the hallway splits into two, a metal door sitting in the center of the dead end’s wall. Nyx shines the scepter’s light down the path on the left and is surprised to find that it is clear of bodies. The polished stone is pristine and the pictures on the walls are clear as if time has never touched them. When she checks the right hand path, she finds the opposite. Fleshy corpses are piled waist high, leaving a narrow path through the low, fly-covered stacks. Squinting into the darkness, Nyx thinks she sees a curve in the hallway, but the stench of decay from the bodies makes her eyes water. Returning to the other path, she is about to take a step onto the clean floor, but stops with her foot off the ground. She steps back and sends a tiny fireball into the hallway, watching it curve out of sight in the distance.

“Is everything okay?” Sharne asks, clinging to Fizzle’s tail.

Nyx puts her finger to her mouth and backs away from the path, her free hand coating itself in force magic. The violet energy grows and hardens into a solid fist that she delicately taps with the scepter to make sure it is complete. Using a jump spell for a boost of power, she leaps at the rusty door and smashes the entire wall down in one strike. The impact is enough to shake the hallway and curtains of lava fall to block off the other paths. The sound of flowing liquid and the smell of melting bodies reveals that the barriers are racing along the hallways. A balmy heat fills the area, but a cool breeze from the room ahead gives them some relief and clears the dust from the air.

Joining Nyx among the rubble, the adventurers look out at the vast, rectangular room before them. The back wall is nothing more than a pane of enchanted glass, giving people a view of the bubbling magma below. Gold chandeliers with unlit candles hang from the polished ceiling where the depiction of a great caster battle can be seen shifting in the stone. Basalt furniture with damaged cushions are strewn across the room, most of them shattered into barely recognizable pieces. The walls are covered in sculpted masks, each face with steaming tears dripping down their cheeks. Built into the middle of the floor is a wide pit with a large stack of wood rising from its center.

“You really should redecorate, Nyxie,” Sari suggests as they enter the room. She spins around and hurls a dagger at the sound of shifting stone, the weapon getting stuck in the reforming wall. “At least if this place lets you.”

“Anybody see any doors?” Luke asks while taking a closer look at the rebuilt wall. He leaps away when one of the masks grows eyes, their light revealing a real skull within the stone. “I just realized that none of those corpses had heads. Something put the skulls of the former champions into the wall. I’m liking this place even less now that I know I could become one of the gaudy decorations.”

“The test of the champions,” Dariana whispers to herself, a flickering memory making her eyes twitch. “I don’t know why, but that phrase keeps coming to my mind. Helgard is very important to the champion prophecy. More so than any other temple.”

“It appears I have to explain things to you again,” a deep, male voice says from the far side of the room. “Again we play the roles set out before us, near goddess. Such boredom and . . . is that the Scepter of Nuerin?”

The glass wall ripples as an eleven foot tall figure steps through, steam drifting off his crimson skin. The hulking being stretches his arms and scratches his white claws down the glass, filling the room with an ugly screech. Burning footprints are left on the floor as he approaches the adventurers, his leonine head peering at them with yellow eyes. With a yawn, the beast exposes his sharp teeth and reveals the light of an internal fire that spits lava onto his moist tongue. A thick layer of ebony fur is on its muscular chest, the matted hair showing signs of having been singed. The creature’s black mane and the tuft of hair on his thin tail bristle with excitement as he bends down to get a closer look at the scepter. He takes a deep whiff of the familiar scent, which stirs memories he has not recalled in well over a century.

“It appears this will be more interesting than the previous times,” the creature declares in a whimsical voice. He turns to Nyx and licks his lips at her scent. “A channeler returns the lost relic of Helgard. So delicious, but not as surprising as I thought it would be. Gabriel does have a sense of humor at times.”

“What’s an Ifrit doing here?” Nyx asks, keeping the scepter away from the beast.

“I’m the guardian of Helgard. My name is Sutter and I have been ensl . . . entrusted to protect this temple,” he replies with a bow. His head comes close to Sari and he pulls away at the brief taste of her scent. “Who let the dead fish in here? Don’t tell me one of the new champions comes from one of those vapid, selfish water whores.”

“No. I’m part naiad, you ash sucking piece of lava vomit,” the gypsy replies, blushing at her words. “I’ve no idea where that came from. All I know is that I really don’t like this mass of overheated dragon dung.”

“Naiads and Ifrit don’t get along because of their opposing elements,” Nyx explains while easing her friend back. Out the corner of her eye, she sees Sutter reach for the scepter so she yanks it out of reach. “This stays with me because there’s a dangerous beast inside. If I let go then it will escape and destroy the desert or set it on fire or something like that. Now what’s this test of champions and how do I purify this place?”

“You assume it’s corrupted, but agents of the Baron have never stepped within these hallowed walls,” Sutter proudly declares while he gets a closer look at the other champions. He grins at Timoran and gingerly strokes the barbarian’s red hair. “I love this one. I might have him stuffed and put in my personal collection when you fail. The griffin too if he dies in that form. The warrior and the rancid whale guts can rot in the hallway. Not sure what to do about the former servant and the tiny dragon. Maybe I’ll let them go if they outlive the rest of you. That is all of you except for Dariana here. Mind wiped yourself again, huh?”

“I’m sorry, but it’s required.”

Sutter sneers at the silver-haired woman before walking over to the pile of wood. He spins one of the chandeliers as he climbs atop the beams and makes himself comfortable, the tips of the logs turning black at his touch. He watches the adventurers move into a circle, Sharne crouching in the middle. It is an amusing sight to the lesser demon and he licks his lips with a tongue that is rough enough to draw blood.

“Helgard was supposed to be the opening challenge for the champions,” Sutter explains in a booming voice. He folds his legs beneath him, his powerful body balanced on the tip of the wood pile. “The overall system has been destroyed thanks to the Baron and his son, so now your kind start wherever you want. The corpses are still transported here since we act as a crypt. Though, I only ever see victims come in from Pallice and the Garden. Rarely do I ever get one from the other temples that I’ve been told you have yet to visit. I’ve been very curious about that, but my job is to stay here and dec . . . obey the orders of Gabriel. To be honest, I miss the simpler days of champions being summoned, dying in Helgard, and there not being bodies appearing on the floor without warning.”

“What do we do here?” Delvin asks while he watches the Ifrit. A chill runs up his spine when the creature meets his gaze. “I was only thinking that there’s no point in wasting too much of your time. If we’re going to be killed then it’s best that we get it over with, so you can get back to whatever it is you do.”

“I do absolutely nothing, but you have a point. Though I question why you would bring a wooden shield into a volcano,” Sutter states, flicking a spark of flame at Delvin. The warrior steps away from the tiny fire, which bursts with a pop at his feet. “Good reflexes. Now the first test is to light this bonfire-”

Nyx ignites the pile of wood before the Ifrit can finish talking, the lesser demon engulfed by the crackling flames. He steps out of the bonfire and wipes the fire off his shoulders, an evil grin on his face. The glass wall turns a sickly shade of green as a symphony of howls rise from the stretching shadows. One by one the stone masks light up to reveal their skulls and blobs of orange aura seep from their eye sockets. The specters grow into hazy silhouettes of their former selves, but their faces are vivid and contorted by agony.

“Without waking the spirits of the fallen,” Sutter finishes, taking a seat in front of the bonfire. He gazes at the ceiling and sighs, laying down so his head is in the flames. “Why is it that when a caster is the champion of Helgard, they set fire to the wood before I tell them everything? I’d start with the angry spirits, but that would only lead to a boring discussion and questions. Are you dead yet?”

The specters dive at the adventurers, but they are met by Luke whose sabers are glowing with pink energy. Several of them are turned to orange powder by the forest tracker’s slashes, which forces the rest to retreat to the ceiling. Using bursts of wind beneath his feet, Luke repeatedly leaps into the air and destroys the squirming mass of undead. The half-elf bounds around the room, flipping over attacks and slashing at the rapidly shrinking swarm. He throws in a few acrobatic spins to avoid the tedium of the easy fight. Their panicked screeches cause Sutter to take his head out of the bonfire, the lesser demon smirking as the last of the angry spirits explodes.

The glass wall hums and shakes as the powdered specters are absorbed into the murky surface. Sensing a malevolent presence, Nyx and Sari sprint across the room. The half-elf is faster with her spell and her hand is bathed in yellow aura, which she presses against the murky wall. The dark magic coils around her wrist and starts to drag her through the glass, the laughing of hundreds of spirits ringing in her ears. Feeling the heat of the volcano on her hand, Nyx unleashes a burst of lightning from her fingers and yanks her arm free. With her friend out of the way, Sari chants in a bubbling language that makes Sutter’s eyes burn. She blows a kiss at the wall and casts a spray of white sparks that sink into the smooth surface. The churning green dissipates, allowing the light of the bonfire to pass through the glass and bounce off an arrangement of mirrors. Echoing clunks and slams can be heard from all over Helgard as doors unlock and staircases erupt from the walls.