Sleeper Of The Wildwood Fugue (Book 7) (38 page)

“I’m taking Sharne, Delvin, and Timoran to the summit where Sutter is waiting by an altar that keeps these things regenerating,” Nyx rapidly says, gasping for air. Not bothering to be flashy, she hurls a massive fireball at the crowd and half of the library erupts in flames. “Fizzle will take over the distance spells while Dariana holds the stairs. Don’t hold back, Sari! You’re going to have a lot of room to work with. Luke is going to transform because his spirit forms can hurt these things. That’s the plan and the rest of us will destroy that altar as soon as we can. Stay safe and keep fighting.”

“You too,” Luke awkwardly replies, unsure of what else to say. He leaps off the stairs and hurries to an open space while sheathing his sabers. “Once these things are gone, we’ll be joining you.”

Nyx grabs Sharne by the wrist and rushes up the stairwell, not bothering to see if Timoran and Delvin are following. The two warriors rush by Dariana who pops the minds of the blood soldiers chasing them. Taking a deep breath, Sari dives further into the army and whispers spells as she moves. Without warning, the gypsy explodes into a shower of icy chunks and materializes several yards away to attack again. Dizzy from the complicated spell, she focuses on countering the monsters while she backs out of the crowd. When she breaks through the army’s ranks, she nearly stops at the sight of the unexpected beast in front of her.

Growling and clawing at the ground, Luke is the form of another chimera. The wings and head of the griffin are on Stiletto’s slender body, which is three times its normal size to work with the bigger animal’s parts. Weaving in the air behind him is the tail of a spirit naga, the black spike dripping paralytic poison. Taking to the air, the chimera unleashes a sound that is a horrific combination of all three beasts. Luke sends twenty blood soldiers splattering across the floor and walls on a single swoop, howling triumphantly as he makes another pass.

Not wanting to be outdone, Sari rushes back into the army and is quickly surrounded by the blood soldiers. They attack her with renewed strength, their fear of the chimera driving them to eliminate the weaker threats. She takes a cut on the arm after shattering several enemies, but the pain stuns her enough to steal her momentum.

“Put ice on the stairs,” Dariana says as she lands next to Sari. Her strikes burst the blood soldiers, each blow delivering a psychic bolt. “You pushed yourself too hard, so I’ll watch your back.”

“Thanks,” Sari gasps, casting an ice wall that blocks the stairs. She moves back to back with the silver-haired woman and grows ice blades from the pommels of her daggers. “I owe you a drink after this.”

“I don’t drink.”

“Then some candy.”

“Never had that before.”

“Oh, Dari, we need to show you how to live.”

Blood soldiers shatter and melt around the two women as they stab and punch. It is an elegant dance of destruction as they jump and spin around each other. While they do not make any progress in pushing the army back, Dariana and Sari are impossible to move from their tight circle of dominance.

20

Delvin ignores the shouting from Nyx who is with Sharne on the other side of the rumbling volcano. All he is focused on is reaching Sutter first and putting an end to the tests of Helgard. So when Timoran tries to tackle him, the warrior whirls around with his bastard sword swinging for his friend’s head. The barbarian blocks the attack, but slips on the crumbling outer edge of the mouth. Delvin is sprinting forward again as Timoran struggles to drag himself back onto solid ground. The possessed warrior is racing toward the back of the Ifrit when walls of flame erupt from the stone. The force knocks him on his back and he scrambles to his feet, furious as he watches a second barrier appear on the other side of the volcano. No matter the direction, there is no way for Delvin to get to Nyx and Sharne who are now trapped with the Ifrit.

“Let me in!” he shouts, lifting the Reflector Blade to strike the fire wall. The barrier gives an inch before a molten fist erupts from the flames. Delvin ducks the deadly attack and backs up, the bastard sword steaming. “I guess I’ll go around.”

“Stop this and stick to what Nyx said on the stairs,” Timoran demands as he cautiously approaches his friend. “She told us to destroy the altar, so the others can join us. We do not know how long they can last down there. We need to work together.”

“She needs me. This sword can defeat Sutter and end all of this. If I charge at the fire wall with the Reflector Blade ahead of me, it should push through.”

“I agree that it will puncture the barrier,” the barbarian calmly says. He gingerly moves forward, stopping when the other warrior stomps his foot. “Yet I can see it pulling you into the fire as well. The sword would make it through unscathed and you be severely injured. You may even die. That is nothing more than a foolish waste. Come with me to destroy the altar and trust that Nyx can handle Sutter for now.”

“I won’t abandon her.”

“I am not saying that.”

Delvin stares suspiciously at Timoran, a mad glint in his eye. “I get it now. You want me to handle that blood altar while you save Nyx. You’re just like Stephen. Well I’m not going to let you be the hero.”

The foam flying from the warrior’s mouth is enough of a warning for the barbarian to prepare for a slash. Remembering what happened the last time his Deflector Axe struck the Reflector Blade, Timoran blocks the attack with his bracers. The force of the blow knocks him off-balance, but he is quick to recover and sheath his great axe to avoid a mistake. He is pushed back by the wild slashes and jabs, each one more chaotic than the last. They are nearly across the volcano when a swing manages to graze the large man’s chest, which leaves a burning cut that stings with every gust of hot air. Choking down his primal rage, Timoran catches Delvin’s arm and punches him in the face with a fraction of his strength. The smaller warrior’s nose is broken and he is stunned, but there is no sign that he is about to give up.

“I apologize for this,” the barbarian whispers before lifting his friend into the air.

With a tight spin, he hurls Delvin back to the altar where the warrior bounces a few times and rolls down the stairwell. Timoran sprints as fast as he can to the opening and draws his weapon in case there is a danger. He sees his friend sprawled on the stairs, the man’s eyes clenched shut and his breathing rapid. When the barbarian puts his foot on the top step, Delvin weakly swings the bastard sword at his toes. Leaping to safety, Timoran decides to leave his friend and work on destroying the altar.

When he gets within a few steps of the altar, a pair of skeletal arms burst from the bloody object. They reach for Timoran’s wrists, but he swiftly hacks them at their elbows. The fallen limbs melt into the stone as several more emerge to push him back. One of them catches the barbarian by the ankle and holds him long enough for two more to punch him in the stomach. Their barbed knuckles leave bleeding cuts in his flesh and he roars with renewed rage. With several violent swings, the barbarian cleaves through the swarm of limbs and charges at the altar. As he raises his great axe over his head, two arms with wide hands lance out to grab him by the neck. Driven by fury, Timoran marches against the strength of the altar until he can bring his weapon down on the sinister object’s flat top. An explosion melts the arms and sends the barbarian flying, but the Deflector Axe fails to undo the evil magic. Landing next to the stairs, the large warrior is about to get up and try again when a foot stomps on his bleeding stomach to pin him down.

“You’re in my way,” Delvin growls as he lifts the bastard sword with both hands. His skin is pale and his eyes are sunken as the curse courses through his mind. “Nyx will be mine.”

Timoran strikes Delvin in the knee with the side of his axe and flips up to his feet, dropping his weapon. He grabs the hilt of the bastard sword before his friend can recover his balance. The two men wrestle as the curse pushes Delvin deeper into madness and reaches out to infect Timoran. The barbarian roars and slams the smaller warrior into the bloody altar, but a knee to his gut weakens his leverage. Pushing off the base of the shrine, Delvin forces his friend back and they awkwardly crash to the ground. Rolling back and forth, both men refuse to release the Reflector Blade until the former mercenary bites Timoran in the neck with enough force to draw blood.

“Stop wasting my time!” Delvin roars as he yanks the bastard sword away. “You’re putting Nyx in danger!”

“If you destroy the altar then our friends will be free to join us,” Timoran quickly says, his hands already up in preparation to catch the blade. “Once Luke is here, he can fly you across the volcano and drop you onto Sutter. You have done that before with him and it is like a knight on his noble steed. Nyx will see you as the hero instead of myself or Luke.”

“That does make sense. If you go for Nyx and I have to kill you then the others will be witnesses to your betrayal. I do it now and she won’t believe me.”

With a single slash, Delvin destroys the skeletal arms that try to stop him. He charges when the path is clear and swings at the altar with an overhead chop. The bastard sword stops an inch from the evil object due to all of his muscles painfully locking. His body relaxes and he tries again only for the same thing to happen. Even his attempt at a kick ends with his joints freezing before he can touch the altar.

“My body won’t let me hit it,” Delvin whispers as his mind gains a moment of clarity. He stares at the bastard sword and watches the steel turn black with faint faces laughing within the tar-like surface. “The curse likes the evil magic of the altar. It won’t let me attack something it sees as a kindred spirit.”

“Then drop the sword and let me do it,” Timoran requests, grabbing his great axe. “Do it before your mind is lost again.”

“No . . . I’m not letting Stephen beat me,” the determined warrior replies with a choking cough. The curse rages within his thoughts, but he holds onto his remaining scrap of sanity. “I swear to every god that ever existed that I won’t fall to that monster. Not even his cursed blade, which I’m going to claim as my own, will stop me. Nyx once said I had a blinding aura, so let’s see if I can use it.”

“You are neither a caster nor a priest.”

“I don’t care.”

“I will take your head off if you fail and become a monster.”

“Thank you, but I won’t fail.”

Delvin focuses on the evil blade in his hands and rushes at the altar again. He tries to deliver another chop, but the bastard sword stops like before. Instead of giving up, the warrior battles against his own body and continues pushing. A burst of energy knocks him away and he skids across the ground, leaving a line of blood as his shirt tears and his elbow is shredded. The curse surges against his sanity and the sinister voice whispers in his ear, the hateful words twisting his stomach. Feeling weak and defeated, Delvin closes his eyes and falls to his knees as the curse envelopes his mind.

It is a single spark within the darkness of his vision that stops him from being entirely consumed. He desperately reaches out for the golden energy with a hand that is steadily unraveling. A final burst of willpower helps him reverse the damage and he grabs the spark as soon as his fingers are solid again. Delvin’s world is bathed in light as the curse is purged from his body. His eyes open to reveal twin orbs of burning aura, the energy dripping down his face and under his shirt. The lines of magic run to his hands where they infect the cursed blade, transforming it from black to gold.

Taking a steady breath, the warrior sprints at the altar and strikes it with the glowing bastard sword. The energy from Delvin drains into the putrid blood, which crystallizes and cracks at the base. He makes another swing, which cleanly removes the top of the altar and shatters the base. He watches the remains fall into the volcano where they explode against the magma. A wave of dizziness washes over the warrior and he nearly tumbles over the edge, but Timoran grabs him by the back of his shirt.

“Do you know what happened?” the barbarian asks, not expecting a clear answer.

“I . . . purified my body and the sword,” Delvin answers as he steps away from the volcano’s mouth. He taps his blade against Timoran’s great axe, causing his friend to brace for a spell that never happens. “Seems I went too far and removed most of the magic. This isn’t anything more than an indestructible sword now.”

“You are a mystery, my friend.”

“I’m really sorry about everything I said and did, Timoran.”

“It was the curse and nothing more.”

“Those emotions-”

Delvin is cut off by the barbarian grabbing his face with one hand and saying, “I know how you feel about her and the curse enhanced your emotions. Those darker forces may be inside you, but you are a good man. So we will put this behind us. Now let us wait for the others and . . . what is that?”

Delvin turns in time to see a slender form falling into the volcano. He is not sure what he is looking at until he sees someone else leap after the first figure. The glowing light around the second person is all the two warriors need to know that it is Nyx. Racing to the edge of the mouth, all they can do is watch as the two forms plunge into the magma.

*****

Nyx curses under her breath when the walls of fire trap her and Sharne with Sutter. She can see Timoran and Delvin on the other side of the barrier, but it is impossible for them to break through. Pointing the scepter at the Ifrit, she moves forward and motions for her companion to stay behind her. Flames run through the caster’s hair and lightning crackles around her eyes in an attempt to intimidate the lesser demon. He grins and bursts into flames that are powerful enough to make the half-elf sweat.

“I have to admit that nobody has ever tried to scare me with my own element,” the Ifrit says with a deep chuckle. The fire around him dies down and steam drifts from his muscular frame. “I hope your friend warned you that I will not hold back. I expect the same from you even though you’re at a disadvantage. No champion who claims fire as their weapon has a chance against a creature who thrives off it.”

“We don’t have to do this, Sutter,” Nyx states, realizing that a pitched battle could get Sharne killed. “Help me claim the temple and I’ll set you free.”

The demon throws a punch at the caster, which is deflected by an air shield. Nyx counters by growing an iron spike from her hand and stabs Sutter in the leg. She detaches from the metal weapon as it melts over the wound and sinks beneath the crimson skin. With a burst of light in her enemy’s eyes, the half-elf moves to his side and hits him with a paralysis spell. She holds her breath while the blue cords envelope the demon and lock him in place.

“I hope you use this time to think of a real plan,” Sutter growls as he struggles against the irritating spell. “This is an interesting sensation. All the champions I have killed come at me with combat magic. Not sure if you’re cunning or weak.”

“Why won’t you be the guardian of Helgard?”

“Because I hate it here!” the Ifrit roars as he tries to grow. The cords around his body strain against his muscles and crack before he calms down. “As I told the drite and the large man, I no longer remember the Chaos Void. Returning there would feel wrong, but I refuse to remain in this prison. That is why I had myself altered, so I die forever if killed on this plane of existence. I thank you for destroying Nuerin and returning the scepter with the true guardian inside. Yet even with those victories, I must retain my pride since it is truly all I have left. Our battle must continue until one of us is dead.”

“You want her to do a mercy killing?” Sharne politely asks.

The lesser demon raises his arms and the paralysis spell shatters. “I want her to fight me with all her strength as I do the same. I am still the final test of Helgard. All of these centuries of waiting for a champion to destroy me will not end with me laying down. So far I am unimpressed by this channeler.”

“Answer me one question before we fight,” Nyx requests as she moves between the demon and the nomad. She snaps her fingers to put a protective cylinder around Sharne, the violet energy vibrating. “What’s the point of this scepter? I’ve heard it have a few names and been told it contains a monster. Yet I have no idea what it was really meant for. I know it’s a strange question, but it’s been bugging me since I entered Helgard.”

“I sense you’re stalling, but it will be in vain,” Sutter says with a cruel smile. Reaching out, he taps his claws on the ruby and shudders at the familiar power running up his arm. “It was nothing more than a trinket that Nuerin took a liking to. It had been sitting in the treasury since the early years. I never understood why Gabriel put fortunes in each temple or where he got the wealth from. Makes one wonder what the champions were to be used for after the Baron is killed. Something to think about. Will your battles ever truly be over?”