Sleeper Of The Wildwood Fugue (Book 7) (36 page)

“I’m sorry, but the portal closes when there are no living beings in the crypt,” the dragon helplessly replies, sinking up to her nose. “If you finish the tests without her then you can retrieve the body.”

“That’s if we can figure out where it went,” Sari mutters while she presses a large healing patch on Sharne’s injuries. She moves on to help Dariana and Delvin remove the metal shards from their skin, the gypsy using scraps of cloth when she runs out of bandages. “Luke said the bronze coffin disappeared.”

With a curious snort, Cudgel rises out of the sand and leans forward to get a better look at the blonde warrior. “Bronze coffin? If she was swallowed by that then she’s not dead. Maybe. At least she’s not in the crypt and all you can do is continue with the tests. I heard the door to the greeting chamber open while you were gone. As long as your friend passes her personal test, you’ll see her again.”

“Then let’s push forward and finish with this damn place,” Delvin growls as he replaces his broken sword’s sheathe with that of the cursed blade. The warrior sheaths his new weapon with shaky hands and heads for the stairway, leaving Timoran on the ground. “Hurry up or I’m leaving you behind!”

“This will not go well,” the barbarian whispers to himself.

*****

Nyx wakes up to a blinding light above her and leather straps holding her tight to a metal table. The scepter is on her chest, tied down with silver cords as it growls and hisses in frustration. She tries to use her magic, but nothing happens even when she focuses on her churning aura. Wiggling her fingers, the caster finds that each one has a smooth ring that makes her skin itch and burn. The sound of running water and clinking metal draws her attention. With some amount of effort, she slips out of the strap across her forehead and cranes her neck to look around the room. Nyx gets a glimpse at some terrifying machines that could only be for cutting flesh and bone before the band of leather yanks her head back down.

“Welcome to my lab,” a hoarse voice says from the other side of the room. The gentle thud of metal tools being placed on a cart precedes the sound of squeaky wheels. “It’s been a long time since I had one of your kind. You’re nothing like Casandra, but she was truly one of a kind. I’m still surprised she lived for so long without aging a day. So what is the name of my new subject?”

A gnome rises into view on a mechanical lift, her crimson and sapphire robes marked with dried blood. Her forehead is stripped of skin and the wand symbol of Celvaryn the Goddess of Wild Magic is etched into the exposed bone. Wisps of white hair stick out of the wrap around the top of her head, the garment nothing more than a white towel. Her large, dark red eyes squint in the light, which she turns down by spinning a metal rod in the air. She takes her time putting on her leather gloves and straps a telescoping monocle to her head. The lens moves in and out a few times, the screech of unoiled joints making the gnome curse under her breath.

“Nyx of Rainbow Tower,” the half-elf replies to make sure she can still talk. “I’m also the champion of Helgard. Who are you?”

“I’ve been called The Crafter, the first Palqua, and Nuerin,” the gnome answers while oiling the lens. She pulls out a notebook and writes as she examines the restrained caster. “I prefer the third name, but we’re not going to get very close. I’ll make an amazing beast out of you. Maybe even replace that archaic Ifrit. I never liked him, but he came with Helgard and I could only do so much to mess with destiny.”

“If you’re a champion then let me out of here,” Nyx requests, struggling against the tight bonds. A numbing spray descends on her from the black stone ceiling, robbing her of strength and sense. “How are you still alive after all these years? I thought all of the former champions died except for Dariana.”

“Don’t even get me started on that sniveling creature. I’m glad we sold her to pirates on the way here,” Nuerin says with a cruel smile. She moves closer to Nyx and measures her face with wooden ruler, blindly jotting down information. “Nobody said I was still alive. My ultimate creation killed the other champions and ruined Palqua, but it gave me the opportunity to rid Helgard of those ridiculous monster challenges. Those made excellent guardians of my old scepter and my servants firmly believed my old companions were responsible for my great creation. Sutter certainly didn’t mind losing those headaches. I believe I was pretending to be male during that time, but it was so long ago and unimportant. Getting to the point, I led the Helgardians into the desert in the hopes they would use my scepter on the nearest city, which never happened. I would have done it myself, but the binding spells wouldn’t allow it. After they bored me, I came back here and took up residence to continue my experiments. I probably died a couple hundred years ago.”

Feeling the strength return to her body, Nyx flexes her fingers when the gnome is looking at her feet. “Are you a Lich?”

“Nothing so plain. I’m special.”

“Aren’t all champions?”

“Yes, but I left all of you behind when I cheated death and improved upon Gabriel’s prophecy,” Nuerin proudly explains, throwing her notebook onto a metal table. She picks up a long saw with two blades that glow red with heat. “I am the gatekeeper who chooses if a champion is worthy. The guardian of this temple was worthless and Sutter is nothing more than a glorified butler. I conquered Helgard and created a beast to destroy the Baron. Sure it killed the other champions and destroyed the town of my servants, but I survived. I could have continued my work if the gods hadn’t revoked my destiny. Still, I continue to make sure only the best will continue with Gabriel’s prophecy. Maybe one day someone will meet my approval and survive Helgard, but I swear it will not be a channeler.”

Roaring like a wild beast, the scepter shakes violently to break its bindings and strike Nuerin in the face. The blow is strong enough to spin the gnome’s head and send her reeling back against a cylinder filled with blue slime. The fallen champion blocks the next strike with her saw and grabs the scepter, but the relic melts her hand. Cursing under her breath, Nuerin retreats to a large crate and throws the top at the enraged item. The wooden lid bursts into flames when it hits the ruby, but it gives the gnome enough time to pull a white sheet from the crate. Ducking another blow, she covers the scepter with the cloth, which freezes the relic in a spire of ice that reaches the ceiling.

“It’s nice to see you remember me, Casandra,” Nuerin says, tapping on the pillar. She grabs a few more sheets from the crate and throws them over to thicken the icy cage. “You should thank me because you were nothing but a lonely exile when I summoned you. Sired all those channeler lines and none of them ever sought you out. Probably should have stuck around to raise a few of those bastards instead of birthing, feeding, and disappearing. In this form, you have more power and a best friend for life. How’s the old guardian doing in there with you?”

Nuerin laughs and turns back to Nyx who is struggling against the leather straps. The gnome whistles a mellow tune as she hops back onto the lift and readjusts her telescoping monocle. She frowns at the cuts on her gloves, which force her to pull on a fresh pair. Picking up a long needle and a hammer, she lifts Nyx’s shirt and aims for her abdomen. Using the hammer to drive the spike into the half-elf’s flesh, Nuerin is confused when her victim remains motionless. Pulling the needle back, she finds it clean of blood and it crumbles when she taps it on the railing of her lift. Throwing her tools to the floor in frustration, she hears the hammer hit something metal that skitters across the stone floor. Climbing off the lift, she crouches next to the table and finds the magic-blocking rings on the ground.

“Times like this I wish I could still see the void,” she quietly mutters as she pulls a lever on the base of the table. The metal slab is quickly elevated to the ceiling where spikes are waiting to impale Nyx. “Such a waste of a perfectly good test subject. I’ll have to make do with her friends.”

A thick mist flows from the table as it retracts, the unoiled gears grinding. Nuerin is worried when she does not see a body, the surface covered in dents and broken spikes. She rushes for a nearby wand only to have her legs yanked out from under her. The gnome falls with a metallic clang and a spurt of oil erupts from her side. A clawed hand grows from the mist that coats the floor and grabs Nuerin by the collar, hurling her into the far wall. The towel around her head falls off, exposing a metal dome that has been welded to her skull.

“So that’s how you stayed alive for so long,” Nyx says as she forms out of the mist. With a snap of her fingers, a scythe of lightning rips down Nuerin’s back and sends the gnome crashing to the floor. “I’d ask how much of you is flesh and bone, but I don’t care. You’re a disgrace to the champions, Gabriel, Helgard, and anyone blessed with an important destiny. I hope you go to the Chaos Void and the demons have their way with you.”

Nuerin struggles to her feet, her robes torn enough for Nyx to see the metal plates of her back. The gnome steps forward to stop the half-elf from melting the ice around the scepter, but her legs lock with a pathetic clank. Unable to use her battered body, she can only watch as the frozen spire dissolves beneath the caster’s touch. With a sinister laugh, the relic spins into Nyx’s hand and aims her arm at its hated enemy. Nuerin tries to beg for her life, but all she can do is emit a strange screech and gurgle. She closes her eyes as the ruby glows and the caster fires a crimson beam of heat that melts the gnome into a puddle. The only remaining parts of the fallen champion is the metal dome of her head and a silver box that holds her beating heart. Nyx snaps her fingers and a club of force appears to smash the container into the floor, grinding the pulpy remains to make sure they are destroyed.

“I’m guessing that’s you feeling happy and free,” the caster says to the scepter. She gets a sensation of bliss from the relic, which makes her smile. “Let’s get out of here and return to the others.”

Spinning the scepter, Nyx approaches the metal door and kicks it open. The crimson light from the next chamber is warm and inviting, but a burbling sound gives her pause. A sickeningly sweet scent precedes puddles of blood rising from cracks in the floor. Dark red warriors emerge from the ichor, their arms ending in scimitar blades. Their gelatinous bodies hold the form of flesh and armor, but they are no more solid than a waterfall. The army of monsters stare at the caster with human eyes that float around their faces. Letting out a tired sigh, Nyx steps into battle with fireballs flying in every direction.

19

“Get up and keep moving,” Delvin demands, glaring at the others as they take a seat in the columned chapel. The warrior punches the white wall and draws his sword, pointing it at his friends. “This isn’t the time or place to rest. We need to finish these tests and find Nyx before it’s too late.”

“I don’t remember Sutter mentioning being timed,” Sari angrily replies while helping Dariana to a red-cushioned bench. She glances at the sandstone dais where the back wall is covered by a thick tapestry depicting a phoenix resting in her fiery nest. “Dariana is exhausted, Sharne needs her bandage changed, and we’re obviously lost. This is the only room we found in the last three hours that is more than a library, dining room, or corpse closet. We’ve seen no undead or anything to pose a threat. I don’t even remember any stairs that go higher than this point.”

“You give up on me, gypsy, I swear I’ll-” the warrior begins, stopping when the others step between him and Sari. “What do you two want?”

“Right now I’d like to knock you out,” Luke admits, his hands on his sheathed sabers.

“Put the cursed blade down and get a hold of yourself, my friend,” Timoran politely requests as he moves closer. As soon as Delvin aims the weapon at his chest, the barbarian smacks the bastard sword away with his bare hand. “I know that you drew it out of desperation and now you are falling under its power. For that reason, I will not attack you. Yet I will step in if you threaten any of us again.”

Delvin sneers and points his sword at the taller man’s nose. “You wouldn’t dare.”

Timoran is about to hit his friend with a quick kick to the stomach when the former mercenary collapses onto a wooden chair. The bastard sword rises into the air and slips back into its plain scabbard, which detaches from Delvin’s belt and clatters to the floor. Sharne coughs and wheezes from the pressure of forcing her way through the curse’s influence and into the infected champion’s mind. Her eyes almost closed, the nomad sits next to Dariana and touches the silver-haired woman’s hand. A crackle of energy leaps between them and Sharne slumps on the couch, her feet twitching.

“Why did you do that?” Dariana groggily asks while sitting up. “You need your strength just as much as I do.”

“Delvin may be crazy, but he is right,” Sharne answers with a weak smile. “All of you need to keep moving to save Nyx and revive Helgard. I’m not a champion, so I don’t have to continue on. I can remain here.”

“I’m guessing you knocked Delvin out for his own good,” Sari says, turning the nomad around to check her injury. The bleeding has stopped, but she tenderly replaces the bandage to be safe. “Anybody think it’s strange that Helgard has stairs? Pallice had ice slides and the Garden of Uli had wind tunnels. Maybe there’s something similar here.”

“Lava slides?” Fizzle suggests, using his magic to push the bastard sword away from Delvin. “Won’t that kill friends? Rough stone not comfy. Transport room we see?”

“That room is only for moving between temples and I’m not sure how stable they are when one side is corrupted,” Dariana answers. She moves to let Sharne lie down and examines an ivory altar that holds the remains of a book. “Going by what we’ve seen so far, I would say this is a place of secret passages. If there was a population of servants then one could expect there to be hidden pathways to keep them safe from the temple’s dangers.”

“A network of hallways within the walls that run between the important rooms?” Timoran asks, scratching his head in thought. “That would mean entrances in the library, bonfire room, kitchen, and dining room. At least from the rooms we have seen.”

“And the chapel,” Luke adds while examining the basalt statues in the small alcoves.

Sari takes the other side of the room and runs her hands along the white walls, touching every crevice in search of a switch. She meets Luke at the tapestry and both of them grin at the obviousness of the hiding place. Their victory is short-lived as they move behind the hanging cloth and check the smooth stone. Minutes pass and they are unable to find a switch even though knocking on the wall creates a faint echo. Stepping out from behind the tapestry, the pair shrug in unison and sit near a fireplace that still has some glistening embers. The iron gate is raised and locked in place by a clip shaped like a soaring phoenix. Luke pokes his sword at the logs, surprised that they catch flames and build into a crackling fire.

The glistening gold of the phoenix gives Sari an idea and she whispers a spell to cover her hands in ice. Reaching into the fire, she picks up a flaming log and approaches the tapestry. She takes a few minutes to admire the beauty of the piece, the weaving expertly done and showing no signs of having aged. The phoenix looks like she always imagined the beast, a pretty bird of red and orange with fiery plumage. Its nest is depicted as being made of thin branches that sit upon a black cauldron, which she does not understand at first. Getting a closer look, she sees that the crimson fire she thought was coming from the nest is actually rising from the mouth of the round-rimmed vat. The rest of the picture is of a cloudy sky with only a hint of the sun peeking out in the top right corner.

“I know phoenixes are born from fire, but that looks like an expensive item to destroy on a whim,” Dariana nervously interjects. “Nyx might be angry if it doesn’t work.”

“First of all, Nyx doesn’t know this exists, so I won’t get in trouble,” Sari points out with a smirk. “Second of all, elemental doors may be rare, but gypsies and most experienced thieves know about their existence. They sell for an amazing price and it doesn’t hurt to have the knowledge in case you find one in an ancient ruin.”

“Does that type of situation happen often?” Timoran wryly asks.

“Only to us, Sir Wrath.”

Noticing that the cauldron only has the outline of a fire at its base, Sari puts the flaming log against that part of the tapestry. A sizzling precedes the appearance of orange and yellow thread that fills in the gap. With the sound of a cawing bird, the decoration burns from the bottom to the top and reveals a neat doorway in the stone. Tossing the log back into the fireplace, Sari sticks her head into the dusty hallway. She can see one dimly lit path running to her left, the floor showing signs of a gradual incline. More curious is a ladder that runs so high that the only thing the gypsy can see is a distant pinprick of light.

“Well, my part is done,” Sari announces, stepping back into the chapel. “Who wants to make the next decision?”

“Sharne needs to rest, so we can have two groups scout the paths while somebody stays to watch her,” Dariana says, peeking into the secret passage. She is relieved to see that there are no corpses and a thick layer of undisturbed dust. “Each group follows a path to see where it goes then we return here to choose a permanent direction. I volunteer to go with one group because I can contact others from a distance.”

“What do we do about our cranky friend here?” Sari asks, gently kicking Delvin’s foot. She tenses when he clears his throat and turns to face her. “I meant that . . . Forget it. You were being a jerk.”

“I agree and I’m still feeling aggressive,” the warrior replies as he moves his chair further away from the bastard sword. “The curse is dying down, but I’m going to have to pick that weapon up again to be of any use here. It’s best for me to use it when we definitely know a fight is coming. That way I can channel the pure hate in the blade. Leave me here with Luke and Sharne.”

“Why me?” the half-elf inquires, annoyed that he will not be going into the tunnels.

“Because I know for a fact that you’ve no problem hitting me if it has to be done,” Delvin says with a smirk. He coughs up some bile, which he spits into the fireplace. “Also, I know you’re fast enough to take me out if need be. I don’t know how long I can fight the curse, but I’m trying my best. That sword rots the body and corrupts the mind while fueling an obsession for whatever you want. With Kayn it was Sari and with Asher it was protecting his family. I think it’s distorting my desire to rescue Nyx.”

“Then we will bring her back and you will be fine,” Timoran declares, gesturing for Fizzle to perch on his head. He pats the tiny dragon on the tail and heads for the passages. “I will climb the ladder with Fizzle. Dariana and Sari can take the path because its width is better suited for their fighting styles.”

The barbarian does not wait for a response and climbs the metal ladder, his massive frame blocking the small light at the top. Sari gives Luke a quick hug before following Dariana into the passage, which appears to close when they walk far enough down the path. They can only see solid stone, not realizing that their friends are able to watch them disappear into the gloom. As soon as they are out of sight, the undamaged tapestry unfurls from its wooden rod and the doorway is hidden again.

*****

A distant rumble shakes the hallway and knocks loose pebbles onto the heads of Dariana and Sari. They have their mouths covered with handkerchiefs to avoid inhaling the choking dust that they kick up with every step. The safest way of talking is through Dariana’s telepathy, but Sari refuses to leave a connection open for longer than a second. Several times, one of them trips over a rise in the uneven floor and stumbles ahead to kick up a curtain of dust that blinds them for nearly a minute. A faint breeze draws them to a vent in the wall where they take turns breathing in the warm air seeping from the outside. Another boom rocks the mountain, forcing them to keep their balance.

“Any idea what that is?” Sari asks, pressing her lips to the ancient stone.

“No clue, but I think it’s coming from around that bend,” Dariana replies, putting the cloth back over her mouth. “Let’s keep moving. My eyes are burning from all the dust. Unless you need more time to rest.”

“Honestly, I think I’m the most rested out of all of us,” the gypsy states, tying a veil around her face. She removes it when the dust gets underneath and she begrudgingly holds the thin fabric to her face. “How are you feeling?”

“Tired, but functional.”

“There better be a bath in this temple.”

“I have a faint recollection of hot springs.”

“No more hot.”

“Couldn’t you make them cold?”

“Yeah, but I want to be lazy.”

The two women are knocked to the ground by a massive quake, their bodies getting covered with dust. Fearing that the hallway will collapse or fill with lava, they scramble to their feet and sprint ahead. Coughing and wheezing, they leap over fallen stone and trip over cracks hidden by the shadows. Each time one of champions stumbles, the other catches their wrist and helps the regain their balance. By the time they turn the corner and see the back of a tapestry, they are gasping for air and desperate to escape the passage.

Barging into the massive room, the pair skid to a halt and try to get back into the stuffy hallway. All they find is a solid wall behind an elegant tapestry depicting a dragon rising from a volcano. Before them is an enormous army of humanoid creatures made completely out of animated blood. Drops fall off the edge of their sword-like arms, but the castoff is quickly absorbed by their feet. With floating eyes, the monsters stare at the intruders as another explosion shakes the vast room.

“This is disgusting,” Sari whispers, drawing a dagger and hurling it at the closest blood solider. The weapon sinks into the creature’s chest and is sucked into the thick liquid. “I wouldn’t recommend hitting them with your bare hands. At least they aren’t very interested in attacking us.”

“For some reason they are creating a mass of bodies before they swarm,” Dariana replies, sensing their primitive thoughts. “They are scared that we will be as bad as the other one. I’m sorry, but they are so basic that I slip completely through their minds. It’s like trying to grab fresh blood.”

“You couldn’t have said hug the ocean or carry the desert?” the gypsy nervously snaps, drawing her favorite stiletto and a wide dagger. “I can defend myself, but I doubt I can hurt them. Try digging deeper.”

“I’ll try,” her companion says, probing the mind of the nearest creature. As soon as she peels away the top layer of thoughts, the creature shrieks and melts into a puddle of coagulating blood. “I’m sorry. They’re very fragile.”

Wild howls erupt from the creatures and they surge forward only for a wide blade of lightning to take out the rear of the mob. The blood soldiers scatter and some launch into the air by transforming into stretching spears. Bursts of flame meet them and they are reduced to bubbling muck on the floor. A plume of fire erupts from the far side of the room and grows bigger, dispelling when it comes within a few feet of the champions. A lone creature charges into the billowing smoke and another explosion sends its remains splattering across the floor. The blast has enough force to clear the foggy curtain and reveal Nyx who is covered in sweat and blood.

“Nyxie!” Sari happily shouts, sprinting to her friend. She gives the half-elf a tight hug that nearly knocks them over. “You’re alive and setting things on fire! I was so worried about you. We all were. Oh and Delvin is using that cursed bastard sword, so he might be a jerk when you see him again. Don’t kill him, but feel free to knock some sense into him.”

“It’s good to see you too,” Nyx says as she hugs back. She unleashes a lightning bolt to blast an approaching blood soldier. “We might want to do this later. How are you doing, Dariana?”

“I’m fine and happy to see you again,” the silver-haired woman replies, darting behind the others. She catches the incoming blade of a blood soldier between her hands and destroys its mind. “Timoran and Fizzle climbed up to the higher level and the others are resting in a chapel that we promised we would return to. Sharne was injured and Delvin needed a break from the cursed sword, but he wanted Luke to watch over him just in case. We don’t know how to get back to them since the passage closed.”