Sleeper Of The Wildwood Fugue (Book 7) by Charles E. Yallowitz Page A

would not have died, but he would have been trapped as a chimera. After all, that is where such creatures come from. They are spirit channelers who went too far and can never find their way back to their true form. I . . . I refused to let that happen when I felt the loyalty and love that all of you hold for him. It was a powerful combination of emotions that I haven’t felt in centuries. So I broke the rules and took him to my core where his aura is being healed. I will not be punished if you break the curse.”
    Sari hugs the girl with all her strength, using her immovability to prevent the startled child from escaping. “Thank you so much. I promise we’ll wake you up and you’ll never be punished again. Please show us what you want us to see. I don’t want to waste any more time getting to the real you and Luke.”
    Her eyes wide with panic, the girl vanishes in Sari’s arms and the rumbling storm grows quiet. A trio of voices gradually grows until one of them is easily recognized as Stephen. As if their eyesight has been enhanced, Timoran and Sari clearly see the immortal sitting at a wooden table set on top of a crumbling hill. Across from Stephen is the silver-haired champion, who appears to now be in her late twenties. The young woman’s white clothes are covered in dirt and dried blood, which is also on her alabaster face and exposed arms. The shine of her hair is gone and replaced with a dullness that seems unnatural. With a feeble cough and a shiver, she raises her head to stare at the elegant nobleman sitting between her and Stephen. The man’s black hair shimmers in the light and his eyes hold a cruelty that chills the adventurers to their core. His ruffled shirt reminds them of portraits from the ancient days where practicality was exchanged for eye-catching gaudiness.
    “Are we done with her yet, old man?” Stephen asks, lazily swinging his leg over the chair arm. “This must be the tenth time you’ve had me bring her to you. That’s ten sets of dead champions and you still want this one alive. She isn’t any fun, old man, so why do you insist on stringing her along?”
    “Because the Baron enjoys my suffering,” the woman whispers, glaring at the grinning man. “My torture entertains him.”
    “Now, Dariana, I do not wish to see you in pain,” the ancient warlord says with a tender voice that catches Timoran and Sari off-guard. He reaches over with a gloved hand to touch the champion, healing her wounds. “You are a very special player in this game. I hold you dearly in my heart because of your role. If anyone enjoys your suffering, it is Gabriel. So why do you still refuse to join my side?”
    “That isn’t how this works and you know it,” Dariana angrily snaps. At the sound of Stephen chuckling, she pushes the table and knocks him off his chair. “I’m a champion and that is the side I have to stay on. You had your chance to recruit and corrupt me long ago, so you only have yourself to blame for the side that I’m on.”
    “So high and mighty. As if a champion is beyond corruption,” Stephen says as he gets to his feet. He appears next to Dariana and slams her head against the table with enough force to put her through the solid wood. “You should stop talking like you’re superior. It makes me angry and forces me to hurt you.”
    With no sign of anger on his face, the Baron hisses a spell that sends his son crashing through a nearby tree. Several fallen branches twist and wrap around the younger nobleman’s body, their ends burrowing into the ground. Cursing at the top of his lungs, Stephen struggles against the bonds and is struck by lightning if he tries to use his time powers for anything more than healing. With a wave of his hand, the Baron heals Dariana’s face and places the damage on her attacker.
    “What have I told you about striking her?” the immortal warlord calmly inquires. He stands and moves behind Dariana, placing his hands on her shoulders. “Treat this