Path of the Traitors

by Charles E Yallowitz

  “I could, but I’m worried that there is more to this.”

  “Yes, that would make sense.”

  “There’s also that storm, which might have anti-magic properties like what we saw before.”

  “Not to mention the inside would instantly freeze all of us.”

  “Guess we backtrack and find an easier way down.”

  Carefully backing away from the sign, Nimby trips over something hidden within the soft clouds. The halfling taps his heel against the object, which reminds him of knocking on a wall in search of a hidden passage. Keeping his foot in place, he sits up and moves the clouds away to uncover a petrified vine. Nimby follows it to the edge of the path where it ends at pieces of jagged stone that used to be a collection of large flower buds. Snapping one of them off, he catches the smell of rotten fruit until a breeze carries the scent away. A distant roar travels on the stirring wind, but the noise dies with an abrupt whimper. With no other ideas, the thief tosses the flower into the storm below and watches it become ice. Nothing happens as the blunt object falls to the ground where it shatters with a loud boom.

  “There must have been a way down, but somebody might have sabotaged it,” Quail says, kneeling to examine more of the vines. Backing up, he finds that they are standing on a thick network of the stone plants that have trapped the clouds. “I don’t want to blindly guess at how this works. There are too many possibilities and it’s obvious that nothing will work. Not unless we can revive the plants or get them to unravel toward the ground. Forget that second idea because it doesn’t look like they would be long enough to do that.”

  Vile kicks at a thorn that snaps off and reveals a rotting inside, the smell making those with working noses queasy. “This wasn’t done very long ago. I remember coming upon petrified enemies and shattering them to be safe. There is always a core of fleshy pulp in the ones that have been frozen for less than a year. Nothing recognizable as organs or real meat, but it means these vines were alive not too long ago.”

  “The Baron must have sent Walter to do this before attacking the champions,” the Lich whispers to himself. Spinning Nimby around, the necrocaster takes over his host’s eyes and gazes out over the Frost Barrens. “I sense something old and dead. Not functional dead, but buried dead. If that makes any sense to those ignorant of such things. Does the map give a clue about this?”

  “There’s a symbol, which is either a skull or a closed flower,” Quail answers while staring at the map. Holding it over his head and moving it around, the chaos elf suddenly realizes the trick that he is up against. “It could also be both. It isn’t very common these days, but old mapmakers would create double clues. Simply put, a picture or word that looks one way when viewed from a one angle and another way when the angle is changed. That means both symbols are right. The closed flower is probably what Nimby pulled out, but I don’t understand the skull.”

  “My guess would be a guardian,” Trinity chimes in as she takes a peek over the mapper’s shoulder. Turning her head causes the symbol to change, the skull frowning when it comes into clear view. “No, a guardian would be too much for this spot. You’d need something huge and that would draw attention to the path. Unless it’s hiding somewhere around here. The flowers can be what brings it out, but they’re dead.”

  Nimby releases a strangled yell and collapses, his skeletal arm immediately rising to drag the rest of his body back up. His brown eyes are glowing red now that the Lich has forced the halfling to sleep. Having full control of their body, the necrocaster rolls up his sleeves and waves his hands through the air. Black energy gathers on his fingertips until they are swallowed by tiny orbs of magic. Holding his spell back, the Lich takes a moment to bend down and sniff at one of the flowers. The faint aroma of decay makes his mouth water and he greedily sucks the plant’s essence out through the porous rock. When his cheeks are full, he blows the energy onto his hands and merges it with the orbs.

  Standing next to the sign, the Lich drops his enchantments and watches them fall through the storm. The churning clouds are violently shoved out of the way by a gust of putrid wind that turns ten of the crystals green. Corrupted by the evil energy, they fall behind the orbs and plunge into the tiny holes made by the dense spells. With a bellowing groan, the ground cracks and the bleached bones of an enormous animal free themselves from the soil. Resembling nothing more than a long neck with a one-eyed skull, the dead beast stretches for the clouds. Veins of dark green run along the vertebrae, which are held in place by a flexible rod that passes through all of their centers. The creature’s ridged head thuds against the remaining flowers, which it tries to chew with its brittle teeth. A low rumble from far below causes the animal to release a mournful howl that reminds the travelers of a hungry wolf.

  “Everybody on before it falls apart,” the Lich announces while climbing over the beast’s head. He waits for the others to join him and waves his hand over what looks to be a large slide built into the bone. “Originally, you would use the flowers to summon this monster and it will bring you to the ground while it eats. Now, we have to do it this way. I moved the storm to reduce the winds since there’s no protection going down. Ladies first.”

  Gazing down the steep and bumpy path, Trinity finds herself suffering from a sudden fear of heights. Knowing that she has no other choice, she closes her eyes and hops onto the slide. The channeler can feel a layer of magic appear beneath her, the energy making sure she does not slow down or fall off the path. Looking back, she can see Quail not very far behind and Nimby has just started his descent. With nothing else to do, Trinity stares at the clouds and does her best to ignore the occasional bump that pops her an inch into the air. After two minutes, she finds the experience oddly relaxing and struggles to stay awake, the growing cold making her feel a little drowsy.

  The slide shifts when the beast detaches from the clouds and begins sinking back into the ground. Trinity feels the magical layer beneath her sputter and uses her own power to maintain the spell. The chaos elf is unsure if she has picked up speed or the creature is submerging since the earth is approaching alarming fast. Unable to slow down, she creates a violet cushion in front of her body and summons a gust of wind to shove her friends down the slide. The others grunt when they slam into the channeler and are about to complain when the skeleton groans and quivers. With Nimby and Quail pressed against her, Trinity turns her spell into a bubble that remains soft and malleable. They hit the frost-covered ground hard enough to rattle their bodies and bounce high into the air. Her spell pops when it lands on a pointy stone, which leaves them sprawled on the uncomfortable ground.

  “I really hope we don’t have to do anything like that again,” Trinity says as she stands. The sound of pounding footsteps and blades being drawn causes her to sprout lightning claws. “We aren’t alone down here. Did you wake something else up, Tyler?”

  A small army of warriors run out from behind the surrounding hills and form a circle around the travelers, all of their weapons aimed at Trinity. There is no consistency among their equipment, most of which show very little signs of use. Dropping her spell, the channeler notices that the armors are a collection from all over Windemere and the only common article is an armband of dark blue with a jagged circle of red in the middle. She waves for Nimby to take his hand off his weapon when a tall spearman steps out of the crowd. Unlike the others, his platemail is dented from many battles and his weapon is nicked along the handle. His white hair and wrinkles betrays his age, but the stern man’s muscular frame makes Trinity firmly believe that he should not be underestimated.

  “Queen Trinity of Shayd! My name is Sir Reginald Harbiss,” the warrior declares as he unfurls a document. The parchment rolls across the ground and stops precisely at the channeler’s feet. “This is a list of your crimes and we are here to make you pay. I ask that you come peacefully and avoid unnecessary bloodshed.”

  “Under whose authority are you operating?” Trinity asks while bending down to look at the list. A chill
runs up her spine as she recognizes some of the names and dates, the others stirring only a few vague recollections. “These are my early missions for the Baron. You have my targets and noted all of the people I killed to reach my enemies. What’s going on here? Tell me who you are.”

  The crowd erupts in a chorus of threats and curses until Sir Harbiss holds up his hand and replies, “All of us are connected to a person on this list. You took our loved ones away from us and we have not forgotten. Consider us the victims you’ve never met. We have followed the words of our benefactor to intercept you on your latest mission and make sure you never hurt another soul. Now, come quietly or I will execute you right now.”

  Fixated on the warrior’s words, Trinity puts up no resistance when a dwarf and an orc grab her arms. They drag her to a cage, which is being dragged by a yak that smells like it has not been bathed in months. She is vaguely aware of her companions being chained to each other and pushed ahead by a group of Elven axe-fighters. Numb to her surroundings, all the channeler can think about is how she has hurt enough people to fill the ranks of a small army.

  4

  Each prisoner is tied to a heavy pole that is loosely driven into the crunchy ground, which crumbles at the slightest movement. The rest of the camp is a collection of bedrolls that are kept in place by rocks or heavy backpacks. Fire pits are being tended to by four bulky fireskins while they wait for piles of scrawny deer to be cut up for a basic stew. The scaly figures repeatedly send beams of light into the sky to punch holes in the clouds, but the effect lasts no more than a few minutes each time. Lookouts stand on the nearby hills to watch the storm and give a warning if it heads in their direction. A solitary ogre in animal skins stands on the outskirts, his gnarled staff covered in bone studs. Whenever one of his companions whistles, the horned shaman dances to unleash a spell that diverts the approaching clouds. His reward is a bottle of mead that an attending Joy Priestess quickly brings him, her magic soothing his fatigue. She only leaves his side to bring water to a nearby swordsman, who is patrolling the shadows and making sure there are no chaos elves coming to their leader’s rescue.

  Trinity can feel the hateful stares boring into her skin even when she cannot see the source of the animosity. Seeing such a variety of people and trades around her, the channeler wonders if she can ever atone for her past. The fact that most of her crimes were committed to keep her people safe and the Baron would have killed her if she refused has already been denied as a reason for mercy. For the countless time, she considers breaking out of the anti-magic manacles that are too weak to withstand her full power. Trinity is sure Nimby is already free, but she does not want to risk Quail being punished for her actions. The thought of being hunted while they follow the confusing map is unappealing and brings to mind many ways that things could go wrong. She realizes that it would not only be her and the others who die, but the champions will be missing the crests they need to defeat the Baron.

  “I must admit that I expected you to fight back or try to escape,” Sir Harbiss admits as he drags a chair across the ground. Wearing a simple shirt and dirt-caked pants, the warrior sits in front of the prisoners and takes a drink of hot tea. “You killed my son eight years ago. He was a sailor and you lead a raid on his ship. They were hauling fruit and medical supplies, which they would have given you if you gave them a chance. Instead, the crew was slaughtered. Do you remember that or are all of your victims a blur?”

  “To be honest, I only remember my actual targets and not those who I had to kill because they got in my way,” Trinity answers, staring into the man’s green eyes. She winces when he kicks her bare foot, his armored boot cutting her skin. “I do recall that attack and it wasn’t only for the supplies. Those were merely a bonus that my former master said we could keep. I must have been fourteen or fifteen, so I was obsessed with proving myself. The real target was a follower of Ram, who was deemed a threat to my former master. I tried to kill him alone, but he fought back and woke the crew. At the time, I felt there was no other choice, but to leave no witnesses.”

  “Would you do the same now?”

  “Not unless it was my orders.”

  “You’re not much better than a golem.”

  “And would you punish a golem for following its commands?”

  “We’d destroy it without giving it a chance to defend its actions.”

  “Right . . . Guess that’s something I have going for me.”

  Noticing how dry and cracked Quail’s lips are, Sir Harbiss goes to get some water into the young man’s mouth. He does the same to Nimby, who is barely conscious, but makes sure to stay out of reach of the halfling’s bandaged arm. While his priests have stated that there is nothing magical about the limb, the warrior is sure that there is a danger lurking within the exposed bone. Even though he has assured the others that the prisoner is not a plague carrier, Sir Harbiss is not risking a possible epidemic. To be safe, he takes a vial of healing potion off his belt and pours it into the thief’s mouth. Nothing changes, which he takes as a sign that there is no threat of contamination by whatever ate the halfling’s skin.

  Spotting a glossy object in Nimby’s shirt, Sir Harbiss pulls out a figurine that he remembers seeing in various marketplaces. The warrior squeezes it to make its eyes glow and carefully turns it in his hands. He wipes some dirt off the robes and uses his spit to clean off a spot of dried fruit juice from its face. A faint warmth is ebbing off of the toy, which makes him wonder if there is fire magic within its smooth form. Deciding that it is nothing important, he puts it back where he found it and makes a final check of Nimby’s eyes. Having only a basic knowledge of medicine from his days as a soldier, he is sure the halfling has a concussion. Waving to one of his lieutenants, he has the slender woman stand next to the prisoner and keep an eye on his condition.

  “There’s no reason to keep those two,” Trinity says, noting that she is not being given any water. Hoping to get her companions out of danger and back on their journey, the chaos elf nods her head at the empty chair. “I know you’re not going to let me go. You’ve made that very clear just by amassing such a force. Really proves I was a terrible person. That doesn’t mean you act like me and kill those who had nothing to with my crime.”

  “Don’t give in to them, your highness,” Quail argues as he struggles against his bonds. The warriors are shocked when he easily stands with the heavy stake still tied to him. “Our people need you to stay alive. There has to be a way to earn redemption. Sir Harbiss, I know you don’t want to trust the words of a chaos elf, but please know that Queen Trinity was forced to commit all of those acts. Her former master would have killed the rest of us if she hadn’t done what he asked. Please think of some way that we can get through this without bloodshed.”

  “Sit down and shut up, Quail!” Trinity shouts, her voice echoing off the hills. The entire camp freezes and turns to the channeler, a flicker of emerald magic running along her body. “I want you and Nimby to keep going. Neither of you were part of what I did. The halfling is a thief who I’ve had dealings with in the past and nothing more. As for the mapper, he hasn’t stepped foot on Shayd since he was two. He’s a chaos elf in form only and I took him along because I needed a guide. I figured he’s expendable unlike those who have remained loyal to me, which is another reason I brought him along. If you release them then I swear I’ll go quietly to wherever you want to go.”

  Sir Harbiss looks around to find that the others are getting closer, everyone becoming curious about the encounter. He raises his hand to send them back to their tasks, but lets his arm drop at his side instead. The expressions of hope that he now sees has been missing from his people’s faces since they set off to find and execute the source of their pain. Many left behind simple lives to train as warriors and follow him on a path of vengeance, which promised death more than victory. Those who recently lost parents to Trinity are barely old enough to learn a trade, but they have marched alongside the army with as much pride as the adults. The old warri
or knows that sending them away at this point would be rude and make it look like only he deserves to get his revenge.

  “You are right that the halfling and mapper have nothing to do with this. We will release them and hold you to your promise,” Sir Harbiss says, his words met with a few boos. He is happy to hear that most of his allies are not out to kill anyone connected with their true enemy and risk going down a dark path. “We will give them back their gear and enough supplies to last a week. If they travel west then they will reach Pynofita in that time. You now have my word that they will not be recaptured unless you break your oath. Don’t think that we can’t do that. I will be taking a hair from both of these young men, which Bear can use to track them from any distance. He is an excellent shaman whose family was murdered by you. Do you remember that?”

  “Honestly, I’ve killed a lot of ogres in my time and it was usually in self-defense,” Trinity replies, her eyes locked on the growling shaman. When the large creature pushes through the crowd, she melts her manacles and leaps onto the top of the pole. “You still have my sincerest apology. Considering you’re here, I assume I attacked your family instead of the other way around. There was one group that happened to be where my former master dropped me off for a mission. I had to continue on with a broken arm and bruised ribs. From the grin on your face, I can tell that was your family. Take some joy in the fact that I barely made it back home alive because of those injuries.”

  “Release the others and send them on their way,” the tired knight instructs those nearest to him. Accepting a crude spear from a footman, Sir Harbiss points the weapon at Trinity as soon as she drops to the ground. “We have a deal. It seems you can’t be restrained, so I will keep you by my side at all times. You wander away at any point, I will send this entire army after you with no questions asked. Now, everyone return to their tasks. Those who have nothing to do can approach the prisoner and remind her of her sins. We must make sure that she remembers everything before the execution.”