Path of the Traitors

by Charles E Yallowitz

  “This is far too easy,” Nimby mutters to himself. A few people appear tempted to step forward, but all of them look at the bodies with fear. “Got a feeling that I’d have to make the same bet. Well, I’ve been slacking off for a while, so it’s about time I made myself useful around here. Over here, mister! I’ll bet my life!”

  The wild-haired man takes an exaggerated look at the crowed before focusing on the smiling halfling. “I don’t bet with children. Oh, sorry about that. You only resemble a child. Now, I do have to ask if you’re sure about this. The voices tell me that you’re new to Ashkeep. Be a shame to kill a newcomer.”

  “You can tell the voices that I’m more than what I seem.”

  “Then let me shuffle the deck and you can pick your card.”

  “I choose the five of hearts.”

  “Don’t you want to know what the card looks like?”

  “I saw enough while you were juggling earlier.”

  The man cautiously approaches Nimby and begins juggling the cards in a repetitive spiral pattern. He builds up speed until the deck gives the illusion of taking on a solid, white shape with faint lines noting the card edges. The crowd attempts to rattle the halfling by making loud noises, which are silenced when he calmly raises his hand with the five of hearts. With a sputtering cough, the information broker nearly drops his deck and stares at the card. Taking it back, he steps away and shuffles while deciding on the next pattern. Swinging his arms, the man puts a spin on the cards to have them fall back to his hand like a boomerang. The effect forms a horizontal arch that goes around Nimby and occasionally skims the back of his neck. Whirling around and making a playful bite, the thief returns to his original position with the five of hearts in his mouth.

  “You said you wanted a challenge,” he says while tossing the card back to the man. He bows to the applause of the crowd and cracks his knuckles in preparation of the final test. “Let’s make this more interesting. Those two were practice runs, so the final one is what counts. Winner takes all.”

  “I like a man with guts,” the broker replies with a wide grin. Juggling with one hand, he pulls out an enchanted brand and puts it on the counter. “Let’s change the wager too. I’d make a lot of money selling you off to highest bidder. What do you say to your fate being slavery instead of death?”

  Nimby pretends to think about the offer for a minute before wiggling his fingers and licking his lips. “You’re on. Give me your best.”

  The man chuckles and leaps onto the booth as the cards whirl around him, their movements hypnotizing the crowd. As his hands become blurs of motion and his arms swing as if they are barely attached to his body, the deck takes on the shape of a dragon. The flapping of its wings gets faster by the second and its head sways from side to side. Whenever the man whistles, a card flicks out of the gaping mouth and boomerangs back into the pattern. Keeping an eye on Nimby, he has the deck lift whenever the halfling attempts to jump for one of the cards. A few people from the crowd boo, but they remain hidden to avoid being chosen for the next challenge. The man yawns while walking across the counter and maintaining the dragon, which continues to shift away from the thief.

  With a tired sigh, Nimby leaps at the booth and backflips through the display without disrupting the moving picture. Landing on the shoulders of a buxom elf, the halfling holds the five of hearts over his head. Shocked by the victory, the broker loses his concentration and the dragon crashes to the ground. People move away to avoid touching the broker’s precious deck, all of them knowing he could have them executed under suspicion of business tampering. Muttering curses, he is about to jump down to clean the mess when he sees that Nimby is already gathering the cards. Taking a seat, the man waits for the thief to finish and humbly takes the deck back with a smile.

  “It is an honor to lose to someone with your skill,” he says, placing the cards next to him. As the crowd dissipates, he notices Nimby’s companions approaching and smiles. “If only I’d seen those two youngsters then I’d have made the bet more interesting and worked even harder. The market enjoys couples, especially those that can be crossbred for stronger stock. Now, you get only one question and then we go our separate ways. If you have more than one then you have to wait until tomorrow before you can challenge another broker.”

  Nimby opens his mouth to speak, but Vile’s voice abruptly cuts in asking, “How does one broker know that we challenged another?”

  “And you waste your question. That’s a shame,” the man replies with a sigh. Drawing a pendant out of his shirt, he spins it and a small beam bursts into the sky. “We keep in touch with each other. Your face and voice is now known to all of them. Not to mention these necklaces will react to your presence. Best not to force a broker into a test either. The punishment is immediate execution. Have a pleasant day and think before you speak next time.”

  “I’ll do just that,” Nimby says with an edge to his words. Marching away with his friends, he grabs Vile off his shoulder and squeezes the toy, causing its eye to glow. “Thanks for ruining everything. I could have asked where the portrait is being kept. Do you have any idea how hard those challenges were? There’s no way to be sure that you’re grabbing the right card even if you see it. Good thing I keep a couple loose five of hearts on me for games like this. The hardest part was making it believable and finding a way to sneak my spares out of his deck. Now, what are we going to do since we can’t use another broker until tomorrow?”

  “Quail knows of an empty building that you can wait in,” Trinity whispers as her face returns to its normal cobalt color. She ignores the worried expressions from her companions, the argument having already been won while Nimby challenged the broker. “You did your best and won, so don’t be upset. Nobody expected your father to be such an idiot. So, we’re going with my plan whether the rest of you like it or not. Just be patient and I’ll bring us all the answers we need.”

  The others watch as Trinity walks away, her body transforming back into its natural state, but still hidden by the ragged clothing. Without a word, Quail takes Altia by the hand and leads everyone in the opposite direction. Pulling his recently acquired scroll out of his back pocket, the chaos elf casts a spell that erases the ancient continents and replaces them with a detailed map of Ashkeep. He utters a final spell that creates many black dots on the streets and a glowing blue one that is gradually getting further away.

  “Good luck, your majesty,” he says, tapping at the marker signifying Trinity.

  *****

  The crowded marketplace goes silent when a spray of lightning erupts from a rooftop and explodes in the sky. Crackling motes fall to the ground, leaving a dull glow on whatever they touch. The citizens applaud until a fireball lances out of an alley and whips around the street to devour all of the flags. A chorus of angry shouts and threats burst from the crowd, many of them taking the opportunity to accuse their rivals of being a traitor. Only the disguised guards remain calm while their armored counterparts move to block off the area. Their keen eyes search the rooftops for signs of the caster, but they are swiftly put to sleep by a volley of precisely aimed arrows. Slumping to the ground, the unconscious spies are nearly trampled, but their allies hurry to drag them to safety. As the riot spreads to other streets, a geyser of ice explodes from underground and a slender form materializes on its flat top.

  “I’m pretty sure you all know who I am,” Trinity says with a mischievous smirk. A barrier appears around her and melts an assortment of incoming projectiles before spraying the hot remains at the nearest guards. “For anyone still defending me, I really did betray your precious Baron. He’s a monster who should have been killed long ago. Those who side with him are my enemies and I will not hesitate to destroy all who come at me. My reason for being here is a secret, but I’d be willing to talk with any guard who is good enough to catch me. Let’s see if the people of Ashkeep are worthy of their worthless master’s praise.”

  The crowd rushes the frozen pillar, none of them afraid of the acid
ic shield that still glimmers around Trinity. Gathering the spell in her hands, she punches the ice with both fists and turns it into a flood of water. Itchy sores appear on everyone who is struck by the attack, which drives most of the citizens away. Having leapt onto a booth, the chaos elf whistles for the guards to pay attention to her instead of the retreating people. Flipping to the ground, she surprises them by meeting their charge and flooring a swordsman with a kick to his chest plate. Her body enhanced by multiple spells, Trinity dodges weapons and delivers blows that crack her enemies’ armor. A one-handed flip helps her catch a spearman in the chin and she comes down hard, her other foot snapping a blade meant for her ankles. Hooking a leg around the stunned warrior, the smiling channeler swings into a handstand and hurls him into a group of farmers who are entering the fray. A tight spin helps her avoid a slash and take out the legs of three more guards, who crawl away with shattered toes and shins.

  “That was a fun warm up,” Trinity declares, cracking her knuckles. Backing toward an alley, she waves to the fresh soldiers running from both sides of the street. “Don’t be shy! Plenty of me to go around. At least if you can catch me! Remember that I’m wanted alive!”

  With a snap of her fingers, the channeler soars into the air and lands on the corner of a building. She vaults over the street and runs along the edge of the rooftops, making sure the guards never lose sight of her. Looking down, she can see her pursuers splitting into several groups and sprinting to meet her at the intersection. Crossbow bolts whizz over her head and bounce off the stones around her, forcing Trinity closer to the middle of the roofs. Dropping firework spells into the alleys as she jumps, the chaos elf listens to the bellowing orders being given to the guards. Hearing the loudest voice coming from her left, she changes direction enough that she eventually hits the far corner of the last building.

  Unwilling to stop or slow down, Trinity creates a glowing trapeze bar that dangles from a clump of chimney smoke. A burst of wind beneath her feet sends her arcing toward the perch, which swings as soon as she lands. The next row of houses is too far away to reach on her first attempt, so she pushes herself back with enough force to become parallel with the ground. Time seems to stand still as she hangs above the cobblestones and takes a long breath. Out of the corner of her eye, she spots an armored figure with an array of feathers on her helmet. Wanting the important-looking guard’s attention, Trinity blows a kiss that knocks the warrior back with a blast of fire. Satisfied that her enemy will continue the chase, she flips to put her feet against the bar and launches herself over two streets. Landing on her toes, she spins around and waves at a group of stunned archers, who are shoved off the roof by a swirling wave of strength-sapping leaves.

  Performing a showy flip, Trinity plunges into an alley and runs into the street where a squad of spearmen are already waiting. Violet blades sprout from her ankles and wrists as she dives into the cautious warriors. Weapons are destroyed and armor is sliced to pieces, but the edged spells do nothing to any flesh that they touch. Instead, they attack the guards’ nerves in a way that causes them to lose control of their bodies. They quickly become nothing more than a squad of flailing arms, twitching legs, and drooling faces that stare blankly at the channeler. The fallen warriors grunt and yell when she sprints for a distant alley, the other squads hurrying to cut her off from an escape. By the time they arrive at both ends, the only sign of Trinity is a thin layer of smoke on the ground.

  “She must be invisible or have teleported somewhere. Channelers can do things regular casters can’t even dream of,” the feathered commander says in a booming voice. Drawing a large mace, the towering figure points the weapon at those on the far side of the alley. “Divide into five groups and do a grid search toward the entrance. Everyone else do the same, but head for the Founder Complex. Tell all citizens to get indoors until the hunt is over. Queen Trinity is toying with us now, but I do not doubt that she will turn deadly if cornered. I will return to the marketplace and create a central meeting place that we can operate from. For Baron Kernaghan’s love!”

  All of the soldiers salute and repeat the declaration as they split up to search the city for Trinity. Their commander remains at the mouth of the alley to make sure everyone does what they are supposed to do. Hearing movement from behind, the warrior whirls around and finds that it is only a white cat searching through a garbage can. Without relaxing, the guard turns back around and tunes out the animal’s incessant noises. Scowling at two squads arguing over directions, the commander is about to shout a reprimand when a pulse of electricity erupts from below and knocks the warrior into the alley. The mist seeps from the steaming platemail and solidifies into Trinity, who remains crouched in the shadows.

  “You’re going to tell me everything I need to know, young lady,” the chaos elf whispers before delivering another stun spell. Pulling her prisoner behind a stack of crates, she flips the heavier woman onto her stomach. “As you pass out, I want you to know that the old me would have already killed many of your guards. Not to mention the damage I’d unleash on this city for putting a bounty on my head in the first place. Keep this in mind when you wake up because a simple ‘thank you’ can make your life a lot easier.”

  Transforming herself into an elderly woman, Trinity lifts the guard’s legs and turns the thick armor into a crude wheelbarrow. Even though it is shaped like a human and has a very shallow tray, nobody questions the solitary figure. All the guards do is warn her about the dangerous fugitive who can be anywhere or look like anything. Always acknowledging them with a sweet smile and polite nod, Trinity slowly makes her way through the blockade with the unconscious commander clutched by the ankles.

  *****

  “I told all of you that it wouldn’t work,” Altia says from outside the room. The elf peeks inside to see if they are still trying to get information out of the stubborn guard, but pulls away at the sight of a knife. “People here are very loyal to the Baron. Nothing short of mind spells will work and even that might fail if this woman’s will is strong. At least Nimby stole enough healing potions to repair the damage. Not that threats and injuries would scare an orc, including the females. Even scarred, they manage to be more beautiful than elves. How are you able to watch this happen, Quail?”

  “Chaos elves have been tortured for hundreds of years,” the mapper replies from the other side of the hallway. Taking a bite of a peach, he goes back to the crest map, which shows a building that rises off the page. “This is what another chaos elf told me when I met him as a child. He was a mercenary who Grandma Babs was working with for a job. He said that the lingering demon taint gives our people subconscious memories of past generations. We don’t remember details, but we always have a sense that torture and pain are parts of life. This is why the Baron was able to turn us into a society of assassins so easily. Killing isn’t a very far away leap from being apathetic toward pain in general.”

  “I want that to change,” the elf declares, taking a seat next to Quail. She keeps her head down to avoid seeing what their companions are doing, the lack of screams having already tricked her into looking at the wrong time. “This is another time where I feel out of place among all of you. Everyone has felt great pain while I’ve been pampered by comparison. Sure, I grew up on the streets of Gaia, but the worst I dealt with was a few days of being hungry. Children in your society would think that’s nothing compared to the horrors they have to endure. By the gods, I really want Windemere to be different when all of this is over. I plan on doing whatever I can to make that happen.”

  Putting an arm around the young woman’s shoulders, Quail tosses his map onto a nearby table. “Everyone wants to leave a mark on the world. For some it’s merely to have a child or survive long enough for people to remember them. Others want monuments built in their honor for good or ill. In my travels, I’ve met more of the first category and very few of the second, which I feel has been a blessing. Yet, there is a third group who wants to change the world and not get any credit. Many
adventurers fall into this category by doing what they feel is right and the fame they receive is barely acknowledged. I wonder if the acts of the champions and their friends will inspire people to be more like that. Not sure if a world of heroes would be a good or bad thing. This is why I like being a mapper. Our marks are on pages left behind to guide people who decide to wander from home.”

  “I admit to understanding only half of that.”

  “Sorry, but thank you for letting me finish.”

  “Looks like we’re being waved over.”

  “My guess is that they finally ran out of unsavory tricks.”

  Heading back into the barely furnished room, they notice bloody tools on a nearby table and a matching cloth under the prisoner. The guard has been bound to a chair by her armor being fused to the heavy piece of furniture. Her helmet has been removed to reveal her flawless skin and flowing blonde hair, the feathers strewn across the floor. With the flash of large incisors, the commander growls at the newcomers and laughs when Vile stabs her in the cheek with a slightly bent pin. Jerking her head, the orc tries to catch the toy in her mouth, but is stopped by Nimby pulling back on her hair. The halfling is quick enough to kick his father away before the woman jumps with the chair and tries to crush him beneath one of the solid legs. To prevent another violent outburst, the black armor turns red and melts enough that it tightens around the defiant prisoner. Even with the clear sound of sizzling flesh in the air, the orc sneers at Trinity and spits at the chaos elf’s feet. A hand of energy appears and slaps the guard across the face, which knocks her and the chair over.