“I found something!” Nyx shouts from the other side of the castle. The channeler waves a single feather over her head as she rushes back to her friends. “This is from the griffin. Most tracking spells require a piece of the target or an item that was important to them. Once we reach Selenia’s academy, I can use this to find him.”
Timoran takes the small feather and sniffs it before handing it back to his friend. “I remember the shamans of Stonehelm casting such spells. Would this plan still work if Luke is in his true form? Also, what happens when the torture becomes so severe that he becomes a chimera? I only wonder if his transformations make such a spell more difficult. If they are possible at all. Do not be angry, fire sprite. I merely want us to consider all of our options and choose the best one because we only have time to follow one path.”
“Those are good questions,” Delvin admits while rubbing his chin. He notices that he is using the hand that was supposed to be gripping Sari’s wrist, which causes him to turn in a circle in search of the gypsy. “How did she slip away without any of us noticing? This isn’t something I want to deal with now. Luke being a prisoner means we’re already divided and we can’t afford to fracture any more. As calm as I appear, I’m one step away from clocking Sari on the head with my shield and dragging her along.”
“Fizzle and I will track her down and convince her to return,” the red-haired barbarian promises with a friendly smile. He strains his keen hearing to pick out the sound of the gypsy moving in the swamp, her light footsteps difficult to locate. “Please do not go anywhere, my friends. Though I do hope you decide on our next step before our return. I know I said we should be careful, but I believe Sari is right that we are wasting precious time arguing and talking while standing still. We could at least walk toward our allies. Remember that the longer Luke is in the Baron’s hands, the less chance we have of recovering the friend we remember.”
Timoran waves to Fizzle, who is trying to spot Sari from above, and the pair head toward the warped tree line. The others patiently watch until their friends are out of sight and a depressing silence falls over the clearing. All of the animals have left the area and show no signs of returning in the aftermath of the Baron’s devastating attack. Even the clouds seem to go around the space above the castle, the exposed blue having a dark hue that appears both beautiful and unnatural. For a second, a solitary star appears in the center of the sky before it disappears. A trembling moan can be heard from beneath the damp ground, causing the champions to fear that Dariana’s subterranean temple has been damaged. The last thing they want to deal with is an army of confused and angry ghosts, but the voice gradually disappears never to return.
The sounds of movement cause Delvin to turn around in time to see Nyx sucker punch Dariana in the kidney. Unwilling to defend herself, the taller woman crashes into the muck and rolls onto her back to face the channeler. A look of rage is on the half-elf’s face as fire and lightning ripple along her arms, the explosive magic eventually unleashed on the nearest pile broken stonework. Nyx hurls more devastating spells around the clearing until she calms down and flops onto the ground next to the telepath, who meekly sits up. The channeler delivers a smack upside the other woman’s head before trying to give her a hug. She is unable to relax her grip, which makes the embrace resembles a clumsy attempt to crush Dariana’s ribs. Realizing that she is being too rough, the half-elf gives up and moves away before she tries to do anything else.
“Before you ask, I can’t explain what that was about,” Nyx states, cutting off Delvin’s question. Rubbing at her amethyst necklace, the violet-eyed woman stares at Dariana, who remains sitting in the mud. “I’m still angry about how she tricked us with that illusionary world and helped cause this mess. Yet, I also feel sorry that she’ll be a prisoner for the rest of her life when our journey is done. On the other hand, I’m really angry that she just tried to get me to kill her. Not to mention I’m worried about Luke and I feel helpless and I keep wondering if there was a way I could have kept him safe.”
“You take too much responsibility for events that are beyond your control. Then again, I’m not one to talk,” Dariana whispers, her voice on the verge of laughter. Standing on shaky legs, she walks toward the half-elf and gently touches the woman’s pointy ears. “Both of us may be claiming too much of the blame here. Perhaps my father would have done this without my intrusion. He simply took the champion who was easiest to kidnap and not his daughter, which means Luke was merely unlucky. Though one could say he is fortunate that he has all of us prepared to look for me.”
Delvin joins the two women while drawing a ring from his bag and pouring warm, chocolate-flavored coffee directly into his mouth. “She has a point. We can search for him by aura, thoughts, scent, and a variety of other ways. Not to mention the spirits in his body can be used as tracking targets as well. There may be more factors in our favor than we’re failing to realize due to anger and shock. I know we’re all worried and beating ourselves up over this, but we can’t let those emotions take over. Luke needs us to stay clear-headed and strong. Any chance you can talk to your family about giving us some indirect help, Dariana?”
“I doubt they would be willing to help me.”
“Figured it was worth asking.”
Nyx gets to her feet and wanders away from the others, her attention on the feather that she is turning in her hands. A tugging at her heart draws the half-elf toward the central tower of the Lich’s castle, the stone pillar having fallen without breaking into pieces. She is mesmerized by the flickering of a yellow flame in the upper window, which becomes a roiling storm that threatens to tear the structure apart. The taste of dark magic is on her tongue and sinister voices whisper in Nyx’s ears, none of their words familiar beyond her own name. Glancing at the feather again, the channeler sees that it is burning with Luke’s aura and the threads are burrowing into her fingernails. A final phrase echoes within her mind before she loses contact with the residual magic and suddenly becomes aware of the amber energy flowing out of her nose. Wiping away the aura-infused ooze from her face, Nyx is surprised to find her friends standing directly behind her. They share hopeful expressions, which makes the half-elf blush and focus more on her mud-caked boots than the other champions.
“I think I have a plan,” she says while putting the griffin feather behind her ear. The hissing of her hair fusing to the keepsake makes her shudder at the memory of burning skin during her training years. “This will probably be dangerous in more ways than one. I’m going to break another god seal and perform a forbidden ritual that will bring Luke home. So, are you two with me or against me?”
*****
Timoran scratches his head while he stands at the edge of the river, Sari’s scent appearing to travel both with and against the current. Shielding his eyes from the sun’s glare, he hopes to see that Fizzle has had better luck. The drite is circling the area while struggling to pierce an array complicated illusions below, but none of them reveal the elusive gypsy. All he uncovers are pools, abrupt dips in the earth, and logs that will slow the barbarian down if the cloaking magic remains intact. Signaling for the dragon to search upstream, Timoran heads in the opposite direction and keeps his attention on the water. White-eyed fish and fanged eels break the surface while scrawny birds hop among the leafless branches. From across the river, a lazy alligator grunts at the champion, who it fears will steal the juicy deer still thrashing in its mouth. As the warrior continues walking, no other animals, both natural and unnatural, can be sensed in the area. The Caster Swamp is disturbingly empty for a place that is infamous for its unique creatures, which puts the champion on edge.
A thought crosses Timoran’s mind when he remembers that he is hunting a cunning thief instead of a warrior. Fearing that he has already lost too much time, the barbarian sprints back to where he parted ways with Fizzle. Spotting the hint of a red and yellow skirt, Timoran leaps over the river and runs for a moss-covered boulder. As he comes to the stone, he jumps backwards and p
lunges his hand into the murky water. Gripping what he believes is a leg, the scarred warrior hoists Sari out of her hiding place and flips her into his arms. Whistling loudly for Fizzle to return, Timoran places his friend on her feet and politely gestures for her to sit on a tree stump. He makes himself comfortable against the boulder and risks a glance at the skirt that has been draped over a small bush.
“I would have tricked you if we weren’t friends,” Sari pouts, sipping at a decanter of fae water. The gypsy sighs when Fizzle lands in her lap and nuzzles against her belly, the drite succeeding in making her smile. “If it helps, I planned on contacting all of you once I reached the academy. I just couldn’t stand around doing nothing. We know where Luke is and all of our legs work, so we can make a plan while walking.”
“I agree. Although, a plan would help us choose a direction,” Timoran points out as he tosses an apple to the drite. Satisfied that the gypsy will not run away, the towering warrior tries to remove her skirt from the thorny bush without damaging the fabric. “There are too many unknowns here. Most importantly, is he really on Shayd or in an alternate location? If we charge into the Baron’s home and find that Luke is somewhere else then he will be lost. I doubt any of us would be able to get the information out of our greatest enemy. That is if we can even win or take him alive with a champion missing. The prophecy seems to require six champions to face the Baron and it will be a fight to the death.”
“Which is why I don’t want to waste any time,” Sari insists, her frustration creating eddies in the nearby river. Drawing a stiletto from her leather and velvet boot, the gypsy stares at the vine-like design that is barely visible in the metal. “I’m well aware that this could be a trap and that we have to be cautious. Our combined destiny is bigger than Luke, but I’m having trouble focusing on that. Haven’t all of us suffered enough? It feels like every time we claim victory, it comes with some kind of loss. I don’t want that to be Luke this time.”
Timoran takes a seat next to the tree stump and gently runs a hand through the gypsy’s warm hair. “Because you love him. We all do. Losing Luke would be like having part of my heart torn from my chest. I believe part of my disbelief and confusion is because he has survived so much in such a short amount of time. Perhaps he has returned from the edge so often that I have trouble accepting that he could ever die. The revelation that such a thing could happen is not sitting well with me. Like you, it makes me desire action more than words. Yet, I know that only one champion has been capable of repeatedly acting rashly and still claiming victory. Sadly it is not me.”
“We need Luke to save Luke,” the gypsy says with a chuckle. Placing the hilt of her weapon to her forehead, Sari imagines being able to sense the forest tracker and ease his pain. “Maybe that’s why the Baron took him. If someone else was taken then Luke would act immediately and drive the rest of us forward without a second thought. Taking him away slows us down and breaks us in more ways than we initially realized. I don’t feel brave since he isn’t by my side, Timoran. It’s like the world is scarier.”
“I feel the same way.”
“I think I’m doing better now.”
“Then we should return to the others.”
“Maybe they have a plan.”
Fizzle growls and snarls at movement in the distance, the drite refusing to fly and leave his friends on the ground. The champions turn to see that a large figure is floating through the trees and devouring every animal in its path. Covered in patches of black moss, the naked corpse groans as it consumes whatever comes within reach of its long arms. Rejected by the ground, the enormous revenant is ungainly and constantly cuts itself on gnarled branches. Coagulated blood drips from the wounds, which the monster eventually pinches closed with a solid bite of its yellowed teeth. Bulbous eyes of white gaze at the trio, the creature surprised to find such unique meals in its expanding territory. Paralytic poison can be seen on its hands, which greedily stretch toward the champions and force them to the river’s edge.
Orange energy ebbing from the crimson Ring of Aintaranurh, Timoran lifts his axe and is about to charge when Sari puts a hand on his elbow. The gypsy dances and spins in place, which causes tendrils of water to rise from the river. With a snap of her fingers, the blue-haired champion sends the liquid projectiles at the approaching revenant. Sprouting icy tips, the spears drive into the creature’s hands and face, but do nothing to slow it down. Layers of frost appear on its rotten skin, which splits as the monster pushes against the thickening spears. Tapping her foot and licking her lips, Sari pumps more freezing water into the moaning beast until she fears that the river will go dry and expose more animals to the ravenous creature. Unaware that a revenant will perish if it touches the ground, the gypsy begrudgingly stands aside and allows Timoran to finish the monster off.
“That wasn’t helping relieve my frustration anyway,” Sari claims while watching her friend leap and slam his great axe into the revenant’s face. The undead monster explodes and the pieces burst into flames when they hit the dirt. “Letting off steam with a fight is probably more of a Nyx thing anyway. I always found dancing, drinking, and kissing to be better stress relievers. Those aren’t really possible in the middle of a swamp.”
“Fizzle like your way better,” the drite admits as he lands on the gypsy’s shoulder. He curls his long tail around her arm and flutters his crimson dragonfly wings as his friend walks across the river. “Not always good to be mean. You more happy than mean. Best to be you. Just like Fizzle best to be Fizzle.”
“It would be a happier world if more people followed your wisdom,” Timoran declares before leaping over the water. The barbarian stumbles forward when his right leg locks and the sensation swiftly overtakes his entire body. “It would appear that I did not avoid the revenant’s poisonous touch. This is rather embarrassing. Would either of you be able to carry me back to our friends?”
“This is a very bizarre way to show that you guys need me,” the gypsy mutters while circling her large friend. She is about to tap at his arm when Fizzle slaps her hand away with his tail. “Got it. No touching the brave and wise Snow Tiger King. It would be really bad if both of us became paralyzed out here, especially if more of those things are around. You know, the day I finally meet your wife, I’m sharing this story with her. I need to establish myself as the friend who knows all of your silly, little secrets.”
“You would do so by revealing those secrets?” asks the red-haired warrior as the corners of his lips twitch in an attempt to smile. A familiar voice reverberates in his head, the message ending with an apology for intruding. “Dariana says that Nyx has a plan, but it is too dangerous to discuss at such a distance. We need to return to the others. Perhaps you can run ahead and ask if someone can retrieve me.”
Sari rolls her eyes and draws water from the damp soil to create a layer of ice on the bottom of Timoran’s boots. With Fizzle’s tail wrapped around the warrior’s right hand bracer and the gypsy pulling on the left, the pair try to slide the heavy man along the ground. The uneven landscape makes it impossible to move more than a few inches before the barbarian needs to be raised over an obstacle. Impatience getting the best of her, Sari uses a handkerchief to close Timoran’s eyes and prevent him from watching her manipulate the river. Fizzle darts into the branches as a blast of water rockets toward the champions and sends them flying in the direction of the clearing. Submerged within the arching spout, the grinning gypsy directs their journey with thrusts of her hips and wiggles of her fingers.
“Good news is that I’m feeling better!” Sari shouts within the water. Noticing that Timoran is able to open his blue eyes, she blows him a kiss that takes the form of a bubble. “Thanks for cheering me up. I promise that the next time we stop for food, I’ll pay for your drinks and some ribs. Possibly even with my own money.”
The only response from the barbarian is a low grunt that sends a trail of bubbles through the water.
*****
Having said her piece, Nyx gnaws on a
hunk of jerky and sips at a waterskin while the others discuss her idea. She refuses to admit that she is having second thoughts about breaking a god seal even with the possibility of having permission. The last time she accomplished such a feat was by accident and resulted in her magic being sealed for days. Nyx shudders at the memory of feeling so many lives get snuffed out by her hands and takes a sloppy drink of leathery water to steady her nerves. The result is a full body convulsion of disgust and a hacking cough as the foul liquid goes down her windpipe. She drops the waterskin into her bottomless pouch and goes back to waiting on her friends. Flicking a green beetle off her shoulder, the channeler impatiently paces in a circle and starts to wonder why the others are taking so long.
The hairs on the back of Nyx’s neck rise and her arms become covered in goosebumps as a pulse of energy ripples through the clearing. She is about to ask her friends if they feel anything when she sees that they have been frozen in time. Realizing that the swamp is now silent, the half-elf’s heart pounds in her chest and she fears that the Baron is about to attack. More terror seeps into her mind when she imagines turning around and finding Luke’s tortured body dangling before her eyes. Not wanting to be caught by surprise, she conjures a flaming disc in her palm before searching for the source of the powerful spell. The snap of a twig to her left causes Nyx to hurl the fiery circle, which splits into a swarm of deadly copies that would destroy any normal enemy. Against Gabriel’s ebony platemail, the discs puff into balls of harmless smoke that create a halo around his body.
“Your friends have agreed to your idea,” the Destiny God states, ignoring the mortal’s amusing attack. He removes his black cape, which becomes a chair that he pushes towards the nervously bowing channeler. “Now, this is unique. In fact, it is quite unheard of, which is why I am granting you an audience. The Law of Influence says I cannot get involved, but nobody has ever asked for permission to do something like this. Needless to say, all of us are very curious to see how this plays out.”
Ritual of the Lost Lamb Page 3
