Ritual of the Lost Lamb

by Charles E Yallowitz

  Theresa grins and pulls on the lace ribbon, which evaporates as soon as it is untied. “I’m glad you asked, Mr. Cunningham. Selenia gave me instructions to follow in case she was either killed or captured by an enemy. I was to wait until you arrived before I brought this out and ruined your day. It’s her will.”

  “No,” the champion states, refusing to take the scroll. Not wanting to be near the document, he gets to his feet and leans on Bolt’s stall until the horse shoves him to the side. “I know what that’s going to say. She never told me, but I always had a feeling she would leave this place to me. I should have talked to her about my worries before she made it official. Why did you have to do this? Selenia is going to be back as soon as we win the battle. Giving me her will isn’t necessary.”

  “You’re probably right, but she still wants you to read this. Doesn’t matter if she dies, comes back, or even retires,” the calico argues as her companion begins pacing. She leaps off her perch and follows the man, which she knows annoys him. “Her orders were to give this to you as soon as possible. I don’t know why. Given the current situation, she might want you to know what you’re fighting for. Honestly, only Kevin and Duggan could truly understand Selenia and neither of them are here.”

  Delvin stops short and grunts when Theresa walks into him, the impact sending both of them stumbling in opposite directions. He whirls around to yell and is quickly silenced by the calico jamming the will into his mouth. The important document falls to the ground as the champion tries to leave, but a yank on his arm pulls him back. Again, he finds himself with the scroll, this time tucked into his shirt collar. Struggling to escape, he cringes when the parchment’s edge cuts him and leaves a burning scratch. With a rough jerk, Delvin frees his wrist and throws the will into the nearest pen where it lands next to a nervous mare. Theresa is about to retrieve it when the scroll dissolves and reappears in the champion’s hand. She laughs as her former partner repeatedly tries to get rid of the document, including tossing it into a water barrel. It returns to him every time until he surrenders and stuffs the will in his pouch.

  “That woman knows me far too well,” Delvin says, trying not to join in the laughter. He takes a seat on the hay-covered ground and wipes a single tear from his cheek. “She isn’t just my mentor and role model. Selenia Hamilton has been my mother for most of my life. Kevin used to joke that she birthed me through my training. Guess he was right. I can’t bring myself to believe there will be a day where she isn’t here.”

  “Then don’t and focus on saving her,” Theresa replies before flipping onto a stall door. She walks along the narrow beams while ignoring the snorting horses. “That woman always loved to test you. Remember when we worked together and she gave you a job? It was rescuing one of her students from the Caster Swamp, which she could have done herself. The whole thing was to see how you would act when she was your employer instead of your teacher. Think of this as her wanting to see how you would act when she needs a rescue.”

  “She didn’t create this test.”

  “The catalyst isn’t as important as how you perceive the situation.”

  “This feels like a mean trick designed to make me accept something that I’m not ready for.”

  “Unless you’re wrong about what’s in that will since you haven’t read it.”

  “I told you that I know what it says.”

  Theresa leaps high into the air and flips into the rafters, the calico smirking at the sight of a retreating mouse. “Because you’re never wrong? I could stand here and list all the times your guesses got us into trouble, but we have a battle coming soon. There’s always the chance that she changed it once you became a champion. Not to mention, Selenia could easily outlive you with that great darkness you’re going to face. The only way to know for sure is to open the scroll and read.”

  Rubbing his chin, Delvin stares blankly at Theresa and lets his breathing slow to the point where his exhaustion attempts to overtake him. Jolting out of his trance, the warrior shake his head clear and storms out of the stables. He waves to the students as he passes by and tosses an apple to Fizzle, which prevents the drite from following him. Spotting a swordsman with a weak stance, the champion silently helps the young man before continuing on his way. Sensing that something is wrong with their leader, the more experienced warriors stop what they are doing and watch Delvin enter the administrative building. They return to their tasks only after a door slams from inside and pieces of wood fall from the damaged upper floor.

  *****

  Nyx quietly stands over a grassy bump that is covered in emerald flowers that bloom all year round. She frowns as she untangles Luke’s aura from a thick soup of energies that include Stiletto and Kira. Her mind wandering, the channeler wonders if the neat pile of bones next to the gravesite are tributes from students or the remains of a local predator’s kill. If it is a collection of gifts then she finds it strange since most of the current class are too young to have ever met the dog. With a growl, Nyx pushes the distracting thoughts away and continues absorbing the residual magic. Blonde streaks appear in her ebony hair, her natural tresses shimmering in opposition to the invasive energy. A low hiss reminds the half-elf of escaping steam and she becomes faintly aware of a haze at the edge of her vision. She falls to her knees before she can turn to a blurry figure, the hulking form of Timoran swiftly coming back into view.

  “Here is the potion, fire sprite,” the barbarian says, helping his friend drink the orange liquid. When Nyx leaps to her feet and gently slaps at her cheeks, the red-haired warrior cannot stop himself from chuckling. “It appears those who follow Durag are highly skilled at making potions. Do you need some time to rest?”

  “I feel like I can run around the academy and still have the energy to climb every building twice,” Nyx admits as she does a cartwheel. The action does not strike her as odd until she is done and has trouble remembering where she learned such a graceful maneuver. “This ritual is getting stranger by the day. It’s like I’m stealing my little brother’s parts and all I need is enough power to get more of him. Thankfully, I still think like myself, which means there isn’t a threat of me actually becoming him. Although, I do seem to get distracted easily.”

  “Fizzle suggested you becoming a replacement, so it is comforting to hear you say the opposite,” Timoran admits while placing his hand on the grave. Closing his eyes, he utters a prayer to Uli for the safety of Luke and the spirits. “Delvin’s words are haunting me. I know that Luke and Selenia are related, but the attack does not feel like it involves that relationship. We are so focused on one set of connections that we might be ignoring the others, which puts all of our loved ones in danger. The Baron has an advantage over us in this regards. He has nobody to worry about since his only remaining child is his enemy.”

  Nyx joins her friend and takes advantage of the barbarian crouching by tussling his hair, an act she can never pull off when he stands at his full height. “I guess that’s one of the prices of being a hero. We have to worry about others because it’s in our nature and the right thing to do. I know she wants to wait, but you should push Dariana to contact Tigris when we get back. Maybe I can help her get through whatever is giving her telepathy a hard time. That will put your mind at ease and help you focus for the battle. She can even ask Trinity to visit Stonehelm and check for trouble.”

  “I guess my wife does have a powerful ally nearby that our other friends lack.”

  “One that the Baron doesn’t know about too.”

  “But Yola does if she is the one we are facing.”

  “I have my doubts about that since this attack is too . . . normal.”

  The sound of a snapping branch causes the champions to freeze and slowly turn toward the forest. An antlered shadow can be seen in the distance, but the animal is heading away from the academy. For the first time since arriving at the school, the pair become keenly aware that there is no birdsong or rustling from smaller beasts in the forest. The few conifers in the area have
a sickly shade to their needles, some of which fall loose whenever the wind blows. An icy chill is steadily consuming the region and forces the champions to rub their arms for warmth. Neither consider returning to the academy, even when the clouds unleash a gentle snowstorm that coats Visindor in a layer of white. Staring at the clouds, they can see lightning dancing along the edges and into the distance.

  “Someone is going to die,” Nyx whispers as she reaches out to touch a young oak. The bark crinkles beneath her fingers and falls away to reveal moist pulp. “Not sure if it will be here, but we’re going to lose people before this adventure is over. The Baron will continue taking from us until we stop him. To be honest, I don’t think any of us are going to reach the end of our path in one piece. Maybe the champion who dies will be the lucky one.”

  “A foolish sentiment that I have heard before,” Timoran replies, scooping some snow into his palm. The flakes fall through his fingers until he crushes the rest in his fist, cold water dripping onto Stiletto’s grave. “We are born to live and not to envy the dead. Their story has ended while ours continues, which allows us to create more memories and enjoy more brighter days. The afterlife holds a reward of peace and stability, but there will always be something missing. The dead never truly grow and can only watch the living grow. Why do you think there are so many angry spirits that appear in the world?”

  “Or why some ghosts are used as messengers,” the channeler adds with a faint smirk. She touches her ears, one of which is more sensitive than the other. “None of this should surprise me, but it isn’t like we’ve had a lot of losses in the past. Almost like we’ve been shielded from the worst, which may have made us weaker. Just the thought of losing so much of my family makes me sick.”

  “Then put it out of your mind,” the barbarian suggests, holding up his hand as soon as his companion glares. Pointing at the academy, Timoran urges Nyx to turn around and watch the students prepare for the inevitable attack. “Such thoughts do us no good. In fact, they only open us to more pain. Being raised as a caster, you might not understand the mentality a person needs to enter battle. Watch those before you and tell me what you see.”

  Coating her body in a layer of flame to stave off the cold, Nyx stares at the academy where the students are finishing their chores for the day. There is no hesitation in their movements and some on top of the wall have begun throwing snowballs at those below. It reminds Nyx of her younger days when she would try to join the other kids in their games. The rules always changed, which made things frustrating for an apprentice trained to follow the basic laws of magic. She smirks when she realizes that things would have been different if she knew about her channeler nature and how it meant she was an exception to nearly every rule she learned. Nyx’s thoughts are broken by a chorus of screams erupting from one of the archer posts that is immediately engulfed in a barrage of snowfalls launched by a catapult. The bellow of Thomas’s voice stops the goofing off, the sergeant instructor getting cut off as he is pelted by those on the wall.

  “They’re relaxed and enjoying life,” the half-elf says, eyeing her companion to see if she is right. He merely stares ahead and gives her no sign of agreement or denial. “This is one of those questions that has a different answer for every person, right? Fine, I see what you’re trying to tell me. Fearing the pain and loss that comes with a battle means entering it with doubt. Warriors are trained to control these emotions while casters are taught to consider the consequences of their spells. Yet, I have to stand in both roles because I’m a champion. I can’t afford to hold back, especially when we’re so close to the end of our path.”

  “An interesting viewpoint,” Timoran states as he watches a lithe figure clamber down the wall. Whoever is leaving the academy pauses to scan the distance before sprinting toward Stiletto’s grave. “I merely meant to point out that those who know death is coming are better off enjoying the time they have left. Plan to survive into the future, but do not forget to live in the present. It appears something has happened in our absence, fire sprite.”

  Nyx steps forward to greet Theresa, who snatches the channeler by the wrist and drags her toward the academy. The calico is muttering under her breath and blindly beckons over her shoulder in case Timoran is unsure if he should follow. A searing heat ripples along her palm, forcing the impatient warrior to let go and snarl at the temperamental champion. Not wanting her flesh to blister, Theresa crouches and places her hand in the snow. She rolls her eyes at how the half-elf taps her foot and knows without looking up that there is an expectant scowl bearing down on the back of her head.

  “We think Delvin had a breakdown,” Theresa says, her voice dripping with frustration. She heads for the open gates, which are currently being reinforced with metal rods. “Selenia told me to give him her will in case she was captured. This was to be done immediately instead of waiting to see if we could rescue her. This way there would be no gap in leadership if the worst happens. As far as I know, Delvin hasn’t read it, but he was claiming to know what it says. We argued until he got whiny and locked himself in Kevin’s office. Nobody can get him to talk or open the door.”

  “Not sure if I’m his mother or his fiancée right now,” Nyx groans while cracking her knuckles. She rubs the autumnal-colored ring on her finger and watches a flame appear in the flat diamond. “I swear, he better not do this when we’re married. Last thing I want is a husband who is more trouble than the kids.”

  *****

  Not wanting to use force, Nyx transforms into a white mist and flows under the door. She remains on the floor while looking for Delvin, but being nothing more than a shifting pool makes it impossible to locate him. There are papers scattered about the floor, the mess caused either by Delvin letting off some anger or Kevin refusing to clean his office. A creaking chair from the other side of the desk causes the channeler to reform in a low crouch. Remaining still and quiet, it strikes her as odd that she is trying to sneak up on her fiancée like he is an enemy. Nyx is not sure where the instinct has come from, but carefully resists the urge to creep around the large desk. Grabbing a fallen chair, she gets to her feet and immediately clenches her fist at the sight before her.

  “Wake up, Delvin!” she shouts at the slumbering warrior. She scowls at how he mumbles and turns his head away, one of his bare feet slipping off the desk. “Everyone is worried about you. They think you’re having a mental breakdown in here. Instead, you’re taking a nap that my father would be proud of. Why did you lock yourself in here?”

  “Because I’m asleep and don’t want to be disturbed,” Delvin replies, cracking an eye open to see if the half-elf is smiling. He can see the corner of her lips twitch as she tries not to give him any satisfaction. “I came in here to read the will in private and think about the future. The joke is on me though because the damn thing won’t unroll. So, I sat down to enjoy the quiet and solitude. You might not believe me, but this chair is very comfortable. No wonder Kevin sleeps more than he works. Come to think of it, I don’t even know if he has a room aside from this one.”

  “So, you’re not having a breakdown and the will is magically sealed?” Nyx asks as she processes what has been said. The half-elf walks around the desk and clears a corner for her to sit on, the papers and scrolls falling to the floor. “I doubt he’ll notice the extra mess. You realize I’m supposed to be talking or beating some sense into you, right? Now we’re locked in an office and you’ve effectively taken the wind out of my sails.”

  “Maybe I can put more wind in your sails with a kiss,” the warrior suggests, cringing at his own words. The flick to the side of his head leaves a small welt that he shifts his hair to cover. “I deserved that. Let’s enjoy the peace and quiet for a bit. Both of us are under a lot of pressure and could use the break.”

  With an impish smile, the channeler leans forward and gives her companion a kiss on the forehead. “It’s pretty weird to make out in my dad’s office, but I do know of another thing we can do. I promise it will be fun and safe. Stay
right there and give me a minute.”

  Nyx grabs two wooden cups and dumps the inky quills into an empty box before casting a cleansing spell. Leaving the glasses on the desk, she meticulously hunts around the cluttered shelves and filing cabinets. She tries her best not to make too big of a mess, but eventually gives up and lets the dusty paperwork fall. The half-elf pauses when she bumps into Kevin’s cane, which thuds to the paper-covered floor. Taking it in her hands, Nyx is suddenly struck by the possibility that she might not see her father again. Her fingers run along the polished wood, which has small dents that she can imagine came from the veteran knocking a mouthy student on the head. Refusing to believe she could lose him so soon after they were reunited, the determined champion clutches the wooden rod and continues her search. A glint of glass catches her attention and she uses the hook of the cane to pry a narrow bottle of whiskey out from between two cabinets.

  “It’s not the Masterson brand and it’s half full, but this should do,” Nyx declares, returning to pour the drinks. She waits for Delvin to take a sip before trying it herself, the harshness not as bad as she expected. “Don’t get any funny ideas here. I’m more of a brawling drunk then a flirty one. Not that I’m in the mood to drink too much. So . . . Selenia told the rest of us that she’ll be leaving the academy to you and made us promise not to say anything. At least she implied that we had to remain silent.”

  “That sounds like her. Can’t say the whole thing surprises me either,” Delvin admits while swirling his drink. He finishes it in a single gulp and gasps for air as the strong alcohol burns his throat. “I’ll take another and stop there. Thanks. It isn’t that I’m scared of taking over the academy or being in Selenia’s shadow. She trained me well enough to know what I’m doing and I’ve carved out my own reputation over the years. My problem stems from something that is harder to wrap my head around.”