“In that case, I’ll kill the Tri-God and take his place,” the boy proudly declares, enjoying the rumble of thunder in the distance. His shadow appears at the end of the chasm and dances in an attempt to goad Dariana into moving faster. “I’m adding a rule. You can’t stop for more than two minutes. If you do then I’ll feed one of the kids here to the loud birds. Just shrink them down and toss them in the air like a piece of bread.”
With a snarl of disgust, Dariana moves back and attempts a running leap over the yawning gap. Realizing that she is not going to make it across, the telepath kicks out to her side and ricochets off the wall. Her blow leaves a dent in the hedges that disappears with the sound of slithering vines. The spines jut out to pierce her flesh, a few of them twisting to cause extra damage to her bare feet. Seeing crimson eyes waiting in the darkness below, she ignores the burning pain and continues bouncing from side to side until she lands next to the shadow. The ghostly creature is startled by her success and dives into the gap, which creates a loud whistle that ends with a faint thud and loud snap of hungry jaws.
Hurrying through the maze, Dariana comes to a spot that breaks into three paths. She takes a few steps into the one on the right and rushes back to dive away from a boulder. There are hundreds of chomping mouths on the stone, which swerves onto the left-hand road and hits an explosive spell. The blast sends the whimpering rock into the air and it lands on another enchanted pebble that turns half of the boulder into dust. Determined not to let any of the children die, Dariana sprints down the middle path, which is lined with blue flowers that are the size of her fist. She runs even faster when the bulbs burst open to spit orbs of lightning in her wake. The plants shrivel away when Walter realizes the trap is too slow for his fleet-footed sister.
Noticing a path branching off to her left, the silver-haired champion ducks into the narrow opening. She is immediately launched backwards by a shrieking gale of wind, which slams her against the far wall. The hedge is about to collapse when it springs back into position and hurls Dariana into the trap for a second time. Twisting as the blast hurtles toward her, the telepath jams her hands into the dirt and grabs the thick roots of the maze. She can feel her shoulders begin to dislocate before the wind dies and she flops to the ground. Rolling away from the opening, she waits a few seconds before standing and continuing down her original path. Nothing stops her progress until she hears a dull thud around the far bend, the sound repeating in a haphazard rhythm.
Dariana creeps around the turn and stops when she sees no signs of the strange noise’s source. She takes a button off her shirt and flicks it ahead, but the white circle harmlessly bounces into the hedges. The telepath takes a few cautious steps forward and pauses before daring to move a little faster. A suspicious breeze on her face warns her about a large hammer swinging from above and Dariana leaps away. Catching her breath, the champion watches it arch back into the starry sky and complete another circle. More of the giant mallets can be seen along the path and each one is going in a slightly different direction, so she crouches to look for a discernible pattern. Not wanting to run out of time, the champion inches forward and is driven back by a smaller hammer that strikes her in the chest. The impact is enough to send her rolling against the far wall, but she is lucky that none of her bones are broken. An hourglass appears above her head, warning her that her two minutes are nearly up.
Cracking her knuckles and strolling forward, Dariana releases a fraction of her power, which turns one of her eyes black. She punches the first hammer as it swings and watches it explode into a spray of metal that hisses against the hedges. The champion advances while destroying the traps one at a time, each one stopping when it is nothing more than a broken shaft. Her knuckles become bruised and bloodied as the traps are made denser and force her to hit them with bone-jarring force. An attack comes from behind, but she kicks her leg over her head to snap the mallet in half. Catching the severed head, Dariana uses it as a club and takes out the remaining traps without risking her hands. Reaching another choice of paths, she goes to the left and immediately flips away from a crushing press that appears out thin air. She considers trying to bash her way through the simple trap, but knows that it would waste time. Tossing the cracked hammer over her shoulder, Dariana jogs to her right and gets the sudden sense that she is being watched.
“I always wanted to see what one of these could do,” Walter announces when his sister comes to a wider part of the maze. He blocks the starlight and Tavon the blue moon to hide the burrowing creature’s movements. “Though, I always thought they were bigger. Good luck with the fight.”
Dariana jumps into the air to avoid whatever tries to attack her from below, two long-clawed arms erupting from the earth. Spinning around, she is confused by the short and scrawny troll that is charging at her. One of the beast’s two heads is at an odd angle that makes her think its neck is broken, but it is still functional since the mouth is mumbling gibberish. Its feet are not very wide, which she knows is bizarre even for a juvenile. The telepath leaps away from the slashing claws and darts around the monster’s side to deliver a blow to its spine. She stops before landing the strike, a faint whimper making her pity the confused and terrified troll. It is a delay that gives the creature a chance pounce and tackle Dariana to the ground. She throws the monster at the wall where the spines retract and are replaced by pillow-like blossoms, their chocolate scent making the champion’s stomach rumble. The creature falls to the ground and remains there for a few seconds in order to bawl like an upset child.
Sensing that there is more to the trap, the champion unleashes a psychic blast that shreds the illusionary predator. In its place is a terrified boy, who looks around the hedge maze as if waking from a nightmare. He is about to huddle against the bushes when Dariana rushes to move him away from the reappearing spines. The confused child clings to his savior and cries into her shirt, his words muddled by his constant wailing. The telepath is about to comfort the boy, but pauses to wonder if this is another part of the trap. She attempts to undo the tight grip on her body and get a better look at the kid when he melts into a swarm of vividly colored frogs. Before they escape into the shadows, the animals infect Dariana with a contact poison that causes her to go blind.
“Your two minutes are running out,” Walter announces, giggling at how his sister gropes her way down the path. He appears behind her, but continues to have his voice come from random directions. “You’re very strong and stubborn, which makes this fun. I think you should consider joining daddy. We could play whenever we want and he’ll give you important stuff to do when he rules the world. What can the champions give you that daddy can’t?”
“Redemption, friendship, understanding, and so much more,” Dariana answers without hesitation. She comes to a fork in the road and feels her way to the right before immediately going to the left where she knows it is safe. “You have patterns. In fact, I don’t think you’ve set any traps this way. Unlike your parents, you’re entirely reactionary. The first path I take will always have the greater danger, which pushes me to the second. We go to Bor’daruk and you’re there. Then the same happens in Visindor Forest, Gaia, and now Freedom. You never went to another location, Walter. You came here because you knew we’d be here.”
“And why would I care about that?”
“Because we can give you attention.”
“I get plenty of that.”
“Do you? Very few know you exist and that might not change if father wins.”
“Of course it will.”
“If you believe that then you’re not playing the game right.”
Dariana’s vision reappears and she finds herself standing in the play area, all of the children frozen in time. She is unnerved by the sight of one girl stuck in midair, the child having leapt from a nearby swing. Walter is standing on the brick wall and tapping his foot to create tremors that roll toward the ocean. Distant ships are tipped over, the sailors’ shouts for help reaching the shore until they are cut off
by a single scream. Gulls move through the sky in slow motion, every beat of their wings taking a minute to complete. Not wanting to antagonize her brother, the telepath moves carefully and remains on her guard in case she has to act quickly. With a sucking inhale from the boy, waves crash into the other side of the manor and explode into a barrier of mist that lingers until he wants to hear the relaxing boom again.
“I’ll give you this win and leave the mortals’ spawn alone. None of them look very tasty anyway,” Walter declares while licking his lips. He hunkers down and sprouts a reptilian tail that slaps the wall, the impacts leaving dents in the stone. “Know that everything I do next is your fault. You made me mad and I’m going to prove that I can make things happen. The champions will react to me. Not the other way around.”
“If you keep pushing then I will have to stop you,” Dariana says before a blast of wind knocks her into a slide. She is shoved to the top and sent thudding down the wooden stairs, the earth becoming mud as she lands. “You are very strong and cunning, but that doesn’t mean you’re unbeatable. Please don’t force my hand, Walter. There’s no reason for you to be like our father or Stephen. I know you can be-”
“Bored again!”
Putting on his charred ring, Walter claps his hands and unfreezes all of the children before disappearing in a puff of freshly cut grass. Instead of moving, the gulls drop into the water and are devoured by giant bass that continue to lurk in the shallows. The kids stare at Dariana, none of them remembering her being there a second ago. She looks at her clothes to find that she is wearing the fancy dress again, the garment covered in mud and torn at both shoulders. A weak smile is all she can muster before heading back into the hedge maze where she can be alone with her thoughts and worries.
11
Luke awakens and is surprised to find himself standing among green-leafed trees, the smell of damp grass bringing joy to his heart. Hoping that his captivity and torture were nothing more than a nightmare, the half-elf looks around for his friends. The other champions are nowhere to be seen, their absence making him fear that he is hallucinating. Spotting the side of a large building, he sprints through the forest, which is devoid of birds or even the slightest breeze. Luke flips into the flaking branches to gain enough height for a wind-boosted leap to the top of a long wall. A curse slips from his lips when he looks down at the forked peak of the Widowhorn, his eyes spotting many horned spiders wandering through the distant shadows. The champion is tempted to step off the edge and plummet in order to wake from a dream that he assumes will become a nightmare. Before he can act, wisps of smoke drift from below and a noxious scent makes him cover his mouth. His eyes water with burning tears until he steps away from the edge and takes a cleansing breath. The sensation steadily fades away and is replaced by the aroma of blooming flowers, which seep from the thick cracks in the wall.
“Welcome home, foolish champion,” a wispy voice says from the sky. The Brocken Dragon’s antlered head looms out of the clouds and yawns, the beast’s forked tongue sliding out in search of moisture. “I have been watching you suffer and given you what little strength I can afford to sacrifice. The Garden of Uli has been targeted, so I cannot go to you. Not that protecting the champion is my job. The guardians exist to watch over the temples while our masters continue along their path.”
“What do I have to do?” Luke asks, staring at his hands. Dirt and scabbed-over wounds flicker on his flesh before disappearing. “I don’t know how long I can last. He took my friends who have been giving me their strength for so long. I’m starting to forget what it was like to not feel pain. Every time I think I’ve found a way out, the Baron hurts me more. All I can do is scream and watch those I care about get killed. The chances of me being rescued are so bad that I’m having trouble believing it will happen.”
“Our enemy is a sadistic monster,” the dragon admits, revealing its serpentine body. A shiver of its light green feathers releases a gentle rain upon the battered land below. “Though you are proving to be very resilient. You should have more faith in yourself and always believe that you will be saved. The fact that you are able to send part of your mind here is proof that you still have strength.”
“I don’t think this was intentional,” the half-elf claims while he watches the clouds move back and forth. He can hear distant voices, none of them clear enough for him to recognize or understand. “All I wanted was to escape the Baron and I ended up here. I’m not sure how to get back either.”
The guardian chuckles at Luke’s confusion, the beast not knowing any other reaction to have. “It is probably for the best. Staying here while your body is torn apart may keep you alive and sane until the others save you. At least that is what I would think. The intricacies of mortal minds has never been an interest of mine. You seem uncomfortable, master. If you wish to wander through the Garden, I shall continue my duties.”
Luke nods his head and is about to speak when a shiver runs along his spine, the violent motion threatening to crack all of his vertebrae. Once he has calmed down, the forest tracker moves to rub at his saber hilts, but finds that his treasured weapons are missing. A jolt of clarity consumes his mind and the sky turns black, the clouds warping as they spit claw-like lightning into the distance. For the first time, Luke notices that his shirt is covered in burn marks and his pants are shredded to his upper thighs. Throbbing blisters are on his chest, the wounds hurting if he pays them more than a second of attention. Facing the Garden of Uli, he shudders at the sight of winged spiders gliding in the distance. Hummingbirds and butterflies are a more soothing sight, the small creatures gathering around his glittering castle’s spires. There is still an uncomfortable pressure in the air that makes the half-elf sink to his knees and come close to toppling off the wall.
“You can feel the invaders coming,” the Brocken Dragon states before unleashing a blast of foam-tinged water. The waves churn through the trees and faint silhouettes can be seen flailing in the flood. “I do not know who leads them or what business they have in the Garden. All I know is that these creatures carry a burning rage. They have riled the resident spirits too, so I cannot depend on your other servants to be rational.”
“I know,” Luke whispers, abruptly finding himself back on the ground. The small portals appear around him and he backs against a gnarled tree, the bark growing tendrils that fail to grab him. “The Baron is making me watch everything that happens. I’ve managed to fight most of his spells, but never in time to look away. Paralysis, full awareness, unblinking sight, and so many other enchantments that he pumps into me. It takes so long to break them. I think he lets me win those small victories, but I’m not sure why.”
The dragon brings its nose a few inches from the champion and sticks out its dry tongue to taste the air. “You are weakening from exhaustion. This conversation has proven to be too much and you have my apologies for letting it continue for so long. I almost forgot that you refused your full power, which I still maintain was a mistake. If you had agreed to the griffin’s request then the Baron would have chosen another target. He sees you as the weakest of the champions and will not rest until you break.”
“Then, I simply have to prove both of you wrong.”
“I sincerely hope you do.”
“That would amuse me as well,” the Baron says as he rises behind Luke. The warlord waves his gloved hand at the Brocken Dragon, sending the mighty guardian slamming into solidified clouds and then crashing into the forest. “That was easier than expected. Although, we are not on the physical plane where that beast would be a greater threat. I assume it is already shaking off my attack and returning to its duties. Did you enjoy your time away?”
Feeling invigorated by the energy of his temple, Luke charges at the Baron and tries to throw a punch. His fist strikes the immortal’s jaw and breaks the bone, which heals with a sickening pop. The half-elf leaps away from his enemy’s backhand, but the wind coming off the blow shoves him back. Another gust sends pebbles into his face and his att
empt to use his sound sight fails due to his physical ears being damaged. By the time Luke’s eyes open, the Baron is in front of him and drawing his rapier. The blade drives into the champion’s stomach and explodes into shards that shred his insides. Gasping and coughing, the warrior collapses and shudders at the sensation of spectral blood pouring from his gut. He is unable to fight back as the Baron lifts him by the throat and presses him against the gnarled tree, which sprouts thick vines to bind the prisoner.
“Please stop,” Luke whispers in a faltering voice. He swallows a scream when his tattered flesh is repaired, but the visceral pain of being eviscerated remains. “You’ve made your point that I can’t escape or fight back. I’ll wait for my friends to come for me. Tell me when to scream and I’ll do it until my lungs fail. Give me water and I’ll shed enough tears to fill an ocean. All I ask is that you please leave those I love alone. None of them have anything to do with my destiny.”
“I agree, but my son thinks differently,” the Baron casually replies while adjusting the floating mirrors. One of them catches his attention and he runs his finger around the golden frame, which shines at his touch. “That is an interesting alliance. I may need to have Yola move you away from Shayd and take over the torturing. Having only one champion arrive at my doorstep is not a result I am interested in pursuing. That gypsy is a curious source of trouble that puts my plans for you in danger. I will have to redirect their path and that requires more energy than I wished to expend. Perhaps it will be simpler to send a demon to devour your first lover, which would scare the others back to where I want them to be.”
Ritual of the Lost Lamb Page 21
