Ritual of the Lost Lamb

by Charles E Yallowitz

  “We agreed that I speak first about demons and Nyx,” Aedyn reports as he sits and gives his lower back a rest. The mechanical joints in his legs creak as he flexes them, the motion helping to relax the connected muscles. “First, we understand your protectiveness of Nyx, so do not think we are ignoring your feelings. Now, I am confident that she could defeat the Hellfire Elf with very little effort. It is clear that she had no intention of keeping it as a servant, so her magic was more than enough to send it back to the Chaos Void. There is also the mentality of the demon to consider. Something I learned long ago in Vorgabog is that these creatures have families and may not be as monstrous as we believe. In fact, they can be oddly emotive if left in our world for too long. My curiosity has led me to have numerous conversations with Lord Gideon and Lady Adara on this topic. They have repeatedly said that a summoned demon is usually only as dangerous as the orders it is given. You could summon a Spurge to guard a flock of sheep if you felt it was necessary. The only danger is that an unnamed demon will rebel against a weaker master, which would not be this situation considering what Nyx is capable of. Does any of this help to ease your concerns?”

  “It’s still a risk and doesn’t change the fact that she lied to me,” Delvin replies, crossing his arms and sitting on the bed. The chess pieces fall over, so he carefully goes about putting them back before moving away. “I might have failed to mention that I asked her to contact Casandra and she faked a conversation. Right in front of my face too. My point is that she’s not running all of her ideas by us. We’re supposed to be working together in this ritual.”

  “But she is the one who carries the burden,” Timoran states as he moves the game. With a smile, the barbarian puts his hands on the other warrior’s shoulders and looks him in the eye. “In my humble opinion, I think you should relax and give Nyx some leeway. She is under a lot of pressure and the ritual might be affecting her. For all we know, Luke’s recklessness is enhancing her desire to save him. Even if that is not the case, people do foolish things in these situations and can become defensive. You cornered her at a time when she was confused and possibly too vulnerable to think straight. Also, she may have feared that you would try to stop her from continuing.”

  “In other words, you think I’m wrong,” the brown-haired warrior says with a sigh. He slips out of the barbarian’s grip and steps into a breeze drifting through the open doorway. “And you’re right to some extent. I shouldn’t have yelled and pushed her into a corner. We’re all under stress, but Nyx has it worse. As her fiancée, I need to be there for her and not make the situation worse. Still, I contend that she needs to talk to us about these decisions.”

  “Her dishonesty is worrisome, but Nyx has tried such things before,” Timoran points out, remembering the channeler’s previous attempts at subterfuge that ended in failure. Running a finger along his shoulder scar, the towering figure sits on the bed, which threatens to give beneath his weight. “I agree that she should not be doing such dangerous and questionable things without telling us. Yet, there is no reason to start a fight over what has turned out to be a small mistake. If the Hellfire Elf escaped or Luciana’s feelings were truly hurt then you would be justified. As it stands, neither happened.”

  A sudden impact shakes the pink-painted door to the tower stairs and the three men jump in surprise. They can hear a tussle and a few grunts of exertion outside, the noises ending in a strange buzz and a dull thud. Kellia pushes her way into the bedroom with Nyx draped over her shoulder, the half-elf rubbing the top of her head. The channeler is dumped on the bed where she curls into a ball and pretends to have fallen asleep. With a roll of her eyes, the well-dressed noblewoman pinches her old friend on the thigh to jolt her into a sitting position. A duet of snores causes everyone to pause, their attention briefly moving to the pair who continue to sleep in the corner.

  “She was eavesdropping,” Kellia says, putting her arm around Nyx. Feeling the other woman tense, she shakes her head to stop Delvin from getting closer. “I believe she has something important to say to you. I’ll pick up Fizzle and Timoran will take Dariana. Your friends will be staying with Aedyn and myself. I get the feeling this is supposed to be a private conversation.”

  “Not entirely,” Nyx claims as she slides off the bed. Keeping her head down, the channeler runs her finger along the line of blood on her dress. “I’m sorry for what I did today. Whether it’s the ritual or not, I went too far. Nobody was hurt, but one wrong decision could have changed that. For the rest of the ritual, I won’t make any big decisions without talking to the rest of you first. Again, I’m sorry.”

  “We believe you, fire sprite,” Timoran whispers, patting her on the head. Handing the half-elf a flask from his belt, the barbarian grabs his crumpled bedroll and goes to get Dariana. “We will see both of you in the morning. Over a nice breakfast, we will decide as a group if we travel to the Garden of Uli or Haven. Sleep well, my friends.”

  Delvin and Nyx refuse to look at each other until the others are gone, the silence lasting for an extra minute. Using the balcony door as a barrier, they change for bed and remain quiet until they are under the heavy blanket. The couple stare at the ceiling where the faded remains of pink stars and pudgy dragon pictures remain against a night sky background. Delvin takes Nyx’s hand, which is pulled away before she rolls onto her side. Due to the small size of the bed, she nearly falls to the floor and is eventually forced to face the other direction. She bites her lower lip and rubs her amethyst necklace while staring at the unfinished osprey brand on her fiancée’s chest.

  “I’d do this for you too,” Nyx whispers, reaching out to gently trace the marking. “Please don’t think that I wouldn’t.”

  “I believe you and I’m sorry if I came off as jealous. That wasn’t my intention,” the warrior admits as he shifts to get more comfortable. His eyes fall on the exposed part of Nyx’s new scar, which is bright pink and still spotted with blood. “Although, I have had questions from time to time. There are moments I see the bond you have with Luke and wonder if it’s stronger than what we have. I know there’s nothing romantic between you two, but the way you lose it whenever he’s in danger makes me worry. Recently, it has made me consider some frightening questions. Like, what if we can’t get Luke back? Will you be able to continue fighting without him?”

  “Those aren’t questions that I want to answer tonight.”

  “I understand, but I only want you to know why I’m worried.”

  “Are you afraid that this ritual will take me away from you?”

  “It’s crossed my mind.”

  “Mine too.”

  Delvin takes her fingers and kisses them in the hopes of making her smile. “Seems we’re on the same page and ready to learn from our mistakes. I think it’s important for the rest of us to take as much pressure off you as possible. So you promise to talk to me before making a decision and I promise to follow your lead. The only time I’ll argue is if I think you’re going too far.” A gentle snore causes the warrior to look up and see that Nyx is fast asleep. “I’m starting to suspect that you cast sleep spells on yourself to get out of these talks. Love you, Nyx. I really hope you know what you’re doing.”

  12

  The humid jungle is a welcomed relief from the wintery northern lands, but the three travelers have no time to enjoy the scenery. Warbling birdcalls echo throughout the trees while monkeys hoot at anything they see as a threat to their territory. Silently prowling among the shadows, a spotted jungle cat stops and hisses in response to the scent of death that is wafting off the group. Remembering her last visit to the southern jungles, Sari cannot shake a sense of mild paranoia. Although the Order of the Kehryhor is believed to have been wiped out, she would not be surprised to find a few remnants of the group who have sworn to kill all Feykin. It takes two hours for the gypsy to stop jumping at every movement in the branches, which is never anything more dangerous than a colorful bird or curious lizard. Making sure that her powers are still working in t
he sweltering heat, Sari repeatedly creates beads of ice on her skin. The result is a constant coating of goosebumps on her bare arms and a few wisps of vapor that drift off her body.

  Having taken the lead, Kira wipes at her drenched brow while doing her best to hack through the thick foliage with her sickle. Slicing the sleeves and midriff off one of her shirts has done nothing to help with the humidity, her bronze skin disgustingly slick to the touch. It does not help that the Lich constantly mocks her exhaustion, the bodiless creature declaring that a person from the desert should be used to such temperatures. The barrage of threats that she has unleashed has had no effect since the necrocaster is happy to remind her that she would only be hurting Nimby. Kira decides it is best not to mention that injuring the halfling is only a problem because they need his help and she refuses to carry him. Stopping to let a large constrictor slither by, the heiress takes a moment to have a drink and check the edge of her weapon. The sound of muttering causes her to turn around and glare at the halfling.

  “Stop causing trouble, Tyler,” Nimby snaps, cutting off the heiress. The thief pulls a metal rod out of his pocket, slips it between his exposed bones, and rattles it like he is angrily ringing a dinner bell. “I know you hate it when I do this. Not fun for me, but giving you a spiritual headache is worth the pain.”

  “All I was doing was singing an old song from my clan,” the Lich declares in a high-pitched voice. He slaps the rod away and yanks the halfling’s ear with enough force to cause a yelp. “I am allowed to miss some of my old life. Mostly the food and singing, which were superb. Not the feeling of powerlessness and knowing I will never be more than an outcast in a much larger world. Please start leading us west because there is a place I wish to see before we reach our destination.”

  “Care to tell us what the detour is about?” Sari asks, switching places with Kira. Noticing the other woman’s flushed cheeks, she pulls enough moisture out of the air to create a cooling rain above her friend’s head. “I figure it’s better to be soaked with water than sweat. Maybe we can refill our waterskins when we reach this first stop. Though, I’d much rather keep going to the grove and summon General Vile.”

  “This place is a surprise.”

  “You never answer our questions.”

  “Very well. The next one you ask will be answered.”

  “Are you the gypsy who married a naiad and fathered my lineage?”

  The bronze ring shimmers and Nimby’s eyes close, the halfling plunged into a sudden slumber. As if being born from the midday heat, a ghostly figure steps out of the jungle and moves as if combing his hair. The specter’s details are difficult to make out beyond a sneering grin and the tattered edges of clothing similar to that worn by male gypsies on their first day of marriage. He walks ahead to keep the group moving, Nimby obediently trailing behind like a drooling zombie. A green spark appears on the phantom’s face and splits to create two orbs that are similar in shape and shade to Sari’s eyes.

  “Gabriel seems to enjoy binding the opposing sides of a prophecy,” the Lich explains, spitting out the god’s name like it is bile. The phantom runs his hand through a tree, which causes the green leaves to wrinkle. “Though, I don’t think he knew exactly what I would do. He put myself and Metis on the same path, but may have expected me to raise our child after my wife’s death. Instead, I left my son to the rest of my family and turned on the clan. After all, the Grand Matron is the one who caused me pain. It felt like an insult to stay there and I accepted that vengeance would result in my exile. I wouldn’t look too much into it. You and I are as close as that mossy rock is to the mountains in the north.”

  “It’s possible that Gabriel did expect you to turn on the clan,” Kira interjects as she grabs Nimby by the collar. The sudden yank wakes the halfling and the ghost disappears back into the ring, a chill roiling in the thief’s gut. “If you hadn’t gone against your clan and become a Lich then you would never have met the Baron. Then you wouldn’t have ended up going after Kellia, which is what brought you into conflict with Luke. That event is what put him onto the path of a champion and may have even started the final stage of the prophecy. Can’t believe I’m having this discussion with the monster who keeps trying to kill my fiancée. Forget all I said. The world would be a better place if you never existed.”

  “I don’t think I’d be alive if that was the case,” Sari points out, hoping to ease the growing tension.

  “Interesting how she makes it about the Callindor and you make it about you,” the necrocaster whispers before Nimby rattles his bones. A guttural snarl rips from the halfling’s throat, but nobody is sure who created the sound. “Stop doing that, thief. I’m simply making an observation.”

  “You’re trying to start trouble,” Nimby retorts while getting a fresh roll of gauze out of his pouch. Wrapping the possessed limb as tight as possible helps to silence the Lich, the muffled complaints fairly easy to ignore. “Part of me feels like I should apologize for him since he’s in my body. I wish I knew what he really wants. Sometimes he displays hatred toward the Baron for abandoning him, but other times he is declaring his loyalty. It’s one of the reasons I sleep with manacles binding my arms and legs. There’s less chance of him doing something without my knowledge.”

  Kira wipes the fresh layer of sweat from her face and rubs the sting from her eyes as she says, “Honestly, I think you deserve it. You killed Fritz and nearly did the same to Luke. Then you disappeared instead of trying to make amends. Not only to Luke, but everyone else who you hurt. Aedyn still has trouble hearing your name and I’m willing to bet Nyx won’t be happy if she sees you again. As for myself, the only reason I haven’t attacked you is because we need you to reach Shayd. Once that’s done, I can’t promise I’ll be nice.”

  “That’s an unfair fight since I’d never hurt you. Doing so would cause Luke pain and I refuse to do that again,” the halfling replies, his eyes darting toward Sari. He winces as the gauze bursts into flames and falls away, the Lich cackling at his success. “My reasons for doing what I did were complicated. Luke had enough on his mind and I would have brought more trouble to his doorstep. Besides, I gave him a chance to live that would have worked better if Aedyn was there like I thought he’d be. In the end, Luke bounced back from my betrayal. Can’t say the same about what Sari put him through. You can tell that he’s still hurting from the mess that started when she showed up.”

  The gypsy creates a muzzle of ice on the halfling’s mouth and a matching sleeve over his arm to stop the Lich from talking. Looking at Kira, she sees a flicker of anguish that she fears is aimed at her. As close as they have become, Sari knows that a part of them will always be jealous or angry toward each other. Not to mention, her guilt about getting involved is still buried deep within her battered psyche. Remembering her fate in Dariana’s illusionary world, the champion wonders if the telepath used her hidden feelings as inspiration. The icy coldness around her heart and the use of her immovability to stop it from breaking makes her consider that such things are already happening in some form. Unable to look directly at Kira, Sari focuses on moving faster through the jungle and reaching their destination before nightfall.

  Their silent march comes to an abrupt end when they step out the jungle and into a large clearing. Small trees and vine-covered bushes have sprouted among hundreds of shacks that are nothing more than charred husks. Pottery shards and shredded toys are scattered about the area, which the three travelers find themselves unwilling to enter. In the distance are the remains of an enormous fig tree that has toppled over and, at one point, had been set on fire. Curls of smoke can still be seen wafting off the trunk that has been turned black and ashy. The cracked lip of an earthen well is under part of the dead tree and the exposed roots that have segments of underground tunnels dangling from their gnarled ends. Having been here before, Sari’s eyes are drawn to the pieces of bone that have been partially covered by the earth.

  “Why would you want to come here?” asks the gypsy while me
lting Nimby’s bonds. A loud call draws her attention to the fallen tree where a brightly colored parrot is sitting among the leafless branches. “This place is starting to heal, but it’ll never be the same. Too much death in the soil and air, so I can’t imagine anything pure growing here. Hopefully, I’m wrong and nature is more forgiving than people.”

  “The boy really did take it,” the Lich says with a gasping cough. He extends the skeletal arm and casts a spell to scan the area for magic, making sure his senses are not lying. “You were told about Walter Kernaghan and how he is hunting your friends. I scryed on him a week ago before he almost noticed me. The boy was standing here and absorbing the residue that Nyx would have wanted. No idea why he wants part of the Callindor. I was hoping there would be a clue here, but no such luck.”

  “I’m going to let the others know about this,” Kira mentions, grabbing her communication orb. She picks up the small gem to find that a dark swirl is in its core, which no longer has its magical glow. “Something corrupted this. It worked before we reached the jungle. Do you think Walter left a trap here and all of our magic is blocked?”

  Sari uses her sweat to launch four ice claws into the sky, the melting projectiles leaving a rainbow in their wake. “My magic works, but it could be something specific to communication spells. You have to know something, Tyler. Do you have any guesses about whey the Baron’s son would take the aura?”

  “I assume it is to do something very cruel,” the Lich replies as he urges Nimby to walk along the edge of the clearing. The necrocaster waves over his shoulder and snaps his fingers, which creates a swarm of black sparks. “That’s not our concern. This alliance was made because you wanted to save the Callindor and leave your friends to deal with Walter. Too late to change your mind, so we should start heading for the grove and put this behind us. Never thought I would be an adventurer. Not sure I like it.”