Ritual of the Lost Lamb

by Charles E Yallowitz

  The telepath pulls her hands back and steps out from between the deities, their power threatening to suffocate her. “It’s mine too. I don’t want to see him meet the same fate as Stephen. He may be powerful and smart, but he’s still a child. There has to be another way to defeat him that gives him a chance at redemption.”

  “The fact that he is a child makes him even more dangerous,” Gabriel says while he has the trees bend to the ground. Haven can be seen in the distance, the town gradually sinking into the horizon. “Children can be smart, but rarely are they wise. They learn that through experience and over time, but Walter has skipped both of those requirements. Remember that he is not as old as he acts. His intelligence and power may have grown with his body, but not his restraint and wisdom. In time, he will become a danger to everyone in Windemere, including his father. This is why you should have killed the boy when you first met him.”

  “I showed mercy in the hopes that it would turn him to our side.”

  “And it failed, which is why you are plagued by guilt.”

  “I don’t feel guilty.”

  “Then let me peel back a layer.”

  Gabriel whistles to transform the forest into a wasteland that is covered in flame-enveloped trees. A thick layer of ash is on the ground, the gray flakes rising up to the three immortals’ ankles. Smoke has consumed the crimson sky, which spits fireballs onto the landscape and unleashes cyclones across the horizon. The occasional bird darts through the crackling branches, the tiny beasts always chased by a shadowy bat. The large predators never get close enough to devour their prey, but their unflinching pursuit prevents the smaller animals from getting even a moment’s rest. Gabriel’s musical laugh stands in contrast to the horrific scene, his companions glaring at him until he stops.

  “My apologies, but telepaths can be so amusingly overdramatic,” the Destiny God claims, wiping a prismatic tear from his eye. He flicks the droplet away and watches it bloom into a circle of emerald clovers. “This is what is below your surface and it is time you faced it with dignity. You know that Walter can create a world like this, which is worse than what your father wants. Even Stephen, as sadistic as he was, had his limits and would not go this far. Stop denying the truth and work to make sure this future does not happen. I am not asking this as a god to his chosen, but as a member of your family. Have you forgotten that I am your brother-in-law? I do hope that earns me some respect from you.”

  “Why not make another hero who can handle this?” Dariana asks before she can stop herself. A wave of anger from the Tri-God knocks her back, a gentle hand from her mother the only thing to keep her standing. “I’m sorry for that. There isn’t enough time for you to forge a destiny since my father is close to returning. You need to use those who are already active. Not to overstep my bounds, but have you ever considered creating heroes that you can awaken in case of an unexpected situation?”

  “You may be surprised to learn that we attempted to do so long ago,” Zaria explains with a wave of her hand. Hundreds of glowing destiny orbs appear in the sky, each one pulsing as if on the verge of exploding. “The champion prophecy has become intertwined with Windemere’s own fate. We do not know why, but our guess is that it is due to Arthuru and his agents being heavily involved in world events over the centuries. So much evil and darkness has been born by their actions that any destined hero who is not a champion is prevented from awakening. The same goes for those who would try to do harm to Windemere. Such beings either remain dormant or get absorbed into the prophecy. Think of you father as a stubborn cork that refuses to come out of the bottle.”

  The landscape returns to its original form and falls away so that Dariana can see for miles in every direction. Vivid leaves appear on the trees while animals materialize in the forest and swoop out of the clouds. Patches of dead land can be seen throughout the area, but they remain small and are pushed back whenever they try to spread. The horizon is a mixture of shadows and light that swirls enough to make the telepath queasy whenever she looks ahead. With a gentle twinkling, the destiny orbs turn either black or clear before dropping to the earth. They shatter to release silhouettes of the heroes and monsters that they contain, none of the figures moving beyond the rising and falling of their chests.

  “Removing the cork will unleash the good and evil that it blocks,” Gabriel says as he tries to remember every one of his creations. With a sigh, he realizes that some of them are so old that they are no longer viable in the modern world. “Once Arthur Kernaghan has returned, a new age of heroes and monsters will begin. This is not something that your friends can know about because it is too complicated for mortals to fully understand. They think eradicating evil is the way to save the world, but too much good could be just as dangerous. One can really only keep darkness at bay or you risk wasting the limited years that you have been given in complacency. After all, not all of us can ascend.”

  “Walter is a risk to all of this,” Dariana whispers, lifting herself onto a branch. She passes her hand through a slender silhouette that is holding a small crossbow. “Many of these heroes may also awaken if my father wins. They will simply fight their chosen enemies who will be under his command. Yet, even that is better than what Walter would create if he continues on his path. Similar to Stephen, he has no respect for the balance of destiny and freewill that keeps our world going. The difference is that Stephen was acting intentionally out of madness while Walter would be ignorant of his actions. In fact, I sense that my younger brother does not care about the consequences as long as he is entertained. With that mentality, he could erase the champion lineages and set off a chain reaction that ends all of these destinies out of boredom.”

  Zaria embraces her daughter as they float over the forest and back to the campsite. “And that is why we need you to stop him. Do not be upset with yourself, Dariana. There is nothing else you can do for Walter. You gave him a chance to choose a different path, but he rejected you. Now he must face the consequences of his actions.”

  “You want me to be his executioner.”

  With a friendly smile, Gabriel hands the telepath a black hood and gavel. “Is it really that surprising? You already acted as his judge and jury by allowing him to live long enough to destroy Luke Callindor’s life. How many more of your friends will he scar before you take action?”

  Scowling at the Destiny God, Dariana takes the two items, which transform into ebony bees and fly toward Haven. The town is covered in a swarm that buzzes a mocking tune, the song demanding that the telepath challenge her brother. Having finished his business, Gabriel levitates toward the clouds and takes the scattered silhouettes with him. They return to their orbs and become stars that cast broken beams of light onto the trees. Dariana feels Zaria kiss her cheek before the Purity Goddess lowers her to the campsite and fades into the fire. Looking at the sky, the champion gets the sense that she is being watched by thousands of anxious eyes. Pushing the thought out of her mind, the telepath takes a long look at her sleeping friends and dives into her body. Instead of waking up immediately, she remains in a trance to help herself come to terms with what she must do.

  *****

  “We should run away,” Alyssa says, her voice dull and emotionless. Gazing at Timoran, the elf returns his smile, but her eyes remain cold. “We should run away.”

  “Do not worry, Lady Goldheart. We are merely planning our route,” the barbarian replies while patting her on the leg. Returning to the fire, he keeps his eyes on the young woman whose arms occasionally move as if they are cradling a baby. “I do not know if she understands what we are saying or what is going on. Can she be healed?”

  “Possibly over time and with the right environment,” Dariana answers as she sips at her lukewarm tea. Massaging her neck, the telepath can feel her strength returning and wonders if accepting the inevitable is helping her recover. “We can’t take her back to Haven with us. I suggest we contact Queen Ionia and have her take Alyssa to Darkmill. She had to have escaped after we did.”


  Nyx crushes the cup in her hand and tosses the remains into the campfire, the wooden pieces burning swiftly. “I think she’s dead. There was a pulse that ran through the world and made me think of an earthquake. Darkmill is fading away as we speak because it was created from Ionia’s aura. Without a Caster Queen or King to maintain the city, it disappears and the citizens must travel to Gods’ Voice. There they can be moved to temporary housing around the kingdom like the ancient treaty between Serab and the Caster Rulers state. One possibility is that we send Alyssa there to tell the citizens to stay and wait for us.”

  “We should run away,” the elf says upon hearing her name.

  Delvin brings the young woman some food and water, which she takes without looking at the offering. She makes no move to eat or drink even though her stomach is rumbling. The warrior takes the cup to carefully put some water in her mouth and notices that her lips are cracked and bleeding. Crawling onto the log, Fizzle helps his friend feed Alyssa by using his tail to massage the side of her jaw. The sensation makes her open her mouth enough that Delvin can slip in small pieces of food that the elf chews out of instinct. It takes many minutes to finish her meal, the champions being very patient as she stops between bites to repeat the only thought in her head.

  “Why are we going to Darkmill or whatever it’s called now?” Delvin asks while he cleans the plate and packs up what little gear is lying around the campsite. Seeing Nyx furrow her brow, he stops what he is doing and sits next to her. “Sorry about how that came out. What happened to Queen Ionia was another tragedy and I know you’ve reached your limit. All of us have and we’re showing it in different ways. I just want this to be over as soon as possible. Please tell me why we have to go to Darkmill when we really need to finish the ritual.”

  “Which we can’t do in Haven like we planned. Luke might be in a similar state as Alyssa and showing him his destroyed hometown would crush him,” Nyx explains, removing her fiancée’s arm from her shoulders. She wrings her hands and starts to walk in circles around the camp, her footprints leaving wisps of steam in her wake. “We need to go to Haven, defeat Walter, get Luke’s aura, and leave for Darkmill. Fizzle or I can put Alyssa to sleep and hide her near the town. That way we can pick her up after the battle and get moving without delay. If we lose then Fizzle can do that alone. I don’t know what I was thinking when I suggested sending her on a journey by herself. Even if she made it to the end, Alyssa wouldn’t be able to relay a message.”

  “We should run away,” the elf declares with a nod.

  “I am almost in agreement,” Timoran admits as he nervously chuckles. When Nyx walks within reach, the barbarian catches her wrist and towers over her with his full height. “There is something you are not telling us. What are you planning?”

  The channeler takes a calming breath, which does nothing more than weaken her already shaky knees. “Queen Ionia died because she got involved with our destiny. Her people have lost their homes because I asked her to protect Haven and that got her killed. This might sound ridiculous to all of you, but I feel responsible for what happened. The only real rule of Darkmill is that a caster has to be the one to revive the city. It won’t be the same as before and new trades will have to be created, but somebody has to step in as the new Caster Queen. Why shouldn’t it be me?”

  “Because you’ve never shown an interest in ruling anything,” Dariana bluntly states, refusing to back down from her friend’s fiery gaze. Bowing her head in apology, the telepath senses some trepidation and words of caution from Delvin. “Being a leader is different than being a champion. You need to understand so much more than battles and spells. Not to mention you would need to gather advisors and begin acting more . . . noble. I’m sorry, but I don’t believe you’re thinking clearly.”

  “Not to mention you might die against the Baron,” Delvin interjects, his mind trying to grapple with the idea of being a king. The thought that he already holds a similar title does not help to put his mind at ease. “This isn’t something you decide to do on a whim. It might be Luke’s recklessness taking over or an idea born out of guilt and grief. Sure, Ionia created Darkmill to see if she could do it and became a great ruler. That doesn’t mean the same will happen with you and that definitely wasn’t the best thing to say at this time.” Seeing the pain in Nyx’s eyes, he runs a hand through his brown hair and sighs. “On the other hand, I need to remember what kind of person I’m talking to. If you’re sure about this and determined to become the Channeler Queen then I’m with you. All I ask is that you listen to your husband at times because I have the milder temperament.”

  “Fizzle help too.”

  “You already have an alliance with me and the Snow Tiger Tribe, fire sprite.”

  Dariana frowns at the casual conversation and is about to storm off when she picks up a stray thought from Nyx. Following the faint voice, she nearly invades her friend’s mind, but stops herself at the last second. A sense of sadness and desperation remains in the air, which brings tears to the telepath’s eyes. Lowering her defenses, the wandering thought returns and coaxes Dariana to follow it into Nyx’s chaotic psyche. Buffering winds and churning flames circle a core that is hardening, veins of light shining through the dense shell. Refusing to go any further, the silver-haired champion pulls back and returns to her senses. A final burst of defiance strikes with enough force to drive Dariana against a tree, the powerful emotion inadvertently revealing part of the truth behind Nyx’s actions.

  “I get it now,” she whispers in a strained voice. Sliding down to the ground, the telepath stares at the sky and imagines all of the destiny orbs looking back at her. “This is about repairing the damage you believe you caused. When Selenia died, Delvin stepped in to continue her work and protect her legacy. Queen Ionia doesn’t have that unless you follow his example. If not you then a caster with darker intentions could step into the role. The reason you are deciding on this now is because you want as many reasons to live as possible. By taking this route, you not only have Luke depending on your victory, but everyone who calls Darkmill home. For them, you will defy a stronger opponent and find a way to win.”

  “Guess telepaths aren’t always right,” Nyx says in an attempt to hide her annoyance at the mental invasion. The channeler returns to her seat and stares into the dead campfire, which sparks to life at her command. “Ionia always joked about me replacing her since she claimed I didn’t have the patience for teaching. Still don’t entirely agree with her, but my situation has changed. More importantly, I’ve changed. Willow and Cyril aren’t going anywhere unless I erase them, so I won’t be taking over Rainbow Tower. That means once the Baron is defeated, I have nothing. Delvin has the academy, Timoran has his tribe, Luke has Kira, you have the Spirit Well, and Sari wants to wander around selling candy out of a wagon. Everyone has a role to play after our adventures are done. No offense, dear, but I don’t want the rest of my life to be as the headmaster’s wife. That makes no sense considering the amount of power I’m wielding and my reputation. Someone like me has to keep doing great things for Windemere and that’s possible as a ruler. I’ll probably have to brush up on my etiquette, dancing, dressing for events, and all that stuff I considered a punishment when I was a kid.”

  “Another change is that you can’t handle your enemies by single-handedly decimating their armies,” Delvin points out with a grin. His face never changes when the half-elf pinches his side, the mild pain easy to ignore after years of more severe injuries. “A capable ruler knows when to delegate important jobs. Although, I’m a soldier and a teacher, so the rules could be different for you. Guess all of us have to learn new skills and habits when we take on these new roles. Either way, we need to be ready for this Age of Heroes. There’s no telling what our jobs will be during that time.”

  “How do you know about that?” Dariana asks, surprised at her friend’s knowledge.

  “You were talking to Gabriel and Zaria in your sleep,” Timoran replies as he tosses some water on th
e fire. Waving the smoke away with his hand, the barbarian reaches over to pat the telepath on the head. “The subject got us talking about our future and what it would be like to see others going on big adventures. We agreed that it is difficult to imagine continuing on this path after fighting the Baron. A well-earned retirement for those who survive would probably be the best course of action. After all, only a fool would continue following a destiny that is already over.”

  “We also know that you feel guilty about letting Walter get so far with his plans,” Delvin says, wincing when Nyx smacks his shoulder. The warrior rubs the warm spot, which the channeler kisses to playfully stop him from pouting. “Just know that we don’t blame you. None of us saw this coming and we fell into every trap. Honestly, I think all of us have made choices this time that got people killed.”

  “Fizzle not kill evil boy too,” the drite mutters as he finishes his apple.

  “I might have been able to get him while he was in my mind,” Nyx adds with a shrug. The half-elf looks at Alyssa and casts a powerful sleep spell that will hold her for a day. “Our point is that you’re not the only one who had a shot at Walter and failed. So don’t think you have to carry this whole mess alone. It does sound like you need to take the lead, but that doesn’t mean the rest of us have to stay out of the fight.”

  Dariana blushes and grinds her heel into the dirt before she decides to blurt out the first thing that comes to her mind. “Guess it’s time to put an end to my evil, little brother.”