Tossing Vile into the canoe, Kira gets one foot inside before the yelp of a seal bursts from the nearby ocean. Green heads emerge from the water and drift toward the shore where the short-furred animals pull themselves onto the beach and climb the slope. They surround the canoe and growl, their sharp teeth on full display. Pups can be seen in the back of the rookery, but they get bored and leave the group to play with shells and rocks. Removing her foot from the boat, Kira is unsure if she should draw her weapon or wait until the animals prove to be a threat. The moment her hand touches the chain around her body, the seals explode into a chorus of angry yelps and snarls. The young woman backs away until she bumps into a slick body that is heaving from lumbering up the slope at top speed. Turning slowly, Kira comes face to face with a large sea lion, its piercing eyes of white baring down on the human. With a loud bark from their leader, the other animals become silent and bow their heads in a combination of fear and reverence.
“I don’t want to fight,” Kira says, holding up her hands. Hoping to get some space, she leans back while the sea lion lurches forward to remain uncomfortably close. “If this is your territory, I promise to leave right way. All I need is the boat because I have to climb the falls. My mate is in trouble and I need to keep moving in order to save him.”
“You are lying. Humans are not that attached to their mates,” the sea lion declares in a baritone voice. Standing on its hind legs, the animal towers above the intruder and is poised to crush her beneath his blubbery weight. “Even if that was true, you cannot take the remains of my mate. She may be in a different form and unable to bear my children, but our love is eternal. I have her permission to use others to continue my line because she knows my heart will always belong to her.”
“Dimwitted selkies,” Vile mutters from inside the canoe. He leaps out of the boat and climbs onto Kira’s shoulder, the figurine’s presence causing the creatures to growl. “These things are ocean fae that take the form of seals and sea lions. I’ve never seen one in human guise, so either they transform in secret or are too stupid to change back after the first time. I do know that the rest will run away if you kill the leader.”
Kira leaps away from the sea lion, who tries to smash her into the ground upon hearing Vile’s suggestion. “Please ignore my companion and understand that we’re only passing through your territory. To be honest, I’m already exhausted from outrunning hot tar, falling from all the way up there, trudging through a graveyard, swimming against a strong current, fighting eels, and riding a shark. If there is anything I can do to gain passage without a battle then I’m more than happy to do so.”
“Give us the fish killer and we will consider letting you pass unharmed,” the selkie declares, nodding his head toward the kusari-gama. He scowls in an oddly human way when Kira grips the weapon tightly, her knuckles white and sweaty. “Our people seek to destroy all fish killers. The hooks catch our eyes when we search for food. Strings snare our throats and limbs, which allows sharks to eat us. Many of those land-made abominations have stolen the more reckless and foolish of our children. I demand that you surrender your fish killer. Only then may you swim up the holy falls.”
“First of all, this isn’t a fish killer,” the heiress declares as she reveals the kusari-gama. The seals retreat at the sight of the chain and sickle, leaving only their stubborn leader to face the defiant woman. “This is a weapon and I need it to save my mate. Just look at it and you’ll see it’s different than what you call a fish killer. The chain is too thick to be a string and the hook is too large to catch anything small. You would easily see this thing in the water. Not to mention I’d have no way of hauling you up since my weapon doesn’t have a rod.”
“It does look different.”
“Exactly. Second of all, I need the boat to get up the falls.”
“You will not take my mate.”
“Then, can you give me a ride?”
“I shall not insult myself by agreeing to be a lowly mount.”
Frustrated by the stubborn selkie, Kira kicks at the sand and screams loud enough to scare the pups back into the water. She fights the urge to kick the canoe out of anger since such an action will probably cause the sea lion to attack. Putting her weapon back in place, the heiress takes a moment to empty her boots of water and remove bits of slick kelp from her hair and clothes. Her silence does not calm the selkies that watch her every move, but some of them sprout feet in an attempt to imitate the human. The webbed parts return to flippers when they find it difficult to move their chubby bodies. Kira refuses to laugh at the display, the corners of her mouth twitching and wrinkling in protest. Her amusement disappears when the selkies get closer and sniff at her body, the sea lion tall enough to snort in her face.
“The wind changed and we thought you were a heat fiend,” the leader explains as they give Kira space. Still curious about the strange scent, he leans forward to run his moist nose up and down her body. “Mostly human, but there are other smells. Heat fiend on back and ocean princess on the face. Are you a fae lover?”
“Would that help me get a ride up the waterfalls?” Kira asks, cringing at how the question sounds. The confused expression of the sea lion assures her that only Vile caught the verbal misstep, the figurine chuckling from his perch. “The heat fiend is probably because I used elemental blood to win a battle once. Guess those are kind of related demons and your kind. As for the ocean princess, the woman I’m traveling with to save my mate is part naiad. In fact, she’s probably already with him.”
With a high-pitched bark, the sea lion orders most of the rookery to remain on the island and protect the pups. “In that case, I will help stop the ocean princess from stealing your mate. Her kind enjoys changing selkies and stealing them from their families because of our fur. They claim to love the feel of it when mating, but we believe they really want to wear us to stay warm in the deepest parts of the ocean. A spell is placed on those taken, which makes sure they can never return to their true form and come home. If helping you can stop an ocean princess from playing her tricks then I am happy to carry you up the falls. Climb onto my back and focus on breathing. I cannot guarantee many chances to do so, human.”
“I love it when pettiness and grudges play into my hands,” Vile declares with a smile. He squirms when Kira stuffs him into the front of her shirt, his arm the only thing sticking out of the collar. “This is less enjoyable.”
*****
Stepping off the bridge, Sari and Nimby find themselves on a lifeless island surrounded by a colorful reef. Having reattached the severed finger, the Lich cackles and points the halfling’s arm at what they originally think is heat haze. The illusion melts away to reveal a leafless tree that is covered in barbs and seeping a foul-scented sap. Disturbed earth and several barely covered roots prove that the plant has been moved here with very little care. Sari could not care less about these facts, the only thing of importance being the battered form before her eyes. Blood dripping from his open mouth, Luke is facing his rescuers while staring blindly into the distance. His broken arms have been chained to the rough branches and the lower half of his body is entombed within the trunk. There is a rusty lock fused to his chest, the sunburnt skin around it having turned green from infection. A black liquid seeps from the half-elf’s scars, which have been used for a horrific game of tic-tac-toe. Sari and Nimby fear that he is dead until Luke groans and takes in a faint breath. Neither of them voice the opinion that death be preferable to becoming the battered and broken creature that they see now.
An ear-wrenching crack causes them to jump and they whirl around to watch the bridge collapse into the ocean. Sari rushes to the edge of the water in the hopes of Kira appearing out of the wreckage. All she sees is the swirling waves and the sinking stones that are carried away by the strong current. Nimby’s fleshy hand touching her arm reminds the gypsy of her mission and she forces herself to look at the forest tracker again. Leaving the thief to watch out for Yola, Sari walks to the tree and examines the lock
in Luke’s chest. The inside is too dark for her to be sure of the mechanism, so she judges what is needed by taking a guess at the device’s age. She puts her lock picks in the hole, but pulls them away when the half-elf jerks to life and screams in agony. Leaping back in surprise and fear, the tense champion looks down to see thick blood covering the ends of her tools.
As she calls out to Nimby, Sari is tackled by a slender figure of sand and slammed into a marble slab that rises from the ground. The gypsy is hurled across the barren island and lands in a patch of hot mud that stings her eyes. Getting to her hands and feet, the champion dives into the surf and is promptly rejected by the water. Creating a liquid cushion, Sari bounces and is snared by a sand-filled twister that races around the beach. Powerful hands grip her throat and hold her in the air before a spin slams the gypsy into the tree. The impact causes Luke to groan and cough up blood, which is tenderly wiped away by a slender arm that sprouts from the tiny cyclone. Not wanting to disturb the prisoner, Yola Biggs takes her true form and creates a second tree with tiny barbs on the trunk. Black and white tears pouring from her eyes, the immortal angrily hurls Sari through the oak and kicks the broken stump into the ocean.
“You killed my son!” Yola wails, her voice rippling the sand. She backhands Nimby away, the halfling’s silent pounce coming within an inch of landing. “I have no problem with either of you. I demand vengeance from this champion. She will give it to me in blood, screams, and whatever else I can wring out of her tattered carcass.”
“Sorry to disappoint you, but I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Sari admits while staggering to her feet. Drawing two daggers, she ignores their transformation into candy apples and throws them at Yola, who devours the weapons. “I left my friends long ago to mount a rescue mission. They told me about your son, but he wasn’t my concern. Whatever happened between him and the others has nothing to do with me.”
“Oh . . . Well, I’m still not apologizing,” Yola declares as she crosses her arms. With nothing to aim her rage at, the confused immortal sticks a finger into the lock on Luke’s chest and scratches at his heart. “You try to raise your children to be strong. Feed them glass shards, ice cream, lost spirits, and the occasional piece of cauliflower. Read evil tomes to them at night and heroic tales over breakfast. A mother never expects to outlive her child, especially if both are supposed to be immortal. Maybe I don’t understand the term, but reading a dictionary is so boring. Characters are mediocre and the story has been done before. I really want to make the champions suffer for taking my Walter.”
“There is a way,” the Lich suggests with a wicked grin. Having taken over the unconscious halfling and having full control of the body, he happily pokes at Luke’s injures. “Nyx would be especially hurt if you killed her little sister. It would only be fair. A loss for a loss, which makes you even. Make sure to send back the head so they know of the gypsy’s demise.”
“You traitorous bastard,” Sari mutters, leaping away from Yola. A wall of sand explodes between them, giving the champion a chance to encase herself a suit of ice armor. “Killing me will hurt the Baron’s plans. He wants all of us alive for the final battle, so you can’t touch me or Luke. Not to mention, Nyx would come here on a rampage and then you would have to kill her too. Do you think your master would be happy with only four champions to defeat? Three if you Luke is still like this when the battle starts.”
Falling to all fours, the former goddess creeps towards her enemy like a hungry cat. “I can create fake ones and he will never know the difference. Even if he did, the spectacle is what he cares about now. The time for fairness is coming to an end. Now stand still while I tie your limbs into knots, dip you in salt, and eat you like a pretzel. I haven’t had a decent meal in days because you took your time getting here. The rocks here taste like feet.”
A geyser erupts from the ocean and knocks Yola into a wave, the towering wall wrapping around the immortal. The prison tightens and swirls into a dense ball, the animals caught in the spell safely dropping out of the bottom. With a muffled explosion, the watery cage is destroyed and turned into a mist-like rain. Landing behind Sari, Yola delivers a punch that shatters the gypsy’s armor and dislocates one of her shoulders. When the Lich whistles and applauds the entertaining battle, the former goddess whirls around to take a bow. Leaving herself open, she is stunned when a dagger is driven into her jaw and frozen in place. Tugging on the coiled hilt, Yola rips off her own head and taps her foot in mild frustration. Wrenching the blade free of the ice, she fixes her body before flinging the weapon at Sari. Not wanting to risk her hands, the gypsy leaps away and rolls to watch the dagger rip out a chunk of the tree.
“Stop trying to survive this. I want to take a nap,” Yola whines as she charges. An unfamiliar sound makes her stop and turn in time to receive a metal club to the eye. “That was irritating. Do you really think you have a better chance of beating me? This one is destined to fight my master and, to a lesser extent, me. You’re . . . very blurry because I have one eye on Sari and the other has your weapon in it.”
“Sorry about that,” Kira replies, the heiress standing waist deep in the ocean. She is drenched and her chest is heaving from holding her breath for so long. “I have to disagree with you. Sari is only destined to fight your master. You’re only an agent who works outside of Gabriel’s influence. That means you’re fair game for a tagalong like me and nobody can predict how things will end.”
“Big talk from a-” the immortal begins to say. She stretches her arm to block Sari from Luke, but pulls back when Kira’s sickle slams into her hip. “You’re simply determined to die here. I hope you realize that the Callindor is still alive. He won’t be waiting for you on the other side. You’ll have to wait for him to be killed, which Arthuru and I will delay to make you suffer for getting involved in events that are beyond you. I might be willing to forgive you, but he can be rather vengeful if he hasn’t slept well. Oh, did I forget to put a champion back in their body? I see a toy walking around.”
Vile mutters curses under his breath as he heads for the tree, the figurine embarrassed by his situation. “I’m unimportant, Chaotic One. Just a disembodied spirit forced into servitude by a cruel and malicious worm. Focus on the task at hand since you’re the only agent our master has left. Make him proud.”
“I won’t leave a single scrap of her,” Yola playfully hisses, a forked tongue slipping out of her mouth. She frowns when the mortal holds up a hand to prevent the fight from starting. “Now what? One more delay and I’ll stop being nice. Let’s make a deal. If you behave then I promise to bury you alive under that tree and leave only your mouth at the surface. Planted right below your beloved, so you can catch drops of his blood. Ewww, that’s really gross. Shame on whoever put that in my head. That’s far too disgusting a punishment for a delicate flower like me to conceive of. Anyway, what do you want?”
“Just a last drink.”
“I didn’t bring anything.”
“Don’t worry. I have my favorite right here.”
“Can I have a taste too?”
“Nope.”
Kira opens the container on her hip and pulls a small vial out of the thick padding, the liquid rapidly shifting colors. Having no clear idea of what will happen, she drinks every drop and tosses the container over her shoulder. With a gurgling snarl, the warrior falls to one knee and coughs up bits of flaming ice. The skin on her right arm peels off to reveal pristine metal while her hair bubbles into a curtain of salty foam. Veins of magma run through her flesh, the paths bright enough to shine through her clothes. Kira’s remaining pant leg is destroyed by the whirling cyclones that replace her lower limbs, the wind collecting sand and turning it into glassy shards. A sleeve of barbed stone consumes her left arm, which drips a sky blue poison onto the ground. Tearing off her cumbersome shirt, the warrior reveals ice where her skin should be, the dense armor clear enough to reveal a churning core of elements instead of her heart.
“That’s still not
going to help you against a goddess,” Yola declares as she reaches out to unravel her enemy. A backlash runs along her spell and knocks the immortal back with a lightning bolt to the temple. “Lucky for you, I’m no longer a goddess. Can I stall and talk to you until that potion wears off?”
Kira blasts forward with enough force to create a wave of sand in her wake and shift the island a few inches. Her sickle erupts in flames as it swings for Yola, who retracts her head into her torso to avoid the blow. The club strikes the woman in her stomach and leaves a burning hole on her flesh, the wound taking a second to heal. Darting closer, Kira jams her metal arm into Yola’s neck stump and yanks the other woman’s head out. Pressing her stone limb into the immortal’s chest, the warrior opens her mouth and spews molten rock into her enemy’s face. A savage blow to the chin sends the mortal sailing across the island, her hand still gripping a few strands of green hair. Rolling to the side, Kira avoids a stomping foot that is larger than her body and slashes it across the heel. Before the wound can close, she sticks part of the chain inside and unleashes a lightning bolt. The electricity can be seen racing up Yola’s body until it reaches the immortal’s face and explodes from her eyes.
“Still think I’m not worthy of your true strength?” Kira asks with a voice that sounds like a fire crackling in a howling hurricane. Leaping high into the air, she flips and drives the blunt end of her weapon into Yola’s nose. “I came here for a fight. Specifically one with you. Right now, I’m unimpressed. No wonder you’re a former goddess.”
Ritual of the Lost Lamb Page 37
