Legends of Windemere: 03 - Family of the Tri-Rune

by Charles E Yallowitz

  “Zaria was not strong enough to come here,” Gabriel states with a tired sigh.

  “Yes, but at least she tried. I’m sure she will keep trying until that monster is dead or she is forbidden from coming near Shayd,” Cessia responds, eyeing the shadowy continent with a disapproving scowl. “I remember when this land had true life on it. Your wife must still be angry about being cast out of her people’s temples. Though, I’m sure the chaos elves have found a way to converse with her. They may have come from the soulless Hejinn, but they are a decent people when not under the thumb of a monster.”

  “My wife has made it clear that the chaos elves are not my concern,” Gabriel says, growing bored with the conversation. “Now, how did you convince the others to help me?”

  “Zaria convinced Ram that you’re becoming obsessed and unhinged. She put everything she had into proving that your sanity is dependent on this destiny’s success,” Cessia answers with a pleasant laugh. “Your conniving heart would have been proud of her. Not that any of it was untrue. The other gods are beginning to fear that you will go insane and threaten the existence of everything. Only a few believe that they can defeat you and we both know that the ones who believe such things are the least likely to best you.”

  “I will make sure to thank the Pure One when I return to Ambervale. Maybe I will stop fighting with her for a few years to show my gratitude,” Gabriel says. He floats into the air and settles himself upon the back of his unicorn. “Is there anything else that I should be aware of?”

  Cessia grows several arms to scratch her head. “Only that Ram, Kerr, and Ehre know that you have chosen their devotees as the next two champions. They are prepared to contact these mortals and guide them to wherever you need them.”

  “You may have Ram and Ehre guide their devotee to Hamilton Military Academy. The other champions will return there within the next few weeks,” Gabriel instructs her while the edges of his body transform into a black mist. “The devotee of Kerr and Ehre is already within the champion’s path, so there is no need to guide him. If they miss this champion again then I will certainly ask for the gods’ assistance.”

  Cessia nods and becomes a shower of coins that sinks into the ocean. Gabriel takes a final look at Shayd, fighting the temptation to approach his ancient enemy. They will come face-to-face in due time for their traditional gloating and threatening, so Gabriel knows to approach now would be a waste of his precious time and energy. He kicks the sides of his unicorn and they are enveloped by the growing black mist. The god and his steed gallop along the ocean’s surface like a sinister phantasm of nightmares.

  *****

  A faint smile crosses Baron Kernaghan’s tan face as he watches the four gods disperse. His eyes glow a sickening yellow as he sets his gaze upon Gabriel, whose misty form fades into the horizon. He gently raps his finely manicured fingers on the stone window ledge, occasionally taking in a deep breath of the wind that still carries Zaria’s enchanting scent. His ancient victory over the goddess is his fondest memory and he constantly dreams of the chance to be in her presence again.

  The sudden knock at his chamber door snaps him out of his thoughts, his mouth briefly becoming a cruel snarl. The Baron closes his crimson robe and brushes his short beard, ignoring his guest who he can hear moving behind the large, bone-encrusted doors. Summoning a mirror, the Baron checks his handsome features and magically removes a few gray hairs.

  “You may enter,” the Baron finally announces in a booming voice. He sits in a plush chair and picks up a metal goblet of wine from the finely crafted table next to him. His black hair is ruffled by the rush of stale air that enters the room when the doors open.

  “You summoned me, master?” the Lich asks, bowing his cowl-covered skull to the ground as he floats across the floor. He stops several feet away from the Baron and obediently falls to one knee.

  “I have been thinking about your future, Tyler,” the Baron calmly claims. He smirks at the sudden tension and fear that infects the Lich’s body.

  “You have my deepest apologies for failing to capture the gypsy boy and for losing the girl to our enemies. I was so obsessed with my old teacher’s spellbook that I failed you,” the Lich says, his voice becoming grating and panicked. “Please give me another chance before you pass judgment. I have always been loyal and done my best to bring you victory. My body has been shattered countless times in your service and I have never complained about the excruciating pain of my resurrections.”

  The Baron raises his eyes to the ceiling, silently praying that his sniveling agent does not try to kiss his bare feet like in the past. “Please rise, Tyler. Your future is not in danger, but if you continue to act this pathetic, I will ask Nyder to turn you into my newest living chandelier.”

  The Lich gets to his feet and watches the Baron, the necrocaster’s eyes a dim, nervous red. The last few months have been a nightmare for the Lich. Far too many times, he has had the champions in his grasp and they have defeated him. Over the last few weeks, he has been left wondering if his usefulness has come to an end due to the Kalam incident. The alliance with the vampire cost them a small fortune in gems and one of the champions. The Lich bitterly remembers the lost prize of Kalam’s spellbook, which is nothing more than a faded memory that plagues his dreams.

  “I have nothing left to say in my defense,” the Lich claims, silently accepting whatever punishment is about to befall him.

  “You confuse me, Tyler,” the Baron admits, swirling the wine in his goblet and stroking his short beard. “One minute you are a sniveling worm and then you suddenly remember you were once a man with a spine. I find it very amusing and fascinating, which is why I have kept you in my service for all these centuries. Besides, you have not always been the beacon of utter failure that you have become.”

  “Thank you for your praise,” the Lich says with another low bow. “I am trying to improve my skills, so that I may bring you the hearts of the champions.”

  “Your improvement is what I have summoned you here for,” the Baron kindly states. “I feel that you have strayed from your strength and it is time I . . . fixed you.”

  The muscular nobleman lets the Lich nervously stew in fear. With a final sip of his wine, the Baron casually makes his way to the large bed where black breeches and an ivory shirt have been laid out for him. He lets his robe drop to the ground, feeling the caress of wind on his bare skin when an invisible servant swiftly picks up the robe to hang it in a nearby wardrobe. Minutes of silence pass as the Baron gets dressed and meticulously makes sure everything is straight and neat.

  “You do not need my permission to speak, Tyler,” the Baron says, taking a seat on the edge of his bed. He puts on a pair of polished boots, being careful not to scuff them.

  “I am not sure what to say,” the Lich sheepishly admits, shame dripping from his voice. “I cannot see where I have strayed.”

  “Of course, you cannot see the problem. If you did then you would have fixed it without my involvement,” the Baron states in sudden irritation. He sighs and approaches the foul necrocaster, ignoring the rancid smell that wafts off the creature. “Know that I am doing this out of compassion and concern for such a loyal servant. You are the one who convinced me to bring more agents into my fold and make the game more exciting. Without you, I would not have the Fortune family or Vile in my service. It is also you who uncovered Trinity before she could escape from Shayd and become a threat to us. All of this has allowed my victory over Gabriel to proceed at a pace that I had previously only dreamed of. If it was not for you, I would have become bored with this game and given up long ago.”

  “You praise me too much, master,” the Lich stutters. He tries not to shy away when the Baron places a strong hand on his boney shoulder.

  “You have earned every word of it, Tyler,” the Baron assures his humble minion. “Now, your problem is simply that you have forgotten your strength. This began when you became involved with Selenia Hamilton. While that feud drew her away from t
he path of becoming a champion, it had a negative effect on you. You have become less cunning and more . . . aggressive. This is a horrible mindset for you, Tyler, because you are physically weak as a kitten.”

  “I have come so close to defeating these new champions, especially Luke Callindor,” the Lich desperately protests.

  The Baron tightens his grip until he hears the Lich’s shoulder bone crack. “You did come close during your first encounter with him. Now he has gained abilities that make him a true threat to you. Though, from yours and Trinity’s descriptions, he does not appear to be the smartest champion we have ever encountered. Still, he has that ingenious spark that makes him an incredibly dangerous adversary. Pair him up with that finely crafted caster from Gaia and you will never survive the battle, Tyler. You need to think and plan before fighting. Otherwise, this next mission may be your last.”

  “I am honored to be granted another chance,” the Lich happily says. “I will do whatever you wish to make sure I do not fail again.”

  “Then, listen carefully. You must try to avoid face-to-face confrontations with the champions, Tyler,” the Baron tells him in a deep, menacing voice. “I remember when you first came to me and offered your obedience. You were a cunning and manipulative creature that used others to do his dirty work. If you had to get involved in a confrontation, you made sure to use tricks to strike from the shadows. You nearly regained your old spark when you traveled with the champions down the L’Dandrin River. Sadly, you picked the wrong time to attack and you were defeated again.”

  “I forgot about that drite,” the Lich mutters under his breath.

  “The old Tyler would never let such a detail escape his memory. You are getting sloppy and desperate, which will continue your downward spiral into uselessness,” the Baron warns, letting go of the Lich and returning to his chair. “I sternly request that you become your old, manipulative, cowardly self for the coming mission near Hero’s Gate. The groundwork has already been laid out and you are the only agent on hand who can take over the operation.”

  “What happened to the others?” the Lich asks, eyeing the Baron suspiciously. He looks away when the Baron’s eyes shift to an abyssal black that the Lich is sure would devour his humanity if he still had any.

  “Yola Biggs is going to be punished for poking at the gods that were recently on our doorstep. I have warned her several times about pushing her luck when one of her brethren wanders too close to our shores,” the Baron explains, a rage steadily growing behind his words until he clears his throat. “I apologize for regressing. Nyder has work in his lab and Vile has requested leave to see if he can locate his wayward son. I have little hope of that, but I understand the pain of a father whose child has turned against him. As for Trinity, she is still injured from that gypsy boy’s attack. If she is mended before your mission is complete then I shall send her to your side.”

  “I understand, master. I will endeavor to stay in the shadows,” the Lich says. He pauses with a question on the tip of his rotten tongue, letting a few seconds pass before he spits it into the air. “What about . . . him?”

  The Baron grins evilly at the Lich, causing the necrocaster to shrink into the nearest shadows. “He is the one who set up the groundwork for your operation, but I have lost contact with him. I assume he has wandered off after a woman or a strong warrior, which is his way. I trust you will be respectful to him and obey his orders if he is still in the area and wishes to resume command.”

  “Pardon my curiosity, but how will I know what to do without him there to tell me what he has already done?” the Lich bravely asks.

  The Baron pulls a leather-bound book out of the single drawer of the small table. Licking his fingertips, he flips through the cream-colored pages until he comes to one that is blank. With a flick of his wrist, the Baron creates a quill pen out of thin air and jabs it into his neck where it fills with his blood. The pen comes out with a sickening pop that makes the Lich cringe. The wound shrivels away and falls to the ground as a chunk of blackened flesh. The Baron writes in the small book, his motions fluid and precise. Once he is done, the pen disappears and he carefully tears the page out of the book. He delicately rolls the page until it is a tight tube that he seals by running his thumb along the seam.

  “I demand that you do not return in failure, Tyler. I will not be happy,” the Baron calmly says. A flicker of malice can be seen in his eyes before he blinks it away.

  The Lich is about to speak when the Baron launches the paper tube into the middle of the necrocaster’s fleshless skull. A surge of pain courses through the Lich’s body and he feels the details of his assignment burn into his mind. His body is forcefully transformed into a tight ball of darkness, the cracking of bones filling the air. With a warm smile, the Baron holds out his hand for the ball to gently land on his palm. He delicately rolls it around in his hand while he stands and walks to the window. Holding the ball in front of his mouth, the Baron pushes a quick burst of air through his lips. The black orb is fired into the distance, the faint scream of the Lich heard only by his grinning master.

  “Now, what about the other one?” the Baron whispers, looking down at the desolate landscape of swamps and graveyards below him.

  *****

  “Please rest and conserve your strength, milady,” says an elderly chaos elf. She gingerly takes Trinity by the arm and leads her to a mushroom-covered tree stump. They watch the other chaos elves continue digging into the hard, black soil of the slowly expanding pit. Their cobalt skin glistens with sweat that soaks their ragged clothes. Occasionally, one of the chaos elves finds a bright yellow root and happily tosses it into a nearby basket.

  Trinity wheezes and holds her side where some blood is seeping through her tight-fitting bandages. Her elegant hair has become an ebony mess of knots and snarls that stick out in random directions. Even her violet eyes have lost some of their luster due to her pain and exhaustion. A violent shiver runs through her body, forcing her to ignite a small fire from the purple gems in her palms. Trinity notices that all the noise around her has stopped and she looks up to see the workers staring at the fire with tears in their eyes. Without a moment’s hesitation, she struggles to her feet and sets the tree stump ablaze.

  “Please warm your bodies up and rest,” Trinity softly tells them. They rush to the flame, feeling the magical warmth eradicate the chill in their bones.

  A branch snaps, bringing everyone’s attention to an approaching demon wielding a barbed whip. The humanoid, red-skinned creature has twisting horns and its face splits into two pig-like snouts. This cruel taskmaster growls at the idle workers, revealing four rows of serrated teeth. All of the chaos elves put up their arms as the demon raises its whip to punish them. Trinity is already stepping in front of the defenseless workers when a sickening, wet noise is heard from behind the demon. Its white eyes roll into its head and it topples forward, revealing a gaping hole in its back. The chaos elves cower around the fire as the Baron steps over the corpse. Trinity smirks in amusement at the man’s blood-soaked hand that is still gripping the demon’s beating heart.

  “I thank you for your help,” Trinity says with an awkward bow. She grimaces in pain and nearly collapses to her knees. “I’m sure you did this out of pure kindness and have no ulterior motive.”

  “You are like a daughter to me, my little queen,” the Baron claims, reaching out with his clean hand to stroke her cheek.

  “I’m polite, but openly despise you,” Trinity snaps with a proud smile.

  “As I said, you are like a daughter to me,” the Baron retorts, looking to the sky and blowing a kiss to the storm clouds. “Are you feeling any better? You were badly injured by that young man, but I heard that you have been working in the fields. I humbly request that you focus on healing and return to your priests.”

  “My people have made the same request, so I will do it for them once my shift is done,” Trinity declares, immediately regretting her previous scorn. “But . . . I appreciate your concern a
nd will work toward my recovery. I assume you want me to assist the Lich with his next attempt to capture or destroy the champions.”

  “On the contrary, I do not want you to help that fool ever again,” the Baron says. He casually lifts the demon’s heart to his lips and takes a delicate bite out of the twitching aorta. “Tyler is steadily becoming a liability and I do not want him to take any of my agents down with him. I am holding onto a sliver of hope that he will return to my good graces, but it might already be too late. His failures have led to three champions uniting and I lack my special pawn to divide them. It is time for him to prove his worth with his own hands.”

  Trinity grabs a shovel and jams it into the ground before leaning on it. “I have to admit that I feel sorry for him. The Lich tries very hard to please you, but he always finds a way to unravel all of his hard work.”

  The Baron reaches out to Trinity, whose eyes have become a little glassy. She sways on her feet, fighting to keep her smile and avoid blacking out from exhaustion. A chill runs through her body when she feels him touch the demon heart to her bleeding side. The gentle beating of the organ soothes her pain and lulls her into a blissful trance. He presses the heart to her side, squirting its glowing blood onto her shirt where it seeps into her wound. The waves of warmth coursing through her body make her giggle and squirm until a searing knife of pain erupts from her side. Unable to remain on her feet, Trinity pitches forward into the one-armed embrace of the Baron.

  “This will not heal you instantly, but it will allow you to continue working while your body recovers,” he whispers, helping Trinity steady herself. “I know you believe that I see you only as a weapon. This is true. Yet, I know you are a weapon with a heart and a mind that can break as easily as twigs. I assume this is the downside to having such power at your young age and it is this power that I need in the near future. The Lich will be the distraction you need to locate and retrieve an item that has been missing for centuries. I will share the details upon your full recovery.”