Path of the Traitors

by Charles E Yallowitz

  Legends of Windemere:

  Path

  of

  the

  Traitors

  Copyright 2017 © by Charles Yallowitz

  Kindle Edition

  All Rights Reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system without the written permission of the author, except where permitted by law. Reviewers may quote brief excerpts in connection with a review.

  This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.

  Cover Design & Illustration by Jason Pedersen

  Legends of Windemere

  Beginning of a Hero

  Prodigy of Rainbow Tower

  Allure of the Gypsies

  Family of the Tri-Rune

  The Compass Key

  Curse of the Dark Wind

  Sleeper of the Wildwood Fugue

  The Merchant of Nevra Coil

  The Mercenary Prince

  Tribe of the Snow Tiger

  Charms of the Feykin

  The Spirit Well

  Ritual of the Lost Lamb

  Dedication

  To everyone who has entered Windemere

  And left their mark upon its soul

  Table of Contents

  Prologue

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Prologue

  Looking out over the Chaos Void, Baron Kernaghan is acutely aware that the demons are hiding from his palpable rage. The energy wafting off his body shifts from blood-like crimson to shadowy ebony as it casually carves shallow furrows in the solid ground. His clothing has been reduced to a pile of ribbons at his feet and his skin is covered in welts from multiple magical backlashes. The man’s black hair remains neat and untouched even when one of the slashing coils passes close enough to unleash a breeze along his body. Every few seconds, one of his attacks lances out at a glimmering portal of darkness and threatens to momentarily trap him in the Chaos Void. He regains enough control at the final moment to pull the tendril back and casually snaps it in half before tossing the severed part into the abyss below. Rumbling thunder remains in the distance as if the weather is afraid to come near the immortal. In the past, he would grin at the way his surroundings cower before his presence, but today the silent landscape makes him sick.

  Unable to restrain his anger any longer, the Baron chooses a nearby mountain that is covered in caves. He gathers his energy in the palms of his hand and tries to choose a spell that will satisfy his pain and grief. With a yell of frustration, he spits an incantation and fires a bolt of red and black magic at his target. Realizing they are in danger, demons scramble out of their homes and struggle to escape the blast. Those with wings grab those without and take to the air as fast as they can, their forms disappearing over the horizon. Only half of the creatures make it to safety before the mountain erupts into a curtain of salt that is sucked into the nearest batch of clouds. A pelting saltwater rain falls upon the desolate land, each solid drop leaving a dent in the ground. The storm ignores the Baron’s perch, which creates a small circle of protection that the retreating demons are too scared to approach.

  “He was only a baby,” the warlord whispers, his fists clenched hard enough to pop every knuckle. Glancing over his shoulder, he considers closing the portal and remaining in the Chaos Void until he has calmed down. “I knew there was a risk. Walter was powerful, but lacked the experience to handle the champions. Yet, they could have . . . No, my daughter could have shown mercy. I understand the others fighting for their lives. They lack the intelligence to understand beings like myself and my son. They probably saw him as another Stephen, but Dariana knew the truth.”

  “I’m sorry, master, but there’s nothing I can say,” Nyder Fortune replies after a minute of awkward silence. The bald gnome ignores the deadly nails that fire at his body, the attack nothing more than an illusionary projection. “To call it a miscalculation would be an insult to you. To say Walter was weak would be an insult to him. As much as you will hate to hear this, we can’t even blame Dariana.”

  “You dare to take her side!?” the Baron erupts, reaching out to grab his servant. He sends bolts of agony through the specter, which cringes from the pain that manages to reach its distant creator. “I will give you one chance to explain yourself, gnome. Fail and I will make this your true form. You will only be able to gaze at your lab for eternity. No more inventing or-”

  “She gave him several chances and he refused to accept,” the inventor declares, his fear of death more than that of interrupting his master. Seeing a flicker of hesitation in the immortal’s eyes, Nyder does his best to place his phantasmal hands on the man’s arm. “You were watching like I was. Walter never backed down, which is something to be proud of. He did more damage to our enemies than any of your agents, but the Kernaghans are a stubborn and loyal lineage. He fought for you while Dariana fought for her friends. As angry as you are toward your daughter, she acted like you would have in her position. If I may say, they were very similar and that is why it ended like it did.”

  The Baron releases Nyder and turns towards the open landscape, his hands stiffening into talons. He is about to pick out another target for his rage when he freezes and lets out a relaxing breath. With a quick swipe, he breaks the protective circle and lets the painful rain beat down on his unclothed body. The salt-filled drops pierce his skin and send a burning sensation down his veins that he accepts as punishment. The wounds steadily heal as black pants and a matching shirt sprout from his skin, ruffles briefly appearing on the neckline until he tears the old-fashioned decoration off. Drawing a rapier out of thin air, the Baron effortlessly blocks the rain to protect his new clothing. Narrowing his gaze, he slashes at the clouds and parts them to end the storm that has left the earth with a sea of tiny holes.

  “I wish to point something else out,” Nyder whispers, unsure if his master is truly calm or merely resting before another outburst. The urge to step toward the portal is strong enough to make his leg twitch, but he fights the temptation to avoid angering the Baron. “We are in the final stages of your return to Windemere. The prophecy has become more structured, so altering the paths might not be a possibility. Our enemies can only walk forward and what you tried may have been seen as an impediment. Capturing Luke was smart, but attacking his loved ones to make him suffer gave the champions a reason to stay on Ralian. That could have led to them avoiding the final battle, which is the only stage left in their destinies. The prophecy could be overshadowing freewill now, so Walter was perceived as a threat who became destined to die before he ruined everything.”

  “Gabriel does hate anomalies and he will do everything short of breaking that damned Law of Influence to destroy them,” the Baron agrees as he sits on a rock. Pulling a rattle out of his pocket, he turns the toy in his hand and shakes it once before throwing it off the cliff. “I cannot deny that I am partially responsible for my youngest son’s death. I overestimated his abilities and maturity. To think that I believed a child of two immortals could defeat the child of two true gods. Why didn’t she tell me that
there would be such a gap between their powers? Perhaps she should be punished.”

  The gnome freezes as he fixes the buttons on his dark yellow shirt, a look of nervous fear on his face. “She? Master, I don’t think this is a path you wish to take. Your agents have already been reduced to a handful, so losing more could expose you to danger and failure. I don’t doubt your strength, but please take some time to think before acting reckless.”

  “And who are you to give me orders, Lord Fortune?”

  “A friend who wants to see you claim victory.”

  “Do not overstep your bounds, gnome.”

  “I’m only asking that you act with logic instead of emotion.”

  “That is no longer a possibility. Somebody must be punished.”

  Before Nyder can continue arguing, his illusionary form is frozen in a pillar of phantasmal mist. Satisfied that his servant will not interrupt his plans, the Baron opens multiple portals that are no bigger than his head. He takes his time adjusting them one by one, so that a glowing object is in the center of each circle. When everything is ready, the immortal releases ghostly arms from his chest and plunges them into the gateways. Roughly grabbing the shining chunks of flesh, the limbs retract and send pulses of dark energy into the ragged meat. Piling the black and white pieces in front of him, the Baron summons Yola Biggs’s head into his hands and crushes the ice that surrounds it. Free of their prison, the eyes dart from side to side and spin in their sockets to spew flecks of ice out of the skull. For an instant, he presses on the temples and is tempted to destroy the body part completely, but he eases his grip enough to let it drop to the ground.

  Melting into a pool of muck that is fringed with emerald hair, the former Chaos Goddess’s body struggles to reform. The mass twitches and bubbles like a tar pit, the occasional finger and toe breaking the surface before sinking back down. In all of her centuries of existence, she cannot remember being injured so badly and the sensation continues to terrify her. Two kaleidoscopic eyes emerge from the center of the puddle, their smooth edges releasing shimmering tears. With the black threatening to swallow the white of her body, she rises in a crouch and has her thick, green tresses cover her face. The naked immortal shudders from restrained crying, relaxing only when the Baron gently takes her by the chin and lifts her to her feet.

  “They took my son,” Yola whispers, gripping the man’s arm. A lizard-like tongue lances out to catch her tears, which taste like sour strawberries and spoiled milk. “I don’t know exactly what happened, but I felt it. Maybe we can find the body and fix him. Nyder has all those tools and notebooks in his lab, so he must be able to do something. If Walter wasn’t good enough then we can make another child. This one can be stronger and better. We can have a girl with lightning breath, a sword tail, and more magic than Gola the Aura Empress. What do you say we try again, Arthuru?”

  “You are to leave Shayd and the Chaos Void. Never be in my presence again,” the Baron announces in a cold voice. Stepping back, he puts his arms behind his back and fixes the stunned woman with an emotionless expression. “Without your status as the Chaos Goddess, I have no use for you. Any child we make will be inferior to the one I made with Zaria. That is simply a fact, which undoes the only thing you could give me. Even in battle, you lost to a single champion and her friend who should have been nothing more than fodder. I can only imagine how poorly you will do against all of the champions. I thank you for what you have done on my behalf, Yola, but our alliance is at an end. You would only get in the way, which could result in me or you getting hurt. Please do not try to involve yourself in the prophecy or my ruling of Windemere. The last thing I want is to destroy you, but I will do so if you attempt to return to the fold without my permission.”

  “I don’t understand. Is this a test? Am I getting a vacation?” Yola asks, scratching her head with her severed hand. Returning the part to her wrist, a bolt of understanding strikes her hard enough to shake the ground. “I did nothing wrong! You can’t send me away because Walter proved to be weak. That brat couldn’t get the job done, so you decide to punish his innocent mother? What about your less than god-like power? I don’t hear you claiming that your aura is inferior stock. At least I was born a goddess and existed as one for centuries instead of ascending from the mud and lasting only a week. Was it even a week, Arthuru? Only enough time to gloat and make a kid who is probably ten times stronger than you are.”

  The Baron catches his hand, which is covered in a churning orb that would rend the flesh from Yola’s bones. The female immortal refuses to back down and forces fang-mouthed tendrils out of her back. She crouches in preparation for a fight, a flow of acidic drool creating a self-portrait beneath her body. Instead of attacking the enraged woman, he throws the spell into the sky and fades away as the clouds are shredded. The portal back to Shayd closes with a pop as an invisible force attempts to eject Yola from the Chaos Void. With a high-pitched shriek, she destroys the magic and unleashes a thunderstorm that batters the land with fists of emerald lightning. Demons flee into the distance and burrow deep into the earth, all of them fearing that she is more dangerous than the enraged warlord.

  “Where am I supposed to go?” she asks while turning her hand into a copy of her head. She shrugs her shoulders before angrily hacking off the limb and growing a fresh one from the twitching stump. “I always wanted to travel, but this isn’t right. Arthuru and I have been together for too long for it to end this way. Would that pathetic wind spell stop with the pushing? I’ll leave when I’m good and ready. This was my home and I deserve to say good-bye. Bye, little rock that I toss off the cliff. We’ll meet again another day, bigger rock that I once drew a picture on. See you later, patch of dirt I just met.”

  “I was afraid of this,” Nyder mutters as he materializes. Only his green pants are solid, the rest of his spectral form hazy due to interference from his master’s barrier. “This leaves him with nobody, except me. Might as well be alone because I’m no use in a fight. Not to mention the Weapon Dragons are gone, so I need to make something to keep myself alive. Unless he calms down and realizes that I’ll be more use after he wins. This is such a mess and I can’t even try to blame you for it like I used to.”

  “My good friend?” she asks, her head turning upside down. With a flick to the gnome’s temple, she brings him into focus and gives the illusion a fan of crimson hair. “Did you come here to say good-bye or gloat? I know I wasn’t your favorite person, but I’ll really miss making you curse and yell. Not to mention how you would cry if I broke your lab or turned your things into whatever came to mind.”

  “Yeah, we had some great times,” the inventor replies while trying to remove the hair. He yanks it out, but a puff of cotton bursts from his scalp. “Look, I won’t say you’re my favorite person in the world, but losing you causes a problem for me. Nobody is left to gather supplies for my experiments and things may get . . . boring around here. I know we had our heated encounters like when you switched my brain with that of a goldfish. Then there was the time I locked you in a lightning chamber for a week under the pretense of losing my favorite goggles in there. Didn’t you realize I was wearing them? My point is that I can’t really say we were anything more than colleagues, but you did keep me on my toes.”

  Yola resists another ejection spell before kneeling in front of the gnome and giving him a small hug. “That’s so sweet. If it makes you feel better, I made you an inch taller and adjusted all of your things three years ago. Can you do me a favor, Lord Fortune? I don’t think I can protect the chaos elves while I’m an exile. That means I have to break my promise with Trinity. Would you be able to do it in my place?”

  “Part of me hoped you wouldn’t make that request,” Nyder admits with a tired sigh. With a pair of tweezers, he yanks out a squirming hair from Yola’s head and transfers the hissing strand to his real body. “My power is nothing compared to the master’s, so the best I can do is put part of you in a barrier stone. It will maintain the spells that you’ve al
ready done. This can only last a month, but I sense that the prophecy will be fulfilled by then. Never let it be said that I abandoned you in your time of need or something sappy like that.”

  “Thank you, silly gnome.”

  “Yeah . . . Well . . . I’ll try to talk the master into bringing you back after he wins.”

  “What if he loses?”

  “Then, I guess I’ll need a new lab and you’ll be free to wander.”

  “I don’t want to go.”

  Nyder scowls and kicks at a rock before whispering, “I know, but you don’t have a choice, Chaotic One. We both know you don’t deserve this, but there’s nothing we can do. Unless you can change the Baron’s mind, you’re an exile. Just take care of yourself and try not to get into too much trouble.”

  With her lips bloated to deliver a creepy pout, Yola lets the next ejection spell grip her by the limbs. A finger waggle is all she can do toward Nyder before the gnome vanishes in a puff of smoke. Giving no resistance, she is flung into the sky where a jagged tear appears in the swirling clouds. The immortal looks down to see that the demons have come out of hiding and are watching her departure, all of them roaring their good-byes. A line of glistening tears fall from her eyes and explode into waves of sweet water that roll across the Chaos Void. The creatures do their best to stay out of the flood, those that are caught in the current finding themselves gently flipped onto solid land. Flattening her body and folding into the shape of a spear, the immortal pierces the doorway that implodes behind her.

  *****

  Yola emerges from the shadowy tunnel with a pop and hurtles toward the churning ocean with incredible speed. She is about to plunge into the water when a hand appears and snatches her out of the air. The immortal turns back into her normal form, leaving the disembodied body part holding her by the ankle. She is dropped onto the ocean, which becomes a circle of salty ice that sticks to her skin. Yola tries to hover in the air, but falls down due to the gateway draining much of her magic. Feeling helpless and scared, the black and white woman curls into a ball and pulls a blanket of seawater over her body. She yelps when the mysterious hand pulls the covers away and offers to help her stand. As soon as she touches the cold palm, a surge of rejuvenating energy courses through her veins. Floating back into the sky, she finds that her savior is refusing to let go, so she yanks hard enough to pull the rest of the god to her location. The surprised deity yelps as a portal folds open and sprays a stale breeze like an untied balloon before he is dragged away from Ambervale.