“The tethers kept us together, but you took a blow to the head,” a voice answers from a pile of broken statues. Crawling out of a hollow torso, Vile points in the direction of faint lights that grow stronger by the minute. “We were attacked. I was thrown over here before I got a clear look at our enemies. As for you, I believe the Lich covered you in an invisibility spell. I would have tried to save them myself, but this body makes it difficult to move on the clouds. Please tell me Yola isn’t here too.”
“She stayed behind and wandered off. Her heart really wasn’t in the fight, but I’m sure she’ll be back,” the chaos elf replies as she puts the toy on her shoulder. Continuing on her way, she enhances her ears and listens for approaching enemies. “I hope we don’t have to go back to the beginning of our path because of this. The champions need us to get those crests before they fight the Baron, so every delay is a risk. I hear wings and bubbling water, which doesn’t make me comfortable.”
Vile taps at the point of his toothpick and swings it like a real sword, the warrior excited to enter a battle. “Our attackers did strike from above, so I assume they can fly. I wouldn’t worry about a delay though. Before getting captured, Quail realized he made a mistake. The dot in the middle of the twisters wasn’t a building, but simply a marking for the overall area. Seems the map changed and grew when we landed up here, which means we’re on the right path. Guess dumb luck counts for something when skill fails. Feel free to beat him or yell when we reunite because his mistake could have sent us far off course.”
“I’m not going to do that,” Trinity claims, annoyed by the suggestion. Coming to the other side of a wall composed of wagon parts, she quietly climbs up the side. “Quail will probably apologize and work harder. Being cruel won’t do anything more than scare him, which means more accidents will happen. Now, let’s save our friends. What in all of Windemere are we looking at?”
Peeking over the edge of the wall, Trinity can see a collection of tents and flimsy shacks covering a large gathering of clouds. Grappling hooks have been used to pull smaller pieces close enough for easy access, the ropes tied around large stakes that shake whenever the wind blows. The locals are elves with wing-shaped tattoos on their exposed backs, all of them heavily tanned from constant exposure to the sun. Most of them are gathered around a large pot that is sitting on a fire, the water inside already starting to bubble. Being so high above the ground, the warriors have no reason to patrol the town, but remain standing at the edge of the gathering in case a wild beast is delivered by the twisters. Not far away, children laugh as they leap off the edge of the clouds and their tattoos become real wings that help them glide back.
Trinity inches along the wall for a better look at the winged elves, the channeler having only heard stories about the rare species. She remembers being told of their elegance and nobility, but she sees none of that here. It is obvious that the village has been made from whatever the twisters deposit on the clouds. The people wear frayed clothes and their hair is tangled, the effect making them look dirty and unclean. A scuffle draws her attention to a shack that collapses as Nimby and Quail are dragged into the open. The halfling is bound at the wrists and ankles, which makes it easy to dangle him upside down from a tall pole. The children squeal with glee as they surround their new toy and bat him around like a tetherball. Unlike the thief, Quail is brought to the pot and tied to a heavy boulder.
“His ring should allow him to lift that,” Vile whispers as they watch the winged elves put ingredients in the stew. The warrior curses when a towering figure in an apron pushes a table across the clouds and brandishes a cleaver. “I warned you that he would be a liability. Unless Nimby can break his bonds, Quail is as good as dead. With the way those kids are knocking my son around, I doubt he can get free in time to be of use. Now we have to rush down there, slaughter the town, and save them.”
“Let’s try to be subtle,” Trinity replies while watching one of the women walk away from the celebration. Not wanting the warrior to cause trouble, she paralyzes Vile and stuffs him into her pocket. “Try not to make a mess in there. I promise this will be over quickly and with minimal casualties. You used to like doing things that way when it came to civilians. Guess death has made you cranky.”
Sinking into the shadows, the channeler sneaks along the wall and makes her way to the unsuspecting winged elf. Without a sound, she drops to the ground and puts her hand on the woman’s head. A small burst of light erupts between them and the local drops in a heap while Trinity assumes her form. It is a quick and hasty transformation that makes her feel like worms are wriggling beneath her flesh. The chaos elf tries to awaken her wings, but finds that she only has the intricate tattoos. Muttering a curse, she hides the woman behind an overturned wagon and takes a second to check her appearance. There is a faint, blue tint to her tan skin and her blonde hair might be a shade darker than the woman she is copying. Not wanting to waste time fighting for perfection, Trinity walks to the edge of the torchlight and does her best to imitate the gait of the unconscious winged elf.
“Did you forget the wine, Marsa?” asks a young man. With a muttered curse, he storms over to the channeler and slaps her across the face. “This is why you’re my third wife and not my first. Mistakes will cost you respect and rank. Now, go and get what I asked for. If you hurry then maybe you’ll make it back in time to see the carving.”
“I’m sorry, but I did bring the wine,” Trinity replies, pulling one of her bottles of Ifrit mead out from behind her back. The man snatches the container and takes a deep drink before coughing in agony. “It recently arrived, so I don’t know what it tastes like. If you’re not able to handle it then perhaps somebody with a stronger tongue and stomach would give you a weaker brew for it.”
“I don’t know where you got that mouth from, but utter one more insult and I’ll sew the damn thing shut,” the man growls in a strained voice. He pours the alcohol on Trinity’s head, his grin growing as she licks at the drink. “For your insolence, I ban you from the feast. Go hungry until I feel you have learned your lesson. What do you have to say for yourself?”
“At least I tried to be nice,” the chaos elf replies, her skin returning to its natural hue. She kicks the confused man in the head, her blow delivering a wind spell that sends him crashing into a tent. “You have my friends. I want them back in one piece. Either hand them over nicely or make me mad. It’s been a while since I razed a village to the ground, but I’m sure it’s a skill that never goes away. One could even say it’s an art.”
The flock of winged elves take to the air, their bodies blocking the moon and stars. Only the children remain on the ground and hurry into their homes for protection. Trinity licks her lips and lets her hands crackle with violet lightning, the magical display having no effect on the armed locals. Not wanting to wipe out the winged elves, the channeler plunges her hands into the dense clouds. Her attack spell explodes within the ground and creates a thick fog that hides her from view. A brave warrior dives at where he last saw the intruder, but he is knocked out of the white curtain by a blast of fire. His ivory feathers are burned bad enough to make it impossible to fly, forcing him to crash land on one of the smaller islands. The other citizens flap their wings to create a wind strong enough to clear the fog and they spread out to let in enough light to reveal their enemies. Instead, they find that Trinity and their prisoners have escaped, the three figures barely visible on one of the distant pathways.
*****
“I think we’re at a disadvantage!” Nimby shouts from atop Quail’s shoulders. The halfling quickly pulls a folded piece of paper out of his pocket and hands it to the chaos elf. “This is a pathway map that I stole from the shack they were keeping us in. Sorry about losing all of your equipment. I tried to go through the bag and your backpack when they weren’t looking, but all I could find were your maps. The important one is in my shirt, so don’t worry about finding a way back.”
“Actually, I swallowed all of my belongings when they
had us in that cage,” Quail replies as he trips. A spear sails over his back and thuds into a barrel, which leaks vinegar that may have been wine at one point. “Forgot to mention that the Troll Ring lets me swallow things that would normally be too big for my stomach. It slows my digestion too, so the gear should be fine if I get it out within twelve hours. I’m sorry, your highness, for not freeing myself. You had faith in me and I let you down.”
“That’s a discussion for another time!” Trinity yells from behind the others. She flings wind blasts and acid sprays to keep the winged elves at bay, but the agile warriors are difficult to see in the darkness. “It’s like trying to hit a ghost since they keep blocking the moon. At least Vile and Tyler are asleep. Last thing I want is them urging me to kill the entire flock. I mean, they’re only trying to survive up here.”
Nimby slides a sling out of his sleeve and hurls a smooth rock to knock an enemy out of the sky. “We get it, Trinity! You’re trying to be good and see the similarities between your people and these guys. I’m sure there are plenty of things you can do that would take them out of the fight without killing them. Remember that injuries heal or something like that. I mean, heroes hurt bad guys all the time when they have no other choice. Hey, Quail, what’s coming up ahead?”
Slowing down, the travelers squint into the night where several winged figures are diving at the clouds. The attacks puncture the walkway, which shakes and threatens to be torn apart by the winds. Quail does his best to leap over the first gap, his feet slipping on the edge and causing him to land sprawled on the ground. The fall sends Nimby tumbling toward another hole, but the halfling tucks into the roll and flips himself over the danger. Landing on his feet, he hurls two stones to deflect another attack and send the screaming woman crashing onto a cloud island covered in bones. Knowing he only has three shots left, the thief puts his weapon away and draws a grappling hook to close the gap between him and his friends. His muscles ache and threaten to pop when Trinity and Quail run over the thin ground, their weight almost too much for the halfling.
“We need to stop them from following,” Nimby insists as he is picked up again. He shakes his skeletal arm in an attempt to wake the Lich even though he has no idea what the necrocaster can do. “Are we even going the right way? What if the crest map wanted us to take another path out of the village?”
“That is a possibility,” Quail admits, accepting the map from the halfling. With Trinity firing lighting to clear the winged elves away from the moon, he quickly examines the markings and gulps down a nervous cough. “The good news is that we’re going the right way. Unfortunately, we should be on the path way over there. This one turns to the west and takes us back to Serab while the other curves around toward the Frost Barrens. I think I see a connection ahead, but it looks rather narrow.”
Frustrated by the darkness, Trinity sends a ball of light into the air and has it explode into a small sun. “There’s a lot more of them than I thought. They’d knock us off that narrow strip without much effort. Seems I need to stop holding back and . . . I have an idea that shouldn’t get anyone killed. At least I hope not since it is a little crazy. Get behind me, crouch, and hold onto the cloud like your life depends on it.”
“Is that because it does?” Nimby asks, smirking at the channeler’s casual shrug. The halfling uses his grappling hook and digs the claws into the thickening clouds. “You better hurry. The winged elves are going to dive in for an attack if we stand still for too long. Thank the gods they don’t have bows or more than a few spears.”
Slicing her hand through the air, Trinity throws a blade of wind that cuts her glowing orb in half. The two pieces shrink and turn as they gently float toward the clouds, which have begun moving beneath the travelers’ feet. A low hiss flows from the channeler’s mouth while her skin takes on a scale-like pattern. Not wanting to let the mysterious spell go off, five of the winged elves fly in a quick circle and dive at the intruders from behind. They are nearly upon their targets when the path breaks and becomes a serpentine tail that swats them away. Trinity molds the entire cloud road into a thick snake, which whips at any enemy that gets too close. She sinks up to her waist to avoid falling off as the ground stretches and bends into the shape of a hooded head, which darts forward to claim the split light spell. The pieces become the serpent’s eyes and release wide beams that stun whoever they touch.
The winged elves use their knives to slash at the snake’s body, every wound spraying a poison that makes its victims itch all over. Many of the locals are forced to retreat after their first pass, but the trained warriors move quick enough to avoid the counterattack. They try to strike Trinity, but the chaos elf twists her body around the blades as if she no longer has any bones. She bites at wrists and necks that come within reach, her mouth permanently open due to long fangs that drip a hallucinogenic venom. All attempts to stab Nimby and Quail are met with the snake’s tail slamming the approaching winged elves into one of the many pieces of wreckage found on the remaining path. The blows are enough to stun the warriors, but the dense body is still made of clouds that create a natural cushion and soften the construct’s impacts.
Unleashing an angry hiss, the cloud serpent thrashes at the remaining enemies and drives them back enough to clear a path to the east. The long body coils into a pile of tight springs before exploding into a wave of vapor. Trinity and her companions are sent hurtling in the direction that the map wants them to go while the winged elves are temporarily blinded by the abrasive mist. Holding Nimby and Quail’s hands, the channeler casts an invisibility spell that makes sure their enemies have no idea where they land. By the time the hungry warriors have recovered, the only sign of their prisoners is the missing pathway and a grappling hook dangling from a floating chunk of cloud.
3
With nothing to protect them, the travelers are exposed to the rising sun and terrifying high winds. Being small and light, Nimby has a rope tied around his waist, the other end magically fused to Trinity’s arm. The channeler maintains dark clouds that follow them and give them some shade, but they are repeatedly destroyed by the gales. Leading the way, Quail does his best to read the smeared map and avoid any weak spots in the path. After his first two close calls, the chaos elf has figured out a way to identify the dangerous sections and carefully walks around them. Whenever he feels like he is about to slip, the mapper freezes and waits for the telltale sensation to disappear from his limbs. He routinely glances over the edge to get his bearings, the grassy plains having been replaced by the pine trees of Pynofita Forest. Pulling a spyglass off its hook, he gazes ahead to figure out if they are coming to a turn or a gap. To his relief, Quail spots a small patch of clouds that is home to a tall fruit tree. Having been forced to leave their supplies with the winged elves, the travelers are happy at the thought of food even if it is no more than a few bites.
To their relief, the wind is nothing more than a gentle breeze passing over the clouds and there is enough shade to block a lot of the sunlight. Collapsing at the base of the tree, Trinity frees herself of the rope and rubs at the marks on her arm. She can see that some of the abrasions are bleeding, but it is nothing that will slow her down. Eyes starting to close, she is barely aware of her companions making themselves comfortable. Flicking her finger, she knocks down six of the orange fruits that taste like bananas mixed with cherries. The juice helps to cure their thirst while the fleshy pulp silences their rumbling stomachs. Wanting some for the future, Trinity cuts down more and stuffs them into a hastily made enchanted pants pocket until she runs out of space. Tossing one of the extras to Quail, she waves for the mapper to take a seat next to her, the young man obeying immediately.
“That ring is very powerful,” Trinity bluntly states, taking his hand to examine the crimson relic. Her eyes turn gold as she examines the object’s aura, which is steadily flowing into its wearer’s veins. “It’s obvious that it was made for combat instead of being used to carry heavy loads. There might even be abilities that you’ve yet
to uncover. I don’t see any sign of a curse beyond the energy getting knotted around your legs when you’re excited. That explains your clumsiness. So, why do you refuse to fight?”
“Because he is a coward!” Vile announces from the branch he is resting on. The toy holds on tight as his perch shakes from Nimby hitting it with a perfectly aimed fruit pit. “Be angry with me if you must, but that is the only reason. A real man would fight to survive. This one has the potential to be a great warrior and he squanders his life on drawings. I would have killed him and taken that ring by now if I was still alive.”
“You can try it now because I want to see what Trinity does to you,” the Lich teases with a small yawn. Having woken up an hour ago, the necrocaster is still confused on what has happened, but repeatedly claims he does not care enough to listen. “Far be it for me to call someone else a coward, but the General does have a point. This is a dangerous journey and one cannot wait to be saved by his stronger allies. Not to mention, what will you do if we face a threat that is immune to Trinity’s magic? Would you let her die?”
“Oh yeah, gang up on the guy. That will help the situation,” Nimby mutters while he searches the cloud for stones. The halfling’s digging stops when he finds one of the tree roots and realizes that the clouds are not as thick as he thought. “Let’s stop pretending Quail is a warrior in the first place. We all know people who can’t fight and never had a reason to learn because of their lifestyle. They either learn enough to survive, avoid dangerous situations, or hire people to protect them. Nothing wrong with taking the second and third path if that’s what makes you comfortable. I wonder if you guys gave Nyder this much trouble since he rarely left Shayd and couldn’t beat a mosquito without help.”
Path of the Traitors Page 6