Path of the Traitors

by Charles E Yallowitz

  With a hissing gasp, the guardian turns into an orb of light and escapes the chaos elf. Flying around the courtyard, it leaves glowing circles around the three travelers. Rising above the statue, the creature explodes into a churning gateway. The portal uses fang-like hooks to connect to the rings and draws them into its glistening maw. A playful giggle slips from the ether before the mortals are swallowed whole and cast into a prismatic tunnel. No sooner have they entered than the travelers are ejected from a cloud and deposited on a familiar path.

  “We’re back at the beginning!” Vile screams in rage. The figurine is about to yell at Trinity when the channeler vomits liquified aura and crashes to the ground. “Great. This disaster gets better by the minute.”

  *****

  “Are you okay, lady?” a tiny voice asks as Trinity’s eyes open. With a wide grin, the chaos elf child claps and hurries to help the channeler sit up. “I was worried about you for a while. You probably didn’t realize it, but that guardian nearly killed you. This is where you can recover while your friends handle the maze. Nimby’s group returned to the beginning with a Guide Demon that the Lich has enslaved. They haven’t tried to reattach Quail’s foot yet because it takes a while to heal and you don’t have time. Want something to eat?”

  “This is either a dream or a vision,” Trinity replies, accepting the plate of food. The smell is intoxicating, but she takes an experimental bite while keeping her eyes on the child. “I can feel my aura stitching back together. Thank you . . . Ambrosine? Not really sure who you are. One thing I do know is that pretending to be me as a child isn’t going to make me drop my guard. I’m well aware of that trick.”

  The younger Trinity pouts and crosses her arms before saying, “This isn’t the time for bitterness and caution. I have an important question that you need to consider in order to have a future. Who are you?”

  “Queen Trinity of Shayd, leader of the chaos elves.”

  “No, you’re not.”

  “That is what I’ve always been.”

  “Not really.”

  “You irritating brat! I’m not in the mood for-”

  More versions of Trinity appear as the hazy void becomes the rocky coastline of Shayd, complete with glowing eyes lurking within the churning water. Some of the phantoms are younger while others are older, including one that is clinging to a wooden staff. Beyond their ages and slight changes in clothing, there is very little difference between them. One with four enhancer gems takes a step forward, but is pulled back by a Trinity that is wearing a broken crown and a tattered dress she remembers having as a child. A few of the illusions release small displays of their magic, which frightens the most cowardly of the group. The silence is broken by laughter and crying, many of the chaos elves appearing to have breakdowns that leave them convulsing where they stand.

  “Are you all of us or none?” an infant asks, her violet eyes glowing around the edges. She crawls into Trinity’s lap and curls up before sticking her tongue out at the pouting child next to them. “You mention your title, but is that who you really are? It’s more your job than your identity, which has been shattered ever since you left Shayd. Are you a hero, a villain, or nothing more than a minion for either side? Are you still a slave or are you finally free? What about being a mother to your daughter as well as the protector of your people? These are all roles and questions that you must consider to discover your identity.”

  “I’m well aware of that, but I don’t have time for myself,” Trinity argues, handing the baby off to a pregnant version of herself. Finishing her meal, the channeler walks among her doubles who continue to watch her every move. “One thing I’ve never lacked is confidence. I can be all of these things and more if the situation calls for it. Whatever I need to be to claim victory is what I will become. That is how I’ve always existed and all of you know this. A person doesn’t have to settle on one identity for their entire life because events change them. Look at Nyx, who has gone from a helpless city brat to a seasoned adventurer and will one day become a great ruler.”

  “Amazing that you bring it back to her,” a short-haired illusion whispers. Rubbing her wounded arms and avoiding eye contact, the timid Trinity creates a cocoon to prevent anyone from getting too close. “Sorry, but you still sound jealous of her. Nyx never had to suffer like us to get where she is now. Stephen alone has scarred us for life, which is something we prevented her from enduring. Yet, did we do that out of concern for our rival or fear that she could handle it better than us? She always overtakes us and remains ahead to prove that we are weak. Perhaps she will become a better ruler than you could ever dream.”

  The protective shield is shatter by a punch from a Trinity who is licking her lips and speaks with a gleeful hiss. “Don’t be so stupid. Nyx pushed us to new heights and we have to thank her for what she did. I remember reveling in the destruction and hope that it happens again. That is where our desires truly lie. We fear a life where we no longer have to fight and suffer. Struggling is the core of our existence. Don’t you agree?”

  “All of you are broken,” the channeler replies while backing away. She starts scaling the jagged cliffside in the hopes of getting away from the crowd. “Maybe the answer is that I’m no longer any of you. Those parts of my life are over and this adventure is the first step toward proving that. Yes, I might claim to be a hero, but all I want is to live a life where nothing happens. I’m tired of fighting and worrying that it will be the last day for me and my people because we’re enslaved to a monster. I’m tired of fearing that the rest of Windemere will keep us in the shadows without giving us a chance. For the love of everything, I’m tired of being miserable on the inside and hating others for having what I want. Just let me wake up and finish this because I want destiny, prophecies, and all the strings that have dragged me along to leave me alone.”

  With a pop, the illusions disappear and the landscape changes back into a white void that goes on for eternity. Having climbed so high, Trinity finds herself falling and unable to use her magic. She decides not to fight back and closes her eyes with the expectation of waking up. The sudden stop jolts her awake and she looks up to find a fiery bird of red has grabbed her by the ankles. Dropping the channeler onto the ground, the phoenix lands next to her and transforms into a woman with chocolate brown hair. Fixing her ebony dress, Casandra offers a hand to her descendant and does her best to smile warmly.

  “You and Nyx would be the death of me if I was alive to begin with,” the woman declares, hoisting Trinity up to her feet. Holding out her arm, a burst of flames creates another phoenix that is slightly bigger than its previous incarnation. “At least you’re continuing my bloodline, but it seems you can’t function without a master. That shouldn’t surprise me considering you’ve always had one. Nyx is much better at being independent, so I recommend learning from her instead of acting superior. After all, she isn’t the one whose fear has caused them to become so weak. I hope you’re tired of holding back too.”

  “I never-” Trinity starts to argue before her voice fails. Glaring at the ancient channeler, she casts a spell that creates a second head and neck on the side of her shoulder. “There’s no point in debating this since we’re in my head. Fighting wastes time, so I should accept that you’re telling me something that I should already know. Well, maybe you’re right. I’ve always had a fear that releasing too much power would be dangerous. Not physical destruction, but I could be seen as a threat to the Baron or Stephen. I kept myself strong enough to be useful while making sure I never came close to their levels.”

  “You were a coward.”

  “I guess so.”

  “Does that still hold true?”

  “I don’t know.”

  “Well, you’ve done a great job hiding all of your fear and doubt on this adventure.”

  Undoing her spell and reviving her true voice, Trinity holds out her hands to create a mirror that shows her companions. She can see Altia is taking up the rear, the elf having used her whip to
lash the unconscious channeler to her back. Quail is a few steps ahead, his crutch repeatedly slipping and causing him to awkwardly struggle to retain his balance. The scrying moves ahead to show a winged creature that she assumes is the demon. Tygog walks along the top of the hedges and ignores the vines that bite at its legs, the hungry plants rotting as soon as they make contact. Not far behind their guide, Nimby marches with his skeletal hand weaving through the air. Trinity can hear the Lich’s faint shouting, the necrocaster angry at the demon for not warning them about the courtyard being a trap.

  “You’re wondering how a broken woman can lead an entire nation, much less a small group of misfits,” Casandra says, taking the portal away. She hands it back after changing it into a mirror that reflects Trinity as a thin outline. “We have a lot in common. Both of us came from a feared people who were targeted by evil. Mine were wiped out while yours were enslaved. We fought back by taking paths of darkness because we thought it was the only way to survive. Our sins piled up until they buried our souls. Then, we tumbled out of the shadows and were left to explore the light. Honestly, I’m jealous of how easy Nyx has had it too. Part of me still favors you because of our similarities. Yet, I’m also jealous of how lucky you are. Do you know how many people commit atrocities like we have and are given even a sliver of a chance to wipe the slate clean?”

  “That isn’t me,” Trinity argues while touching the drawing. She fills in the colors, which are not as vivid and bright as she wants them to be. “People still fear and hate chaos elves. As their Queen, I’m the biggest target for those emotions. Nobody is going to forget what we did. The Snow Tiger Tribe is the exception since we never did anything directly to them before marching on Stonehelm. The rest of the world has true grievances with my people.”

  Casandra sighs and shatters the mirror to remove the distraction. “That’s why I said you have a chance to wipe the slate clean. Not that it’s already been done. This adventure isn’t the key either because nobody knows you’re doing it. What is the point of escaping Shayd if you’re going to hide in the shadows while everyone fights a battle that you need to be a part of? Do you think the rest of Windemere will be happy that you cowered while they fought whatever the Baron arrives with?”

  “For the love of Ambrosine, stop ordering me around!” the chaos elf snaps as her body erupts with coiling magic. With a wave of her hand, a door appears and opens to show the maze from above. “There are only so many battles I can fight at once. Right now, I need to get those crests. After that, I’ll get my people to Gaia and prove we’re ready to stand with the rest of Windemere. As for my personal issues, those can wait until I have the time. They haven’t consumed me yet, so I figure I can push them away for a little bit longer.”

  “If that’s what you want to do then good luck,” Casandra replies while she fades into a curtain of ashes. Her face remains among the gray and black motes that hang in the air. “I tried my best, but you’re too stubborn and focused for your own good. Maybe that’s the key to your victory. Choose your goal and suffer to reach it like you always do. Obviously, nothing can happen that you can’t rationalize away. Just keep an eye out for that chance to start atoning for your sins. You only get one shot at that.”

  Wanting to return to her body, Trinity gives an impatient wave to the other channeler before leaping through the doorway. The portal slams shut behind the chaos elf with enough force to make her teeth rattle. She is surprised that nothing happens besides being entombed in darkness, her senses unable to pierce the shadows. All attempts to create a scrying spell or get an idea of what is going on around her fail, not even a spark appearing. Fear grips Trinity’s chest as she considers that her body is still too damaged and weak to be revived.

  It is not until a single light appears to show a rickety wooden chair that she regains some hope. The chaos elf walks toward the seat, but pauses when she hears the pounding feet of a large crowd. Brief flickers of movement can be seen in the distance, the figures blending into the shadows. It takes Trinity a second to realize that the other versions of herself are racing toward the chair. Even the infant version is moving at an alarming speed while tripping any who get in her way. Not wanting to know what will happen if somebody else reaches the seat first, she breaks into a desperate sprint. She dodges legs and arms that sweep out of the darkness, each one framed by an elemental charge. Many of her copies are at the edge of the light when she dives and crashes into the chair. As the channeler falls to the ground, an explosion of light eradicates the shadows and the copies sigh as they are erased.

  *****

  “Ow, my face!” Trinity shouts when she wakes up. Her nose is bleeding even though it is not broken and she feels a dull throbbing from her bruised chin. “You can put me down, Altia, and don’t ask what happened. I had a visitor in my head who wanted to teach me a lesson. All I really learned is that I have to stop getting knocked out. This is probably a stupid question, but have we had any luck getting out of here?”

  “Nobody is dead or injured, which is the only good news,” Altia replies while putting the chaos elf down. She nods her head towards where the Lich is screaming at Tygog, the necrocaster’s words bordering on incomprehensible. “We’ve been traveling for hours and every path has sent us back to the start. The demon swears he’s lost too, but none of us believe him. I don’t think Tyler has as much control over that thing as he believes. Quail says we’ve checked three-quarters of the maze, which means there’s another trick at work here.”

  “The magic must have been cast with a mapper in mind,” the channeler groans as she massages her stiff legs. She looks up in time to see the Lich cast a spell, which causes Tygog to explode into a shower of red mist. “Did you really have to do that? We could have figured out a way to get the truth from that thing. For all we know, the way out is in the few places that we haven’t checked. Now, we’re worse off than we were before.”

  “Glad to see that nap has invigorated you,” the Lich mockingly retorts. He stretches his skeletal arm to the top of the hedge and opens his hand to absorb the demon’s remains. “He never knew the way out because his job was to lead travelers to their death. Whenever the group returns to the beginning, they would have to travel until running into Tygog again. Either a new deal would be struck or they would be left to wander the maze for eternity, which is the fate for whoever is the last man or woman standing. The only reason it didn’t happen this time is because I had him under my thumb. Sadly, there is no sense in keeping a pet when it becomes utterly useless.”

  “I believe the worm failed to control the demon and got frustrated,” Vile interjects from atop one of the portraits. The figurine jabs one of his swords into the painting and slides down to the ground. “Tygog had to know of a way out. It was only a matter of getting him to tell us. Guide Demons need to be tricked into revealing their secrets. The alternative is to torture them, but those of us who were awake lacked the power to do so.”

  “Would you two be quiet?” Nimby groans before snatching Vile. He uses the toy to rattle his arm, both of his victims complaining at the humiliating treatment. “The bigger problem is that we can’t even get back to Ashkeep. It’s a possibility that the portrait we originally went through was a fake and this is an endless loop. As I said before, there’s also a chance that the diary could have been planted by one of the Baron’s agents. This whole thing could have been an elaborate trap and the champions were supposed to take the bait.”

  Clearing his throat, Quail raises his hand with the map and tries to show it to the irritated halfling. “This is proof that we are in the right place. Nobody would create such an amazing map for a trap that might never get used. From my training and experience, this is only done to protect something important. How would the champions even fall for this since it was a missing part of the prophecy until now? They weren’t even the ones who found out about it.”

  “Come to think of it, how did Tyler learn about this?” Altia adds while approaching the necrocaster. She trie
s to grip the boney wrist, but pulls back when her fingers begin to sizzle and burn. “All I’m saying is that it’s weird you found this lost piece of information. You’ve been dead for a while too. Where would you have heard about this secret?”

  “The dead have their methods,” the Lich insists, his voice shaking with anger. Sensing that his answer is not enough, he makes Nimby grind his teeth in frustration. “I don’t know who gave me the information. My previous host was asleep and falling apart, so I was busy trying to keep him together. A zombie crawled from the ground to tell me to look for the missing crests and earn redemption. Lorvis works closely with Zaria, so I assumed it was him. Besides, nobody here has a role to play in the final battle. Getting myself trapped with a bunch of babbling idiots wouldn’t make any sense.”

  “He has a point,” Quail admits while rubbing his strained eyes. Glancing at his map, the chaos elf notices a change and whistles for attention. “We have a new problem. I see walls at both ends of this path. It looks like we’ve been blocked in. We must have stayed in one place for too long.”

  The ground begins to rise as something large lands on the path ahead, the travelers struggling to keep their footing. Unable to stay standing, Quail falls and slides toward the bottom where the distant wall is growing spikes. Trinity leaps to catch him by the waist and plunges her feet into the earth. Hearing their companions coming, the channeler casts a strong net that is anchored to her sides and the hedges. A low rumbling can be heard from the other side of the path and pebbles roll down the steepening floor. Portraits shatter and their remains rain down on the small group as they look to the open sky, which might be their only escape. Before they can attempt a jump, half of a picture frame bounces off the net and is torn to shreds by hundreds of vines that merge to create an impenetrable canopy.