Path of the Traitors

by Charles E Yallowitz

  “All you have to do is claim the crests and your friends will be revived,” the apparition announces in a faint voice. Lunging for Trinity, she is pulled back by Altia’s whip wrapping around her legs. “Do you really think you can restrain me? Your power is stolen and barely under your control. At best, I give you a minute and that’s being generous. Though I am impressed that you were able to enchant your weapon enough to touch me. Perhaps I shouldn’t underestimate you.”

  “Run for the tower while I keep it busy!” Altia shouts before hurling the apparition out the window. Snapping her whip out of the building, she knocks the creature away with a plume of fire. “I’ll give you as much time as possible. Don’t waste any of it arguing either because we know somebody has to do this.”

  “Good luck,” Quail says while Trinity blasts a hole in the ceiling.

  The chaos elves are launched into the air by a gust of wind, which leaves them exposed to their enemy. Hurtling toward the pair, the apparition is struck in the jaw by a bolt of force and knocked back to the ground by a rainbow-colored hand. Smashing into a shed, the creature sinks into the earth and tries to come at Altia from the rear. She pounces on the elf and tries to take her soul, only for an illusion-covered lightning spell to explode in her face and send her sailing across the street. Before the apparition hits a building, a stiffened whip appears to slam into her back and drive her back into the lingering smoke. Crawling out of the small crater, the chuckling guardian remains on all fours while looking for her hidden prey. Spotting a distortion to the right, the phantom stretches an arm that sprouts ten long talons. Instead of the fleshy body of Altia, she finds a wooden table stuck to her hand. The creature is not surprised when the piece of furniture bursts into flames and burns away her limb up to the elbow.

  “Invisibility and traps are an amusing tactic, but not enough to defeat me,” the apparition announces while regenerating. Rising off the ground, she drifts over the cobblestones and spins to look in every direction. “You’ve survived longer than expected and given your friends a head start for the tower. Yes, I knew you would go there at some point. It’s the most obvious place to put the crests. Not that I’m saying you’re right or wrong. Now, should I keep playing with you or move on to the real challenge?”

  “I’m happy with you staying here,” Altia replies, her voice coming from a bakery. The guardian charges through the building, only to be sent tumbling back into the street by another explosion. “Like I would make it that easy. You keep thinking my job is to defeat you, but all I have to do is keep you busy. Go ahead and run away since I know where you’ll be going. Can you chase my friends while I’m after you? I doubt it.”

  The apparition wipes the smoke and ash from her ethereal body while walking to the center of the street. “You are a creature made of lies, but you accept that. It makes you stronger than the others. Trinity’s identity is shattered, which is why she can’t defeat me so easily. At any other point in her life, she’d be the superior predator. She puts up a perfect front with her confidence, but she’s starting to break thanks to what she has seen. People despise her and want revenge even though she is a hero to her people. Ambrosine has been using agents outside of the chaos elves and she was never told, which makes her wonder what else has been hidden from her. Let’s not forget her conflicting emotions toward Yola, who has been her closest friend for years and now hunts her like prey. She will die here if she doesn’t fix her mind.”

  “Even broken, Queen Trinity can defeat you.”

  “For your sake, I hope you’re right.”

  With a quick spin, the apparition swings her stretching arms in a circle that covers the entire width of the street. At the corner of the alley, she strikes Altia and yanks the invisible elf’s soul from her body. Coiling around the gasping spirit, the creature’s serpentine limb retracts into her glowing form as if it is a prehensile tongue. Not waiting for the absorption to finish, the apparition leaps onto the rooftops and begins running toward the tower. She stops after a few blocks to punch Altia’s splayed hand into her body and give herself a second to make sure there will be no more fighting.

  “These sure are some stubborn meals,” the apparition mutters, frowning at how the three captives’ faces repeatedly appear in her flesh. Growing a new arm, the creature focuses on shoving the spirits as far into her essence as possible. “That should keep them out of my way for a while. Need all the room I can spare for that tasty channeler. Now who’s ready for another taste, your highness?”

  *****

  The narrow stairwell is barely lit by tiny gems in the walls, which causes Trinity and Quail to trip as they race to the roof. Still getting used to his crutch, the mapper repeatedly falls behind and catches up by using his great strength to leap instead of walk. Aside from the entrance, the chaos elves have not come across any doors or open rooms. Occasionally knocking on the stone, they are unsure if there is anything within the tower besides the stairs. The experimental blows always result in a solid thud that reminds them of punching a mountain instead of a hollow space. Without windows to show them the ruins, they have no idea how high they have climbed and have begun to lose their sense of time. Every minute feels like an hour, the fear of being trapped by the apparition making the ascent more nerve-wracking. Their breathing becomes ragged and short in response to their tension and the stale air that permeates the stairwell. Any changes in the dim lighting causes their hearts to pound in their chests until they realize that it is not their enemy. As a feeling of claustrophobia sets in, they stop falling for the shifting beams and press on in the hopes of seeing an exit around the next turn.

  Knowing that Altia has probably been defeated by now, the chaos elves attempt to rush forward with all of their strength. With a yelp of surprise, Quail trips over his crutch and crashes into Trinity’s back. They fall to the ground and skid, the stairwell shattering to reveal that they are already on the turreted roof. Instead of celebrating their freedom, the pair scramble to their feet and look for the apparition. All they find is a rusty pole jutting out of the stone to hold a wind chime high above the ruins. The metal bars bang against each other and sound like gongs that echo over the landscape. Faint responses from the other instruments can be heard, the noise growing into a cacophony of conflicting tunes. The chaos only stops when the wind becomes too weak to move the wind chimes, but the travelers still have a dull ringing in their ears.

  “Maybe we missed a door,” Trinity mutters while looking over the edge. She locates the area that they left Altia and frowns at how there is no movement below. “That thing will be here soon. Help me search for the crests. Check around the turrets because they could be attached to the stone. If we don’t find anything then I’ll get us to the ground where we can run. Does your map tell us anything, Quail?”

  “It’s only showing the entire city,” he answers while inspecting the wind chime. Finding nothing of interest, he gets on his hands and knees to check the floor. “I really hope we’re right about them being here because I wouldn’t know where else to look. Putting them in a random building would make this more difficult, but I would hope the dragons aren’t that cruel. What if the crests are back at the beginning and we never had to enter the ruins?”

  “That would really make me mad,” the channeler replies, her eyes glowing to help her see in the dark. Running her hands around the turrets, she sinks some of her energy into the roof in case the crests are inside the stone. “I doubt it since we left Vile there. He can still see things, so he could simply point them out to win this. There is something magical around here, but I can’t figure out what it is. Can you break this rock for me? I’d use a spell, but that would draw too much attention. Quail? Hello?”

  A dryness consumes Trinity’s mouth as she turns around to find her companion standing still on the opposite side of the roof. For a moment, the channeler thinks he has found something and is staring in awe. Her hopes are crushed at the sight of drool falling from his slack mouth and a growing paleness to his co
balt skin. Trinity backs against the turret and covers her arm in a lightning lance, her eyes darting from side to side. With a piercing whistle, the apparition rises out of the tower next to Quail, whose ankle is in her hand. The creature yanks the mapper’s soul out of his body, which flops to the floor and kicks up a puff of dust. Swallowing his spirit headfirst, the phantom steps forward and waves for Trinity to attack. The crackling spell hits the apparition in the chest and harmlessly sputters into a line of sparks that do nothing more than singe the ground.

  “I didn’t think that would work,” Trinity admits with a forced smirk. She hops onto the turret when her enemy steps forward, one of her heels sliding to the edge. “You should be afraid now. The others aren’t slowing me down, so I can drag this fight across the entire city. No more holding back for me, which means I’ll destroy you soon. It will be a lot easier to find the crests with you out of the way.”

  “Such bravado even after that horrible vision,” the apparition states while walking to the wind chime. She grips the pole and spins around before flipping onto the top. “I can smell your damage. Are you the protector, the avenger, or the survivor this time? All three can work, but you don’t have the mental strength to combine them. You’re fraying at the edges, Throneless Queen. Is it because you brought Quail and Altia to a place where they will die?”

  “You’re kidding, right?” Trinity asks, a tremble of laughter in her voice. Pounding her fists together, the chaos elf licks her lips and crouches. “I’m not going to fall for all this mental warfare garbage because I’ve used the tactics myself. You’re attacking my confidence and sense of identity, which I almost fell for because I might be getting a little soft. Never forget that I’ve been tortured and known suffering since I left my mother’s womb. There are very few torments that I’ve not been subjected to. Do you really think some ancient ghost is going to accomplish what the Kernaghans and their demons couldn’t do? Nothing in this world or the next can ever break me. So, stop talking and-”

  Trinity’s voice is cut off when the apparition appears in front of her and stabs a clawed hand into her stomach. Using the last of her strength, the channeler lets her body fall from the tower with a floating spell to protect it from the impact. The rest of her spirit struggles against the creature, which is watching the limp figure drift safely to the ground. White light from the stars hit a thin strand that connects Trinity’s energy to her body, but the thread is easily snipped by the apparition. Ignoring the harmless blows to the head, the creature greedily absorbs her prey and stands still while her belly gradually bloats. Releasing an echoing burp, the phantom wanders around the roof in a daze and waits for the dragons to announce her victory. Minutes of silence pass before she realizes that something is wrong and the contest is still going on.

  “Oh, that’s pure genius. You left just enough energy in your body to keep the game going, but you’re defenseless now,” the apparition whispers while gazing at the channeler’s distant form. Feeling some indigestion, the guardian pounds on her chest and coughs. “You were going to use that tether to pull yourself free along with your friends. That would weaken me enough to give you time to escape or knock me out. Such a risky plan, especially after you promised to drag this fight across the city. How did you survive with such weakness?”

  “You know us chaos elves. We’re very good at surviving,” Trinity replies from inside the apparition. Her face looms out of the creature’s hand and yawns before sinking back into the glowing flesh. “The tether did have a purpose and that was to get you to touch it. Left a little spell in there that I made up on the spot. Want to see what it can do? Not that you have a choice in the matter.”

  Coated in green and violet energy, a fist punches through the phantom’s chest. The pulsating limb bends to repeatedly slap the apparition in the face, driving her to the edge of the roof. She attempts to regurgitate Trinity, but the pain of hundreds of internal hooks tearing at her insides locks her body. A foot slides out of the creature’s splitting calf and swings to knock the entire body down, a chorus of grunts spewing from several mouths. Crawling toward the wind chime, the confused guardian is battered by a fist that punches three holes in her back. Stretching for the thin pole, her fingers are replaced by Trinity’s and the hand lurches back to grab the phantom’s neck. Thrashing on the ground, she gurgles for air before remembering that she has not had to breathe in centuries. With an enraged howl, the apparition frees herself from the channeler’s grasp and jumps to her feet. She is about to put a hand into her mouth when the left side of her head is blown off by a blast of acid. Stumbling against the turrets, the guardian holds her stomach, which is heating up to the point that steam is flowing from every pore.

  “You matched my energy,” the apparition groans while trying to heal. The melted edges of her wounds start to knit together, but they reopen at the slightest touch. “The tether I cut gave you a taste that I never noticed, so I couldn’t deny you. Channelers are such dangerous and ravenous creatures. Should have known one of your kind would be the death of me. I can feel you protecting your friends now. Only a matter of time before you make me explode and the contest is over. Then again, another one of me will appear if you still can’t find the crests. Just remember that this trick can work only once.”

  “Good thing I found the crests.”

  “And how did you do that?”

  “You saw that I left a little aura in my body, but it wasn’t only to cushion my fall,” Trinity explains, her mouth appearing on the apparition’s forehead. Forcing the creature to turn around and face the ruins, she casts magic sight to reveal a network of thin strands over the city. “I stretched myself to the limits and searched for the Baron’s aura. If these crests were his then they would still have his magical scent. This contest is a trap because nobody can find them without the right tools. Quail’s map was the last clue when it only showed the whole city. I’ll let you live long enough to see me claim victory.”

  The threads weave around every wind chime in the ruins, including those that have fallen under rubble. Distant rumbles of laughter can be heard from the dragons as they splay their wings against the sinking moons. Casting a warm light on the ruins, the large net reveals thousands of wandering figures that sigh in unison before sinking into the ground. Silver energy ripples along the strands as they retract into Trinity’s body, which rises back to the rooftop. She lets herself slump on the floor while the tightening web of magic dissolves into a patch of metallic dust. The cloud separates into six pieces that harden into fist-sized shields, each one with an engraving on the front. When the final speck is fused to the proper crest, the collection drifts onto Trinity’s lap and stack themselves into a neat pile.

  Four spirits are ejected from the apparition and head for their bodies, Quail immediately rising to check on Trinity. A gust of wind knocks him back as the channeler’s hand rises like that of a marionette and holds up a finger. The apparition explodes with a joyous laugh, her ephemeral body scattering across the ruins in the form of shimmering mist. Standing in the creature’s place, the glowing silhouette of Trinity wipes itself clean and stretches its arms. With a wave, the disembodied channeler brings Altia, Nimby, and the Lich to the top of the tower. The trio look around in confusion, none of them sure of what has happened. Having been in the apparition for more than ten minutes, they only have vague memories of being rescued and still suffer from a ring of white around the edges of their vision. Sensing that their journey is at an end, all of them relax and watch as Trinity seeps back into her body.

  Flashing a wide grin, the channeler holds up the crests for everyone to see. “Let’s get to Gaia and finish this.”

  *****

  Climbing the last few feet to the top of the dragons’ tower, Altia takes Quail’s hand and lets herself get hoisted onto solid ground. It takes the elf a few seconds of gasping and heaving before she notices that the others are quiet. She is about to ask about the silence when she notices a large, reptilian limb sitting in the middle
of the floor. Coming alongside her companions, Altia takes in the sight of blood-covered columns and scattered parts. Only one of the dragon’s heads remains in the chamber, the golden skull already rotting to the bone as it dangles off the edge. Its sharp teeth have been driven into the stone to keep it in view, the impalement responsible for cracks running across the room. One of the columns has been knocked into the door back to Ashkeep, the portal now on its side and missing a corner of its frame.

  “The dragons must have been kept alive by the crests,” Altia whispers, taking a cautious step forward. She does her best to avoid the puddles of blood that are already coagulating. “Their purpose is done, so they’re no longer needed. Quail said he heard them after Trinity got the crests, which could have been right before . . . this.”

  “The idea has merit, but why have them explode?” the Lich asks while picking up a scrap of leathery hide. Rubbing his boney thumb along the rougher side, he growls at the sensation of barbs cutting into him. “Another option is that Yola arrived and thought she was helping us by killing the dragons. We still have her and the rest of Ashkeep to contend with. I doubt they will let us go peacefully.”

  “There is another escape route in those mountains,” Quail interjects before pointing his map at the distance. The parchment bursts into flames, which causes him to yelp and slip on a damp piece of dragon. “Somebody wants us to either stay here or use that door. I don’t know how much time we have left before the champions reach Gaia, but I doubt we have more than three or four days. Traveling nonstop will get us to the city at the same time unless we can find a quicker way. Stealing a boat could help, but we would have to find one first and the nearest riverside town is a day away.”