*****
Whistling a happy tune, Yola tears off the rest of Luke’s clothes and goes about repairing his body. Bones snap back together and open wounds heal, the ensuing sensations a bizarre mixture of pleasure and pain for the champion. Unfamiliar with bruises, the black and white-skinned immortal pokes at the dark marks to see how much they hurt before tearing them off like bandages. Raw skin is left behind, so she wipes an ethereal slime over the patches and watches them solidify into callused skin that she adjusts to match Luke’s tan. Extracting a brush from her mouth, the green-haired woman works on the prisoner’s blonde hair until it is shimmering and clean. Scowling at the effect, Yola looks around the desolate cliff that they are standing on and peers down the sheer mountainside. The churning ocean roars and foams against the rocky coastline, which she takes as a complaint that she heartily agrees with. Ruffling Luke’s hair, she leaves it dull and tangled with a barbed twig rubbing at his scalp whenever the wind blows.
Satisfied with her work, the former goddess takes a seat on the ground and blankly stares at the captured champion. She stretches her arm to push Melanie and Raksha further away, the trouble-making pair frozen in mid-run. Reaching deep into her bellybutton, Yola pulls out four metal toys and places them at Luke’s feet, which barely touch the ground. Furious about their containment, the spirits that once lived inside Luke cause the figurines to shake and hop. A fiery glow appears in the mouth of the Sword Dragon while the griffin sprouts a tiny feather that falls into the dirt. Not wanting to risk the spirits escaping, Yola stuffs them into Luke’s bottomless pouch and swallows the entire bag. She is disgusted by the taste and spits it back up, her waist sprouting a belt that fuses with the enchanted sack.
“I’ll be taking that back eventually,” Luke groans, his voice faint and weak. He cannot stop himself from shedding tears in response to the emptiness and solitude in his heart and mind. “No matter what you do to me, I’m never going to talk. Whatever secrets I have will have to die with me.”
“Good to know, but our master has no questions for you,” Nyder Fortune bluntly states while walking up the rocky pass. The gnome wipes sweat from his bald head and grunts as he shrugs a heavy backpack off his shoulders. “He sends his apologies that he cannot join you for your first meal, but he has business to attend to. The Baron wants you to regain most of your strength since the attack in the Caster Swamp and the first round of torture were extremely taxing. He wishes for you to know that he only wanted to get an idea of how you react to pain and make his present to our enemies more believable. At least until he decides to really start working on you and transfers real events to the illusion. Personally, I’d have waited until we really started working on you before taunting the gods and goddess. Uh, I seem to have a height problem here, Yola, so you should feed the prisoner.”
“I could give you longer legs,” the immortal suggests, reaching for the inventor’s ankle. She yelps when the gnome throws three razor-edged discs into her hand, the blades melting to give her fingers metallic veins. “You could have said no. Please tell me that you brought something to keep me busy. The master’s pets got annoying and I’m getting bored with this one. All he does is whimper, cry, and claim we’ll never make him talk. Do you realize that you have to talk in order to declare that we won’t make you talk?”
Nyder rolls his eyes and dabs at his bulbous nose with a handkerchief, the droplets of sweat irritating his nostrils. “Just feed the champion and try not to make his brain melt. The Baron needs his psyche to be healthy and strong before he returns. Seems removing those spirits caused some emotional and mental damage that this enchanted food should repair. The hassle of jamming this in his mouth and forcing him to chew is better than having to deal with a berserk chimera that we aren’t allowed to kill.”
“But I wanted to ride him around Shayd.”
“Then mess with the spirits on your own time and don’t ask me to put you back together.”
“Why are you so grumpy?”
“Thanks to Dariana, my family’s entire legacy has been destroyed.”
“You could always make more.”
“Just let me mourn the loss, Yola, and please stop his stomach from rumbling.”
The immortal’s hair transforms into emerald arms that take the backpack, which is filled with sparkling food. Yola impales the rolls and fruits on the spike-like branches, the smell drawing curious beetles out of hiding. Not wanting them to ruin the meal, the former goddess stretches into the distant clouds to claim a bolt of crimson lightning and sends the electricity coursing through the tree. The insects explode around Luke, who shivers every time the crackling energy licks at his skin. With a gleeful squeal, Yola wraps her legs around the champion’s waist and the entire tree to pull herself closer. She forces the prisoner’s mouth open wide enough to jam food inside and repeatedly slams his jaws together, the clacking of his teeth echoing across the continent. When the half-elf starts to choke, the immortal digs her nails into his neck and stretches her fingers to make his throat big enough to swallow the large chunks whole. Within minutes, all of the food has been eaten and Luke is left drooling, his entire face numb from being manhandled.
“I should bring a liquid meal next time,” Nyder mutters, disgusted by the display. He draws a notebook from the pocket of his lime green shirt and jots down a reminder to experiment with food. “The master says he is expecting the other champions to make a drastic decision. One that will be risky and play off their current confusion. Not sure how, but he knows what they’re going to do and it isn’t what he originally hoped for. He wanted me to tell you that Walter is being sent out on his first mission. Between you and me, I think using the kid out is a little extreme.”
“I disagree because my son needs to see the world and practice with his powers,” Yola replies in a sudden burst of clarity. Not enjoying the single voice in her mind, she grabs a boulder and slams it against her head until the comforting chorus of chatter returns to her psyche. “What was I saying about my son? Doesn’t matter because he’s definitely a daddy’s little boy. Those two have become so close in the last few hours that I feel neglected. Kids grow up so quickly these days. One day they’re suckling on your bellybutton and the next they’re stealing your mouth because you dared to eat one of their toys.”
Ignoring the nonsensical rant, Nyder cautiously approaches Luke when he sees that the champion is regaining his senses. The gnome opens a compartment on his belt and draws a pair of scissors, which he begrudgingly hands to Yola. It takes a few urgent points to convey that he wants a small lock of the half-elf’s hair. Using a tiny scalpel, the inventor stretches to run the blade along one of the scar that crosses Luke’s belly. The blood is bright red and smells like potent medicine, the odor turning sour when black flecks appear in the ichor. After carefully preserving the sample, Nyder considers requesting one of the prisoner’s chocolate-colored eyes because of the golden flecks and ebony circles. Finding a dark green bruise that Yola forgot to heal, he decides it is wiser to wait until the Baron is ready to hand the young warrior over to the gnome. Several experiments flit through the inventor’s mind while he claims a discarded fingernail and tooth that are sitting at the base of the tree.
“I wonder if champion parts have more power than those of normal adventurers. Never had a chance to find out,” Nyder whispers to himself. He reaches over to pull Yola off the prisoner and hands her a potion to smear along the stakes in Luke’s hands and shoulders. “This should prevent infection and bleeding of those wounds. I added a longevity agent to it, so the effect will last for a day before it needs to be reapplied. Master says we’ll remove the numbing spells tomorrow night. That should make for a very nasty rebound and give us an idea on how this one deals with shocks to his system. Good thing he never claimed his full power and doesn’t have magic. Those are the ones that tend to explode if pushed too far.”
“If you don’t want to question me then why am I here?” Luke asks in a voice that is struggling to stay cohere
nt. Mustering a surge of strength, he yanks his hands free of the stakes and attempts to remove the ones in his shoulders. The tips are nearly out of his flesh when Yola slams them back in and creates thorn-covered vines to bind his wrists to the branches. “This doesn’t make any sense. My friends and I were already coming here to battle your master. Unless you want information, there’s no reason for any of this.”
Yola sighs before tickling the old scar that runs diagonally across his torso, the pink flesh wriggling beneath her icy touch. “You can tell him why, Nyder. Mostly because I don’t know. If it was up to me, I’d have left this one alone. Seems far too weak to be a good prisoner or plaything. Oh, I get it now. This one is the helpless princess that the others have to save. I love the classics.”
“Guess that could be one reason for the kidnapping, but the hero is right that they were coming here anyway,” the gnome admits, his red eyes focusing on how the champion’s blood seeps from the wounds on his wrist. Dragging Melanie over, he uses the frozen girl as a ladder to bring him in reach of the flowing liquid. “The Baron desires only one thing from you, Luke Callindor. He wants you to suffer. I’m not sure why and it’s not my place to ask unless I feel like joining my ancestors. To put it simply, you’re going to be broken, put back together, and broken again in new ways.”
A crimson portal appears behind Yola, who scurries away like a startled cat and hisses at the gateway. She remains behind a boulder as the Baron steps out of the Chaos Void and rubs his stiffening neck. Wanting to get back to torturing the prisoner, he tosses his cape and gloves into the churning opening before it closes. Nodding to his remaining agents, the immortal gestures for them to leave while he approaches the champion. Seeing that Melanie and Raksha have been frozen, he snaps his fingers to revive them and points for them to follow the others. He waits for everyone to be out of sight before removing his silk shirt and hanging it from a branch where it will not get ruined by the inevitable blood sprays. The Baron frowns at the wrist restraints and tears them off before returning Luke’s hands to the stakes. To make sure the forest tracker cannot escape, he curves the pointed ends until they touch the branch.
“I apologize for leaving so soon after our first meeting, but I had some important business to attend to. Now, where did we leave off, young Callindor?” asks the Baron, his eyes turning from abyssal black to a relaxing blue. The immortal sinks a finger into Luke’s side and hooks a rib, which he snaps like a hollow twig. “I want to see how many I can break before you pass out or beg for mercy. Please scream, cry, and do whatever comes naturally, so that I know what works and what is a waste of energy. After all, it has been too long since I tortured an enemy and I need to make up for lost time. There is also the possibility that I am rusty or have gone soft in my old age.”
Luke gnaws on his lower lip to avoid whimpering when the fifth rib is broken and his tormentor twists the splintered bone. The scream that he wants to unleash rattles in his throat until it is abruptly ejected by another break. His voice carries over Shayd and is answered by the cackling of demons, their silhouettes seen on the distant cliffs. Disoriented and numb, the half-elf opens his eyes and finds that the Baron has placed a gentle finger on his forehead. Luke is about to speak when the warlord steps around him and places a glass needle against the base of his spine. With a whispered spell, the thin shard is fired through the champion’s spinal column and out of his throat due to his body twisting in pure agony.
“Thank you, young man. That should be more than enough to deliver my message,” the Baron says while cleaning his hands. Snapping his fingers, the immortal heals the worst of the damage he has inflicted and adopts a more relaxed demeanor. “Now all we have to do is wait and enjoy each other’s company.”
1
“Stop holding back and do it!” Dariana yells, her voice echoing across the decimated clearing. Sweat trickling down her face, the silver-haired woman keeps her eyes on the fireball that is a few inches from her nose. “If I hadn’t tried to use the portal then my father wouldn’t have stolen it. Now he has Luke and it’s my fault. Please get rid of me before I put any more of you in danger.”
The dirt-covered immortal rubs her temples after Nyx backs away and the fireball shrinks to the size of a coin. She tries to coax the black-haired channeler into attacking, but the effects of feeling Luke’s suffering has weakened her telepathy. Easing off the female half-elf, Dariana lets her friend relax before creating a sudden urge to fire a lightning bolt. Caught by surprise, Nyx is unable to reign in her aura and the deadly spell lances toward the telepath’s head. The magic never reaches its target as Timoran uses his tiger-striped great axe to bat the blast away. It arches over the castle’s collapsed wall and explodes against the ground, sending rubble and swamp water high into the air. Defeated and tired, Dariana slumps to her knees and bangs her head against a chunk of rock while another surge of Luke’s agony is delivered to her mind. A cackling in her head causes her to shriek and grind her forehead against the stone, leaving a line of blood on the edge.
“Never use me as a weapon again,” Nyx growls before putting more distance between herself and other champion. She climbs to the top of some rubble and stares out at the Caster Swamp with the hope of catching sight of her little brother. “We don’t know for a fact that the Baron has him. All of the pain Dariana is feeling could be another part of the trap. Maybe he landed somewhere nearby or is buried under a place that we haven’t checked. This could be a trick to get the five of us to fight without Luke. We’ll be divided and weakened if we continue without him.”
“Well, he definitely accomplished that already,” Delvin announces as he struggles to drag Sari back to the group. Breaking into a small jog, he is yanked back when the blue-haired gypsy becomes immovable. “Can all of us please calm down and stop making the situation worse? No running off alone. No taking blame for this mess and trying to get killed. No pouting. No drinking. No to everything that isn’t productive.”
“Does that include a rant about what we should not do?” Timoran asks before taking a long pull of his flask. The red-haired barbarian sits next to Dariana and places his black-furred vest beneath her head to cushion the self-inflicted blows. “As much as I would love to agree with Nyx’s theory, I fear that Dariana is telling the truth. Given that he was holding onto her, Luke should have been found nearby. If he was dead then there would be parts, which is a more positive fact than it sounds because it means he is alive. In pain and needing to be rescued, but alive. That gives us an opportunity to save him and we must be careful not to waste it with recklessness.”
“Then we should stop standing around and get to Shayd immediately,” Sari declares, freeing her wrist and turning to leave. The flutter of wings is enough of a warning for her to dodge a blast of rainbow mist, Fizzle’s breath dispelling in the wind. “At the very least, we should be walking to Selenia’s academy where we can get some help. We need to tell Kira about this too. If Luke is being tortured by the Baron then she has a right to know.”
“No good idea,” Fizzle declares when he materializes in front of Sari. The purple-scaled drite darts under his friend’s skirts and grabs the hem with his tail in an unsuccessful attempt to drag her back. “Kira get sad. Might get mad. Try to save him and get in way. We need real plan. Not know if Luke on Shayd too.”
Dariana rises to her feet and removes the tattered remains of her shirt, replacing it with a blue one that depicts an owl on the back. Tightening the straps on her side, she lets her mind travel along the connection that is feeding her Luke’s suffering. The cord is tight and acidic, the burns on her astral form appearing on the flesh of her hands. Ignoring the wounds, she hurries along the tether as it narrows and threatens to snap the telepath back to her body. Tree-covered land and snowy mountains give way to the ocean, which makes her wonder how the Baron kidnapped her friend since he is supposed to be contained on Shayd. Her best guess is that Yola appeared immediately after the blast to take Luke away, but she has a horrible feeling that a
more sinister agent is being used against them.
Her sense of dread is enhanced when a wall of choking darkness rushes from the horizon and envelopes Dariana. Defenseless against the sudden attack, she is knocked around like a feather in a hurricane and slams into solid objects that remain hidden by the shadows. The breeze from a swinging blade touches her face before the psychic tether is cut and the telepath is cast adrift in the astral plane. Unable to discern the direction that leads back to her body, Dariana is terrified that she will be forced to spend the next few years wandering while her friends carry on without her. As if responding to her fear, the darkness parts to reveal a tunnel and a solid punch to her chest sends her hurtling back into her mind. The champion lands with enough force that her body flops on the ground, bounces over the wall, and lands in a pool of putrid water. Floating with her limbs and face above the surface, Dariana can only gaze at the darkening sky and wonder if it is becoming night or her attacker is approaching the swamp.
“That is still not a reason for you to go off on your own,” Delvin states, catching Sari by the wrist. His blue eyes focus on the telepath as she emerges from the water and huddles like a frightened child. “I take it things are worse than we imagined. Hold still while I try to heal those wounds. Maybe I can use my powers to increase your mental defenses. Though it would be easier if somebody would unlock her body and move with me.”
“I’m sorry, but you shouldn’t touch me,” Dariana states as she freezes the warrior. Crawling away before freeing him, the shivering champion removes her black slippers and wrings water out of them. “I couldn’t find Luke, but I believe he is on Shayd. My father is still trapped there, which means one of his agents arrived before the dust settled. That’s all I know because something attacked me. I’m sorry, but the astral plane is no longer safe. Traveling those paths could result in me being separated from my body or taken over by that strange darkness. We need another way to locate Luke.”
Ritual of the Lost Lamb Page 2