“You must absorb us,” the domed knight states in the Sword Dragon’s voice. Gripping his helmet, the beast rips off his visor to reveal his metal-scaled face. “If you leave without us then we will be lost in the ether. The telepath might be able to find us, but it would not happen in time for us to reunite with the whelp.”
“I already have Luke’s aura inside me. I don’t know if I can handle all of you too,” the tired woman replies, her nerves already feeling strained. The sound of crumbling earth warns her that the dreamscape is starting to collapse, giving her little time to consider her options. “Forget I said that. There’s no time. All of you come closer and put one of your hands in front of me. I’m going to try to claim all of you at the same time.”
The Sword Dragon flashes a toothy grin and releases a wisp of smoke with a snort. “This is why I like you more than my host. Unlike him, there is no doubt in my mind that you have the power to handle me.”
“Don’t even think about staying with me when this is over.”
“My inability to ever claim control of you ensures my eventual departure.”
“Good . . . I think.”
The knights stack their hands in front of the channeler, who puts her own on the top and bottom of the pile. She can feel the island shaking and falling into the icy lake, but focuses on the nervous spirits. Needing a container for each one, Nyx transforms their platemail into smooth ovals that float around her body. The glossy metal changes color, which helps her discern who is inside and makes it easier to transfer them back to Luke. She attempts to carefully syphon the spirits into her body until her aura tries to devour the wisps before they can be protected. To undo any damage, the channeler is forced to stop and give some of her magic up to replace the lost energy. With a loud crack, the wall to her left falls away and part of the ceiling slumps toward the floor. Unable to move away, the half-elf unleashes a blast of fire that pulverizes the stone.
Realizing that there is no time to be cautious, Nyx gathers the four ovals into her hands and presses them to her chest. A flash of light erupts from her flesh, which splits to accept the pieces of metal. She can feel them rolling beneath her skin until they push through to make a circle around her bellybutton. Lifting her shirt, the champion watches them fuse to her skin and throb as if on the verge of a magical infection. Hearing the spirits talking in the back of her head, Nyx hits herself with a lightning bolt that she hopes will jolt her awake.
14
“I got her!” Delvin shouts as he leans out of his saddle. He catches Nyx in one arm and hauls her onto his horse, her own terrified mount charging into the forest. “We need to find cover from the storm. The lightning and flash floods are too dangerous. I’m the only one with a horse left and he isn’t doing very well. Do you understand me?”
Nyx groggily nods her head while her eyes try to focus on Timoran and Dariana walking ahead, the barbarian holding onto their horse’s reins. Fizzle’s head is peeking out of the telepath’s shirt, the drite unable to fly in the raging storm. Lightning races across the clouds until two collide and spiral down to punch a hole into the earth. The smell of burning trees catches the channeler’s attention, but she is unable to spot the smoke or fire in the darkness. Nyx notices that the rainwater is up to their mount’s ankles and flowing with enough strength to make every step a risk. She slides off the steed and reaches up to help Delvin down, the warrior unsure of what the young woman is planning. Touching the horse’s trembling flank, she casts a protection spell and urges the beast to gallop to where it will be safe.
A crack of lightning illuminates the distant silhouette of the Widowhorn, its twin peaks reminding Nyx of a serpent’s tongue. She is visibly confused and forgets to walk until Timoran puts a hand on her shoulder. The half-elf quietly follows her friends, who are searching for anything that can protect them from the storm. Always starting soft and rolling into an echoing bellow, thunder shakes the branches above their heads and causes the travelers to shiver in the cold water that falls upon them. The icy rain grows stronger, forcing them to stay in a tight group and depend on each other for surer footing. Having the easiest time maintaining her balance, Dariana moves to the back in order to help anyone who slips by controlling their bodies enough to avoid twisted ankles. It is not until a series of blinding flashes ignite the trees around them that the drenched and exhausted champions spot the gaping entrance to a cavern.
Invigorated by the welcomed sight, Timoran gathers his friends into his arms and sprints through the storm. The barbarian ignores the complaints that come from Delvin, who is being crushed more than the others. With a powerful leap, the red-haired warrior crosses a river that is strong enough to dislodge small trees. Landing in the mud, Timoran loses a boot to the mire, but continues rushing forward to recover any momentum that he has lost. The thunder gets louder and lightning hits the ground around the barbarian, making him think that the weather is not entirely natural. Fearing that they are about to be attacked, he bounds toward the cavern and quickly dives inside. He unceremoniously drops his friends when Nyx casts multiple flame spells, the magic catching him by surprise.
“I think this place goes pretty far underground,” Delvin says, walking to the edge of the light. Looking back at his shivering friends, the warrior pulls out his set of coffee-making rings and opens it for them. “I think we should warm up and discuss a plan. This might not be everyone’s favorite drink, but this is all I have to offer. Are you okay, Nyx? You look like you’re lost.”
“I think I’ve been trapped in my mind since we left Freedom,” the half-elf says as she lifts her shirt. The others stare at the metal orbs embedded in her skin, only Fizzle getting close enough to notice the etched faces. “Walter got in my head and made me think all of you were captured. It might have been some kind of test or game, but he didn’t give me any details. Part of it involved fighting the spirits that were removed from Luke. Maybe Walter wanted me to destroy them and cause more pain, but I claimed them instead. Things itch like mad and I keep hearing them whisper. How long have we been traveling? Did I do anything strange? He said a lust demon was controlling my body. I really hope I retained some of my shame.”
“A week ago, you insisted that we travel to the Garden of Uli,” Timoran answers, accepting a cup of coffee from Delvin. Unsure of the smell, he adds a few drops of Ifrit mead and finishes the hot drink in one gulp. “You have been talking to us normally since then. Nothing strange or out of character for you, so we were unaware of your situation. I believe his story about a demon was a lie. He is the child of Yola Biggs as well as the Baron, so he must have a great love of tricks.”
Dariana holds her mug and enjoys the warmth flowing into her chilled hands. “I’m more concerned with him doing this without my knowledge. This makes me feel like I will continue to be useless against him. There is no telling what else he has done to control our actions. Perhaps he is the one who made Nyx push for the Garden instead of traveling to Haven, which was closer to Freedom. This news worries me.”
“Me too,” Delvin says, sipping at his sweet drink. He hands a mug of chocolate-flavored coffee to Nyx, who ends up lapping at the liquid like an excited puppy. “I wonder how many of our recent decisions have been made by our own hand. Maybe Walter is leading us in a specific order or wants us to stay away from the places he hasn’t touched yet. Could be to either prolong Luke’s suffering or tire us out. We don’t have much choice now because we’re nearly at the Widowhorn’s base.”
A howling wind drifts from the shadows and leaves the cavern to merge with the powerful storm. The scent of rotting meat puts the adventurers on edge, but the smell disappears when another gale comes barreling out of the darkness. Nyx’s flames drift deeper into the cavern to reveal smoother walls, which are dotted with strange holes. Leaving one magical torch near the entrance, the channeler carefully positions the others around the tunnel before settling against a chunk of rock. With an eerie moan, a breeze snakes from the depths of the earth and brings a stronger chil
l to the adventurer’s bones.
“Place similar to wind home,” Fizzle whispers as he wriggles out of Dariana’s shirt. His curiosity getting the best of him, the drite crawls to the edge of the light and squints into the unending darkness. “Small door to Gale Hollow? Fizzle think many. People only care about big one. Strange only one door. Fizzle’s guess make more sense.”
“At least we don’t have to deal with the Dark Wind this time,” Delvin replies with a nervous chuckle. A bolt of lightning strikes in front of the cavern, which shakes when thunder erupts overhead. “I get the sense that we’ve been herded into this place. Did Walter give you a hint about this?”
“No, but he seems interested in the champions’ history,” Nyx explains, wringing the water out of her shirt. Taking off her waterlogged boots, she empties them of the rain and rubs at her wrinkled toes. “I faced him in that old graveyard near Hero’s Gate. He made me think the place had changed since were last there. It was a good lie too since it covered his mistakes. Thinking about it, I understand why he’s pushing us to these places. The Baron is forcing Luke to watch all of this and he might be angry that we aren’t charging to the rescue. We’re playing it safe and smart, so he’s getting frustrated and upping the torture.”
“It’s very possible that all of this is to break Luke’s mind and spirit,” Dariana interjects while rubbing her aching temples. She shivers at the touch of a cold wind, the faint sensation of clawed hands on her neck making the telepath jump. “I’m sorry, but I think we should find another place to rest. I know the storm outside is strong and dangerous, but there is something about this place that I don’t like. Whether my brother is behind this or not, I feel we have left ourselves open to an attack.”
Gathering the mugs and handing them back to Delvin, Timoran strains his ears for signs of danger. “I hear nothing more than the storm. My nose picks up the usual scents such as bear, bat, and raccoon. If this is a trap then it is perfectly disguised. The question is if we are meant to explore the caverns or return to the storm. Both choices could lead to danger.”
“Give me a minute to think of a plan,” Delvin requests, stroking his chin. He notices Fizzle inching toward the back of the cavern, the drite’s wings rapidly fluttering. “Do you sense something, Fizzle? You and Timoran are the only ones here who have entered Gale Hollow, so maybe you can give me a clue as to what is down there.”
“Snapping tails,” the drite growls, picking up a scent from one of the strange holes. His forked tongue slithers out to touch the inside of the small opening and his body shudders from the taste. “Not alone. Need leave. This their cave. Can clean surface scent. Not inside. Storm safer than here.”
Fizzle notices movement in the distance and flips to send a ball of light rocketing down the passage. Smoke drifts off the mottled skin of the revelers, their bodies adorned with the bones and dried organs of their fallen prey. Barbed spikes run along their spines and allow the creatures to hang from the ceiling and walls without losing the use of their limbs. A four-pronged tail weaves behind the cunning predators, the clawed extremity snapping at the intruders like a hungry mouth. Most of the muscular beasts drop to the floor and creep forward while trying to figure out who is the strongest enemy. Most of them stare at Timoran, but a few are focused on Nyx and the disintegration orb that is in her palm.
None of the revelers expect Fizzle to barrel into them with a battering ram spell that fills the entire passage. Pushing against a punishing gale, the drite flies among the creatures and strikes at them with his tail. He darts around the larger beasts to slam into knees with crushing force and bash into those on the ceiling. Confused by the aggressive attack, the revelers try to pull back and draw the drite further into the shadows. Their courage bolstered by their ability to see in the dark, the creatures start to fight back with their tails. Fizzle proves to be too fast for them to hit, his movements causing many of the grasping claws to impale other revelers. From the middle of the pack, the drite unleashes a burst of rainbow light that is answered with a chorus of screeches and whimpers.
“Not let you come close,” the dragon declares, his eyes glowing green. Spotting the largest of the revelers, he beheads one of the smaller ones with his tail and barrels toward the lurking duke. “Friends tired. Fizzle strong. Snapping tails not hurt friends.”
Before the two-tailed creature can slip away and attack the others, Fizzle slams into the side of its head. The impact releases a light spell that surrounds the towering beast, preventing it from returning to the shadows. Cornered and scared, the reveler strikes with its tails and arms in a desperate attempt to retain its aura of strength. No matter how fast it attacks, Fizzle dodges and retaliates with blows that destroy the trophies hanging off the creature’s body. The duke can already see twenty of its pack members sprout their own second tail in anticipation of challenging for leadership. Fearing for its life, the panicking reveler takes a moment to kill those who look to be the biggest threats. After a few minutes, the nervous beast forgets about Fizzle and focuses on battling for its treasured position. The pack chases their weakened leader into the shadows where their shrieks and screams echo until a loud snap silences them all.
“Not what Fizzle expect,” the drite admits as he soars back to his friends. He finds himself surrounded by shadows until a flash of lightning shows that he is nearly at the entrance and alone. “Where friends go? Not go into storm. Not go by Fizzle. Smell bad thing. Deep in ground. Friends not worry. Fizzle save.”
*****
As Fizzle heads deeper into the caverns, the winds become harsher and try to eject him from the passageways. He has lengthened his claws and hardened them enough to pierce stone, which allows him to crawl forward. Speed spells grant the drite brief spurts of progress whenever the gales die down to a tolerable level. Enhancing his sense of smell, Fizzle follows the faint scent of Ifrit mead and coffee. He remains invisible to avoid the prowling revelers, some of them still battling for supremacy of the pack. The dragon considers climbing into one of the large holes that he comes across, but vivid memories of cannibalistic fairies make him continue along the wider passages. After an hour of fruitless searching, he begins to find glowing fungus in crevices with more frequency. The light is enough for him to see far ahead and prepare for any attacks from any creature larger than a pixie.
Fizzle frowns when he comes to a fork in the path and is unable to pick up the trail along either tunnel. A rumbling snore echoes from the left-hand side and the shifting of a massive body puts the drite on edge. Not wanting to disturb the beast, he sends a flood of sleeping mist down the path and relaxes at the sound of a sigh. Dropping to the floor, the drite picks up Timoran’s scent from a small hole and scratches his head at the thought of the barbarian being stuffed inside. Taking a peek inside, his eyes flutter at the powerful aroma that confirms it is the correct path. Fizzle squeezes into the tight tunnel and casts a spell to protect his thin wings from the roughly hewn stone. He grips the ground when a hurricane strength gale erupts from below, the battering wind forcing him to close his eyes and wait it out.
Emerging into a small chamber, Fizzle pauses at a chorus of high-pitched giggling that is almost child-like. Looking at the ceiling, he notices dancing lights around the stalactites and shakes his head to avoid being mesmerized by the creatures. Not wanting to draw the pixies’ attention, he becomes invisible again and creeps along the uneven floor. The attempt is wasted since the curious swarm quickly sees through his spell and surrounds the purple dragon. Having never seen a drite before, the brightly colored creatures touch his wings and tail with delicate hands. Fizzle bares his teeth and snarls, but they gleefully pat him on the head before returning to their examination. When he is unable to push through the mob, the drite thrashes to scare the pixies back to the ceiling.
“Leave Fizzle alone,” he snarls at the fae. A pang of guilt hits his heart when he sees them cowering in the shadows. “Fizzle sorry. Pixies not mean. Maybe help? Fizzle looking for friends. Come this way.
Not sure where go. You see?”
“The wind took them,” a blue-haired pixie announces, excited to know the answer. She spirals down to the floor and lands on a pool of water, her dainty feet creating ripples. “I saw them go into that hole. The wind here can be very temperamental and takes those that it doesn’t like. We’re not sure what happens after that. Legends say they are sent to the upper world from which they never return.”
Fizzle goes to the hole that the butterfly-winged pixie is pointing at, the stench of mildew mixing with the aroma of alcohol and coffee. “Does wind go far? Fizzle worried. Friends big and not sure how they fit here. Timoran too tall for here. None fit in tunnel.”
“Oh, the wind shrinks big ones to our size,” the fairy states with a smile. She waves for the others to join her, the youngest ones darting around Fizzle to touch his warm scales. “The wind doesn’t bother us or the hungry ones. Those are crushed if they cause too much trouble since they were never meant to be here. Oh, I know a shortcut. The other small person used it a little while ago.”
“What small person?”
“A very tiny big one with black hair.”
“Trapped in wind?”
“He didn’t seem to notice it.”
“Fizzle need shortcut.”
As soon as the pixie points at a hole, the drite darts into the tunnel with only a trail of rainbow mist left in his wake. Fizzle quickly returns to the chamber from the opposite side, the fairies waving and giggling at him. He tries again while attempting to see through any illusions that would hide a turn in the short tunnel. The dragon thinks he has made it through, but turns around to see that the pixies are playfully hiding against the wall. A small growl is enough to make them stop their tricks and the blue-haired one steps out of the crowd with her head bowed in apology. Holding out her hands, she offers a tiny gem that Fizzle almost mistakes for a speck of dust until she is only an inch from his face.
Ritual of the Lost Lamb Page 27