Ritual of the Lost Lamb

by Charles E Yallowitz

  “As you command, master,” the doppelganger whispers before yanking the pole off Timoran’s back. The ghost snaps the invention in half, destroying the dome and exposing the champions to the army. “Luke Callindor cursed me to an eternity in someone else’s form. Out of everyone here, I hate him the most. They get to look like themselves while the real me is trapped under this girl. I was chosen to be special and more than a mindless drone. My master gave me the job of watching Fritz and-”

  “Lead us into a trap,” the gnome finishes while backing away. He points at the sparking staff that the other phantom is unable to drop no matter how hard she tries. “I have a confession to make. As soon as we met, I considered that you were a traitor. So, I added a little spectral glue to the device. Mortals never know it’s there, but ghosts need to be careful. You should never mess with a gnome’s invention without gloves.”

  The Kellia double is about to attack when the broken metal in her hands warps into a small explosion. She is covered in smoke that the other phantoms move away from as the Guilt Skin shouting for them to be careful. When the doppelganger can be seen again, her body is encased in a translucent bronze that has fastened her to the stone floor. Her face is a macabre mixture of Kellia and her true form, which she can see in a nearby reflection pond. The statue’s eyes move while a muffled scream can be heard from the gaping mouth, but it is impossible for her to move the heavy body.

  With a sharp bark from the Guilt Skin, the ghosts brandish a variety of weapons and swarm the champions. Nyx sends shockwaves through the air to knock many of them away without hurting or destroying anyone. Cold hands plunge into her body and claw at Luke’s aura, the channeler ejecting the invasive ghosts with a surge of energy. Hoping to lead them away from the others, she launches herself toward a distant shed and lands on the roof. Half of the shrieking army drifts toward Nyx, who fires ice arrows from her fingertips. The projectiles strike the ground in front of the spirits and cause some of them to back away, but most of them recognize that she is making empty threats. Within minutes, they have the shed surrounded and are floating to the roof where their target knocks them away with force blasts. Fizzle repeatedly swoops down to unleash his sleeping breath, but only the weakest of the ghosts succumb to the spell. He continues trying in the hopes of Nyx wearing the stronger enemies down to a point where they will fall.

  The rest of the swarm attacks the other champions, those on the outer edge of the mob struggling to enter the fight. Delvin focuses on dodging attacks while boosting Dariana’s abilities, which allows her to punch and kick the phantoms as if they were made of flesh and bone. Like Nyx, she tries to knock her enemies away or deliver a psychic charge that plunges her target into a trance. Those she successfully strikes are left standing with slack jaws and dangling limbs, their abyssal eyes turning a light green. It is a difficult battle as the ghosts are constantly revived by their master’s putrid slime, which is flowing across the floor and making it harder for the champions to move around. Tiny claws reach from the ooze to swipe at Dariana’s legs, but they are batted away by Delvin’s enchanted shield. Even with its sturdy magic, spots of corruption are appearing on the edge of the disc.

  Knowing that his enhanced attacks could destroy the innocent ghosts, Timoran leaps out of the mob and charges the Guilt Skin. His last pair of boots stick to the thick puddles that spew dripping vines into his path, but the barbed obstacles are unable to hold him. The barbarian swings his weapon at the demon, which blocks the attack with a boney elbow. An explosion of intense heat erupts from the impact and drives Timoran to his knees, sweat pouring from his body. Refusing to give up, the red-haired champion tackles the creature and finds his face stuck to the slimy beast. With a roar that punches a hole through the Guilt Skin, the powerful warrior heaves the monster over his head and slams it into the ground. The demon explodes into a flood of ooze that reforms in front of Timoran and bats him to the side. It is about to attack the prone barbarian when an explosive orb strikes and dissolves its arm. Annoyed by the unexpected damage, the Guilt Skin growls and watches its new opponent.

  “You wouldn’t be the first demon I tangled with,” Fritz announces, his upper body covered in spectral armor. A sling is attached to his gauntlet, which releases a grinding noise as it spins the leather weapon. “I have plenty of toys to choose from and I’m betting all of them will work on you. Ah, I’m feeling young and foolish again. Now, where’s my mount? Get over here, Bessaria, because I know you’re here somewhere.”

  “Bessaria is dead too!?” Nyx shouts from the shed. Wrestling with a dwarven mercenary, she launches the bulky figure out of the courtyard and clears the roof with a sweep of her leg. “I thought she was with your daughter. What happened?”

  “That’s Bessaria the Thirty Second,” the gnome answers as a spectral sheep charges through a nearby walk. He climbs into the armored saddle that he calmly connects to his armor while the beast sidesteps the Guilt Skin’s pounding fist. “Sheep only live ten to twelve years and the Bessaria lineage has been bred by my family for a long time. This is Bessaria the Thirtieth who is just as brave and loyal as her granddaughter. As you can see, she’s very hard to hit. Though I’d appreciate getting some distance to use my sling, girl.”

  The sheep obediently dances away from the gurgling demon, which is grabbed by Timoran and hurled into the stairs. An explosive orb pulverizes its leg and sends the creature rolling across the floor. It melts into a puddle to avoid another attack and merges with the rest of the ooze to heal its body. The Guilt Skin reforms a few feet behind the gnome, but another of Fritz’s weapons blasts the demon’s head into a curtain of squirming chunks. Enraged and frustrated, it knocks the charging barbarian away with a wild swing and creates a new face that resembles a howling mask of rage. The demon sprouts wings, which carry it above the fight and help it dodge the dangerous orbs. It screams and flails to drive its army into a frenzy, the ghosts growing strong enough to repeatedly shrug off the champions’ nonlethal attacks.

  “I’m going to need some muscle for this,” Fritz says, waving for Timoran to join him. He scowls when he remembers that the barbarian cannot touch any of his weapons. “Change of plans then. I’m going to get that thing to come closer and give you an opening. You’ll know it when you see it, kid, so get ready.”

  Using a dial on the saddle horn, Fritz carefully aims a crossbow that is on the side of Bessaria’s armor. The bolt is fired with a whining screech that causes the other ghosts to stop their attack and watch. A crystalline tether connects the projectile to Bessaria, who is waiting patiently for the signal to move. With a flap of its wings, the Guilt Skin veers to the side and moves out of the glistening bolt’s path. Fritz twists the dial to adjust his shot, which curves enough to strike the demon in the hip and fuse to oozing skin. At the sound of her rider’s high-pitched whistle, the tether starts to recoil and Bessaria backs up to drag the flailing creature toward the ground. The sheep rears back whenever the Guilt Skin tries to pull away, her ghostly strength enough to reclaim the advantage.

  Once the Guilt Skin is brought down, Fritz hurls an orb at its gut to blow a big enough hole to expose its spine. Dropping his weapon, Timoran sprints at the demon and jams his hand into the closing wound to grab the blackened bone. He snaps it with a twist to partially paralyze the creature, which is still able to flail its arms. Ignoring the pounding on his back and head, the barbarian pushes his hand up to the Guilt Skin’s heart. The Ring of Aintaranurh activates to help him break the thick ribs with small flicks of his fingers, the blows releasing spurts of ooze on the monster’s skin. Finding the slick organ, Timoran crushes it in his hand and yanks his arm free before the vulnerable demon hardens. A final orb from Fritz shatters the creature and breaks its influence over the ghosts, who drop their weapons and stare around their unfamiliar surroundings. With a small whine, the Ring of Uli bursts from the corpse and flies away from the Garden before anyone can think of grabbing the artifact.

  “Grab the aura and we can go!” Delvin
shouts to Nyx, the exhausted warrior’s hair mostly gray. Approaching Fritz, he offers his hand for a shake even though he knows his old teacher is unable to touch him. “Thank you for everything, Professor Warrenberg. It was an honor to see you again.”

  “Nice to see you too, kid,” the gnome replies as a blob of energy is taken from his ethereal body. Fritz presses a button on his armor, which partially retracts before a loud pop causes it to shudder and lock. “Guess I know what I’m working on when I get back to the lab. Let Luke know that I’m cheering for him. He’s going to be in a bad place when you get him back. No way to avoid that considering who has him. Hopefully knowing all of his friends, both alive and dead, are with him will help with the healing.”

  “We have to go now!” Nyx screams, grabbing Delvin by the arm. The channeler yanks her fiancée off his feet and nearly drags him toward the door, her eyes wide with fear. “Stop talking and come on. We have to get to Haven now! Don’t waste time with questions. Just look at the back of the swarm!”

  Staring at the fading mob of ghosts, it takes the other champions a minute to pick out the figures who have caused Nyx to panic. A middle-aged elf with a cane holds his human wife’s hand as they gaze around the temple, their tears glittering in the sunlight. An Elven couple stands with them, the husband rubbing his palms against the hilts of his twin longswords. The warrior’s wife is clothed in a billowing robe that marks her as a caster, the old elf attempting to console the younger woman. With a powerful gust of wind, all of the ghosts vanish from the Garden of Uli and return to the afterlife.

  16

  Standing on the cliff, Sari lets the ocean breeze caress her sweat-covered skin and ease her aching muscles. The jungle trees behind her are encrusted with salt from years of being on the coast, the solid shell abrasive to the touch. Unique to this area, the hardy plants have palm leaves and roots that remind the gypsy of mangroves. To help them get moisture and air, they release spurts of harmless gas to form tiny holes in their salty coating. Turning from the plants, Sari watches a family of merfolk lounging on the rocks below, none of them aware of the distant figure. She is tempted to leap off the cliff and have a refreshing geyser meet her halfway down, but she knows there is no time for childish urges. Still, the more she watches the waves, the stronger the urge until her toes are no longer on solid ground. Sari is startled by an angry shout from the jungle, her shattered concentration nearly causing her to plummet into the ocean. She locks her legs and throws a grappling hook onto a tree before the fragile edge of the cliff crumbles. Moving freely again, the gypsy drops enough to make the rope go taut and quickly hauls herself back to safety. Cursing under her breath, she pushes back into the jungle to find out why her companions are fighting again.

  She finds Kira and Nimby glaring at each other from across the murky pond, which is being transformed into the dark pool. The bronze-skinned woman has the bag of herbs in her hands while the halfling’s skeletal arm is clutching her weapon. The kusari-gama is crackling and threatening explode, its minor enchantments straining against the Lich’s infectious energy. In retaliation, Kira draws a bottle from her pocket and threatens to pour its acidic contents into the pouch. Neither move any further, the gypsy’s presence making them unsure if she is going to get involved or let them finish their fight. The standoff mellows enough that the herbs and weapon are no longer at risk, but there are clear signs that the pair can explode into action at any moment.

  “I leave you two alone for a few minutes and you try to kill each other,” Sari says with a tired sigh. She tries to use the water to create a small wall between her companions, but finds that it is already well underway to becoming the dark pool. “We’ve come too far to fight amongst ourselves. Give Nimby the herbs back and come with me for a talk, Kira.”

  “The Lich started telling me the details of what the Baron would do to Luke,” the young woman replies, wiping a few tears from her eyes. Tossing the bag across the pond, she scowls at how her weapon is callously dropped on the ground. “Nimby did try to get that parasite to be quiet, but it obviously didn’t work. I need some distance from him. Maybe you should stay and make sure he doesn’t try to betray us.”

  “I don’t think he will.”

  “Why is that?”

  “Because I get the sense that either the Lich or Nimby want something out of this.”

  “That doesn’t make me feel any better.”

  “We can hear you!” the Lich mockingly shouts. With Nimby asleep again, he has no problem controlling the entire body and preparing the herbs. “Our business is our own. The thief wants to help the Callindor and work toward some sense of redemption. I merely want you to lead me to something or someone I require.”

  Not wanting to indulge the necrocaster’s teasing, Sari hooks Kira’s arm and drags her to the coastal cliff. With only a few lines of trees between them and the dark pool, they are still able to hear the Lich whistling a complicated song. Both women get the sense that all his years as a rotting corpse without lips has caused him to take great joy from the simple ability. The rhythm is painfully familiar to Sari, which causes her mood to sour enough that her friend notices the change. Shaking her head, the gypsy stops the looming question about what she is thinking and rolls her stiff shoulders to relax.

  “Yes, I let him get to me again. Knowing he manipulated our emotions with the Oakind has ruined what little goodwill I had toward him,” Kira explains while taking in the view. She shields her eyes from the sun to get a better look at the distant land to her right, the desert resembling a mirage on the horizon. “The stress is getting to me. If this was a business deal or escorting a caravan then I’d have a better handle of the situation. Those have definite endings with predictable obstacles or at least minimal surprises, which I can have some influence over. This . . . I’m not in control of anything here, Sari, and I don’t feel like you do either. Not enough that I can be certain of our success.”

  “So now you see the difference between adventuring and business deals,” the gypsy replies with a wry smile. Pulling a knife from her boot, she carves slices off a ripe mango that she had plucked during their journey. “I used to think I could manipulate everything. At the very least, a loss wouldn’t be more than a temporary bruise to my ego. Of course, this was before I lost my clan and I still held onto the belief that I made my own path. Now, I know that failure here will bring my life crashing down again. If Luke dies then the Baron wins because none of us can recover quick enough to fight him. We’ll all be wounded and exposed. That means we have to succeed or pray that Nyx’s ritual works.”

  Accepting a piece of the fruit, the heiress sits at the base of a tree and tries to relax. “I really wish we’d hear something from them. My communication orb is broken and I don’t mean its magic has disappeared or been corrupted. I found it cracked in half a few hours ago. Must have happen when I fell down that muddy hill yesterday. This means the thing was a cheap bauble too, so I guess even I can get scammed if I’m in a rush. I keep trying to think about Dariana and hope that she picks up on the thoughts. Feels like a rather foolish thing to do.”

  “Actually, it’s more effective than you realize,” the silver-haired champion states as she materializes a few feet from the cliff. With a wave of her hand, the landscape becomes drab and bleak. “Telepaths tend to keep a psychic ear out for their name. Being one who has such a long range, I’ve become aware of your location when either of you think of me. To put your minds at ease, I haven’t told the others of your alliance with Nimby and the Lich. That would only make our situation worse. Excuse me.”

  Dariana extends the cliff and transforms it into a bubbling bath that she slides into, her clothes remaining dry. She waves for her friends to join her before pointing at a pair of red lights lurking in the trees. Kira and Sari hurry into the water, the feeling of getting wet while remaining in dry clothes making the heiress shift uncomfortably. With a loud crack, the extension separates from the rest of the cliff and floats away from the mainland. Looking
at the ocean, they can see that everything is frozen in place, including a pod of breaching whales. Muttered curses echo in the distance before the fiery eyes flicker back into the shadows.

  “If you rescue Luke, do not bring him to Haven,” Dariana bluntly states, thunder rumbling to emphasize her words. The telepath moves as if pushing somebody away, the flicker of a form briefly appearing next to her. “All three of you are to go into hiding and wait for us to make contact. It is very important that you stay away from familiar people and places. We would recommend a cabin in Pynofita Forest or roaming Yagervan. That’s if you decide to stay on Ralian and not go to Cerascent or Canst’s Fields.”

  “Stop!” Sari shouts while putting her hands on Dariana’s shoulders. A shock of sorrow and fear runs through the gypsy’s body, causing her to move away. “What’s going on, Dari? Why do we have to keep Luke away from his home?”

  “We don’t know,” the telepath replies while she sits on the edge of the bath. She stops the chunk of rock from moving and parts the nearby clouds to show the Brocken Dragon flying to the east. “As you can see, we are being taken there now. Nyx wanted me to relay this message before it’s too late. She believes our arrival will be met with a great battle, which could make all future contact impossible. At least until we escape or win.”

  Kira narrows her eyes while taking in Dariana’s stiff posture and a subtle nervous twitching of a finger. “What do you know?”

  “We saw something in the Garden of Uli.”

  “Be specific.”

  “A demon summoned ghosts of those that Luke may have failed to protect.”

  “Spit it out, Kernaghan.”

  Startled by the use of her surname, Dariana shivers and lets an icy breeze pass through the psychic world. “After we killed the demon and freed the ghosts, Nyx absorbed the aura residues from all of them. She thinks she saw Luke’s parents and grandparents in the crowd. The rest of us looked, but they were gone before we were entirely certain of what we saw. I admit that I saw something, but there are many explanations. We are hoping this is one of Walter’s tricks. If not then it means he has murdered the Callindors and . . . Luke was forced to watch.”