Alyssa awakens with her back arching and a powerful scream ripping from her throat. The elf is barely restrained by Timoran and Nyx, her erratic thrashing nearly rolling her into the blazing campfire. Following the sound of a snapping restraint, her belly bloats and something solid can be seen pushing against the straining flesh. The young woman frees an arm from Nyx’s grasp and touches her side, fresh tears streaming down her cheeks. Another shriek of pain is followed by a line of blood appearing on her dress, the unidentified object attempting to push itself through her bellybutton.
Focusing all of his power on his hand, Delvin runs over and uses his fingers to slice into Alyssa’s stomach. Struggling to keep her alive, the warrior has her blood stay inside and continue to flow as if there is no injury. He meets the elf’s terrified gaze and does his best to smile before pushing his hand further into the wound. Delvin feels a hard object bump into his knuckles and cringes as he grabs what he swears is a leg. With a slow exhale, he carefully extracts the foreign object and heals the gash to the point where it is nothing more than a faint, vertical scar. Most of his attention is on the stone baby in his hands, which Alyssa is desperately reaching for. Giving the statue to her, Delvin is unnerved by how the woman awkwardly hugs the open-mouthed figure.
“It took her from me,” Timoran whispers, remembering what the elf had said. He carefully releases her legs and moves away while she talks gibberish to the statue. “I hope that I am wrong because such an act is horrible and inhuman. Is it possible that she was pregnant and this creature turned the baby to stone?”
“I really hope that isn’t the case, but . . . I think I’m going to throw up,” Delvin replies while examining his hand. He has yet to clean the blood off and shudders at the thought of what Timoran has suggested. “I’ve seen and heard of a lot of sick things. If you’re right then this one beats them all and reveals a level of raw evil that I never imagined could actually exist. Fizzle will stay with Alyssa tomorrow because I don’t want her to be alone. Now, everyone get some sleep because I’m taking first watch by myself. I need time to think of a plan to put an end to this.”
The serious look on Delvin’s face warns his friends not to argue, so they search for places to get comfortable. It is a night of restless sleep due to the champions being unable to put Alyssa and the eerie statue out of their minds. Whenever one of them wakes up, they look across the fire to see that the elf is either cuddling or attempting to breastfeed the petrified baby. By the morning, she has given up and quietly sits on a log with the stone child at her feet. Alyssa unblinkingly stares ahead with a crooked smile on her face, which sends shivers down the spine of anyone who looks directly at her.
*****
As the champions reach the thinning tree line, the town of Haven looks peaceful and untouched by the tragedy that they were warned about. They can hear the incessant buzzing of bees as the insects fly in and out of the buildings. Slipping out of the forest, the adventurers rush to get between two houses and carefully head for the main street. They stop in the shadows when they spot a man standing in front of the building to their right, which they can see is a small candy shop that is filled with bees. Waiting for the citizen to turn around, the champions begin to notice faint signs of a battle having taken place. Walls are slightly dented from powerful blows and the grass is still matted from being trampled by stampeding feet. Rising higher than the houses, the pine trees surrounding Goldheart Manor are bare and twisted at the top. Nyx carefully leans out of the alley to see that other citizens are standing in the street, none of them moving at all. Far in the northern clearing, she notices that the windmills have been toppled onto their sides and steam is wafting off the river.
Stepping into the open, the adventurers approach the candy shop owner to find that he has been turned to stone. The man is posed to look like he is leaning away from an attack, his face trapped in an open-mouthed scream. Dariana touches the statue’s face in the hopes of finding a trace of thought, but she it is like trying to read a mountain. Breaking contact with the vacant body, the telepath becomes acutely aware of the entire populace. Unmoving figures in the windows and around corners snare her attention, each person frozen in terror. She notices a group of kids arranged to look like they are playing in the middle of the street, wooden swords fused to their solid hands. Her eyes shift to the blacksmith shop and she walks toward the building on legs that threaten to give out with every step. Reaching the door, Dariana’s hand grips the handle and opens it a crack before her body locks up.
“I don’t think I can do this,” she whispers while probing the house. Unlike the other buildings, the Callindor home is filled with psychic screams that bring tears to her eyes. “This place is unclean. Walter may have tortured Luke’s family before he killed them. I need a moment to gather my strength. I’m sorry, but you should go inside without me.”
Timoran tenderly removes Dariana’s hand from the door and pushes it open to reveal the untouched interior. There are no signs of violence, which unnerves the champions more than if the place was destroyed. A cold breeze comes through the entrance to the forge, which is dark beyond a few stubborn embers among the ashes. Breakfast is still on the table, but it has gone cold and attracted ants that march around the dining room. Delvin takes a few steps toward the stairs before noticing two piles of rocks on the nearby carpet. He waves the others over as he kneels next to them, the cracked faces of Ilan and Vixen Callindor clearly visible on two of the pieces. Praying to Ehre the Loyalty God, the warrior gingerly touches the shattered bodies with the intention of sending a charge of restorative magic. Delvin pulls the energy back as soon as it reaches his fingers, the thought of turning the chunks of stone into dead flesh making his stomach turn.
“I don’t see any marks on these pieces,” he reports in a low voice. Wandering the room, he finds spots of dried blood on the walls, the marks dotted with animal fur. “Something tells me that Walter tortured animals in here. Maybe he wanted to trick Dariana and make her think he did worse to the Callindors. I mean, this is still horrific, but I don’t get the sense that the Callindors were made to suffer. From the look of things, their death may have been quick. It looks like the stone spell went to the organs too, so they didn’t suffocate. They just hardened and stopped living.”
“Where are Luke’s grandparents?” Timoran asks, poking his head into the forge. Peering into the darkness, he notices petrified mice strewn across the floor. “Walter even went after the town’s vermin. I am surprised the bees and ants were left alone. Why would he go to such extremes?”
The front door slams against the outer wall as Nyx rushes into the street and charges toward the far end of Haven. The two story house is as silent as the others, but the old tree in the front yard has been driven into the ground, which makes it resemble a large bush. The channeler leaps over the fence and ducks a pair of pole-mounted sparring dummies that abruptly react to her presence. She skids to a stop at the porch where two figures stand in a warm embrace. Magella is smiling as she hugs her husband, who is planting a kiss on the top of her head. The Elven caster’s robe has been frozen as it billows out behind her, the fabric retaining some of its sparkling magic. With his swords still on his hips, Talos ‘Doubleblade’ Callindor is dressed for a fight that Nyx is sure never happened. The man’s eyes are closed as if he is preparing for death and enjoying the final moment of his life. A heart-wrenching sadness grips the channeler’s heart when she thinks about how Magella spent so many years away from her family and returned only to die.
“At least they’re together and whole,” Nyx whispers, turning to face her friends as they step through the gate. There is a loud creak a moment before the porch’s roof collapses and smashes the two statues. “What is wrong with you!? Your problem is with us, but you’re going around butchering innocent people. Now, you don’t even have the courage to face us. I’m tired of your damn family hurting me. Come out here now, you bastard!”
“Does that mean you’re going to kill my big sister
too?” Walter asks as he appears on the roof. The boy catches the incoming fireball and bites into it like he would an apple, dribbles of flame running down his chin. “My sole reason for existing is to make sure my father wins. He wants me to mentally and emotionally damage all of you. From what I saw, the easiest way to do that is to hurt your precious Luke. Although, I do admit that I prepared this specific murder to be done in front of your eyes. I rarely get to see reactions to my hard work. Is somebody trying to control my mind?”
“You can’t possibly be immune to all of my abilities,” Dariana replies, blood seeping from her nose. She falls to her knees and ends her attack, the sneer of her little brother making her feel ashamed of her weakness. “There seems to be no limit to your power. What monster have you unleashed on this town?”
“Monster?” the boy repeats while scratching his head. A rolling chuckle comes from his throat and he tosses the rest of the fireball into the distant river where it is extinguished. “I guess that runaway elf didn’t get eaten. If you spoke to her then I can assume she survived the other present I left her. I do get the sense that she didn’t reach you in one piece. Mentally speaking that is. Stupid mortal mistook me for a monster? I’m rather insulted.”
Timoran roars at Walter, his rage making the hair on his arms stand on end. “I believe Lady Goldheart was correct. You are the most monstrous creature I have ever met. Do not think your child-like appearance will stop me from removing your head.”
“That was a lengthy threat, which reeks of fear,” Walter claims before batting a lightning bolt away. Glaring at Nyx, he appears in front of the half-elf and has her hair wrap tightly around her head. “I like this one. She wants to get right to the fun. More importantly, there’s a desire to murder in her eyes that makes me smile. As a reward for amusing me, I’ll return your little brother’s energy. I’m done using it anyway.”
Putting on the blackened Ring of Uli, Walter drives his hand into Nyx’s chest and sends the stolen magic into her body. There is no tenderness to the transfer, which threatens to destroy the channeler’s own aura. Her desire to live and save Luke taking over, she knocks the boy away with a pointblank fist of wind. The immortal crashes through the building and hops back to his feet in the ruined living room, which becomes engulfed in flames. Walter is about to gather the fire when Nyx barrels into him and fuses a magical chain to his stomach. Whipping the boy over her head, the channeler hurls him across the street with enough force to carry the blistering inferno with him. He hits the far building with a crash, which explodes and collapses on top of him.
Delvin and Timoran stand ready for an attack as they hear the rubble shift and the middle of the destruction sinks into itself. They duck when Nyx sends a volley of explosive arrows into the wreckage, the spells creating a thick smoke screen. Turning to call her off, the warriors are caught by surprise when Walter bursts from the earth between them. Gripping the two men by their ankles, the boy casually flings the pair into the house next door. Growling like a beast, Timoran charges with his great axe held high and chest brazenly left open to an attack. The lancing spear is intercepted by Delvin’s shield, the other warrior on the barbarian’s back. Walter leaps away from the destructive blow and splits his body in half to let the swordsman’s diving stab sail through open air. A swarm of fireballs hits the two pieces and turns them into swirls of ash, an enraged scream echoing throughout the town.
“That was fun, but I’m bored now,” Walter announces as he appears behind Dariana. He knocks his big sister out with an iron mallet to the head and eyes the remaining champions like a hungry cat. “All interesting choices. We have the muscle, the brain, and the magic of the champions. My father wanted me to make Luke shatter, so I wonder what would happen if one of you is destroyed. I promise to revive you afterwards then kill you again and keep going until I run out of execution methods.”
The sparring dummies leap off their stands and tackle Delvin, their enchanted limbs fusing into solid bonds. Timoran hurries to free his friend, but the fence flies from the earth to wrap around the barbarian and drag him to the far side of the yard. Humming and skipping, Walter approaches Nyx and playfully knocks her powerful spells away with his hammer. A solid shot to her chin sends the channeler flipping into the destroyed porch where she struggles to get back to her feet. She is nearly up when he stomps on her upper back and pins her, his heel grinding into her spine. The black-haired boy is about to deliver a blow that would crush the half-elf’s head when a crackling bolt of lightning drives him to the ground.
“Good thing I came back,” Queen Ionia says as she drops from the clouds. The violet-haired ruler hits Walter with a fist of ice that drives him further into the earth, his body shivering from an enchantment that freezes his blood. “I guess you didn’t want to face a real threat, so you sent me away. Stop fighting that spell because you can’t break it.”
“You don’t know what type of enemy you’re dealing with, old spell hag,” the boy snarls while bursting into flames that erase the chilling spell. An explosive gem hits him directly in the mouth, but he swallows the attack in one gulp and spits out a plume smoke that hits his enemy in the face. “I sent you away because I knew you would come back. To be honest, I expected you to return earlier, but this is even better. You’re another mentor and ally to the champions, which means you pose a threat to my father. That means I get to kill you.”
“Give it your best-” Queen Ionia starts to say before her throat turns to stone.
“You’re not worthy of a Kernaghan’s best.”
Energy flows from Walter’s eyes and seeps into the Caster Queen’s body, which is gradually petrifying. The boy’s smile fades when he meets resistance and he pushes harder as flakes of stone appear on his own skin. Teeth grinding and fists clenched, he finds an array of barriers within his opponent that come from various artifacts and her own potent magic. A blast of acid sprays from Ionia’s mouth, but the attack becomes harmless water before it strikes. Crimson magic explodes from Walter’s hands and strikes the experienced caster to gradually crush her ribs, an internal force field fortifying her bones. The pain is enough to give him an advantage and the stone curse ripples through his enemy’s body. With a stuttering breath, the boy falls to one knee and coughs up chalky pebbles that dissolve in the grass. Looking up, he sees that Ionia is almost entirely petrified and only her right eye is flesh. A burst of solid flames erupts from the long-lashed orb and drives Walter into the clearing where he lands in the river. Crawling out of the filthy water, he notices that the champions are gone, which tempts him to smash his newest trophy in anger.
“I owe you an apology, Caster Queen,” the boy mutters as he returns to the house. He puts Ionia over his shoulder and heads for the distant manor, his ears picking up on a faint heartbeat inside the statue. “Still fighting in there? I’m impressed since that spell is supposed to consume every piece of you, including your organs. So, your resistance shouldn’t last very long. Shame that you had me do this to you because now I’m bored with the stone curse. Guess I have to come up with a new way to torture those champions.”
18
Eyes fluttering open, Dariana finds herself standing on the other side of the campsite from her body. She watches Delvin tend to her limp form while Timoran uses what little medicine they have to help Nyx. Fizzle remains near Alyssa, the expressionless woman covered in dirt from burying her child under a nearby pine. Smoke coming off the trunk, the Elven words for ‘baby girl’ have been magically etched into the tree without damaging the bark. Hearing a constant crackle, Dariana gets closer to her friends and sees that the edges of their bodies are fraying. Knowing that the effect is only in their minds, the telepath reaches out to repair the damage. She stops with her fingers a hair’s breadth away from Timoran, a surge of guilt making her hands unravel. Moving to the other side of the campsite helps her recover, but she continues walking to avoid suffering another attack.
Dariana wanders a ghostly forest that is filled with the echoes of bi
rdsong, the original warblers having long since retreated to a safer region. Coming to a shallow lake, she looks at her reflection, which is nearly unrecognizable. The telepath’s hair is a drab white and her eyes are sunken, the bloodshot orbs looking like they will fall into her head at any moment. Her body is emaciated and shows signs of having been gnawed on by sharp-toothed beasts. Dariana feels something fall onto her tongue and spits out a tooth, which has turned black and frail. Kneeling on the shoreline, she reaches out to touch the decrepit image and watches her fingernails fall into the water. She sighs when the reflection raises an arm out of the lake and sits up with a cruel smile on its face. The copy is about to speak when the telepath tucks her hands into her pockets and walks away.
“Not in the mood for showmanship?” Gabriel asks as he sheds his illusion. The Destiny God wipes a scrap of translucent skin off his armored shoulder and casually teleports in front of the champion. “I hope you realize that all of this is your fault. We warned you about the Baron’s new son and hoped you would handle him in your first encounter. The fact that he is a child should not have stayed your hand.”
“I was hoping he could be reasoned with,” Dariana argues, knowing she barely believes her own words. Glancing over her shoulder, the telepath scowls at a familiar image that remains behind a hazy illusion. “You can come out, mother. This is a conversation that needs to happen since none of us can defeat Walter. Both of you have to give me a clue as to what can be done. I can’t use my powers on him.”
“Or is it that you refuse to do so?” Zaria contends, the red-haired goddess stepping out of a tree. Seeing the pain on her daughter’s face, she takes the younger immortal’s hands and holds them to her chest. “I know this is hard for you. A different set of circumstances would have put you on the path that Walter now follows. You have been hoping that one of your friends will gain enough power and drive to truly defeat him. Sadly, that has not come to pass and time is running out. You know that you are the only one who can truly stand up to Walter Kernaghan and win. Unlike the others, you are his family and that is his weakness.”
Ritual of the Lost Lamb Page 33