Ritual of the Lost Lamb

by Charles E Yallowitz

  *****

  After hiding Alyssa in a hollowed oak, the champions make their way through Haven without finding any sign of Walter. Reaching the pine trees, they discover that the petrified children have been placed in the forest. All of the statues are positioned in a way that a casual traveler will not see them until they are only a few feet away, the effective creepy and resulting in the champions jumping back every time. The fallen pine needles add a goosebumps-inducing crunch to every step. A buzzing makes them duck before a swarm of fat bees fly overhead, half of the insects bursting against the trees. The creatures move in unison as they veer back to town where they are building a large hive in one of the fallen windmills. Birds have returned to the forest, but they cower in the branches and stop singing whenever the champions pass. Most of the animals are crows that have been attracted by the smell of death wafting off the statues, but there is a battered eagle that refuses to leave its high perch.

  Coming to the open door of Goldheart Manor, Timoran carefully moves a petrified dwarf out of the entrance. Maids, butlers, and guards have been frozen in action, a few having fallen over and smashed upon the floor. One figure stands with a staff aimed at the floor, the woman’s priestly robes giving off the illusion of moving in a nonexistent breeze. Fizzle taps at the weapon, which glows from the attack spell that is eternally trapped within. The drite hurries back to his friends and disappears from sight in case the low hum attracts their deadly enemy. A scimitar-wielding figure stands at the base of the stairway, his two-handed weapon held high above his head. Nyx uses her magic to carefully shift the statue, so that it faces the wall and gives them enough space to get by without knocking it over.

  Reaching the second floor, the champions find themselves blocked to their right by a collapsed ceiling. They are about to follow the long hallway to a door that shimmers with a defensive spell when Delvin spots a partially concealed passage. Pieces of damaged armor have been meticulously fastened to the frame in an attempt to hide the shadowy staircase. Unsure of which direction is a trap, the warrior flips his coin with a jester cap symbol and frowns when the Cessian item lands perfectly on its side. He is about to try again when Nyx touches the wall and turns the metal barrier into a melted pool that fuses to the carpet.

  “There’s less magic up there, so I think the other path is the trap,” the channeler whispers while she cools the steaming puddle. She sticks her head into the stairwell, which has been heated by her spell. “Feels a little muggy in here, but that was probably me. Who wants to take the lead?”

  Dariana gently moves the half-elf back and puts a finger to her lips even though she is sure Walter is already aware of their presence. Taking the steps by twos, the telepath slows down when she hears Timoran having trouble getting through the narrow passage. She uses her finger to make a little circle over her head, but the barbarian only shrugs helplessly at the unfamiliar gesture. Delvin has to whisper what he thinks she means, which is that the muscular warrior walk sideways. Halfway up the stairs, Nyx trips over a dish that flies backwards and shatters against the wall. The half-elf lands with a thud that echoes throughout the passage, the glint of magic appearing on every surface. Touching the wall, the channeler senses the sound enhancing spell that she failed to notice when it was dormant. As they progress, random objects appear on the steps to trip the champions, each one bouncing back to the lower hallway. By the time the anxious group emerges onto the balcony, they are sure that they have lost every scrap of surprise that they were counting on.

  Illuminated by a shaft of blue moonlight, Queen Ionia silently stands in the middle of the hidden balcony. A spark of hope appearing in her heart, Nyx rushes forward to check the woman for signs of life. At first, the channeler thinks she feels a heartbeat, but the sound is so faint that she is positive that it is her own. As the others join her, the stairwell door clatters to the floor and reveals a solid wall. The champions are startled when the Caster Queen’s feet grind against the balcony and invisible threads drag her to the edge. Her body turns to face the pines and she merges with the marble railing, which makes her resemble a ghostly guardian to anyone wandering in the forest.

  “I guess this is where one side falls,” Walter declares as he steps through the far wall. He spins a gold coin on his finger while he walks along the perimeter. “This is the first gift anyone has ever given me. Although, I don’t know if this silly thing counts since you were paying me for my help. Still, I cherish it, sister. Does that make what you have to do more difficult?”

  “I want to give you one more chance,” Dariana replies, stepping away from the others. She stops halfway between the boy and her friends, her shimmering eyes locked on the Ring of Uli that is on his finger. “But I know I shouldn’t. You’ve murdered and broken too many people. I shouldn’t even be talking to you for this long.”

  “Like you haven’t done the same.”

  “And I will be punished for my past mistakes.”

  “Guess that’s the real Kernaghan tradition.”

  “No. That’s simply what comes from misusing our freewill.”

  “Still talking. What are you up to?”

  A full-grown tree comes hurtling out of the darkness as Dariana makes a diving tackle at Walter. His body stretches to twist out of her grasp, the telepath gripping the railing, which snaps beneath her powerful grip. The boy notices Fizzle on the approaching pine, the drite’s vibrating wings enlarged and his muscles enhanced. A hint of doubt causes Walter to leap to the side and narrowly avoid getting impaled, the tree smashing into the building. Landing on his back, he rolls away from a barrage of acidic fists and scrambles to his feet in time to catch Timoran’s spinning great axe. A delayed wind spell erupts from the blade and sends the boy crashing into the wall, his body splattering and sloughing into a puddle. Unhurt by the attacks, the young immortal reforms in a crouch and sprouts long claws that he scratches against the stone. Walter opens his mouth to talk, but stops when Fizzle swoops in to slide Delvin’s shield onto his right arm. The warrior charges and summons the disc, which drags the boy across the balcony and onto his thrusting bastard sword.

  “That was impressive,” the immortal coughs as blood seeps from his lips. The liquid turns into tiny mouths that lance out to bite Delvin in the neck and drive him away. “Now, I have your sword and shield. Just kidding. You can have them back because I find such tools dull and boring. Am I allowed to attack now or is there more to your hopeless plan?”

  Walter’s hair unfurls like a lion’s mane when he sees Nyx barreling toward him, a battering ram of energy engulfing her entire arm. Using his bare hands, he redirects the attack toward the floor and leaps onto the uprooted tree as the magically enforced balcony shudders from the impact. Spotting his sister sprinting along the pine, Walter transforms the plant into an explosion of barbed stakes. The other champions dive out of the way to avoid getting impaled, but Dariana is too close to escape unharmed. Three of the projectiles pierce her legs and she tumbles off the balcony, her body landing with a sickening crunch. Staring at the broken figure, Walter blindly backhands Fizzle into the wall and quickly seals the hole. He starts to crush the entombed drite until Timoran hits him in the side with a chunk of the railing, the stone shattering against the immortal’s body.

  “Focus on one of us and the others will attack,” the barbarian growls as he hurries to help Fizzle. Orange energy coils around his arms as he destroys the section of wall that contains the dragon. “We have you outnumbered, so choose your actions carefully. Each one of us has the power to kill you. All we need is the opportunity.”

  “You make a good point,” Walter agrees while he wipes chunks of stone off his body. He skips over to Queen Ionia and leans against her, the statue’s fading warmth making him feel comfortable. “I shouldn’t be wasting my time here since the real threat is twitching all the way down there. Sounds like the bees and crows found her. From what mommy told me, father still needs a few of you alive to get out of his prison. Sari is free and Luke is already i
n his hands, but one of you should get a chance to see the final battle too. Going to need to put a lot of power into controlling that drite, but this is going to be worth the strain. Let’s see who gets to be the big winner.”

  With four rapid claps, Walter takes control of his enemies’ bodies and leaves their minds free to witness their actions. They are left with enough resistance to react at the last second of every action, so Timoran is able to swing his great axe and deflect Nyx’s fireball. Delvin tries to drop his sword as he rushes the half-elf from behind, but he only manages to move it enough that it grazes her underarm. Fizzle smacks the warrior to the floor, his tail jerking to the side and slowing down enough to strike his friend’s shoulder instead of his neck. All three are tackled by Timoran and then blown to the far corners of the balcony by Nyx’s wind blast. With so much distance between them, the champions are able to put more effort into fighting against the control spells. The first to falter is Nyx, who unleashes javelins of force and fuses her friends’ feet to the balcony. With a scream, she weakens Walter’s influence and stops the projectiles, which quiver in the air. The channeler continues to fight for control, but it leaves her exposed to her companions’ clumsy attacks. Timoran’s spinning axe goes wide enough that it skims her back while Delvin’s incoming shield bounces off the floor and into the half-elf’s knees. A whimper slips from Fizzle’s throat as the drite builds up a powerful disintegration spell that Nyx has no chance of avoiding. She tries to reach out and absorb the magic, but a jolt of pain causes her to lose her focus.

  “I was hoping she would survive, but I guess not,” Walter says as he takes a step closer to the action. An itch inside his head causes him to stick his entire hand up his nose and scratch at his brain. “Stop fighting back because it’s irritating. In fact, hold off on the spell, dragon, because I want Timoran to move into the path as well. Maybe I should switch them and have Delvin kill Nyx. Then he’ll have to live with the grief. At least until he drops dead without her, which is pathetic. So many choices and none of you can stop me.”

  “Goodbye, little brother,” Dariana whispers, the telepath appearing behind Walter.

  Hair blacker than the night and eyes a freezing blue, the battered champion snaps her brother’s neck in one swift movement. She gazes into his face, which is twisted in anger and confusion as he tries to heal the mortal wound. The boy’s attempts only make the itching in his skull worse and he realizes that Dariana is using his own powers to dissolve his brain. The more he tries to fight her influence, the more his magic turns on his body until he cannot regenerate fast enough to reverse the damage. With the last of his strength, Walter tries to make Fizzle cast the disintegration spell and claim at least one of the champions. His control over his enemies breaks completely when his sister twists his head the other way and removes it completely from his body. Placing the severed body part next to the rest of the corpse, the telepath forces herself to shed a single tear and makes sure it drops onto her little brother’s peaceful face.

  “May that simple act of grief over your death be enough to bring your spirit peace.”

  19

  Running into the distance, the island splits into five sandy paths that are dotted with bubbling tar pits. Each route starts with a slight incline while the ocean remains level and calm, its waves lapping at the shores. Plovers run over the sand in search of crabs that try to scuttle into the steaming tar. Those that escape immediately return to drive the birds away, the hot ooze on their claws leaving scars on the startled predators. A desiccated corpse is on the central path with its arm stretched toward the water and its lower half buried in the sand. Webbing on the hands and a set of pink gills reveal it to be a merman who was left to die in the blistering heat. Unlike the middle road, the one on the far right releases an icy gale that is unhindered by the warmth flowing off the tar pits. With no signs or footprints, the travelers are unsure of the correct path and wait for General Vile’s memory to return.

  “I can say with certainty that I’ve never seen this before,” the soldier declares, nodding his red-eyed head. Perched on Kira’s shoulder, the figurine slides down her arm and lands up to his waist in loose sand. “It’s possible that the Baron has known about your plan for a while. Once you decided to enslave me, he altered my path to negate my usefulness. Perhaps we should each take a separate road.”

  “The most obvious problem with that plan is there are only four of us,” Nimby points out while he gathers some shells. Even though his father’s face barely moves, the thief can tell what the other halfling is thinking. “For the last time, I’m not hacking off my arm to let the Lich create his own body. That could take years, I’d probably bleed to death, and, most importantly, it was my limb first. Your plan still wouldn’t work since it means only one person would reach the end alive.”

  “Or all of us get there,” Sari mutters while standing at the mouth of a path. She bends down to touch the ocean and tries to follow the current, but finds that it abruptly dives straight to the bottom. “It’s possible that every road reaches Luke or whatever comes next. If that’s the case then the only difference is difficulty. Do you remember how complicated this path was before the changes?”

  “It depended on how much Vile wished to be tested,” the Lich answers, his voice shaking while Nimby throwing shells. The necrocaster charges one of them with a fire spell that explodes when it veers to the left and strikes the dead merman. “None of that matters now. Unless you can sense Luke or predict my master, there’s no telling what the answer is.”

  Shouting and footsteps running along wood draws everyone’s attention to a large boat that is nearly upon them. None of the travelers attempt to move out of the vessel’s path as its full sails carry it toward the island. A sudden gust of wind shoves the merchant ship to the side and the sailors yell as if they are fighting a storm. The captain bellows for his men to continue pushing forward, which causes the boat to cut across the five paths. Sensing that the vessel is not a threat to their home, the plovers and crabs go about their business without fear. The boat leaves the area without slowing down and continues on its way through the region, taking away nothing more than a small splotch of cooling tar on its hull.

  “Not as frightening the fifth time around, but still creepy,” Kira says while getting off a warm rock. Standing next to Sari, the heiress scratches her head and holds up her hand. “I think Sari is right that all of these paths lead to the same destination. If the Baron knew about our plan and didn’t want us to reach Luke then he would have sealed the portal in the first place. His decision to alter the path means he wants to be entertained and give us a chance. A challenge of luck would end things too quickly, so I agree that it’s probably a difference in difficulty. That being said, the answer is the middle path.”

  “And how did a vapid merchant girl figure that out?” asks the Lich as he makes Nimby sneer. He yelps when Kira’s chain wraps around the skeletal limb and draws him closer to the path. “I refuse to be destroyed because you guessed incorrectly. If this is entirely about a path’s difficulty then I would prefer to take the easiest route.”

  “A search for that has a higher chance of putting us on the most dangerous road,” the heiress explains, taking a few steps onto the central route. A tremor shakes the ground, but the source turns out to be a whale breaching out of the water ahead. “If the challenges worked from easiest to hardest then there would be an order instead of a haphazard design. Either the far left or far right would be an extreme, which gives us a fifty percent chance of choosing the deadliest. Just like in business, you don’t want to lock yourself into an extreme because you could end up sacrificing more than you gain. In many cases, you need to be flexible and aim more for the middle. Anything extra that you get is a bonus. No matter what, it’s neither the hardest nor easiest path. I’m sure we can handle a little challenge.”

  “Sounds good and confusing to me,” Sari declares as she calmly kicks General Vile over to Kira. The gypsy draws her daggers and squints
into the distance where she can see the faint line of another island. “I’ll take the lead while Nimby stays in the rear. That way we don’t have our thieves too close to each other.”

  “Scared I’ll rob you?” asks the halfling with a teasing smirk.

  The gypsy meets the friendly expression with a cold stare. “More that you’ll push me into a trap.”

  “I’d never do that.”

  “I would consider it.”

  “Maybe I should cut off my arm.”

  “Then I will simply reattach myself.”

  “Stop talking to yourself and come on!” Sari shouts from up ahead.

  Nimby hurries to catch up, but remains a few steps behind Kira, who keeps her weapon coiled around her arm. The bubbling tar pits force them to weave along the path instead of traveling in a straight line. Many of the dangerous ponds are so close together that crossing the space between them is akin to walking a balance beam. The territorial crabs snap at the travelers’ feet, but cannot do more than leave steaming marks on their mud-caked boots. With the creatures distracted by the intruders, the hungry plovers are drawn from the other paths to catch the easy meals. Eventually, a thick flock of the stubborn birds surrounds the group and makes it more difficult to traverse the narrower walkways. Impatient and frustrated, a crack of thunder bursts from Nimby’s arm to scare the plovers into the sky and drive the crabs into the tar pits.

  All of the paths begin a gradual rise above the ocean, each one stopping at a different level with the middle becoming the highest. The view allows the travelers to see the types of traps that they would have faced if they chose a different road. Jagged icebergs shift along the furthest to their right while the one to their left is a deadly maze of swinging blades. Another path is clear of obstacles, so Nimby throws a shell onto it and watches hundreds of armored eels swarm out of the water. Fearing that they are losing time, the travelers move quicker while keeping an eye out for trouble. The tar pits become less common and the paths between them are easier to traverse, which is both a welcomed relief and a source of worry. As the lower roads become clear of danger, a fresh wave of tension flows through the group and everyone focuses on seeing through illusions. Nothing in the oddly serene landscape changes, which makes their anxiety climb higher.