“Insults won’t work on me.”
“Your son deserved what he got.”
“Well, I can’t argue with that.”
“None of your followers remember you.”
“Can’t blame them since I stepped down.”
“I think your pinky finger is too crooked.”
“I’ll kill you!”
Yola lunges at Kira, who meets the attack with her sickle, which is coated in a thick layer of blood-boiling poison. The immortal splits to avoid the blade and both sides spin to grab the warrior by the back of the head. With violent tugs, the two halves attempt to tear Kira apart, but an icy sweat makes it difficult to maintain a solid grip. Yola reforms and delivers a knee to her opponent’s face, which cracks and bleeds steaming magma. Refusing to let go, the immortal leans back and flips the mortal over her head. Whipping herself forward like a slingshot, she launches Kira off the island and toward the horizon. Before the warrior gets very far, Yola notices that the sickle is embedded in the back of her thigh and a thick band of ice is keeping the weapon in place. Not wanting to suffer from her own attack, she fuses herself to the island and grips the enchanted kusari-gama with both hands. A violent yank tightens the chain enough to crush Kira’s stone arm and causes the injured warrior to flop into the shallows. Steam drifts off the mortal woman as she absorbs the sand and repairs her damaged limb, the barbed rock changing from dark brown to a light tan.
“Think you two could tone it down a bit?” Sari asks as she works on the lock on Luke’s chest. She nervously bites her lower lip as she maneuvers her tools around his heart to get to the mechanics, the gypsy sensing that the whole device is an interactive illusion. “This lock will disappear as soon as I pick it, but I need to be careful until then. Last thing I want is a quake that makes me stab Luke in the heart. Might not kill him, but it definitely won’t help either of our sides.”
“Or you could work on the keyhole hidden in the back of the tree,” Nimby points out, the halfling regaining some control of his body. He stretches an arm to point at the camouflaged opening, the Lich refusing to let him get any closer. “If you want my advice, I’d focus on Yola and leave Luke alone. Defeating her could free him from the tree and the lock will no longer be a problem. Otherwise, you will probably kill him. Remember that her illusions are on a different level than yours. After all, she used to be able to create life.”
Ignoring Nimby’s advice, Sari goes around the tree and gets to work on the lock without wondering what it is connected to. “Just hold Yola off for a few more minutes. I hope this will eject the lock from Luke and close the wound. Either that or free his legs. None of these things make any sense.”
“That one will send his heart flying out of his body,” Yola hisses as her face looms out of the tree. The rest of her body catches Sari from behind and whips her around to use as a shield against Kira. “Can’t hurt me without risking your friend. I know you two have some issues, but you’d never take such a chance.”
“Someone is getting scared and desperate,” Kira growls while rapidly swinging the kusari-gama at her side. Lashing out with the weapon, she flicks her wrist at the last moment to send the club over Sari’s head and into Yola’s ear. “Remove that lock from Luke’s chest and I’ll reject the elemental energy. You get to fight normal, entirely mortal Kira Grasdon like you want, but only if you do as I ask.”
“Deal!” the former goddess happily declares before tossing Sari aside. Turning to the tree, she bends it backwards and safely removes the lock with a sickening pop. “The wound will heal on its own and I left a force field to keep sand out of it. You might want to do something about the infection. I’d erase that, but it’s such a pretty color. Now, you promised to make it easier for me to kill you. Do it quickly and I might settle for a respectful maiming.”
The elemental energy gathers in Kira’s hands and seeps out of her pores, which leaves the warrior naked and exposed. Her eyes remain on Yola, who lets the tree spring back up to send Nimby and Vile flying into the sand. The immortal’s arm stretches to deliver a punch to the warrior’s chin, the blow snapping bone and knocking out teeth. A clawed hand drives into Kira’s side and scratches at her insides, which causes her to scream at the top of her lungs. Dragging herself away, the young woman clutches her weapon and staggers to her feet in time to receive a whip across the back. Falling to her knees, she attempts to blindly strike Yola with the blunt end of her weapon, but misses when she collapses.
With a crack of her knuckles, the former goddess gets close enough to bend down and sniff at the defeated warrior. She kicks a spear of ice away, the attack coming from Sari, who is limping toward the fight. Yola opens her mouth to tease the gypsy when she feels a sharp pain in the top of her foot. Glancing down, the immortal sees Kira’s sickle embedded in her flesh and the young woman trying to grin. The weapon crackles and glows as the elemental energy in the mortal’s hands ripples down the chair and into Yola’s body. She tries to convert the magic, but the chaotic mess is too much for her to contain before it rockets through her veins. The former goddess pouts a moment before she explodes into steaming pieces that are sent hurtling in every direction. Only the head remains on the island, which Sari swiftly encases in ice and buries in the sand.
“But I wanted to hear her complain,” Kira whispers, unable to move. She lets Sari bandage her wounds before getting rolled onto a rough blanket. “What do we do now?”
“It sounds like the others killed Walter, so I guess we wait,” Sari replies while she watches Nimby carefully remove Luke from the tree. Seeing Kira’s cracked lips, she pulls out a waterskin and helps her friend get a taste of the stale water. “Don’t take this the wrong way, but I can’t believe you managed to beat Yola Biggs. Going by Dariana’s abilities, it should take her a while to heal since she’s no longer a goddess. Hope Nyxie finishes the ritual before that happens. How did you know that last attack would work on her? Kira? Hello? No falling asleep on me now, Kira. Keep your eyes open. Wake up, Grasdon! Dammit!”
20
The citizens of Darkmill have spent the last six days gathering their belongings and organizing themselves into a caravan. None of the houses or public buildings remain, leaving the people to survive in tents until the travel preparations have been completed. Perishable supplies have been gathered into all of the wagons, the guards watching over it while local cooks work to make food for the entire populace. Surviving furniture and anything else too heavy to carry have been placed in an ivy-covered tower that Queen Ionia had built outside of her magic’s influence, the lone structure acting as a memorial for the erased city. Many are still talking about the recent discovery of toys, money pouches, and other gifts that have already been divided among the citizens. The heartwarming gesture has helped the people feel like the future is a little brighter and they hope that they can return to a new Darkmill before too long. None are willing to bring up the possibility that it may be years until a new ruler appears or that one could arrive to create a city of evil.
With the arrival of guards from Gods’ Voice, the thousands of refugees are ready to be escorted to the Serabian capital. Various temples have sent followers to offer guidance and soothing words, the robed figures moving among the large crowd of determined faces. Tears are still being shed for Queen Ionia, but only the children remain sad about losing their city. The adults have always known that such a fate could befall them and take comfort from the long standing survival plan that the Dukes and Duchesses of Serab have routinely put into effect over the years. Those without friends and family in other cities will be relocated to a new home and given enough money to start a new life. Not everyone will be able to find the same career they held in Darkmill, but they are repeatedly told that what they are getting is the best that Duke Solomon can offer. To give the people as much hope as possible, followers of Cessia hand out holy coins to all who wish to pray for a change in their luck.
It is late afternoon when the caravan is about to leave and those in front s
pot a small group heading in their direction. Fearing that bandits are coming, the guards make a wall in front of the citizens and ready their weapons. Torches are lit and held throughout the crowd, the light doing very little to reveal the distant strangers. A plume of fire and lightning erupts from one of the figures, the spell hanging in the air to act like a false sun. The guards lower their weapons at the sight of the champions while a Zarian priestess hurries ahead to check on Alyssa, who is being carried by Timoran. The barbarian hands the slumbering elf off to the female orc and sits on the ground, his face a mask of exhaustion. Delvin and Dariana stay with Nyx as the channeler timidly walks up to the crowd. She relaxes slightly when Fizzle lands on her shoulder and wraps his tail around her arm. Noticing that she cannot be seen by her potential citizens, the young woman has the ground transform into a ten foot tall pillar. To her relief, nobody screams in fear or attempts to run away, confusion and hope the only emotions she can see on her future people’s faces.
“I’m not exactly sure how any of this works,” Nyx whispers, her hands scratching at the scars on her body. A teasing voice in the back of her head causes the channeler to chuckle and wipe a tear from her eye. “Queen Ionia died saving my friends and I from the monster that wiped out the town of Haven. We didn’t have any time to talk with her, so I apologize if I’m making a mistake by coming here. Honestly, I don’t have any experience as a leader and tend to let my temper get the best of me. My fiancée and Fizzle over here should be able to keep that in check since they’re a lot harder to make mad. Oh, I forgot to let everyone know who I am. My name is Nyx and I was raised by Willow and Cyril of Rainbow Tower. Some people might know me as a champion or other names that get tossed around. This is Delvin Cunningham, my fiancée, who was trained by Selenia Hamilton and is now running her academy. This is my other friend Dariana and sitting over there is Timoran Wrath the Snow Tiger King. Uh . . . I don’t know if I’m making any sense here.”
“Nyx forget say she new queen,” Fizzle whispers into the half-elf’s ear. Waving to the crowd, the drite notices that several children are holding toy versions of himself. “Fizzle be here too. All friends be here. Nyx give people hope. Make new city. Strong and tough like Nyx. Then we bring Luke home. Family be one again.”
“If only it was that simple,” the channeler mutters before taking a cleansing breath. She crosses and uncrosses her arms, neither stance feeling right for the occasion. “Let’s start over and forget the nervous rambling. My name is Lady Nyx of Rainbow Tower. I am both a champion of Windemere and a powerful channeler. Queen Ionia was one of my friends and mentors and she died saving my life. To honor her sacrifice and make sure your daily lives can continue without the disruption of a relocation, I am becoming the new Caster Queen. Although, Delvin says I should be called a Channeler Queen. Anyway, my city won’t be like Darkmill or even share the same name. Though, I hope everyone here stays and helps me create something that Windemere has never seen before. This will not only be a city of magic, but one where people from all walks of life can come for a chance at a good life. We shall be the newest jewel in the kingdom of Serab and flourish faster than any city before us. I promise that you will be happy and proud that this is your home. Now, does anybody know how I start this?”
A tremor of laughter ripples through the crowd while an old man approaches, a leather bound book in his wrinkled hands. His purple robe drags across the ground and his tall hat threatens to fall off his narrow head. Faint points are on his ears and his graceful movements belie his half-Elven nature, which puts Nyx at ease. Jumping off the pillar of earth, the channeler hurries to meet the elder and is surprised by how the crowd lets her through. She skids to a stop and tries to walk in a nobler manner, the result being a very slow, stiff gait. The old man smiles at the nervous woman and is about to bow when she catches him by the shoulders, the channeler fearing that he is about to fall.
“I can tell that you will be an amusing and kind-hearted leader,” the elder says while patting Nyx on the hand. He opens the book to a silver page that is invisible if seen from any direction other than straight ahead. “Hold this tome before you and dream up a new city. This page will guide your power and show you the boundaries. Every building is yours to create and we will be happy with your decisions. We thank you for accepting this responsibility and shall work with what you give us.”
“Is there a type of house you want?” Nyx asks, catching the elder off-guard. Those nearby chuckle at the question, but she can see that many are thinking of an answer. “None of you get to choose your homes, do you? Alterations can be made and maybe new ones can be built after the city comes into existence. That would take money and time, but they would still disappear if something happened to me.”
“It is how things have always been,” a dwarf announces, his burly arms filled with blacksmith tools.
“We are just happy to have a home,” a calico declares, her husband nodding in agreement.
The elder guides Nyx out of the crowd, the pair stopping between the citizens and those who came to help. “This is the price we pay for living in the magic city. We are protected and have more successful harvests than other territories. Crime is usually low and our military is one of the finest in the land. With all of this, we accept that our world is not entirely our own. Please look into the book and do what you wish.”
“Doesn’t feel right,” the channeler argues as her friends join her. Running her finger along the silver page, she can feel an ancient power rise from the ground and into her feet. “I still have a great battle ahead of me. That means you can find yourself back in this situation within the next month. Maybe this was a really big mistake and I should let someone else be your new leader. Between my destiny and not feeling right about forcing you to accept my decisions, I don’t think I’m ruler material.”
“Or you are more capable than you realize, fire sprite,” Timoran states as he reaches out to pat his friend on the head. Thinking better of it, he places his meaty hand on her shoulder and smiles. “I felt the same way when I was given the throne of Stonehelm. In fact, I have yet to rid myself of such fears because I left so quickly. There was no time for me to come to terms with my new role, which frightens me. Now, I see that you are in a similar situation and I feel better because we can learn together. Always remember, fire sprite, that you have friends by your side.”
“You’re a genius, Timoran!” Nyx shouts before grabbing Dariana by the wrist and dragging her toward the crowd. The immortal waves timidly, her mind already being bombarded by an ocean of unrestrained curiosity. “This is my friend Dariana and she’s a telepath. Not a caster with a telepathy spell, but a natural one. She can read all of your minds and tell me about the house you want. Within reason though because having a city full of mansions would be ridiculous and rather tacky. Also, you would need to either hire servants or clean every room yourself. Pretty sure most people here don’t have the time or money for that or enough stuff to fill such a large building. By the gods, that’s what I’m going to have to with my castle, right? Anyway, if you’re not comfortable with this idea then raise your hand and I’ll do my best to come up with something for you. Queen Ionia told me that there’s a two day period of malleability, so I’ll be accepting suggestions in the morning. Why do I sound more like a headmistress than a noble ruler?”
“Because that was the job you expected to have after your adventures,” Dariana answers, her eyes darting to every hand that goes up. Sweat forms on her brow when she realizes that only four people are refusing the offer and the rest are already thinking of what they want. “This will be a strain on my mind, but I promised to help. To prevent both of us from collapsing, I will have to feed these to you in groups. It may be comforting to know that everyone likes this idea and they are already thinking fondly of you.”
“Hope that lasts since I have no idea what I’m doing.”
“I sense there will be answers to come later.”
“What do you mean?”
; “Sorry, but I’ve been told not to spoil a surprise.”
“I order you to tell me.”
“You’re not actually a queen until you make your city. Even then, I’m your friend and not one of your citizens.”
With a shrug, Nyx turns her attention back to the book and focuses her power on the silver page. She can feel Luke’s aura coursing through her veins, so the channeler seals the energy to avoid using it by accident. Absorbing magic from the world around her, the nervous half-elf gradually dreams up a city. Nyx closes her eyes to imagine roads of smooth stone and a defensive wall that is fringed with metallic ivy. Two drawbridges appear on the river side of the city, the entrances bookending a modest harbor for trade and tourists. Statues of former rulers and great casters of history sprout from the earth to become the centerpieces of multiple town squares. Grassy areas for parks are blocked off and given decorative fountains along with temporary signs to remind Nyx that she needs to contact Willow for plants. Museums, schools, restaurants, and guard posts crop up while the half-elf patiently waits for Dariana to begin feeding her the house requests. Running out of ideas, she has a caster tower of crimson stone repeatedly come into existence and fade away.
The first home Nyx creates is a simple two-floor building with a rooftop herb garden. She finds it odd to put something on top of the structure, which is typically nothing more than a perch for birds and thieves. When the next home has an eating area on the roof, she begins to wonder if Dariana is influencing her citizens to stick to a common theme. The instructions begin coming faster, most of them following a similar pattern while a handful remind her of architecture from other cities. Nyx is about to listen to every suggestion for the public areas that comes over her connection with Dariana, but stops to avoid copying large pieces of Darkmill. As much as she wants to honor the past, the champion knows that she has to make her own mark with this new city. Within thirty minutes, the channeler has all of the buildings in place and is about to break contact when she realizes an open space at the far end of town. She scratches her head and wonders what she has forgotten before a nervous chuckle shakes the landscape.
Ritual of the Lost Lamb Page 38