The Compass Key (Book 5) (21 page)

“Why would
we let a champion go?” Vile asks from his hiding place.

“It is more trouble to contain me.”

“Only if we were fools.”

Vile bursts out of the smoke cover, running up the ship with magical ease. Timoran leaps off the
vessel, flipping forward and arching his body to avoid the halfling’s shortsword. The larger warrior pivots the moment he hits the ground, swinging his great axe into the side of the ship. It is a deafening impact that causes the ship to lurch to the side. Vile tumbles to the ground and rolls up to his feet, ready for the barbarian to charge him. Instead, a blast of lightning sends both warriors flying away from each other.

“I’m trying to sleep and I don’t want to wait
for you two to finish your fight,” Trinity declares from atop the ship. She sends a burst of acid at Timoran, who bats the spell into the ocean with his great axe. “Tyler mentioned you had a deflector axe. Now, be a good barbarian and surrender, so I can go back to bed.”

“I have no intention of surrendering,” Timoran declares. He is about to leap
on to the ship when another blast of lightning knocks him back.

“I can force you into submission,” she swears. The enhancer gems in her palms and forehead release a light that covers her in a
prismatic web. “I don’t know why I shouldn’t kill you. You know, accidents happen on the battlefield and you just happened to be standing in the wrong place when I cast a flaying spell.”

Trinity is about to cast her spell when she abruptly leaps away from the railing. A gust of wind whips at her hair as she unleashes a prismatic net on the area in front of her. Fizzle appears inside the
mesh, scrambling and screeching to get out. The net retracts into Trinity’s hands until she is holding the squirming drite. He nips at her fingers until she sends a shock of electricity through the net.

“You’ve sneak attacked my allies many ti
mes, drite,” Trinity whispers, giving him a small kiss on the snout. “I’m always ready for you and sensed you coming. Now, stop struggling or I’ll zap you again.”

“Do you have it?” Vile asks from the ground. He waits for Trinity to step into view and dangle Fizzle over the railing. “Kill it and teach this barbarian a lesson.”

“Excuse me, Vile?”

“I said-” he starts to say until a lightning bolt knocks him back again.

She sits on the railing and places Fizzle in her lap, her fingers gently tickling his belly. “Don’t be an idiot. This drite is very important to the champions, especially Luke and Nyx. If we kill this little guy, those two are going to come down on our heads like a dragon war-god. We need to find the Compass Key. We can’t do that if the city and most of our forces are reduced to rubble.”

“My apologies
, your highness.”

Timoran roars loud enough to shake the windows of the nearby buildings. He rushes toward the ship with his great axe held high. A sharp pain strikes him in the neck, followed by several more sharp pains in his side and leg. The barbarian stumbles forward and his vision blurs from
whatever toxin is flowing through his veins. Before he can reach the ship, his leg muscles buckle and he collapses on the ground, his great axe skidding a few feet in front of him.

“That took all of my strength sapping darts,” Vile
says, tucking a metal blowgun back into his belt. “Even so, he won’t be unconscious for long. Can you ask Nyder to send his . . . Magic Hunter to carry this behemoth onto the ship? I will get my restraints and tools ready for an interrogation.”

“
Help him out, Nyder!” Trinity screams, her voice echoing below decks to awaken the gnome inventor. When she hears the distant yelling of Nyder, she turns her attention back to the drite. “What to do with you?”

“Let Fizzle go.”

“So, your name is Fizzle,” she says in mild amusement. “I think I’m going to reunite you with an old friend. It’s best to keep my special hostages in one place.”

*****

Luke shifts uncomfortably as he tries to find a restful position on the rafter. The griffins around him are already asleep, their heads tucked under their wings. They have given the newcomer a lot of space, so they are not disturbed by the constant movements. Glancing down at the ground, Luke notices the night guards are busy with the cublets and griffin mothers. He climbs up to the highest rafter as his feathers retract into his skin. With the subtle sound of creaking bone and rustling fur, Luke reverts to his normal form. He pulls out a rope to lash himself to a beam in a way that he cannot be seen from the ground and he can sleep without falling off.

“Our ways are not for everyone,”
whispers the large griffin as he steps out of the shadows.
“I expected you to be taller and older. It is strange for a small youth to be bound to a beast with the power and nobility of a griffin.”

“It’s complicated,” Luke says, keeping his eyes on the ground.

“We shall talk outside,”
the griffin suggests, biting through the ropes. He takes Luke’s arm in his beak and hoists the warrior onto his back.
“You may call me Gracewing. We do not typically use names, but this should make talking easier.”

Luke nods before the griffin leaps to a dark hole in the side of the mountain. He climbs out and leaps along the cliffs until he reaches the top of the mountain.
The flat top is covered in bones that the half-elf finds impossible to avoid when he dismounts. He sits cross-legged in front of the noble beast who patiently waits for him to get comfortable.

“I sense that your griffin spirit is young,”
Gracewing says, flapping his wings to enjoy the cool air.
“So, I assume you don’t feel the change.”

“It feels weird
every time,” Luke replies. He picks up a leg bone and absentmindedly examines the beak marks on it. “The wings are the roughest part because my entire back pinches. It reminds me of trying to squeeze through a tight window-”

“That is not what I meant,”
the griffin interrupts, his head cocked to the side.
“I can assume your answer is a no. Your griffin spirit is either too young or you are not hearing to her. Try listening inside.”

Ignoring the questions
on the tip of his tongue, Luke closes his eyes and clutches the griffin talon under his shirt. He can sense that the beast is resting and not in the mood to talk. She emits a wave of lethargy, but he can taste an undercurrent of excitement. Sudden sparks burst across the back of his eyelids, scaring him into losing focus and opening his eyes. For a brief moment, Luke swears he sees lightning on the cloudless horizon.

“She’s tired and exited
. I saw sparks too.”

“So, she is older than I thought and nearing the next stage. The problem is that you are not listening to her,”
Gracewing says with an accusatory glare.
“She senses a time of high power is nearing. It is a time when griffins become stronger. Some of us can absorb sky strength while others can redirect it.”

“Sky strength?”

“Your people call it lightning.”

Luke jumps to his feet and rushes to the edge of the mountain. He reaches out to feel the wind caress his skin. A scowl creases his forehead while he licks his lips, tasting the salty air. He drops his hands and sighs, kicking a skull off the mountain.
The forest tracker watches it bounce into the ocean where the waves smash it against the rocks.

“I could never master sensing a storm,” the half-elf admits, turning back to the griffin. “I was told by my grandfather that griffins gather
near thunderstorms. It is rumored that you take nourishment from the wind.”

“That is close. We absorb sky strength as we age
. When a griffin reaches fifty cycles, he or she gains the ability to attack with the sky strength. A handful of us are able to do this, but we cannot if we have a rider. The release comes from our wings, so the rider would be injured or killed.”

“I get it. Y
ou want to help Gaia and use a coming storm to attack the chaos elves. I don’t have that ability, so I wouldn’t be any help.”

“Yes, but you are able to plan,”
the griffin urgently says. His fur rises along his back as he moves closer to Luke.
“Do not mistake my eloquence as the norm of my kind. I am unique in that I can think like one of you. It is a gift from the nature goddess, Wyld. Yet, I do not know enough to plan an attack like this.”

“What do you normally do?”

“A situation like this has never come up for me. My kind does not pass down history like those of the buildings, so we are at a loss,”
the griffin admits, shrugging his wings and peering out to the distant horizon.
“We cannot take our riders with us, so we would lose our guides in battle. I believe that you can lead us since you are both griffin and rider.”

“I’ll need some time to figure this out,” Luke
says, running a hand through his blonde hair. “How long do we have before the storm hits?”

“The
sky strength will arrive in two mornings,”
Gracewing replies with a nod. The griffin yawns before starting down the mountain.
“Will you be returning to the nests?”

“I’m going to stay out here for tonight. The fresh air will help me think
.”

“Then I will stay with you.”

Gracewing curls up in the middle of the bone pile, his wings folded against his sides. Luke takes a seat next to the resting beast and looks over the docked ships. Within an hour, he is asleep with a mischievous grin on his face.

10

“Maybe you should stick to women, children, and the elderly,” Trinity suggests as she stretches her arms over her head. She puts her booted feet on the table, rattling the collection of torture instruments strewn across the dented wood. “You’ve been at this all night and it’s well beyond breakfast.”

“Shut up!” Vile angrily snaps.

The halfling rubs his bloodshot eye and spins the twisted dagger in his hand. His bare chest is covered in scars and there are a few fresh cuts along his arms. Dried blood is on the side of his head, its path leading up to a large bump on his temple. Throwing the dagger onto the table, Vile tries to eat some cold toast, but his frustration only lets him take a single bite. Like a man possessed, he is on his feet and pacing in front of Timoran, who is bound to the wall with thick chains.

“I’ve never had a barbarian to
work on before,” Vile says, his voice crackling. He stops to admire the deep cuts he made on his victim’s limbs. “I can’t find the best way to hurt him. He shrugs it off and still manages to attack me if the chains loosen even a fraction. If I put him to sleep then I won’t get any answers out of him. Yet, I’m not making any headway while he’s awake. We should kill him and be done with this.”

“Has anyone ever successfully tort
ured a barbarian?”

“Not in the history of my clan,” Timoran proudly answers before Vile can respond. The barbarian lazily glances down at the chains that entomb his chest and suspend his arms. “I could simply tell you believable lies when you think you have broken me. Torture is not the best way to get information.”

“I will not take advice from my prisoner!” the halfling shouts, throwing a dagger at Timoran. The weapon bounces off the chains and slams into the wooden wall, burying itself up to the hilt and startling someone in the next room.

Trinity
approaches the volatile soldier to place a hand on his shoulder and kneel in front of him. Gently, she lifts his eye-patch and blows on the damaged flesh. Vile cringes at the cool feeling that runs through his body. He is about to reach for his eye when he thinks better of it and pretends to scratch his nose.

“Maybe we could simply talk like civilized people,” she
says, tenderly putting the eye-patch back in place.

“You cast a spell on him,” Timoran bluntly responds. With very little effort he pulls his arms together causing the chains to break free of the wall. “I can see a blue glow around the edge of his
eye-patch. An impressive injury for someone so small. We may be enemies, but I acknowledge your tenacity and toughness.”

“Thank you,” Vile replies with a small bow. “I shall return the favor and compliment your strength and endurance. The way you dispatched our men without killing them was simply beautiful. I would offer you a position in my army, but I’m sure you would refuse.’

Trinity clears her throat and cracks her knuckles. “Are you two done being pals? I’d like to ask this man some questions.”

“I say we kill him and be done with it,” Vile mutters as he takes a seat at the table.

Timoran sighs and shifts his arms under the chains that are wrapped around him. With a low growl that grows into a roar, he bursts free of his bonds and lets them drop to the fall. He snaps off the cuffs around his ankles and stands waiting for his enemies to attack. Instead, Trinity gestures toward the table and goes to take a seat next to Vile.

“I expected you to attack us,” she admits while leaning her elbows on the table. “I sense that you’re a more cautious warrior than the others. You know that we hold your little friend hostage and that we could have killed you.
So you’re behaving.”

“I did sense that this is an interrogation and not an execution,” Timoran cautiously admits
, his eyes scanning the room for his axe. His body is rigid with tension as he prepares to leap away at the slightest suspicious movement of his hosts. “We do not know where the Compass Key is if that is what you hoped to learn. My friends and I are as lost as you are. In fact, I would not be surprised if you were closer to finding it than we are.”

“
What are you doing to find it?”

“I have not been told the plan.”

Vile shifts uncomfortably in his chair as his fingers curl in mild pain. Without warning, he screams in agony and collapses to the ground as a searing, sapphire light grows beneath his eye-patch. His back arches until only his heels and the back of his head are touching the floor. He manages to turn his head to glare at Trinity, who is casually chewing on a piece of bacon. His mouth opens and closes in an attempt to say something, but the pain is too intense for him to do anything beyond gurgling.

“You expect me to talk because you are torturing your ally,” Timoran drones, averting his eyes from the halfling.

The chaos elf slips off her chair and goes to stroke Vile’s chest. “It’s a fun spell. When you hear a lie, your body is wracked with extreme pain. It’s supposed to be cast on the person you want the information from. The problem with you is that you can ignore pain as it increases, so this spell wouldn’t really be effective.”

Trinity’s hands glow a putrid green as she points at Timoran and touches Vile’s glowing
eye-patch. A swirling beam of green and blue magic lances out of her palm to strike the barbarian in the chest. Vile relaxes while his pain is transferred to the larger warrior in one spell, causing the large man to roar and stagger back. Through sheer willpower, Timoran remains standing and takes a step toward the caster.

“Just fall down,” she sighs out of boredom. With a snap of her fingers, the beam grows thicker and hits with more force. “I can do this for a long time, barbarian.”

Timoran falls to his knees, making it easy for Vile to punch him in the face. The halfling backs away when he feels the magical agony try to run up his arm. Trinity gestures toward the table and he nods before sitting down to finish his cold breakfast.

“I was told to make sure the local militia did not cause trouble,” Timoran gasps, a growing rage in his throat. He can feel the pain lessen as he speaks. “Nyx was still researching the
Compass Key in the library when I left Rainbow Tower. She was not having any luck and getting frustrated. I assume the plan was to locate the Compass Key and get there before you. That is all I know.”

“Doesn’t
it feel nice to tell the truth?” Trinity coos. The spell evaporates and she reaches out to caress her enemy’s cheek. “I sincerely wish that there was another way. I respect that you are loyal and want to protect your friends. Still, I have to find that Compass Key at all costs.”

“Did you have to use me as a vessel?” Vile inquires. He fingers a multi-bladed tool on the table and eyes
the chaos elf.

“It was as essential as the time you used me as bait for a troublesome paladin,” she replies with a playful wink.

“I will-” Timoran begins as he gets to his feet.

The
barbarian’s words are cut off when Trinity flicks her hand to slam his sheathed great axe into his face. Still on his feet, Timoran takes a step forward and is struck again by the blunt object. He continues moving toward the caster, who repeatedly strikes him with his own weapon. The towering man is barely conscious by the time he gets within reach of her. A primal fire burns in his eyes as his lunges to try and grab Trinity by the neck. Timoran is sent crashing into the far wall by a fist of ice that is covered in lightning.

“That was close,” the chaos elf
gasps, letting her fear show. Even though he never touched her, she nervously rubs her neck. “We should kill this one. He’s too dangerous.”

“He is, but we need him alive for now,” Vile points out. He scratches his stomach as he turns around to look at Timoran. “I hate it when we catch a champion and can’t execute
him immediately. This game gets more frustrating every time we get new opponents.”

“This game
is ridiculous.”

The halfling warrior subtly points a dagger at his ally and his voice adopts a threatening edge.
“We are soldiers and have to follow orders. Your loyalty is always in question, Queen Trinity. I would hate to report that you’re turning against the master.”

“Do you ever listen to how I talk to the master?
The man knows I hate him and would turn on him if he didn’t have my people hostage. So, go ahead and report my disdain to him. The worst he’ll do is half-heartedly torture me until I fake an apology or he gets bored. Maybe he’ll hand me over to Stephen for a night of horrors. It’s nothing I haven’t survived before.”

“So tragic,” Vile mockingly
replies, sheathing the dagger and tossing it onto the table. “Now, help me figure out a plan to use this savage to get to Nyx. He won’t stay unconscious for long.”

Trinity vanishes in a puff of black smoke that
slips into the shadows. “Release the barbarian back into the city with his weapon. Grab my best men and be ready for my signal to attack Rainbow Tower.”

“Are you sure about an assault?”

“I don’t care about an assault,” the chaos elf’s voice hisses. Vile can sense the bodiless chaos elf grinning. “I want Nyx.”

*****

Timoran is groggy as he stumbles along the busy streets, Rainbow Tower slowly growing ahead of him. People try to get out of his way and stare at him as if he is a lumbering drunkard that deserves pity and scorn. He tries to remember what happened, but his memory gets fuzzy when he reaches the point that Vile’s pain transferred to him. Reaching back to pat his great axe for comfort, the barbarian tries to keep his senses keen. He is sure that he is being followed even though he is unable to locate his stalkers. His focus is broken by the roar of his stomach, so he goes in search of food.

“Good afternoon,” says a gleeful dwarven vendor, holding out skewered beef for the hungry warrior. “It looks like you just woke up from a rough night, sir.”

“My morning was no better,” Timoran admits in a gravelly voice. He slaps down a diamond sphere and glances at the beaming vendor. “How much will this get me? I have not eaten since lunch yesterday.”

“Were you part of
the militia?” the dwarf asks as he gathers several skewers and dips them in thick sauce. “I heard all of them were captured, except Varti. The poor thing is hiding in a jail cell and won’t come out until her friends are free.”

“It is good to hear that she is safe,” Timoran replies. His stomach nearly drowns out his voice, causing the vendor to hand him a finished meat skewer. “Thank you.”

The dwarf grumbles when his long, neat beard dips into the sauce. “Give me a few minutes to finish your order. You get twelve skewers and I’m putting extra sauce on it to help wake you up. If things keep escalating then a big man like you will need all the energy he can get.”

Timoran nods as he devours the beef, his eyes rolling back in ecstasy. By the time he is done with the first skewer, the dwarf has finished making the other eleven. With a grin, Timoran takes the skewers in his fists and thanks the vendor. He continues on his way to Rainbow Tower while he eats his breakfast, rarely biting the same skewer twice in a row. Gentle warmth spreads through his body, returning his worn muscles to their full strength. Timoran is so enamored with his breakfast that he barely notices when he enters the gardens of Rainbow Tower.

“It’s good to see you, Mr. Wrath!” Willow yells from where she is watering a bed of twisting roses. She waves to the barbarian, who is startled by the sudden noise. “I’m sorry that I scared you!”

“No apology necessary and please call me Timoran,” he says while he carefully walks around the delicate flowers. “Are the others inside? I have news to tell them.”

“Delvin and Luke are with the griffin riders, but Nyx is inside,” Willow mentions. She mutters a spell and the sauce covering Timoran’s body dissolves. “I see you’ve been to Larin’s stall. That man needs to give napkins with his skewers.”

“Thank you for tending to my mess.
Where is Nyx? I should tell her what has happened.”

“You can’t disturb her, Timoran,” the elegant caster swiftly declares. The roses at her feet weave and sway in the air, causing her to eye them curiously. “She is busy with something very important. I’m afraid I can’t discuss it in the open.”

He scratches his head and glances at a passing griffin. “That is unfortunate because it is urgent, If Nyx is busy then I should find the others to discuss my time with the militia. It did not go well and now our enemies have Fizzle as a hostage.”

“That’s horrible!” she exclaims, dropping her watering can. The roses lean back from the
sudden noise, but stretch forward again within seconds. “You stay right here and I’ll get some help for you. This is such a delicate situation that I would hate for you to leave without our assistance. If we aren’t careful then someone very close to us can be hurt or even killed.”

The barbarian looks confused as Willow smiles at him. “I do not believe they will hurt Fizzle, but one cannot be sure.”

“You are right, but maybe someone even closer to us is in danger,” she calmly states, spreading her arms to stretch. Her eyes bore into Timoran and briefly glance at the panicking roses.

The warrior
finally notices the roses are reaching for him, realization dawning on his face. “I understand.”