The Compass Key (Book 5) (4 page)

“We should decide on shifts.”

“I thought your mixture would keep the beasts away.”

“It will.”

“Then, why do we need shifts?”

Timoran points in the general direction of Luke and Nyx. “To prevent our forest tracker from trying a one man assault on the Lich’s castle.”

Delvin
laughs at the thought of Luke charging through two armies. It is a vision that he would pay money to see because he is not entirely sure that Luke would lose. With a content sigh, he scoops up his mug and his battered coffee pot. He holds up his full mug to Timoran, who holds up a decanter of Ifrit mead. They make a silent toast and continue chuckling their tension away.

*****

“Go away, Nyx,” Luke growls without turning around. He continues unleashing his anger on a rotting tree stump. When he senses that the person is still standing behind him, Luke whirls around and holds his sword where Nyx’s throat would be. Instead, he sees Sari standing before him with a look of fear on her face. “What are you doing?”

“I thought this form would make it easier for you to talk,” Sari claims as she plays with the amethyst necklace around her neck. “I know what I-”

Luke cuts off her words by kissing her hard on the lips and pulling her close. He is shoved away and Sari swiftly transforms back into Nyx, who hacks and gags. She makes a show of rubbing her tongue and spitting. The blonde half-elf opens his mouth to say something, but his lips are magically clamped shut.

“For Gabriel’s sake, Luke
,” Nyx says, pulling out a flask of herbal water and taking a swig of it. She swishes it around her mouth and spits it into a nearby pool. “Did you really think Sari was here? This is even worse than the first time because I know where your mouth has been.”

“I’m sorry, but I got confused and didn’t hear what you were saying,” Luke apologizes when he can open his mouth again. He gives a quizzical look at
the caster. “What do you mean the first time? And why am I apologizing to you?”

“You’re apologizing for jamming your tongue in my mouth,” Nyx replies, fighting to keep her temper under control. She lets her arms hang at her sides and
focuses more on her mud-caked boots than Luke. “When Nimby nearly killed you, I had to transfer part of my aura into your body to purge the magical poison. The fastest way was to do it was with a kiss. I probably should have told you, but it felt so strange that I didn’t want to make you think I had any . . . romantic feelings for you. The gods know you have enough trouble in that arena.”

“Oh . . .
thanks.”

The half-elves stand among the pools of swamp water and watch the clouds part to bathe them in amber light. High-pitched frogs sing to the moon as Nyx struggles to think of a way to cut through the tension. Her stomach aches from the guilt of striking Luke and insulting him. She remembers that they fought during their first meeting over a misunderstanding. Their fight at the campfire was something different. There was malice and an intent to hurt Luke in Nyx’s cutting words. Staring at the young warrior, she can see the pain etched in his face and a crazed exhaustion in his glassy eyes. His dirt-covered skin and filthy blonde hair are heart-wrenching when Nyx realizes he must have spent hours battling through the Caster Swamp alone.

The caster wipes a few hot tears from her eyes, flicking them away where they hiss against the cool ground. She is about to speak when Luke draws his sabers and turns away. He only takes a step before Nyx hugs him from behind. She holds him tight and presses her forehead against his back.

“Please don’t run away.
I’m sorry about what I said, Luke. I was . . . I still am angry that you think I don’t care about Sari. I would have gone with you if you gave me a chance, but you flew off without me. You can’t save her alone and I refuse to do it without you. So, please stay with us.”

“I can’t sit around while Sari is in trouble,” Luke insists as he carefully sheathes his sabers.

“It isn’t easy for me either,” Nyx says. Without releasing the hug, she moves around him and puts her head against his chest. “The Lich tortured me back in Hero’s Gate and I was able to endure it, but Sari isn’t me. I can only imagine what he’s doing to her. If I could incinerate his castle to save her, I’d have done it already.”

Luke pushes Nyx away, so he can look into her eyes. “Why can’t you?”

“Because I would kill Sari and any other prisoners that the Lich has,” she answers in surprise. She reaches up to stroke his cheek. “I know you’re hurting, but you can’t ask me to do something so blindly destructive.”

“Dammit, Nyx!” Luke snaps, raising his eyes to the sky. He takes a deep breath and his fists clench. “The two of us are so powerful, yet we’re stuck waiting. All it would take is me in my griffin form and you on my back. We could raze the two armies and smash into the castle to destroy the Lich. There’s nothing wrong with that plan.”

Nyx lets go of Luke and focuses her energy on a pool of water. “That’s a ridiculous plan. The Lich can knock us out of the air while we’re fighting the armies. That’s if he doesn’t have some flying beasts of his own. We need our friends for this. Neither of us know anything about battles of this scale. We’re adventurers, not soldiers.”

Luke is about to argue when
the caster drenches him with a geyser of warm water. The water swirls around him, scraping off the dirt and muck that has gathered on him. When the geyser subsides, Luke is on his knees gasping for air. A blast of hot air drives down on him from above and dries him off. He shoots an angry glare at Nyx, who is smiling sweetly at him.

“You can’t save Sari smelling like a swamp and cove
red in filth, little brother.”

“Thanks,” he says as he
accepts her extended hand. “This doesn’t make me any happier about waiting.”

Nyx wraps an arm around Luke’s shoulders and whispers into his ear. “Think of it this way, little brother. Selenia and her soldiers can handle the armies, which
frees us to go directly to the castle. No distractions. We take the first opportunity to break away from our allies and rip the Lich’s head off. I’ll make sure you get Kayn all to yourself too. So, spend tonight dreaming about what you’re going to do that traitorous gypsy. Might I suggest decapitation or a fun disemboweling?”

“You’re sick, big sister. You’re right
, but still sick,” Luke chuckles with a warm smile. He gives her a gentle hug and quick kiss on the cheek. “I’m sorry for what I said. I don’t want to fight with you like this ever again.”

“Then, don’t be so big a jerk again.”

“That goes for you too.”

“I guess we need Sari to keep us civil.”

“Timoran and Delvin tried.”

Nyx glances at the distant campfire where Timoran and Delvin are nothing more than oddly shaped silhouettes. A smile creeps across her face as she watches them swap
whatever they are drinking from. Both of the silhouettes suddenly lurch forward as if they tasted something horrible.

“What are you thinking?” Luke asks, seeing the happy glint in Nyx’s eyes.

“I’m happy to have a big family that cares about me,” she dreamily replies. She fingers her amethyst necklace and considers contacting her parents, but decides not to worry them. “I owe you a lot, Luke. It’s because of you that I found my birth parents, reunited with my little sister, and made more real friends than I’ve ever had in my life. I think I’m going to start calling Timoran my big brother.”

“Delvin isn’t going to be happy about being a
brother. I’m pretty sure he wants more from you.”

“I’ll slay that
demon when the time comes,” Nyx rapidly says, waving her hand through the air. “So, are we going to be okay? We still have each other’s back?”

Luke stares at Nyx in mild surprise. “Even if we’re fighting, I still have your back. I might not drink with you after the battle, but I swear I will never abandon you.”

“Good,” Nyx responds before a gaping yawn takes over her mouth. “Can you carry me back because I’m very sleepy?”

With a roll of his eyes, Luke picks Nyx up and puts her on his back. She wraps her arms around his neck and struggles to find a position for her legs. The saber hilts poke at her thighs as Luke walks back to the camp. It is a
two minute trip, but Nyx is fast asleep by the time she is laid down next to the fire and covered in a musty blanket.

Delv
in gingerly approaches Luke and whispers, “You guys okay?”

“We’re fine, but I think you’re going to
have to work harder on wooing her,” Luke answers with a wicked grin. He slaps Delvin on the shoulder as he walks over to a nearby stump. “You’re like a brother to her.”

“Is that bad?” Timoran asks from where he is sprawled between two logs.

“At least she doesn’t hate me,” Delvin happily declares. He punches Luke in the arm and goes to lie down near the fire. “Get some sleep and no sneaking off, Callindor. Tomorrow we have a battle to win.”

2

For the first time in over a century, the Lich wrinkles his nose in disgust at the blood dripping down the walls. The black stone is barely noticeable under the layer of gore. His red eyes hold pity as he looks at the barely breathing gypsy on the central table. Her skin is slowly knitting back together, but the moist blood remains as a reminder of the torturous pain she has been forced to endure.

“I trust you will clean this room,” the Lich mentions, turning his gaze on the man washing blood off his hands.

“If I feel like it,” the man replies with a bored smile. He appears behind the Lich and adjusts the cuffs of his pristine, black shirt. “Can you tell me how long I’ve been working down here? I can never tell in this hole and it feels like it’s been days.”

“I don’t know, Stephen,” the Lich says. He cringes when his ally’s face turns into a condescending scowl. “I only know that it’s morning. Maybe you should find a nursery and eat some children for breakfast.”

“Such an amusing creature,” Stephen hisses. He begins to yawn and appears next to the Sari. “Nothing like this beauty.”

He
strokes the gypsy’s hair and grins when she shivers at his touch. A layer of ice appears on his hand, which he casually examines before it melts. Putting on a glove, Stephen runs his hand down her body. The glove is solid ice by the time he reaches her knee, so he stops and shatters the glove against the side of the table.

“Magnificent!” Stephen exclaims, putting his hands in his black hair and
madly scratching his head. “This champion has a defense that stays active even when she’s in a magical slumber. I’ve noticed that this ice grows faster and thicker the longer I torture her. You can’t see it, but it grows inside her. Just an hour ago, I found her stomach had frozen completely and I had to sing a gypsy lullaby to make it stop. This means that her powers are dependent on her mood, which may be true for all of the champions.”

“I could have told you that,” the Lich scoffs. He drifts back when Stephen appears in his face, snarling like a fiend. “You haven’t faced any of the champions. They are fueled by their emotions, especially this one and the caster. Now, stop toying with something that could destroy us.”

“I’m not as foolish as Ulgrik,” Stephen declares. He bends down to wipe some blood off his pants, the moist liquid drying and flaking off at his touch. “This is important work and could be the key to my final victory.”

“You will leave the girl alone and deliver her to your father.”

“Who are you to give me orders?”

“The master of this house and realm.”

Stephen’s laughter echoes throughout the room. “Has the wretched worm grown a backbone?”

The Lich is about to speak when Stephen pounces on him, grabbing the necrocaster’s neck and slamming him against the wal
l. With a choked cough, the necrocaster casts a spell that covers his hands in acid. He clutches Stephen’s arm and melts the sleeve of the sapphire-eyed man’s shirt, but the pale flesh heals quicker than the acid can eat through it. The Lich can feel his neck start to crack beneath Stephen’s touch until he is dropped to the floor.

“Never take a t
one of superiority with me, lapdog,” Stephen growls, shaking crumbs of bone off his hand. “I swear my father is too nice to keep a creature like you around. I would have cast you out decades ago.”

“You are trying to bring about my downfall,” the Lich whispers as his throat struggles to heal. “I know the krypters were really a set up for me and you closed the barrier on me.”

Stephen licks his lips and cracks his knuckles. “Trinity has been talking. I’m going to have to punish her during our next session. Though, I don’t see why she would put herself in so much trouble.”

“It confuses me as well,” the Lich admits. He floats to his feet a
nd moves out of reach of his ally, even though he knows there is no such place. “One would think she actually cared about me.”

“Not because of that,
idiot. I never made my hatred of you a secret. In fact, I’ve been trying to turn my father against you for the last fifty years. Your recent failures have given me enough leverage to set you up without the threat of the old man’s wrath. Not that he would kill me, but I’d like to avoid any messy explanations.”

The Lich holds his tongue and conjures a chair to slump into. He watches Stephen go back to examining Sari, whose body is completely healed. With mild interest, he keeps his attention on the scene before him.
Stephen with a pair of pliers removing the gypsy’s fingernails brings a smile to the Lich’s face. The smile grows as each fingernail unleashes a spike of ice that nearly impales Stephen. When one of the spikes cuts the evil man’s arm, he shatters all of them with an angry swipe.

The ring on Sari’s finger hums and glows, coating her in pink aura that
activates the healing process. With a snarl of frustration, Stephen reaches out to take the ring and let her feel the full pain of her injuries. He is stunned when a slimy, skeletal arm bursts from the floor and wraps around his wrist. It yanks him to his knees and tosses him away from the table before sinking back into the stone.

“How dare-” Stephen begins as he turns on the Lich.

“Do not tempt our fate,” the necrocaster sternly interrupts. “Unlike you, I was there when Ulgrik tried to analyze a champion. I saw him cut the man open and examine the parts. The explosion happened when the pain became too great. That regeneration ring might be the only thing keeping her from erupting.”

“She wouldn’t erupt,” Stephen argues
as he wipes the slime off his wrist with a silk handkerchief. “Ulgrik messed with a champion that used fire powers and that’s why there was an explosion. This one is water and ice, so the worst she can do is freeze everything. I, and unfortunately you, would be fine once we thawed out.”

“You assume we would thaw,” the Lich states with a chuckle. He places a boney hand on Sari’s belly and it turns to ice immediately. “Her power is starting to run out of control. Naiads are subtle in their defenses, so one would not always see their ice effect coming until they were already frozen.” The Lich shatters his hand on the table and
flexes the remaining wrist tendons. “Do you wish to be in such a fragile state when our enemies arrive?”

“Have it yo
ur way. The ring will stay, but my experiments will continue. If I can find the secret of this one then I might be able to take control of that delicious channeler.”

“One
isn’t enough?”

“This is why you’re a peon. One can never have enough weapons, especially those with extra benefits,” Stephen declares with a sadistic grin. He approaches Sari and
wipes some of the blood off her face. “Imagine if I had two beautiful channelers and they had my children. I could create a race of unstoppable warrior casters and conquer this world before my father. Then, he will only have me to thank for his victory.”

The Lich cannot stop himself from saying, “Just a child starving for daddy’s praise, aren’t you?”

Stephen is about to strike the necrocaster hard enough to shatter his head when an ear-wrenching hiss fills the air. A ghostly serpent slithers out of the ceiling, its crimson eyes falling on the Lich. The serpent’s thick, translucent body coils around its master until it covers him entirely. A forked tongue slips out of its mouth and into the Lich’s ear as the serpent urgently hisses. The creature turns to Stephen and bares its fangs before uncoiling. With blurring speed, the serpent races through the air and passes through the far wall.

“We have company,” the Lich states
, pulling a dead bat out of his robes and holding the creature in the palm of his hand. “It looks like all this blood won’t go to waste.”

Muttering an incantation in a guttural language, the Lich drifts to the far wall and places his hand against the slick, bloody stones. A small window opens to show the cloudy sky high above the castle, only a quarter of the amber moon visible through the portal. The Lich’s chanting changes to a high-pitched shriek of garbles. He holds the bat in front of him as the moist blood slowly oozes along the walls and gathers around the window. With a final hiss, he throws the dead creature into the sky and the blood surges after it. The window closes once the final drop of blood passes through.

“Is it something important?” Stephen asks, trying to feign interest.

The Lich grins under his cowl.
“Nothing more than a curious pest that needs a good scare. My cryphax isn’t a challenge in terms of power, but its speed and ferocity should do the trick.”

“The drite,” Stephen says in disgust. He spits at the wall where the window had appeared. “I despise those creatures.”

“The feeling would be mutual if they knew you,” the Lich states. His crimson eyes burn with joy as he fearlessly throws an insult at his rival.

“You should remain respectful and craven,” Stephen demands. He reaches down to Sari and cuts into her stomach with his thumb. “I’m a thousand times stronger than you and can destroy you with a flick of my finger.”

The Lich cackles and bravely drifts over to the glaring man. “You are nothing like your father, Stephen. He knows when to use fear and when to use praise. Never create so much fear in your enemy that they lose hope and become desperate. Their fear will become defiance and rage like you find in a trapped beast. I no longer fear what you will do to me since you’re determined to destroy me. Now, imagine what will happen if you push the champions this far. You’ll be dead before you know it.”

“Are you actually worried abou
t me?”

“Not
in any way. I’m loyal to your father and I speak warnings to you for his sake. Enjoy the rest of your sadism, Stephen, and please clean up when you’re done. I don’t have any maids here.”

Stephen rolls up his remaining sleeve and turns away from the departing Lich. He leans over Sari, letting his eyes run along her body. A gentle hand runs along her arm, causing the unconscious gypsy to quiver. He wonders if she can sense his touch or feel the pain that he has inflicted on her.

“Let’s go back to testing your bones, little naiad,” he whispers into her ear before snapping one of her fingers. “I love that sound.”

*****

Fizzle darts around the clearing surrounding the castle, his invisible form unseen by the orcs and giltris resting only yards below him. Many of the orcs look to be suffering from exhaustion as they lie on the ground or slump over piles of stone. Several orcs are lying eerily still by their tools, their limbs splayed in the mud. The giltris are more energetic and lively, but Fizzle quickly notices some suspicious bones scattered about their side of the castle grounds. Dipping low to get a closer look, he realizes that they have begun cannibalizing each other to survive. Darting into the air again, Fizzle shudders at the thought of what these creatures have gone through. He cautiously hovers whenever a giltris with an acute sense of smell sniffs the sour breeze. The drite takes his time investigating the area, hoping to deliver a detailed description to his friends.

“Stop sitting around and get back to work!” shouts an angry voice from the orc side of the clearing. “Our enemies will be here soon!”

Fizzle zips over the castle and around the central tower to quietly land above the lowered drawbridge. Standing on the wide bridge is a young, brown-haired man wearing leather armor and pointing an elegant bastard sword at the orcs. He screams and yells at the workers until they get to their feet. When they refuse to move quickly, he storms off the bridge and beheads the nearest orc. The others rush to action, grabbing tools and stones to carry into the castle and up to the nearly completed battlements.

“
I don’t like the look of him,” the drite whispers in guttural Draconic, staring down at the yelling man. “I should kill him right away, but I can’t reveal myself yet.”

Fighting the temptation to cast a spell at the man, Fizzle flutters off the castle wall and goes exploring among the unfinished rooftops. They are slowly being built to resemble a series of small domes, but most of them have gaping holes in the center. The orcs are carefully climbing rickety ladders with stones and tools tied to their backs. A scream startles Fizzle and he whirls around to see an orc plummet to the ground, the worker’s ladder having snapped in half. The crunch of the orc’s body hitting the ground makes Fizzle feel sick and he flies over the castle wall.

Fizzle makes another pass around the giltris to watch them work on finishing the moat and fill it with water. Several wells have been dug into the ground to find enough water to fill the moat. A group of the lizardmen is nervously guarding a large cage with something big moving inside. The drite considers investigating, but decides that he has pushed his luck far enough for one night.

The whoosh of wind from above is the only sign that
something is about to attack. It is enough to let the drite dart out of the path of the large creature. Dripping with blood, the leather-winged monster screeches as it wheels around to come at Fizzle again. Its mouth is filled with needle-like fangs that Fizzle barely manages to pull his tail away from. Soaring higher into the sky, the cryphax prepares to dive at its prey. It stops when it no longer senses the drite with its magic-seeing eyes. The creature flaps its wings as it cautiously scans the area for any sign of the invisible drite.

“Fizzle here!” shouts the drite as he races at the cryphax from behind.