The Compass Key (Book 5) (7 page)

Delvin and Nyx suddenly tumble backwards into the river when the pressure on the cords vanishes. Lifting their heads over the water, they see Timoran finish off the last of the famine vargs. More humiliated than injured, they crawl out of the river and sit on the muddy ground, catching their breath and enjoying the quiet.

“We’re starting off pretty badly,” Luke says, gingerly touching the bite mark on his side. “What were those things?”

“Famine vargs,” Nyx answers. She gets up to take a look at Luke’s injuries and use minor fire spells to seal the wounds. “The Lich must have summoned them. They aren’t the strongest death beasts, but they’re ravenous and aggressive. Although, this pack was stronger than I would have expected.”

“They were not that strong,” Timoran says as he joins them. “We finished them off with relative ease.”

“They were faster and their teeth were sharper than what I read,” Nyx insists. Her eyes fall on Luke’s sabers and their normal shine. “Luke took out half of them with that
strange magic in his sabers. I have no idea what caused it, but Luke has dispelling blades now. Undead and summoned creatures can be destroyed or badly hurt depending on their strength. I’m going to have to look into this after we get Sari back.”

“It’s his ring,” Delvin
points out as if the answer should be obvious. “It was still glowing pink under the leaves for a second after the energy left his sabers.”

“Guess I figured out what this ring does,” Luke mutters with an amused chuckle.

“That gives us another weapon to use against the Lich,” Timoran says while slapping Luke on the back. The half-elf cringes in pain and slaps the barbarian in the arm. “Sorry about that, little friend.”

Delvin clears his throat for attention. “I have a real question. Why would the famine vargs be stronger than you expected? You’ve fought the Lich and his creatures before, Nyx. What could have made this so different?”

Nyx bends down to slip her fingers in her boot and feels a thin layer of sticky blood on her ankle. “The only thing that could have done it would be if he added part of himself to the summoning. It would make the connection stronger and the famine vargs would be able to gain extra strength from the Lich. Still, he knew we would have been able to kill them and this would only slow us down. He would receive a horrible backlash that could cripple him for days. If that happened, he’d be defenseless by the time we face him.”

“The Lich is impatient and foolish, but he’s not a big risk taker,” Luke interrupts with a hint of respect in his voice. He rolls his eyes at the stunned looks aimed at him. “Let’s be honest here. The Lich is a lot of things, but he couldn’t possibly be
that stupid.”

*****

“Gyaaah!” the Lich screeches, unable to speak through the searing pain that rips through his body. He throws back his hood to reveal a long crack going down the middle of his fleshless skull. Teeth fall to the floor and disappear in puffs of dust. Hairline cracks run along his legs, making them too weak to keep him standing. Falling to his knees, the Lich can hear his brittle bones crunch against the stone.

“This is why I said you should run,” Trinity says, her ghostly form sitting in front of the Lich. She can see the necrocaster’s eyes move to her right arm, which is wrapped in bloody bandages. “We had some trouble with the griffin riders. It’s been settle
d with minimal casualties on both sides.”

“Congratulations on your victory,” the Lich whispers in a voice that comes from the walls of the room. His body spasms and two of his ribs c
rack. “This is why I never add parts of myself to my summons.”

“Technically, Stephen did this, so
you’re record is still clean. I can’t believe you’re trying to stand up to him. What has gotten into you, Tyler?”

The Lich reaches out toward an unsuspecting cockroach and drains its life with a snap of his fingers. He can feel the pain dull and a few of the cracks in his legs heal. Rising like a shadow from the ground, the Lich gets to his feet and drifts to the window. He sits on the ledge with his hands in his lap like a fretting nursemaid.

“I’m a loyal minion,” the Lich proudly declares as his eyes flicker with a surge of fiery magic. “I will always see my job to the end to prove my worth. Stephen wants his father to succeed, so he can betray him. The others follow the master out of hate, sadism, greed, and for false promises. I stand alone as his loyal minion.”

“I’ll buy you a drink for your work ethic,” Trinity yawns from where she sits. “You realize you’re loyal to a man
who doesn’t care about you.”

A coughing fit splinters two more of the Lich’s ribs and he speaks through his clenched jaws.
“I need only prove myself to win his acceptance.”

“Destruction at the design of Stephen isn’t the way to go
.”

“I already put events in motion to assure my resurrection. Have you ever met a Lich that stayed dead?”

“You’re the only Lich I know, but I’ve heard about your kind of people getting permanently destroyed,” Trinity admits with a wry smile. “I still don’t see why you’re taking such a risk. I can slightly understand staying here because this is your home. What I don’t understand is why you’re openly defying and arguing with Stephen. That’s just asking for trouble.”

“You fear that he will feel emboldened and destroy you at his earliest convenience,” the Lich calmly says. He reaches out as a pigeon flies by and sucks its life out before it gets out of range. The bird’s corpse plummets to the ground where a passing giltris scoops it up and swallows it whole.

Trinity goes to the window where she walks through the wall and hovers in the air. The wind whips at her ghostly form, causing it the shimmer out of focus. Her enhancer gems glow before her image becomes clear. Drops of water appear on her face as she looks to the sky. At first, the Lich mistakes them for tears, but her ebony hair is soon dripping with rainwater. She wrings the water out of her hair as she turns around and walks back into the tower.

“Feeling better?” the Lich asks. He doubles over when the pain returns and several vertebrae crumble. “Damn that monster! If this keeps up, I’m going to have to do something drastic.”

“Stephen won’t kill me. At least not until he gets what he wants out of me,” Trinity quietly says, ignoring the Lich’s suffering. “I can’t say it’s an unfulfilling partnership, but . . . are you listening?”

“Yes and I truly do not care,” the Lich callously claims. His eyes roll in their black sockets when Trinity scowls at him. “We all know Stephen wants a child from you. We’ve heard the details of your tryst from Yola. Her explanations come complete with illusion shows and we’ve all agreed that Stephen is a sick creature. So,
if you’re not afraid for your life, why are you so concerned about my fate?”

“I may have overheard some of his thoughts during our latest tryst,” she playfully whispers, a vibrant spark in her translucent eyes. “It seems our dear Stephen has been plagued by dreams of
his demise. I don’t know the details, but you figure prominently in the possible events that have him agitated.”

The Lich laughs loud enough to burst his cheekbones, so he swiftly drains the life of another passing bird. He takes a deep breath, being careful not to put too much pressure on his crumbling ribcage. The annoyed look on Trinity’s face
gives him pause and his eyes are unable to hide his curiosity.

“You believe I can
destroy Stephen?” he asks in a shaky voice. A harsh cough helps him get his laughter under control. “I’m not a fool, Trinity. For all my threats and rants, I know he is more powerful than me. To think I could destroy him is ridiculous.”

The chaos elf rubs her temples as if a headache is beginning to plague her.
“I didn’t say it was you that killed him. I’d need severe brain damage to even imagine such a thing. I meant that he believes you will have something to do with it. That’s the real reason he is trying to set up your destruction.”

“Does he realize that he will have to pla
y a bigger role once I’m gone?”

“He knows, but h
e doesn’t care. In fact, something about the current champions has him excited.”

“I see,” the Lich drones as a new crack runs across his face. He strokes his chin, causing
the bone to fall into his palm. “I’m sure the visions are nothing more than trickery. Remember who he recently sealed away. She could have put such thoughts into his head before she was put into the slumber.”

“I hadn’t thought of that,” Trinity admits with a scowl. Her image shimmers and becomes harder to see. “In that case, your demise means nothing to me. I wish you the worst of luck, Tyler.”

A gust of wind blows through the window and dispels the image of Trinity. The Lich wanders around his laboratory, draining the life from every cockroach and mouse that he can find. He holds himself up on a table when the pain and exhaustion are too much. With a loud snap, his arm breaks at the shoulder and he falls across the table. The feeling of humiliation and anger rises in his unraveling marrow. His eyes leave his skull to search the room for more vermin to drain, but the few creatures that he finds are not enough to repair the extensive damage. The red orbs return to their sockets and the Lich rises to his feet.

“It must be done,” he sighs in disgust.

Drifting to the window, the Lich steps onto the ledge and looks down at the workers around his castle. His head turns on his neck, the bones grating against each other until they splinter. A black mist snakes out of his mouth and weaves across the room to wrap around his arms. Turning his head back around, the mist carries the arms out the window. The severed limbs dangle in the open air as crimson strings fall from their boney fingers. Minutes pass before the strings reach the ground and wait for their prey.

It is not long before a yawning giltris wanders close enough to graze a string with its elbow. The large creature drops dead immediately and the string swiftly retracts back into the Lich’s hand. He moans as his body absorbs the giltris’s energy and repairs itself. Screams drift to his ears as more of his workers stumble into the strings. With a hungry cackle, he stares down at the pile of bodies that have amassed below him. His arms twist in the air and make a pulling motion to close the distant drawbridge. Several workers jump off the top of the castle wall, many of them becoming food for the ravenous moat monster.

“Give me more,” the Lich hisses.

*****

Luke stumbles forward, grabbing Nyx by the arm and taking her down with him. The injured half-elves cough and moan as they roll onto their backs. Nyx smacks Luke in the shoulder before reaching down to hold her swollen ankle. She struggles to her feet and bends down to help Luke up, draping his arm over her shoulders. He holds his side where he can feel his broken ribs. Both of them glare at Timoran and Delvin, who are about to say something. Timoran shakes his head in frustration and turns away while Delvin makes a strange clucking noise by hitting the bottom of his mouth with his tongue. Luke and Nyx stagger again, nearly pitching forward into a pool.

“We’re stopping,” Delvin announces, turning back to the half-elves.

“We can’t-” Luke starts. He closes his mouth when the other warrior storms up to him and grabs him by the collar.

“Nyx has a bad ankle and you have broken ribs,” the warrior says in a calm voice. “I want us to rest and tend to our wounds. Nothing more. We’ll be on our way again after some bandages and salves are administered.”

“Couldn’t we do this when we get near the castle?” Luke asks as he undoes his armor patches and takes his shirt off. “That way the bandages and salves will be fresh.”

“Impressive scar,” Timoran replies. He nods to the pink mark running diagonally across Luke’s chest. “We want the salve to
take effect and you need time to get used to moving with the wrappings. Let us get this done, so we can keep moving.”

Timoran takes a roll of cloth bandages from Delvin and
covers Luke’s chest as tight as he can. He loosens the wrappings when the half-elf has trouble breathing. The barbarian pats his friend on the shoulder in apology and binds his chest again. Turning to ask for the salve, Timoran is forced to wait patiently while Delvin delicately binds Nyx’s ankle. He clears his throat to get the warrior’s attention and points at the small pot of healing salve.

“Be patient,” Delvin whispers as he finishes the binding. “Nyx needs less than Luke, so let me take some first.”

“Then work quicker,” Nyx mutters. She wiggles her toes and tries to flex her foot, but grunts in pain.

Delvin covers two of his fingers in salve before handing the clay pot to Timoran.
The caster sucks in a breath at the icy touch of the salve that seeps through the porous bandages. A tingling runs around her ankle, after which she can move her foot with minimal discomfort. She can hear a grunt of surprise behind her and turns her head to see Timoran slathering the salve over Luke’s bandages.

Nyx picks some moss out of her boot before slipping it on. “You going to be okay, little brother?”

“I’ll live. Thanks, Timoran.”

“At least one person knows how to say thanks,” the barbarian mentions, gesturing toward Delvin.

“I was getting to that,” Nyx growls at her friend. She gets to her feet and bows her head to the former mercenary. “I am greatly appreciative of the gentle care that you have shown me, Sir Cunningham. I hope that I can return the favor one day.”