The Compass Key (Book 5) (6 page)

“You’re a fool, Stephen,” the Lich happily says as he examines the ritual steps he will need. “Death
would never claim a Lich. He loves us far too much.”

*****

“That was a rough one,” Mira states as she sits on the cold floor. She looks around the room where jagged spires of ice have erupted from every surface. “I didn’t think you would make it through that.”

Sari groans as she stops shivering and her limbs slowly shift back to their natural position. The ice around her body is coated in blood that rushes back into her body. Shuddering breaths help her regain control of her senses, but the residual pain is still too strong for her to stand against. The
floor beneath Sari grows and shifts until she is sitting on a throne of ice. She forces a weak smirk at Mira, who shrugs and takes a seat on one of the throne’s wide arms.

“A show of power?”
the woman asks with a fake yawn. “You realize you’re trying to intimidate one of your own thoughts and memories, right? I’ve told you several times that I’m nothing more than the embodiment of your guilt.”

“Then, you should listen
to me and leave me alone,” Sari states in a weak voice that gradually gains strength. “I’m tired of you sitting there and mocking me. I don’t need your commentary when my body is broken and shredded. If you’re a part of my mind then you need to obey me.”

Mira hops off the throne and stands in front of Sari with her arms crossed behind her back. She leans forward until her face is an inch from
the other woman’s nose. With a wide grin, Mira hums a lilting tune that the nervous gypsy immediately recognizes. The funeral song of her murdered clan echoes throughout the icy room, growing in intensity. Hundreds of voices join in the song and hazy figures emerge from the shadows.

“Oh no you’re not!” Sari angrily shouts, using her legs to push Mira away. She leaps to her feet and focuses her thoughts on the solidifying forms. Her eyes fall on the figure of a short, slender woman with
sparkling green eyes. “Leave my mother out of this!”

“Don’t get angry at us,” Mira says, taking a seat on the ice throne. “We’re created by the guilt held deep in your heart. With your powers running out of control, your mind is too strained to protect you any longer. Now, you must face everything that you’ve kept hidden behind your love and happiness. The obnoxious façade that you maintain on the outside won’t help you in here, Sari.”

“What do you expect me to do?” Sari snaps, her voice loud enough to crack the ice around her. “I miss my family and wish I could have saved them. Any survivor of such a tragedy would feel that way. When we were children, Nyx told me countless times that she dreamed of saving her mom. It’s natural and it may never go away. So, stop torturing me and make my family go back to sleep.”

The redhead pulls at her fiery hair and watches the specters disappear.
“Get this through your head. This is your world, so you have to take control. I’d work quickly because there are worse creatures than guilt lurking around here.”

“What could be worse t
han guilt?”

Mira pats
the blue-haired gypsy on the arm and smiles. “Keep wasting time wallowing in me and you’ll find out.”

Sari tries to swat the arm away only to watch her hand pass through the ghostly limb. The sound of a growling predator cuts through the air, causing Mira’s body to shimmer like a fading mirage. Sari catches her brea
th at the sudden sight of the redhead’s mauled body. In the blink of an eye, the gaping wounds and gore are gone.

“I give up,” the gypsy says with a tired sigh. “Bring on the next challenge because I can’t do anything about you. I made a horrible mistake that cost you your life. I have to live with the guilt and learn to be more careful. Please leave me alone.”

“You beg your guilt away.”

“I simply don’t know what to do.”

“Try to put some effort in.”

“I’m tired, Mira,” Sari claims in weak exasperation. She looks to the icicle
-covered ceiling and wipes the tears from her cheeks. “As you said, I’m dealing with my own thoughts and emotions. You’re a part of me and I’m not ready to come to terms with you. It isn’t like you’re the real Mira either.”

“I’m real enough,” the young woman declares. She clenches her fists until her nails pierce her palm. “Don’t ignore me and keep me here, Sari. You have to cast me away or you’ll never be happy again.”

“Apparently, my mind doesn’t really understand me,” Sari says, her voice cracking with gentle laughter. She spins her skirts and scans the room as the ice around her shimmers. “I can be truly happy while holding onto my guilt. The memory of you reminds me that I need to think before acting. When I escaped our cell, I did so out of self-preservation and never gave a second thought to you. I must learn from that and grow, which will lead to me being very happy.”

Mira kicks the throne of ice and screams at Sari in echoing rage. Her body blinks in and out of existence, shifting from being whole to being mauled. She continues to kick at the throne until it shatters from a powerful strike. With a crooked smile, Mira turns toward Sari and reveals a mouth full of black fangs. She charges the gypsy only to slam into an invisible barrier and get sent crashing into an ice spire. The mad woman staggers to her feet, a chunk of ice harmlessly passing through her head.

“You can’t live with me inside you!” Mira yells at the top of her lungs. She stalks to the edge of the barrier and touches it with a hand that grows yellow claws. “I’m a disease that will fester in your guts and eat you from within. One day, you will wake up and be disgusted by your own reflection. That will be me taking control. Stop pretending you’re content with my existence and set me free. Do it!”

“No,” Sari calmly replies.

Mira screeches and pounds on the barrier, which crack under the relentless flurry of blows. Sari closes her eyes as the woman lifts both of her fists into the air. The strike never comes due to a barbed chain wrapping around Mira. A look of terror is on Mira’s face as the iron chain entombs her, leaving only her mouth free. The barbs pulse as if they’re alive and gently cut into their prisoner’s ghostly flesh. With the grating sound of metal on ice-covered stone, the mass of chains is yanked into the deepest shadows. Screams of pain and fear rip through the air until they end with a strangled whimper.

“Guilt can be so annoying,” says a bored, female voice. A dark tan woman with black hair and indistinct features steps into the light. Curled around her body is the barbed chain with its club-like end dragging on the floor. Hovering above the woman’s head is the sickle end of the chain weapon. The curved blade bobs and weaves in the air like a hungry serpent, ready to strike at the slightest provocation.

“Who are you?” Sari asks, backing to the far side of the barrier.

“I guess I’m Kira Grasdon,” the woman answers as she wraps her kusari-gama around her left arm.
The odd figure slams the metal club end into the barrier, shattering the magical protection. “I feel rather strange because I don’t have much of a face. It seems our mutual lover’s descriptions have fallen on deaf ears. Either that or you don’t wish to know what I really look like.”

“Mira was guilt,” Sari timidly whispers. She feels around her skirts for her daggers, but all of her sheathes are empty. “What are you?”

Kira grins with a barely recognizable mouth and reveals a void where her teeth should be. “I’m your fear, little gypsy.”

3

Delvin groans as he wakes up with a sore neck and an autumn chill in his muscles. A small weight on his chest jolts him out of his stupor, causing him to sit up and grab for his longsword. He pauses when he hears the high-pitched yelp of Fizzle, who tumbles onto the moist ground. The drite has a partially eaten green apple in his mouth and his tail is coiled around three more. Delvin glances around the small campsite to see everyone staring at him from across the smoldering remains of the fire.

“Sorry, Fizzle,”
he apologizes in a hoarse voice. He tries to clear his throat, but it feels raw from the Ifrit mead last night. “Can I have some water please?”

“Here,” Nyx whispers, moving to take a seat next to the warrior. She hands him a wate
rskin, which he greedily drinks the soothing liquid. “Drinking like that is what shredded your throat in the first place.”

“Don’t remind
me. Most nights I can hold my liquor as well as a dwarf, but that stuff destroyed me. I think I’ll wait before I eat breakfast. Be rather embarrassing to enter the battle looking like I’m diseased.”

“Then, let’s pack up and move,” Luke says with a mouth full of trail rations. He swallows the barely palpable food and gets to his feet. “Fizzle can lead us to the Lich’s castle and then we can save Sari.”

Timoran puts a hand on Luke’s shoulder and forces him to sit down. “You are forgetting the two armies, the moat monster, possible traps, and the Lich.”

“I’m not forgetting them,” Luke declares, standing up again and licks his lips in anticipation. “I was thinking about it last night while you guy
s slept. We’re strong enough to handle this without Selenia. Nyx can take on the armies with her magic while the rest of us rush into the castle.”

“What about the Lich?” Delvin inquires, obviously humoring Luke.

“Timoran and I have defeated him before. The Lich isn’t much of a threat.”

“Fizzle rescue Luke,” the drite interrupts.

“And I merely held the Lich off before we retreated from that cemetery,” Timoran adds.

The forest tracker
scowls and kicks at a rock, which bounces off a log and into a nearby pool of murky water. Several times, he opens his mouth to speak and stops. The expression on his face is one of frustration that grows with every silent second. He rubs at the gems in his sabers’ hilts and rapidly bounces on his toes.

“I agree with Luke,” Nyx states. She runs a hand through her
short hair, leaving a brief trail of fire behind her fingers. “Not with the stupid parts of his plan like leaving me to handle two armies singlehandedly or you three facing a necrocaster without me. Those ideas are terrible. Still, we can’t wait for Selenia and her men, so we have to make a plan that revolves around us fighting alone.”

“I’m always up for a challenge,” Delvin admits with a sigh.

The warrior struggles to his feet and wanders the campsite, his hands massaging his throbbing temples. He comes near Timoran and calmly bends down to snatch a piece of jerky from the barbarian’s hand. Chewing on the rough meat, Delvin calmly stares at each of his allies in turn. A disturbing rumble emanates from his empty stomach and he doubles over in sudden pain. Nyx catches him by the shoulders, but immediately lets go when it looks like he is about to throw up. She catches him by the back of his chainmail shirt and both of them crash to the ground with Nyx sprawled on top of the groaning warrior.

“Please stop sharing your
Ifrit mead, Timoran,” Luke bluntly states, fighting to hold back his laughter.

“I will be more careful with my generosity from now on,” the barbarian agrees with a deep sigh. “It is difficult to be such a kind man and see my actions cause such pain. Do you think we should leave him here?”

“I got it!” Delvin shouts.

He leaps to his feet
, but Nyx is still bent over him in an attempt to stand. His shoulder hits her rear and sends her pitching forward. The caster lands face first in a pool of thick mud that immediately bubbles as her skin heats up with rage. Nyx gradually gets out of the muck, spitting the foul mire out of her mouth. Luke and Timoran are quick to control themselves at the sight of her mud-covered face. They can see it start to harden until it is a clay shell that she easily peels off her skin.

“I am so sorry, Nyx,” Delvin declares through his laughter. He scurries behind Timoran when
the caster takes a step toward him. “I’ll make it up to you by cooking you another dinner after our date. I can throw in a massage technique that I learned from an elven archer that I once traveled with.”

“Let him live long enough to tell us his plan, Nyx,” Luke requests, stepping away from Delvin and Timoran.

“It’s simple really,” Delvin admits, peeking out from behind Timoran. The barbarian reaches back to grab the warrior by the head and drag him into the open. “You didn’t have to be so rough.”

“Talk!” Nyx
shouts.

Delvin hastily gathers his gear and gestures for the others to do the same.
“We should focus on our obstacles in the order that they appear. The armies can be handled by Nyx as long as the rest of us keep the orcs and giltris away from her. If we’re lucky, the power that the Lich has over them might break once they sustain heavy losses. I’ve seen it happen before, but only with the use of a full army, so we’d really need some luck. We can avoid the moat monster by rushing across the drawbridge.”

“Gypsy taker on bridge,” Fizzle suddenly interrupts.

Everyone looks at Luke for a translation and the forest tracker grins evilly. “He means Kayn. I’ll handle him.”

“Are you-” begins Nyx.

“I will handle him,” the forest tracker states, his voice falling into a low growl. “Go on, Delvin, and make it quick. We need to get moving now that we have more than a sliver of sunlight.”

“That’s it,” Delvin admits
to the disappointment of the others. He straps his buckler to his wrist and makes sure his longsword can be easily drawn. “We’re going to have to make things up as we go along once we get into the castle. I still want Selenia and her men to be nearby in case we need rescuing. Can you go back to Hamilton Military Academy and guide Selenia to the castle, Fizzle?”

“Yes,” the drite declares, making a quick salute with his tail.

“Then, let’s head out before Luke throws a fit and flies off again,” Delvin announces with a friendly smirk aimed at the eye-rolling forest tracker.

They watch Fizzle dart into the air and hover above the swamp for a few seconds before he vanishes in a burst of purple smoke. Luke throws water on the smoldering ashes of the fire while the others
finish gathering their gear. Within minutes, they are trudging through the swamp with Luke in the lead and Timoran protecting their flank. It is a slow journey with thick mud and a few times when they have to backtrack to get around a large pond. The sun is in full view by the time Luke stops and turns around.

“Something isn’t right,”
the half-elf whispers as he scans the area. “We’ve been traveling for an hour and there are no signs of predators.”

“I was thinking
the same thing,” Timoran agrees. He sniffs the air and feels a wave of nausea wash over him. “There is something unnatural in the forest. Not dead, but not truly alive and not undead either. The best guess I can make is a creature covered in so much death that it permanently reeks of it.”

“Do we keep moving forward?” Delvin calmly asks.

“As cautiously as possible,” the barbarian suggests. He looks at Luke, who nods and takes a short lead ahead of the group.

Luke makes it a few more steps when a chorus of ravenous howls fills
echoes throughout the swamp. His eyes scan the area and he occasionally notices a brief flicker of motion. For an instant, he clearly sees an emaciated wolf before it disappears behind a mossy boulder. Risking a glance at his friends, Luke can see Timoran and Delvin shielding Nyx. The caster has lightning dancing between her hands, her breathing heavy and labored from the stench of dark magic in the wind. Luke is about to call out to ask Nyx if she recognizes the howl when her eyes shift toward him.

“Behind you!” Nyx shrieks. She fires a lightning bolt over Luke’s shoulder, grazing his hair. The spell collides with a famine varg that is
pouncing on the forest tracker. With a high-pitched whine, the beast crashes to the ground at Luke’s feet.

The rest of the pack race out from their hiding places, most of them rushing to cut Luke off from the others. A deafening howl draws Luke’s attention to his left where the largest famine varg is patiently standing on the edge of the battle. He has no time to think about what it is going to do when three
other famine vargs rush him. Spinning on one foot, Luke kicks one of the predators to the side and slashes at the others. His right-hand saber slices the muzzle off one famine varg while his left-hand saber barely slices the neck of the other beast. It crashes into him, knocking him to his knees before he shoves it away. The surrounding famine vargs are about to swarm Luke when he gets to his feet and charges the ring. He grins as the famine varg he is running toward gets low to pounce. With all of his strength, Luke leaps over the crouching famine varg and sprints to get some distance from them. The monsters snarl and howl as they chase him into the swamp.

Timoran and Delvin continue protecting Nyx from the handful of famine vargs that are brave enough to approach them. After the first three are hacked and cleaved by the warriors, the remaining pair attempt to rush in low to snatch Nyx. When all three adventurers turn to face the same famine varg, the second one darts in
and sinks its teeth into Nyx’s ankle. Her boot protects her from most of the bite, but she can still feel sharp teeth drive into her skin. Timoran kills the first famine varg, letting Delvin take care of the one that has Nyx. The warrior’s longsword slices the beast’s head off, but the mouth is still clamped around Nyx’s ankle.

“Don’t try to help me,” she snaps. Reaching down, she grows a fire knife from her hand and cuts the lower jaw off the monster’s head. “Go help Luke. Those famine vargs must have eaten the local predators, so they’re going to be too strong for him. We need to chase after him and save him.”

“No need,” Timoran says as he sniffs the air and turns toward the northeast. “Get ready for them.”

With a shrug of acceptance, Delvin and Nyx turn around and prepare for whatever has Timoran amused. They are surprised to see the famin
e vargs racing back and yelping with only ten of them remaining from the pack that followed Luke. The forest tracker is several yards behind the retreating beasts and he is covered in scratches. Luke is moving slower than normal because of a bleeding bite mark on his right side. His sabers are bathed in pink energy as he spins them at his sides.

Nyx is the first to attack with a wave of fire that catches three of the famine vargs, burning them into piles of bones. The
adventurers hold their ground against the charge of the beasts that managed to avoid the spell. Only two more monsters are killed by Timoran and Delvin while the remaining famine vargs get by their defenses.

“We can’t let them get away,” Nyx says, hurling five magical cords at the
retreating beasts. She catches all of them by the tail or neck, but their strength is enough to drag her across the ground.

“Are we making this battle harder than it has to be?” Delvin asks as he charges after Nyx.

“I think so,” Timoran answers from a few steps behind him. He glances over his shoulder to see Luke catching up until the large famine varg bursts out of a patch of thorn bushes. The beast slams into Luke, sending him to the ground. “For the honor of Kerr! I will save the other half-elf.”

Delvin nods and fights the urge to look back at Luke. He focuses on Nyx, who is cursing and struggling to maintain
her magic shield. She is slammed into boulders, gnarled trees, and mushroom-covered logs. Every impact is sickeningly loud and several times Nyx bounces into the air only to land head first on the ground. Delvin is within reach of her leg when she lurches to the side and plunges into a narrow river. Unable to get to Nyx, he takes a deep breath and pushes his legs to their limit, hoping to catch up to the famine vargs.

Delvin is about to swing at the slowest
monster when he hears the sound of rapid paws behind him. He glances back to see a large famine varg gaining, Timoran and Luke barely visible behind it. Without hesitation, Delvin sheathes his longsword and dives into the river. He grabs Nyx around the waist as she passes by and lets his armor sink them to the riverbed. The magical cords tighten as the connected famine vargs are yanked back from the added weight. Keeping his hold on the caster’s waist, Delvin braces his feet on the muddy soil and bursts from the river. Like a fisherman using an awkward fishing rod, the warrior pulls the caster to drag the monsters toward them.

“Don’t let go!” he shouts at Nyx, who is practically bent in half.

“Stop screaming the obvious!”

A bone-chilling howl erupts from their right as the large famine varg rushes toward the defenseless pair. Delvin
tries to hold Nyx with one arm, but he nearly loses his grip the moment his hand shifts. With another howl, the famine varg leaps off the shoreline, its teeth bared and glistening. The beast abruptly yelps and twists in mid-air before its body rapidly fades away. Craning her neck, Nyx barely sees Luke with his sabers buried to the hilt in the famine varg’s flank. The pink energy around his blades eats at the monster’s skin until there is nothing left.