The Compass Key (Book 5) (8 page)

Delvin chuckles
at the overdramatic half-elf’s words. “Agree to that dinner I mentioned back at the academy and we’ll be even.”

“There’s a fine line be
tween persistence and annoyance,” Nyx says, flicking a spark of lightning at Delvin’s nose.

“Can you two please stop flirting?” Luke begs through a sleeve of his shirt. He finishes putting his shirt on and straps on his leather armor patches. “Some of us are trying not to think about
that kind of stuff.”

“We’re not flirting,” Nyx argues, her cheeks turning red.

“Of course we’re not flirting,” Delvin happily chimes in. He can see the caster clench a fist, so he prepares for her to attack. “We’re playfully bantering with a heavy undertone of amorous feelings. It’s entirely different than flirting.”

“Shut up,” Nyx hisses, swinging her fist at Delvin. She miss
es when he steps to the side, so she settles for scowling at the warrior. “I despise your very existence.”

“We are about to have company,” Timoran interrupts. His hand goes to his axe at the same time Luke draws his sabers.

The barbarian is the first to relax when he hears a twig snap under a booted foot. The step is too soft for one of the Lich’s orcs and giltris. Eventually, he hears the tell-tale clink of armor and the drawing of several swords. Timoran smirks when he catches a familiar scent of lavender, sweat, and oil. He places the handle of his great axe against the ground, casually leaning on the weapon. The others patiently wait for the archers and warriors to step into view before they let their guard down.

“Take these and get those bandages off them,” Selenia orders as she steps out from behind her men. She tosses a satchel to Delvin, who catches it and pulls out two amber healing potions.
“I want them at full strength and mobility for this.”

Fizzle zips out of the crowd and happily lands on Nyx’s shoulder, nuzzling the side of her head. “Fizzle find them. Fizzle do good.”

“Fizzle always do good,” Nyx giggles, kissing the drite on the snout.

“Did Fizzle teleport you here?” Luke asks before he drains his potion. He slips his hand through his sleeve and struggles to undo his bandages
, his impatient fingers fumbling with the tight wrappings. “You weren’t supposed to move out until this morning.”

“I was motivated
by a reckless idiot to move faster,” Selenia states, running a hand through her pink buzzcut. She adjusts the neck of her chainmail and turns her attention to Delvin. “I assume you have a plan.”

“Take out the armies with Nyx’s magic and work our way into the castle,”
her former student responds while he stands at attention with his hands behind his back. “Now that you’re here, we can make a better plan. The reinforcements are further back?”

“The reinforcements were called back
to Gaia,” Selenia snarls. She grips her thunderclap longsword with enough force to make the hilt spark. “The city is under attack, so they ordered to return and help hold the city. We’re on our own, which I don’t like.”

“Don’t even think about it,” Nyx whispers at Luke when she notices a few feathers peeking out from under his collar.

Luke sighs and rubs his eyes, letting the griffin fade back into his subconscious. He still hears her offering to help in any way, but he feels that she is very relaxed. The half-elf sits on the ground and holds his head in his hands. He refuses to look up when he hears someone approaching, assuming it is Nyx to console him. Instead, a tight grip snags him by the hair and hoists him to his feet. He glares at Selenia, who meets his fury with a cold stare before leaning close to his ear.

“We are Callindors, Luke,” she whispers, so only
he can hear her. “It is not in our nature to fall into despair. Get your head together and stop acting like an infant.”

“I’ll be fine,” he says under his breath. Luke smacks Selenia’s hand away and turns his back on her. “We’re still in trouble. We have two large, organized armies standing between us and a dangerous necrocaster. Even with Nyx and Fizzle casting spells, those armies will surge toward us. We’ll be overrun.”

“What about magical barriers and archers?” Nyx suggests while tickling Fizzle’s chin. “Luke can fly above the battle with Selenia on his back. My dad told me that her sword fires lightning.”

“The barriers and archers would make it a slow battle. The Lich would have time to escape with Sari and we may still be overrun,” Timoran answers. He closes his eyes and raises his head to the sky. “Selenia and Luke
working together would be a good idea as long as the Lich does not enter the fight. They would be susceptible to magic and enemy archers. Being the only aerial threat, everything that can attack from afar will be after them.”

“Like I said, a small force can’t beat two organized armies in an open fight,” Luke claims. He kicks a tree stump, his foot crunching into the soft wood. “Bringing them into the swamp won’t work either. The giltris are used to fighting among the pools and swamp trees, so they’d have the advantage.”

Delvin claps his hands and holds them over his head. “Then we make them chaotic mobs before we strike.”

“I like the way you thi
nk,” Selenia says with a grin. “Do we use magic?”

“It’d be
best if we could get an agent into one of the armies to cause trouble,” Delvin answers, stroking his chin in thought. “Get a better idea of their overall mentality and maybe turn some of them against the Lich’s magic. Sabotage would be helpful if they have any bows lying around unsupervised. It’d be a few hours of work while we wait out of sight, but it would make this battle a lot easier.”

“None of us look like an orc and a giltris,” Timoran points out.

“Fizzle make orc,” the drite chirps from Nyx’s shoulder. “Fizzle stay high. Use magic to change friend.”

“I’ll do it,” Luke announces. “Fizzle, can you make it look like I have a
neck injury? That will get me out of talking since I don’t know how to speak orc.”

“Fizzle do.”

Selenia clears her throat for everyone’s attention and narrows her gaze at Luke. She taps her finger against the hilt of her longsword. Her men shift uncomfortably behind her, expecting an argument to erupt. The former mercenary holds up her fist to get them to settle down. With a small nod, she turns to Delvin and gestures for him to take a small walk with her. Delvin hurries to catch up as they walk out of hearing range.

“I know L
uke is a troublemaker. A highly skilled troublemaker, but that doesn’t mean he can make a big enough mess,” Selenia whispers, glancing at the impatient forest tracker. She sighs and adjusts her chainmail shirt. “Do you think he can do this, Delvin?”

The warriors rubs his chin and shrugs.
“I barely know Luke.”

“You always had a mind for strategy and people’s strengths,” Selenia responds while putting a hand on the younger warrior’s arm. “I trust your opinion.”

“He would have a better shot than anyone else. Luke is the faster person we have and he can transform into the griffin to escape. From what I’ve seen and been told, he is an expert at thinking on his feet too. So, I trust him to do this.”

Selenia looks back at Luke, who has already begun talking to Fizzle about the orc illusion. Nyx joins in the conversation, occasionally smacking Luke in the shoulder for something he says.

“Let the chaos begin,” Selenia mutters with a twinkle of amusement in her lavender eyes.

4

“Are you sure this is going to work?” Delvin asks, looking up at Fizzle. He backs away at the sight of the adorable scowl on the drite’s face. “He’s rather short for an orc.”

“He looks scrawny
too,” Nyx chimes in. She absent-mindedly plays with the branch of one of the willows that they have been hiding among for the last two hours. “Why are you questioning this, Delvin? You made this plan.”

“That doesn’t mean I can’t have worries about it
.”

“Fizzle sorry,” the drite whimpers from his perch on Timoran’s head. “Fizzle try better. Make like Timoran.”

The drite flutters into the air and approaches the gray-skinned orc, who is standing with his arms crossed. His lower jaw juts out and shifts uncomfortably as if he is trying to grind his teeth. A crude longsword is on his back and a rusty shield is strapped to his right arm. Fizzle circles him and releases rainbow mist from his nostrils. The orc grows two feet taller and becomes broad enough to rival Timoran. It takes a second for his leather armor to grow around his massive body and finish the illusion. With a sickening cough, the orc stumbles to the side and shakes his head.

“You should have held your breath,” Selenia states as she approaches. She waits for the mist to disappear before getting a closer look at the orc. “The throat injury looks legitimate and he smells right. To be safe, stay
among the orc forces and avoid the giltris. They have keener senses.”

“Yes, ma’am,” the orc coughs in Luke’s voice. He takes in a raspy, stuttering breath that ends in a choking sputter. “I can’t get the breathing right.”

Delvin pats the half-elf on the shoulder, his hand passing through the illusion. “Don’t worry about it. Just try to act natural and everything should go smoothly. If it doesn’t, run like your life depends on it.”

“His life will depend on it,” Timoran points out as he eats some jerky.

“I’m not the best at analogies,” Delvin admits with a grin. He grunts when a breastplate is harshly shoved into his gut. “Thanks, Selenia, but I have my chainmail. It’s fairly new and works for me.”

Selenia holds the
new armor against his stomach and glares at him. “This isn’t a suggestion, Cunningham. I have extra gear and I want to make sure you’re safe when you’re out there.”

“Pineapple!” Nyx suddenly exclaims before frantically rummaging through her magical belt pouch. She
slips a thick bracelet with three grooves running around it onto her wrist and breathes a sigh of relief.

“Not going to ask,” Selenia mutters while watching
the caster whisper to the bracelet. “You ready, Luke?”

The forest tracker flexes his shoulders and they can hear the shifting of his sabers under the illusion.
“The better question is if you guys are ready.”

Selenia shakes her head and leads the way to the edge of the willow grove. They stop out of view of the clearing in case the Lich has lookouts watching from atop the castle. The sound of metal clanging and angry yells drift from the clearing. A few whooping war cries erupt from the orc side of the clearing, followed by the barking of the giltris. It sounds like the armies are busy and full of energy, which makes all of the warriors nervous.

“Good luck,” Delvin whispers to the half-elf.

Luke takes a deep breath as he imagines all of the orcs and giltris around the castle. The thought of wandering among them, so far from help fills him with fear and excitement. He waits for Fizzle to disappear and flutter above him, the drite ready to alter the illusion at a moment’s notice. Letting go of the held breath, he walks out of the willow grove and proceeds to march across the clearing. The sound of screaming and clanging weapons forces him to pay attention to what is going on.

Slowing to a stop, Luke stares in awe at the chaos that surrounds the Lich’s castle. The orcs are surging against the open drawbridge where reanimated workers are pushing their way out of the castle. The rebelling workers gradually retreat while lashing out with rusty swords and crude hammers. Every time an orc falls, he or she rises to join the undead army. For a brief instant, Luke sees a human in leather armor waving a bastard sword among the zombies that have gathered on the drawbridge.

The giltris on the other side of the castle are fighting amongst themselves due to half of them still being under the Lich’s control. Their side of the castle is already littered with the lean,
muscular bodies of dead lizardmen. Unlike the orcs, the deceased giltris never reanimate and become obstacles that the survivors struggle to avoid. Many of the combatants trip over dead kinsmen and quickly join them in the blood-soaked mud. As Luke watches, he can see that the giltris under the Lich’s control are winning and it is only a matter of time before they organize into a cohesive force.

Near the middle of the clearing, a small group of
the lizardmen wrestle with the hungry moat monster. With a mouth that splits into four massive jaws, the scaly monster is about to devour two giltris in one bite. The lower half of its body remains in the moat, but a powerful tail whips out to drench its courageous attackers. When there are no more giltris to eat, the moat monster grunts like an alligator and sinks back into the water. Only its humped back can be seen when it occasionally breaks the surface.

“What going on?” Fizzle asks as he lands on Luke’s shoulder.

“They’re rioting. At least the orcs and some of the giltris are,” Luke answers in a low voice. “The Lich must have lost some of his control. What do we do now?”

“Go back?”

“We already walked out here.”

“Go back.”

“Can I drop the illusion without you?”

Fizzle nervously whimpers and looks at the distant willow grove. “Draw swords. Luke go back?”

“Go get the troops ready, Fizzle,” Luke says, his orcish face grinning wide. “I’m going to earn us some more allies.”

Fizzle darts toward the willow grove as Luke sprints toward the struggling orcs. He slows down as he reaches the back of the group and pushes his way through. Many of the orcs risk a glance at the weaponless figure that none of them recognize. A few touch their side where the figure pushed them even though they remember him touching their shoulder. The zombies begin to fall back when they sense something pulling at their joints. By the time Luke steps out of the crowd, his hips are glowing with pink energy.

Luke grips his sabers, which looks like the illusion’s hands disappear into its hips. With a loud roar, Luke draws his sabers and the illusion drops away. The orcs are confused at the sight of the half-elven warrior rushing at the zombies. Their confusion vanishes the moment Luke slashes a giltris zombie and the creature bursts into black dust. An eruption of shouts and cries shakes the ground as the orcs charge behind Luke, their simple weapons tearing into the zombies with renewed energy.

The orcs slash and smash the zombies while Luke spins his way through the crowd. A trail of black dust follows him as he practically dances among them. When he hears some of the orcs crying for help, Luke makes his way back and stays a few yards ahead of their front line. He focuses on striking any zombie that is moving toward an opening in the orc forces, but a few of the monsters still get to the orcs., Luke uses a zombie to leap into the air and comes down with a flurry of spinning blades. He manages to destroy ten zombies before he lands in a crouch and rolls away from the tail of an undead giltris. Being off-balance and on the defensive, Luke is an easy target for the zombies that swarm him. He beheads two of them before a hand grabs his shoulder and yanks him back into the crowd of orcs.

“Don’t take risks,” the hammer-wielding orc says in a gravelly voice. He turns around to fight, but a giltris bites him in the throat.

Luke growls and clenches his sabers as he waits for the orc to reanimate. The second the body moves, Luke turns it to dust and charges into the zombies. Fueled by the rage that he has been holding since Sari was taken, the young warrior tears into the zombies. The air is choked by black dust and many of the orcs fall back to avoid inhaling it. Through the dust, they can barely see the glint of Luke’s sabers as they are whipped around and destroy every monster in their path. Even though there are still well over a hundred zombies left, they begin to fall back to the drawbridge. With a cheer, the exhausted orcs rejoin the attack to help Luke push them back into the castle.

Their joy is destroyed when a new swarm of zombies rushes out of the castle. They push against the orcs, forcing them to retreat to their camp and try to lead the swarm in different directions. The battle spreads out across the clearing with Luke trying to hold his ground near the drawbridge. When he realizes that there are no orcs around him, Luke gives ground and moves away from the castle. With a series of snarls and roars, he continues to lash out at the zombies until the pink energy on his sabers sputters. Unable to turn the zombies into dust, Luke aims for their necks and spends more time on the defensive.

“Come on, stupid ring!” he shouts as he shakes his hands. He can feel panic growing in his belly, which slows him down. “Damn fickle piece of jewelry!”

A startling bellow startles Luke and he turns in time to see three zombies burst into white flames. Not letting his guard down, Luke slashes at the advancing zombies and moves in the direction of someone shouting in Dwarven. He grins when he recognizes the voice of Duggan Ironcaster, the dwarven blacksmith of Hamilton Military Academy. By the time he comes within view of the dwarf, twenty zombies have been turned into burning corpses. Duggan swings his holy war hammer over his head to bash in a giltris zombie’s face, the weapon’s holy magic exploding the monster’s head. Holding up a giant crab shell shield, he launches another zombie into the moat with a jet of water.

“I’m getting too old to save
you youngsters,” Duggan laughs, his gray beard bristling with excitement. His pristine platemail deflects every empty-handed blow as he beats back the swarm. “I love it when you visit us, Luke! You always bring me a glorious fight!”

“Thanks, but did it have to be zombies?” Luke asks with a grin. He slices through the legs of an
undead orc when the pink energy returns. “About damn time!”

“Dispeller blades. Not bad, kid,” Duggan wryly admits before
one of the few giltris in the mob smacks him in the head with its tail. The dwarf roars at the lizardman and stomps on the its foot. When it bends down to bite, Duggan grabs it by the nostrils and impales its head onto his shoulder spikes.

“I hope the others are having this much fun,” Luke says
as a wall of smoke appears on the other side of the castle.

“I can think of one person who’s enjoying herself,” the dwarf states. With a snort, he strikes the nearest zombie and the battle restarts.

*****

Standing only a few yards away from the safety of the swamp, Nyx unleashes her magic on the giltris. Their campfires turn into geysers of smoke, giving the attacking warriors a dense fog to use to their advantage. She can see Delvin vanish into the fog while Timoran heads for the moat to handle the hidden beast. Snapping her fingers, Nyx sets off colorful sparks within the fog. She grins at the sound of the giltris screeching in fright before the sound of weapons clashing erupts.

The archers around her fire into the giltris, having been ordered to let Duggan and Selenia handle the orcs’ area. Their arrows arch high over the charging warriors, landing within the fog with unknown effects. Thomas Strogan barks orders at them while firing his own longbow at the distant forms slinking around the top of the castle wall. The tall man ignores Nyx, content to let her do whatever she wants. He shows concern when she sits down and stares forlornly at the battlefield, her hand randomly moving through the air. The fog shifts and moves with her movements, at one point solidifying into a fist and smashing a giltris into the wall.

“Don’t let your guard down,” Thomas says, taking out a distant enemy. “This is only the beginning of the battle.”

“I have to keep my strength for the Lich, so I can’t do much,” Nyx responds. She gets to her feet and stretches her arms over her head. “Not that I can do a lot anyway. I don’t want to hurt any of our people.”

“Wise action,” Thomas agrees, tossing her a
heavy crossbow. “Make yourself useful and take shots at anything with scales. Things will get wilder when your fog clears.”

“Such sweet promises,” she teases. Loading the crossbow, she move
s ahead and to the right of the archers. She patiently waits for a target, her eyes scanning the edges of the fog like a nervous predator.

*****

“Fizzle no like!” the drite screams as he zips over the moat.

The moat monster leaps out of the water to catch the drite, its jaws open wide to swallow Fizzle whole. With a sudden grunt, the monster lurches in the air and slams into the muddy ground.

“Thank you, Fizzle!” Timoran yells. His arms are wrapped around the monster’s powerful tail. “I am impressed that they captured such a large eusu.”

Digging his heels into the ground, he pulls against the
eusu’s strength. The beast whirls around and uses its head to knock Timoran away. Rolling to his feet, Timoran draws his great axe and charges at the beast. Its thick body is an easy target, but its aqua-colored scales and rubbery fat create a natural armor. Before the eusu can return to the moat, Timoran’s great axe cuts a few inches into its side. It grunts in pain and bats him away with its tail, escaping back into the water.