Rayka was gone, and there was nothing Cade could do about it.
The thought was like a death chant in Cade’s mind, repeating its horrific truth over and over again.
Cade was now in the latest trial, having been teleported there without warning earlier this morning. He hadn’t prepared. He’d barely spoken since the revelation of Rayka’s kidnapping had been dropped on him like some anvil from the heavens.
All he knew from the clues he’d picked up on was that they were in a swamp brimming with death magic. Green miasma that smelled of rotten fruit and corpses clung to the surface of the murky waters.
Worse, a wall of the toxic gas had formed along the perimeter of this place, forcing him and the other contestants to make their way to the center lest they get swallowed up by the lethal mist.
And so he trudged onward through the muck of the swamp. He did not care as the foul liquid seeped into his boots, his pants, and slowed his progress toward the center of this gods-forsaken swamp.
Each step was a battle against the thick, sucking mud that clung to his boots. A numb part of his mind compared the disgusting sensation to the desperate hands of the drowning. The air was a choking mix of mildew and decay, the stench embedding itself in his very skin, refusing to be shaken off.
His only companion, Bunny, jumped from branch to withered branch above him, his soft chirrups of comfort doing little to penetrate the black storm of his thoughts. Grief and rage at the blood stains he’d found outside that cabin whirled through his body. Hugh and his goons had beaten Gavin and Elena senseless. They had knocked Rayka unconscious and dragged her out by the hair, according to Elena.
What he would do to his old mentor when next they met, it would end with one of them dead.
That, Cade vowed, was a promise.
“This day couldn’t get any better, could it?” he sardonically asked his draconic friend.
Cade’s eyes darted to the horizon, where the wall of green miasma rolled closer like a vengeful tide, its eerie glow casting an otherworldly light over the swamp. The air buzzed with an ominous hum, making his skin crawl. “Okay, let’s get out of this death swamp before something decides that we look tasty,” he muttered, his voice raw.
Bunny leapt from the last sturdy branch and landed lightly on his shoulder, his tiny claws pricking Cade’s skin through the fabric of his tunic. He nuzzled his neck with a wet snout, and Cade smiled despite himself. The dragonling’s scales were a warm presence in the midst of the swamp’s oppressive cold.
Cade flexed and unflexed his hands to distract himself as he trudged through the mire. The betrayal of his mentor, the threat to his sister, the impossible choices before him—all of it pressed down on him at once. He could barely take in a full breath. He wanted to scream, but the hollowness he felt inside his chest made the fires of his rage remain aggravatingly out of reach. So he walked. And walked.
The fetid water around him exploded with movement, and rotting hands burst from the surface, grasping at his legs.
So much for melodramatic metaphors.
Zombies, their flesh hanging in putrid ribbons, lunged at him with a hunger that matched his own rage. A feral grin twisted Cade’s lips as he saw an outlet for his rage. He raised his arms, feeling the heat building in the bronze bracers that encased his forearms.
Finally.
The air around him shimmered with rising heat and, with a guttural roar, he unleashed a torrent of scalding winds and fire.
Flames roared to life, engulfing the undead in a whirlwind of flame and steam. The swamp echoed with the hissing and popping of burning flesh, the scent of charred rot mixing with the already foul air.
Cade’s magic flared wildly, the bracers heating up until they glowed red-hot. He poured every ounce of his fury into the onslaught, incinerating the zombies until nothing remained but ash and the acrid smell of smoke.
His breath came in ragged gasps, his current magic reserves nearly depleted. He sank to his knees in the mud.
“I’m so sorry,” he whispered, his voice breaking.
He repeated the words over and over again, hating how bitter they tasted. It was all too much. If he didn’t give Hugh the Remnant, Rayka would die. But if he didn’t deliver it to Scorn, the soul curse on his left arm would kill him, and Scorn’s followers would hunt his friends until they were all dead.
Grief and hatred swirled within him, a toxic mix that threatened to consume him. Bunny nuzzled his neck in a futile attempt to offer comfort. Cade reached up and patted the dragonling absently, his thoughts a chaotic jumble of desperation and rage.
His mind flashed again with the images of Gavin and Elena, all broken and strewn across that clearing. He hadn’t been there to help.
He hadn’t been there when they needed him.
A pang of regret sank deep into his gut as he remembered how he acted, and he vowed to make amends the second he saw them again. They didn’t deserve his anger. No. Only one man deserved the fullness of hell that screamed to be unleashed from his hands.
Hugh.
Out of breath and nearly spent from his magical exertions, Cade stumbled forward. The swamp around him was eerily quiet as the uncaring miasmic wall drew ever closer. His steps grew heavier, each one an effort against the sucking mud that seemed intent on pulling him down, down into the dark, watery grave below.
The impenetrable mist loomed closer, its green glow casting grotesque shadows on the twisted trees around him. Their gnarled branches reached out, brushing against his face with the cold caress of the dead. The oppressive humidity wrapped around him like a shroud, though it only made the chill of this horrid place sink deeper into his bones.
He stooped under a pair of low-hanging tree limbs and stepped onto a thin expanse of dry land. The young thief shook off the worst of the mud and felt Bunny’s short tail wrap itself around his arm for support.
A sudden rustling in the underbrush snapped him out of his spiraling thoughts. More zombies, their eyes glowing with malevolent hunger, emerged from the shadows.
Cade’s heart pounded, his breath hitching in his throat. He had no magic left, but that would not mean he wouldn’t go down swinging.
This tale has been pilfered from Royal Road. If found on Amazon, kindly file a report.
He clenched his fists, wishing quite painfully in that moment he’d taken Orro up on his invitation for more dagger lessons, or just taken one of the damned things before he skulked off into the forest last night.
With a primal yell, he lunged at the nearest zombie, his fist rocketing forward. It landed with a sickening squelch. He kicked outward and caught another undead at the knees.
Bunny roared and dove at another that swam up from the water to their left. The fight was brutal and chaotic, the zombies’ fetid stench overwhelming his senses.
Each kill was a release, a way to vent the storm of emotions inside him, but it also drained him further, each swing of his arms a reminder of how close he was to his limits. He felt his core refill just a bit and jumped backward.
“Bunny!” Cade yelled, and the dragonling responded instantly.
He backflipped off the face of the intruding zombie right as Cade unleashed a thin wave of flames in a wide arc. He fell to a knee from the overexertion, sweat beading down his face.
Bunny chirped softly as the final zombie fell, nestling closer to his neck, but even his warmth couldn’t pierce the cold void inside him.
His left arm throbbed painfully, the soul curse etched into his skin flaring with dark energy. Cade’s mind raced, the weight of the choices before him pressing down like an iron vise.
The image of Rayka, scared and vulnerable, filled his thoughts, her bright eyes dimmed with fear. She was all he had left of family, the only person who had stuck by him without hesitation.
He couldn’t lose her. Not like this.
He hugged Bunny closer, the dragonling’s small body trembling against his neck.
“What do I do, Bunny?” he whispered, his voice barely audible over the swamp’s eerie silence. “How do I save her?”
Bunny nibbled at his ear and leveled his bright green eyes on Cade.
“You’re right. Thanks, little one.” Cade rose unsteadily to his feet, wiping the grime from his face.
Though he knew he was projecting quite a bit onto the small yet noble creature, he felt like Bunny’s answer was simple:
Rip this world apart, if that’s what it took to get her back.
Cade’s body ached from the fight, his magic reserves depleted, but he forced himself to move forward. The swamp’s oppressive air weighed heavily on him, each step an effort of will. The miasma loomed closer.
But Cade was nothing if not resilient. He had faced impossible odds before, had clawed his way out of darkness more times than he could count. He would find a way to save Rayka.
He had to.
As he moved deeper into the swamp, the air grew colder. The trees around him seemed to whisper, their skeletal branches swaying in an unseen breeze. Cade shivered, pulling his cloak tighter around him.
Cade’s fists clenched at his sides, his nails digging into his palms. His core recharged inside of him, and a selfish part of Cade wanted to unleash it all there and then in the dire hope Hugh would see it and come running to finish him off. At least then, his target would be clear.
But he knew how a straight fight with that bastard would end, especially with his cutthroat team looking to even the score between them.
No.
He would take a page out of Hugh’s old playbook. The barest seeds of a plan began to form in Cade’s mind, and he stroked Bunny’s chin affectionately.
Out of breath, Cade leaned against a twisted tree, the bark rough and unyielding under his hand. His body ached, drained from the fierce battle and the emotional turmoil that still roiled within him. Bunny perched on his shoulder, his tiny claws digging into Cade’s skin, offering what comfort he could.
The swamp went silent. No breeze wafted through the calcified trees, and yet Cade felt a shift in the air around him. His senses went on high alert, and he cautiously leaned forward on his perch against the trunk to see what caused this unnatural pause.
“Umm, hi,” A voice said from directly behind Cade.
He yelped and rolled. Bunny leaping backward on tiny yet powerful legs as the thief prepared himself for this ambush. He looked around. No one was there. No assassin clad in midnight, nor a haughtily dressed bastard with a rapier to stab at him.
“Over here, if you don’t mind,” the voice said again from somewhere in front of Cade.
Still, his eyes could not determine the source of this invisible intruder. Suddenly, a face emerged from the bark of the tree he was leaning against.
The wood twisted and shifted, forming features that were initially rough and indistinct but quickly smoothed into something more human-like. Cade and Bunny both jumped, startled by the bizarre appearance.
The face spoke, its voice raspy and dry at first but quickly clearing into a pleasant, melodic tone. “There we go, that’s better. Hello there, Son of Ruin.”
Cade’s heart pounded in his chest, his hand instinctively clenching into a fist at his side. He started to pull on his recharging core, copper tendrils licking across his skin, though he noticed a few tiny cords of silver mixed in there now.
“And who might you be?” Cade demanded, his voice steady despite the surprise.
The face in the tree smiled, the bark around it creaking softly. “Ah, forgive my manners. You felt familiar, and so it was in familiarity that I greeted you… like an old friend I’ve yet to meet. But fear not, my sparky little human. My name is Stephen.”
The way the tree said it made it sound like the name explained away everything.
“Stephen,” Cade repeated, incredulous. “A talking tree named Stephen?”
“Not quite,” Stephen replied with a chuckle that sounded like leaves rustling in the wind. “I am Stephen the Lich. I am this swamp, and this swamp is me. Now, I know it’s a bit forward, but would you care to join me at my home? It’s much more comfortable than this dreary place.”
Before Cade could respond, the murky swamp water parted, revealing a dry, linear path leading deeper into the swamp. The air around the path seemed to clear, the oppressive humidity lifting slightly. Bunny chirped softly, his tiny body trembling against Cade’s neck.
Cade hesitated for a moment, then shrugged. “Well, Bunny, we’ve been invited to the home of a tree-faced lich. It would be rude not to stop by.”
He turned back to the tree, but the face had gone, returning the gnarled bark back to its original composition. Cade stepped onto the dry path, Bunny fluttering his wings nervously on his perch.
The walk was eerily peaceful, the usual sounds of the swamp muted in deference to Stephen’s invitation. No creatures attacked, no zombies lurched from the shadows. It was as if the swamp itself was guiding him, protecting him from harm.
The path wound around several enormous trees and veered off to the right, away from what Cade intuited was the center of this trail. The narrow road led to a quaint hut, well-lit and clean despite its surroundings.
Green-fire torches cast an otherworldly glow, illuminating the neatly kept yard and the inviting doorway. As Cade approached, a figure emerged from the hut. The being was tall and thin, with limbs that exacerbated the lanky impression the man gave off. Cade blinked, comprehension slowly dawning on his face.
Cade mouthed an “oh” before he resumed walking. The figure before him nervously wringing his hands—his bony hands—was not merely underfed.
He was, in fact, a skeleton.
The lich wore a simple robe with a dark brown sash tied around the waist and a wide-brimmed straw hat, giving him an almost rustic, if unsettling, appearance.
“Welcome,” the skeleton said, his voice shy and timid. “I am Stephen. I tidied up a bit, but my apologies if you find a mess hiding somewhere. Please, come in.”
Cade stared at the skeleton for a moment, then laughed nervously. “Stephen the lich. Right. Of course. Why not?”
Stephen’s bony hand extended towards him, and Cade took it, shaking it cautiously. The skeleton’s grip was surprisingly gentle, his bones cool and smooth against Cade’s skin.
“Would you like some tea?” Stephen asked brightly, his tone polite and inviting.
Cade hesitated, glancing back at the swamp and the encroaching miasma. He had little choice.
“Sure,” he said, forcing a smile. “Tea sounds great.”
Cade followed the undead creature deeper into the swamp of death, not entirely sure of what was going on.
But hey, tea with the master of this swamp might be the leg up he needed to find and save his team—or, of course, this newfound friend might kill him.
“Let’s see if good manners can save the day this time,” he muttered to Bunny.
Bunny chirped and tilted his head, as though to say fat chance.
“That’s the spirit.” Cade patted his dragonling on the head and took a steadying breath before following Stephen into the surreal little hut in the center of a death swamp.
What's the most surprising part about meeting Stephen the Lich?
