The Weave of Fate

by S L Matthews

  Thibold’s…fee.

  Ava’s eyes narrowed even more. Through the narrowest of slits, her gaze fell back to Viktor.

  “How much?” Ava said, slowly rising to her feet.

  Viktor wore the expression of someone truly terrified. His lips stammered and his eyes danced around the room.

  “I…I don’t…”

  “How much!” she screamed, inching closer.

  Once more, Viktor broke down into tears. Ava walked to the side of the bed and scooped up the stack of coins, one at a time. She eyed the rusty metal, tracing the inscriptions with the tip of her finger.

  “How much was I worth?” she said, softening her tone.

  “My father. How much did he pay for his only daughter?” Ava added, her pitch rising.

  She walked around the corner of the bed and stood before Viktor, holding the coins in the palm of her hand, ensuring he could see each one. Ava knelt down at his feet and extended her hand.

  “What is my debt?” she snarled, clenching her teeth.

  Ava grabbed Viktor by the ankles and yanked him from the bed. He slid only a few inches, but his head fell away from the frame and slammed into the floorboards.

  Through tears, Viktor cried, “Wha…what are you doing?”

  She leaned in and pursed her lips. Her brow narrowed as she crept close to his ear, whispering, “I’m pulling the right brick.”

  He raised his hands in defense, but Ava grabbed at them and tucked them against his stomach. She threw her bare leg across his belly and sat down with all her weight, feeling the wind escape his chest. Ava drew her knees tight, pinning his elbows into his side.

  She clasped a hand over Viktor’s mouth and pressed a coin through the slit in her fingers.

  “As for my father’s debts,” she added with all the venom she could muster.

  Ava continued stuffing coins through her fingers, pressing them deeper into Viktor’s throat.

  “Consider them…”

  Viktor’s eyes widened as she stuffed more marks into his mouth. They welled with tears, then rolled back into his head. White mucus formed at the corner of his lips, seeping through Ava’s fingers.

  Viktor’s breathing stopped, save for a few random convulsions.

  Ava sat up, pressing against his chest. Her expression went blank, though a hint of satisfaction crept into her freckles—all 32 of them.

  “Paid in full.”

  | Chapter XVII

  Rage of the Ancient

  A nduin gripped the hilt of his shattered sword while dozens of frenzied creatures barreled down the embankment. Their shrill cries of blood echoed off the boulders and city walls. Instilling terror, the alabaster waterfall of bodies barreled down the rocks, their blood-red eyes and razor sharp talons focused on the pair of men perched atop a single boulder.

  “So this is how it ends, eh friend?” Amoran spoke, his words offering no reassurance to the disabled Lieutenant.

  “Suppose it will hurt, yes?” He tugged at his pointed beard, his mind lost in quiet reflection.

  Anduin wore the expression only a grieving father could bear. No words were spoken, just a simple nod between old friends, then they set their attention back to the sea of claws and fangs descending upon them.

  “Very well then,” Amoran said, renewed vigor in his voice.

  “If this will be my end, I at least want songs about it! Damn good ones!” He reached for Anduin’s broken sword, tearing the weapon away from the Cambrian soldier. Amoran raced headlong for the creatures, matching their screams both in pitch and intensity.

  Anduin lost his balance. His knee hit the rock, summoning a painful grimace. “Davilla, no!”

  The colorfully clad merchant scaled the rocks, ignoring Anduin’s plea. The creatures came to an abrupt halt, their curious glances turning to fear. They looked to the skies, then screamed, scattering in all directions. The ravenous horde raced up the slope, pouring back into the abandoned square. As a nervous chuckle fell from Anduin’s lips, the boulders beneath him began to rattle, along with the chatter of rocks nearby. A steady vibration overtook the rocky slope as his feet gave way and slid toward the blackened sea.

  The edge of the highway broke free. Crumbled earth tumbled down the hill, sending boulders and an army of panicked creatures after it. Yet the tremors intensified. Both men collapsed as the slope toppled over itself in a cascading display of ash-coated rock, albino-skinned creatures, and blue-armored humanity.

  Anduin tumbled into the icy waters of the sea. Waves hit from all directions as the land caved in around him, a chorus of rock, debris, and alabaster corpses. He swam, shoulders and chest crying out from exertion, but the weight of the avalanche proved too much. It filled the bay with blackened rubble, pulling him under the waves.

  A line of crimson-cloaked soldiers stood at the ready, crossbows armed, aimed at a pack of cowering men, women, and children. The passengers huddled together in shock as their minds twisted in horror. Men stepped in front of their families while others simply collapsed to the deck in defeat.

  The Cyrean sergeant’s arm ascended toward the sky while the women and children tightened their embrace. Cooper looked on in disbelief. His eyes darted from the rail, to the soldiers, to the civilians, and finally to the man ascending the stairs, unconcerned with all of it.

  “Over a hundred witnesses,” Cooper whispered.

  He scanned the pirates lined up along the edge of the ship. They all wore the same mask of confusion, yet fewer than thirty members of his crew remained. Dark thoughts pierced Cooper’s mind. He told Taryn to leave Wyvern’s Rest. He gathered a crew of men, eager to make a name for themselves at the expense of those who would abandon them. He boarded a ship and hunted those same passengers. Now all were doomed by his hand in a twisted weave of fate.

  He’s going to execute them. And it’s all—my fault.

  Cooper vaulted from the rail. He lunged for the nearest crossbow and wrestled for control. He spun the soldier, along with his armed weapon, toward the back of the ship. He fought to line up the crossbow and pulled the trigger, sending the bolt whistling across the deck. Through soldiers and sails it raced before hitting its mark. Captain Ferael shrieked as the bolt lodged deep into his back. He braced himself against the stairs, then tumbled backward, his pristine armor crashing onto the deck.

  The line of soldiers spun around as their leader fell, one of their own bolts protruding from his back. Rowan’s horrified gaze fell upon Cooper. He scowled, jaw clenched. “You.” He took a giant step toward the young pirate and flung his arm forward.

  “Kill him!”

  Smoke billowed from the edges of the deck and between the boards. Flames licked against the railing as screams erupted from the hold below.

  “Gotta go!” Cooper said, climbing the outer rail. While the line of soldiers took aim, the pirate vaulted through the thick smoke, soaring into the black abyss. The wood splintered and cracked as the melody of bolts echoed across the sea, but the distant splash signaled their failure.

  Ice shot through Cooper’s veins when he hit the water, instantly numbing his arms and legs. He bolted to the surface, angling toward the massive black hull. The soldiers lined against the rail, rearmed their bows, then backed away as flames licked the edge of the deck.

  “Thatta boy, Jorel.”

  He then scanned the waves, calling for his brother.

  “Taryn!”

  He found his brother floating on his back, a scared, helpless expression stretched across his face.

  “Ava,” Taryn whispered.

  Cooper grabbed Taryn’s vest and pulled him closer, dragging his brother against the belly of the pirate vessel. He pulled Taryn’s face from the water and wiped the excess away from his eyes.

  “Taryn,” he whispered. “You still in there?”

  Taryn groaned Ava’s name and twitched his eyes, but otherwise floated unflinching in the water. Cooper winced as he examined his brother’s wounds, then looked for safety. The Orcus listed heavily on
its side, engulfed in flame. His ship was to suffer the same fate, and all that remained of the Promenade was a void in the sea and a field of debris.

  Doubt leeched into Cooper’s heart. “Don’t worry, little brother.” His voice cracked. “You’ll see her again. I promise.”

  A chorus of screams exploded from the deck above. Cooper couldn’t make out the words, but the tone was dire, its message was clear. He pulled Taryn against the ship while shadows plummeted into the sea, accompanied by brief, terrified screams. The water churned as soldiers, pirates, and civilians alike joined him in the icy water.

  The flames crept lower and lower, the ship burning like a candle in the blackened sea. The splashes were nearly continuous now, no doubt the deck had become hotter than the depths of Hell itself.

  Get out of there, Jorel.

  Cooper gathered Taryn in his arms and leaned along the hull toward the bow. He pulled his way until he cleared the front of the vessel and peered west, back toward the skyline of the fabled city. He wiped the water away from his eyes and squinted. Cooper let go of the ship and drifted with his brother while his eyes remained transfixed on the silhouette of a broken city.

  Guilt consumed him, studying the distance they would need to swim. He knew most would never make it. Cooper reasoned with himself, but knew in his heart that every death was on his hands.

  A dull rumble echoed off the bluffs behind Wyvern’s Rest. Plumes of dust and smoke lifted into the air while remnants of the old skyline disappeared.

  Cooper’s brow raised, his expression drew blank.

  As the dust billowed over his home, the waves around them grew choppy. White caps lapped against them and the sea began to churn.

  “Taryn?” Cooper whispered.

  His tone grew dire as he pulled Taryn close.

  “You’ll see her again, if it’s the last thing I do.”

  A va stood, tall and proud, catching her reflection in a narrow, silver mirror. She gazed into her mother’s eyes and stared at a woman she had never truly known. The mirror reflected the image of someone strong, someone determined, powerful, and wearing a blood-soaked dress that had been ripped to pieces.

  “By the Hells,” she cursed, scanning the chamber.

  Ava crossed the room, stepping over Viktor’s body as if he was nothing more than a hole in the side of the road. She slipped the dress off her shoulders and tossed it to the side, landing across Viktor’s petrified face. She then strolled to his giant, gilded wardrobe, and thumbed through a series of smelly, oversized tunics.

  She grabbed the smallest one she could find, maroon, with gold accents across the neckline. Ava brought it to her frame, brushing the silken fabric against her skin. While the material felt soft, she felt cold and empty. Her gaze met the bodies on the floor, and a sense of dread entered her heart. The stranger she wished she never met, the master she wished she never knew, and the father she thought she’d never have, all laid before her. Thibold’s haunted words crept through her mind.

  But, she’ll kill us all.

  A shiver drifted up Ava’s spine. Somehow, he knew. From the moment he learned her name, the stranger was terrified of her, but why? She didn’t cause this. She didn’t want this. She couldn’t have stopped this—or could she? Question after question plagued her mind, yet no answers would come.

  Voices echoed from the tavern below, followed by another, equally horrifying concern.

  Three men are dead, and I—I. Ava paused while she recounted the skirmish. No one will ever believe this. Not even Tar…

  Her heart sank further. Her shoulders dropped and an emptiness filled her chest. Tears filled her eyes, then flowed freely down her cheeks. The emotions she kept hidden from Viktor for so long were finally freed.

  She was alone.

  Ava lifted the tunic over her head and pulled tight as she worked it over her chest, then let it fall. It clumped around her waist before gliding to her hips. She grabbed a belt and stepped to her second story window, seeing the docks for the first time. She saw people milling through the old market and hurrying about their business. Ava was free. She could taste it.

  She stood before the old windowsill, the portal to her world. She ran her fingertips along the bench, feeling along the cracks, splinters, and chipped paint. She thought back to the first time she saw it, and how little it had changed over the years. A colorful glint caught Ava’s eye in her moment of reflection. From the darken corner of the room, brilliant jewels lay in a pool of wine, broken glass, and blood—her blood. As the sun rose, it caught these jewels and each one sang its own chorus, weaving a colorful melody of light. The darkest corner of her life, the scene of her death, had become beautiful once again; a rainbow from the shadows.

  Pushing away from the windowsill, she wrapped the belt around her waist—twice—then knelt in the corner. She collected each jewel, placing them in her pocket while her soft gaze remained fixed on an old, onyx-encrusted necklace. It laid in a perfect circle, just the way Thibold had left it.

  Ava gasped. Her gaze shot to the stranger’s body.

  The amulet. It saved…

  Her thoughts trailed off, second-guessing everything she knew of the odd merchant.

  He—saved me?

  She lifted the amulet from the shadow. Two dragons raced around the center stone while the opaque gems swirled in the darkness, capturing the light. She placed the center stone between her fingertips and stared into the abyss.

  Voices whispered in hushed tones, echoing through her mind in a language she did not understand. Her eyes sprang open and she shot upward, dropping the amulet back to the floor.

  “The fuck?” she whispered, staring at the old necklace.

  Ava examined her fingers, then her hands, before returning her gaze back to the shadowed corner. She eyed the onyx stones. They slowly pulsed, calling to her. She looked away, but the unfamiliar voices returned, burrowing into her thoughts.

  “Enough!” she screamed, but the voices persisted.

  She grabbed the amulet, prepared to fling it into the market when a subtle vibration rippled through the floor—a low, steady rumble that rattled the portraits and mirrors. The tremors grew as small cracks opened along the wall, crawling along the ceiling. Screams from the tavern below echoed those heard in the market outside. Ava steadied herself while picture frames crashed to the floor, littering the enormous chamber with broken glass.

  The rooftops of the old market disappeared from sight, their structures collapsing into a dusty memory. A large rumble shot from above as enormous shingles slid off the old inn, crashing into the cobblestone below. The ceiling split open and chunks of plaster gave way, bursting into the floor. All around, windows shattered, buildings collapsed, and screams of terror echoed through the streets.

  Ava leaned out of her window, then clasped a hand over her mouth in horror. Dust choked out the sun over a city now littered in crumbled ruin, obscured by a dense layer of debris.

  The voices in her mind returned, stronger and more defiant than before. Ava covered her ears as the voices turned shrill and angry. She cried out in pain, wanting the agony to end, then sank to the floor under the window.

  “Leave me alone!” she screamed with tears running down her cheeks.

  Ava’s eyes were drawn back to her hand, back to the rusted, onyx necklace. The stones pulsed, coming alive to her touch. Trembling, she lifted the amulet, feeling the cool stones against her fingertips. Light swirled within the gems, accompanied by the strange voices in her head.

  Ava listened.

  She watched the light, mesmerized by their beauty, then felt the words.

  “V—Vesera?” she whispered, echoing the voices.

  A dull roar rose from the depths of Wyvern’s Rest. More buildings collapsed and stone shattered. A cloud engulfed her, filling the chamber with the scent of coal and ember. Ava looked up, her eyes red and swollen. As the city she knew her entire life crumbled behind her, a single thought entered her mind.

  Within this city, w
ithin her, something—had awakened.

  S hrill cries of panic echoed through the vacant cobblestone streets, the army of creatures in full retreat. While the city of Wyvern’s Rest collapsed upon itself, the pale horde fled in terror. All semblance of structure was lost, all order abandoned. Hundreds raced through an alley, seeking safety in the Outer Quarter.

  They scurried past Camille’s small, shadowed form. Her long, black hair cascaded over her blue dress as she strode with confidence through the center of their ranks. Her head held high, her shoulders tall and proud, the creatures parted around her like a river against a mighty rock.

  Camille looked upon them with disdain, vermin of the world in need of extinction. She eyed each one, daring their approach, then fed off their fear as they recoiled in terror. When she reached the center of Tindera Square, she let loose a quiet cackle.

  The giant dragon statue lay in ruin, pieces of the great beast shattered across the ground. Its huge stone wings had broken off and slid into abandoned corners while the long, majestic body sat silent, oblivious to the tiny form that approached from the shadows.

  Camille walked closer, studying the wingless serpent. Like a snake forever bound to the broken street, the statue lay motionless. Camille stood before it, offering a look of pity−and contempt. She placed her foot atop its head, then gently placed a finger to her lips.

  “Shhhhh…”

  Camille pressed.

  Small cracks formed along the statue’s eyes and mouth. The ground shivered and pebbles danced across the street.

  She pressed harder.

  The square trembled. Broken stone benches collapsed upon themselves and cobblestone fragments popped loose from the ground, bouncing along the seams.

  She pressed harder.

  Stone scales splintered from the statue and cascaded to the cobblestone. Teeth chipped and buildings rocked from their foundations.

  Camille’s bare foot shot through the stone, pressing deep into the highway as chunks of carved rock shattered from the headless effigy. A cloak of silence fell across Tindera square, broken by subdued, malevolent laughter. With sinister intent in her eyes, Camille sharpened her lips, narrowed her gaze—and smiled.