Victim of Fate

by Jason Halstead

  Alto groaned. More mines. The other three ignored him.

  "I've studied enough I think I can locate it. When the dwarves were driven out, they brought down the side of a mountain on the main entrance. Rumor has it this was to contain the things they'd unleashed from escaping."

  "And you want to go in there?" Alto blurted out.

  "Only rumors, lad," Kar reassured. "No dwarf that escaped ever spoke of it. There were precious few that escaped, though. Even the village of Rockwood outside the mines was buried by the avalanche."

  "You just said they were driven out!" the young warrior protested.

  "Did I? Well, they were. Out as in killed. A few emissaries or merchants were away, but they had no idea of what transpired."

  "What about the dwarves nearby, or did the mountains swallow them, too?"

  "Man, woman, and a child," Kar said. "Dwarves live in the mountains, not like you and I would in a city of house, but underground. There's more to a dwarven mine than just mining, lad! They have great halls, kitchens, underground housing, and much, much more."

  "That's impossible!" Alto refuted.

  Tristam held up his hand to stop the wizard before he responded. "It seems a far stretch, to be sure. I've never seen such things myself but for once we'll trust Kar."

  "For once?" Kar growled. He sat up and puffed out his chest. "I'll have you know that I've studied abroad and the dwarven underground citadels are some of the most amazing things not created by the saints."

  "He's right," Namitus said. His assertion halted the conversation and drew everyone's eyes to him. "In the south, I spent some time in the dwarven city of Deep Glimmer."

  "Deep Glimmer?" Alto echoed. "What kind of name is that?"

  "It's a translation," Kar said. He spoke in a different language, the phonetics of it crashing against Alto's ears like steel against rocks. "That's how you say it in dwarvish."

  Alto blinked and shook his head, confused by the dwarven language. "Deep Glimmer it is," he managed after a moment to the laughter of the others. "So we're off to find a buried dwarven city then? Who's put out a contract for this?"

  "No contract," Tristam muttered. "The only jobs here pay squat and offer pointless tasks. We might as well be farmers."

  "Hey!"

  Tristam winked at the former farm boy. "If we can't find something worth our time in your lady's home city of Holgasford, then we'll set north for this. Not what I prefer, but our wits and our swords grow dull with nothing better to do than setting fire to buildings."

  "We didn't set fire to the house!" Alto protested.

  Tristam waved him off. "Ready yourselves, lads. When Karthor arrives, we'll set out. Kar, where is that boy of yours?"

  "Probably servicing one of the priests," Kar muttered.

  "I'm sure he'll be along soon," Tristam said with a chuckle. "He's come far for a young man in the service of Leander."

  "So you're saying he'll be able to tend to the needs of his superiors that much quicker?" Kar glowered at the man.

  Tristam laughed again. "While we wait, let's gather our gear for the road. Winter's all but upon us; be ready for some cold days and colder nights where we're going."

  "Aye, the one thing I hated about Holgasford was the winters," Namitus said.

  "It's no farther north than my father's land. Why's it so cold?" Alto asked.

  Kar took a drink from the cup of water in front of Alto before saying, "You had hills and trees to stop the wind. It's open land near the seas, and then there's the seas themselves. Current runs from the northern waters along the Kelgryn coast; it brings cold water and air with it."

  The door opened to admit Karthor. He shut it behind him and looked up to see everyone staring at him. "Uh, did I interrupt something?"

  "Talking about the fine weather ahead of us in Kelgryn lands," Tristam said.

  Kar caught his son's eye and reached up to scratch away an imaginary stain on his lip. Karthor frowned and reached up, searching for a similar stain. He brought his fingers away and looked at them, and then looked at the grinning wizard. He scowled.

  "I don't get it?" Alto asked, looking back and forth between the two men.

  "An inappropriate joke at the expense of my church," Karthor said.

  Namitus and Tristam snorted. Alto laughed to fit in but found himself more confused than ever. "Are we ready to go?" he asked to change the topic.

  "Yes, let's be off. We've been too long with nothing but straw dummies to beat on," Tristam said as he rose up from his seat.

  "About that," the priest interrupted, "I've a favor to ask."

  "A favor?" Tristam frowned.

  "To the southeast there's a village, it's not on our way but they've run into problems and the troubles to the north has the army too busy to help. They've sought help from Leander."

  "What sort of problems?" Kar asked.

  "Can they pay?" Tristam followed.

  Karthor's brow furrowed at the warrior's question. He turned to his father and said, "There's a grove nearby they claim is filled with fey spirits. People have been lost in it and been missing for days before coming out with no memories. Now something is terrorizing them. They've found signs of battle and even blood, but no bodies. The villagers think whatever's in the grove is taking them."

  "And the pay?" Tristam reminded him.

  Karthor sighed. "Yes, they've offered gold for help, but they don't have much."

  "Beats the promise of nothing, so long as we don't lose any horses or equipment this time." Tristam turned and pointed his fingers at the two youngest members of the Blades. "And nobody's to be dying either!"

  "I'm good with that," Namitus said. Alto grinned and stood up. Helping people plagued by monsters was fast becoming his specialty.

  Chapter 4

  "You've taken to the magic remarkably well," the wizard said to Rosalyn from where she stood in her magical cage. Her cell was shaped like a birdcage, the bars made of golden motes of magic. "So well that you've become resistant to it. My dear sweet Rosalyn, what shall I do with you?"

  Rosalyn stood still. She could sit or lay down, but that wouldn't do her any good. He'd punish her, and punishment from the wizard was something she'd learned to avoid. "Whatever you wish," she whispered.

  His eyes narrowed. He snapped his fingers and triggered the magical tattoos he'd crafted into her skin. Rosalyn clenched her jaw as the arcane artwork writhed in her flesh. It burned and stole her breath. She'd lost track of time but she knew that many weeks had passed and only now was she growing strong enough to keep from dropping to her knees. Forcing her breath through her constricted throat, she wheezed out, "Whatever you wish, Master Therion."

  He twitched his wrist and the pain stopped. Rosalyn had to catch herself to keep from falling. "Much better," he praised her. "You're getting stronger and more willful. That's ironic. I broke you quickly, yet your willpower increases. Just goes to show you needed to have your foolish pride freed up to allow you to use it in other ways. I wonder..."

  Rosalyn stood still while Therion turned and strode away into another room. Once she was sure he was gone, she allowed herself to relax. She looked down at the lines of ink that were dormant now. They looked no more harmful than mud or paint that depicted fanciful vines that wound around her torso. Therion had painted the magical symbols on her using ink that smelled foul and burned. All the while he chanted words that made a strange sense to her, even though she couldn’t understand them. They lulled her into complacency and stilled her skin even though her body tried to cringe beneath the agony.

  The end result was artwork that screamed of a scandal. To paint such things upon her flesh, an artist would have painted them directly upon her breasts, stomach, and even farther below. Not that her current situation, being imprisoned naked and ogled constantly by the wizard, was any less scandalous. She now itched day and night as the hair that he'd used his magic to burn away grew back. She hated Therion, but she feared him, too. She wondered if the day would ever come that her hatr
ed grew greater than her fear.

  "Admiring my artwork?"

  Rosalyn jerked her head up. He was grinning as he stared at her. "I was more than a little impressed myself. I've never been much of an artist. You inspired me."

  He made a gesture and a full-length mirror floated out from the other room. It came to rest next to him and just outside her cage. She gasped when the mirror shimmered and instead of showing her own reflection, it depicted a man wearing a tabard over a suit of chain mail walking into a building. The sign next to the door showed a sword and axe crossed in front of a blazing sun.

  "The pathetic people of Fairhaven have sent for help. Is this man, perhaps, your savior?"

  Rosalyn gasped as the man turned to open the door. She saw a holy symbol of Leander hanging from his neck. "Master, why do you torture me?" Rosalyn whimpered.

  "It pleases me," Therion said with a chuckle. His laughter died as he watched her study the man entering the building. Her eyes lit up as she saw him greet four others. He turned, following her gaze to the young man who looked out of place. He chuckled again and then turned back to her.

  The man was tall and thick, no doubt stronger than even the blacksmith's son that had tried to court her. His eyes were what drew her; he searched out everything he could with them and she saw an intelligence that was captivating and frightening at the same time. The priest was handsome but this man, this warrior, he was a man who would make things happen.

  "The villagers have begged for help but no one has listened to them. The army is busy and the church has little interest in non-religious disturbances. So it has fallen to this ragged crew. An unlikely collection of rabble," Therion said. "But you may watch them come and fail. This is my gift to you."

  "Why would you do this? Have I not given everything to you?" she said. She grimaced, realizing she'd forgotten to address him properly.

  "No, you haven't," he said.

  "Then take it, Master, please," she begged. She didn't want him to have anything but she didn't want the pain and anguish any more. She hoped that once he'd had enough of her, she might yet be released. Life as the wife of a dull farmhand didn't seem so bad to her anymore.

  "I have plans for you, child. But you're not ready. You still hold out on me. Only when you've fully become mine will you be ready."

  "What must I do?"

  He laughed in his cruel and wicked way that still sent chills down her spine. "There are many things you must learn to do. Things you must offer and give freely of yourself. But a part of you must also die before you will be ready." He turned to stare at the mirror. One man with a beard and mustache stared up into the air, his eyes searching for something that he could not find. Therion frowned until the man turned his gaze back upon his comrades that were rising from the table. "I think watching these fools die will be the first step in your journey to becoming my apprentice."

  Rosalyn jerked her eyes from the mirror to him. His apprentice? She couldn't be an apprentice; she was a woman! Women couldn't be wizards and even if they could, it required a brilliant mind and the legacy of demons, dragons, or faeries. Or so she'd been told. Her parents were honest and pure peasants. Her vision grew blurry as her chest tightened at the thought of her parents. Living a simple life seemed like a wonderful thing. Why did she have to be so stupid and go to the stream in the forest instead of the one closer to her home?

  She took a breath and squared her shoulders. She'd just proved how stupid she was. His apprentice? Never! She couldn't learn to use magic and even if she could, she'd never be a witch. Witches were evil women. They were hated and hunted down whenever they were found. What sort of life would that be? No better than what she had now. No, she had to find a way to escape, and if that meant doing whatever it took to make him believe she was truly and fully his, then she would do it.

  "Yes, Master," she said to him. "Whatever your wish is, I will obey."

  "You're a crafty one, I think," Therion said as he watched her. "But so young and beautiful. I look forward to this battle of wills and of wits."

  She nodded her head and dropped to her knees with her head bowed.

  "No, no," he said. "Watch the show. I'll have no further tasks or experiments for you, at least not until you see what happens to them. I'll return with some food in a little while."

  Rosalyn lifted her head to the mirror and watched the men mounting their horses and heading out the gate of the city. Were they days or weeks away? She had no idea, but she had to watch. Failing to please him would be failing herself as well.

  Chapter 5

  The hamlet of Fairhaven reminded Alto of Highpeak when they discovered the city after it had been sacked. The only difference was the lack of destruction and dead bodies. It was small even as villages went, with a single inn and a general store. A nearby smithy that tended to shoeing horses and mending plows looked abandoned. Aside from a handful of houses, the only other building was a lumber mill built next to the stream that ran alongside the town.

  "Seems we're too late," Tristam mused as they crossed the bridge over the stream and rode into town.

  Baldwyn, the man from Fairhaven that had sought their help, shook his head. "They can't all be gone!"

  "Where's this enchanted wood?" Kar asked.

  "To the west; the river flows through it and comes here on its way to the sea."

  "The sea is near here?" Alto turned and sat up on his horse to look to the east.

  "Several days’ travel," Kar said. "Even by horse."

  "What about my people!" Baldwyn asked. "They can't all be gone."

  "Stick together; let's see what there is to be seen," Tristam ordered. He spurred his horse forward and into the center of the hard-packed dirt road that ran through town.

  Alto studied the countryside as they rode, looking for signs of disturbance. He nearly jerked himself out of his saddle when Tristam yelled, "People of Fairhaven, show yourselves!"

  Alto gave up on his search of the grounds and looked to the shops and houses. The buildings looked well maintained if basic until he saw boards stripped away near the roofline of the general store. He studied the rooflines closer and saw a house missing a board along the roof. The same house, he realized a moment later, was missing the window on the second story.

  "This town's been attacked," Alto called out to the others. He pointed at the house and then at the ground where a broken shutter had fallen. He turned and spied logs lying near the lumber mill with white strips showing along their lengths.

  "What's that?" Namitus asked, following his gaze to the logs.

  Alto frowned and shook his head. "I've seen it before, but never that large."

  "Seen what?" Tristam asked as he turned his horse around.

  "The stripping of logs like that. The bark's been chewed off."

  "Chewed? Are there beavers to blame for this then?" Tristam chuckled at his own joke.

  "Wasps," Alto said. "But never so large. It must be something else."

  A scream burst out of the house with the missing window. A moment later, someone started shouting as a baby began to cry. The Blades turned, as one, and stared at the house. From the open window, a stick emerged and then bent to grab onto the edge. Removing any doubt about what the stick was, a baby was thrust into the open air. The screaming infant was held by the pincers of an oval face with two segmented eyes. Long feelers emerged from the head, and then another leg came out and allowed the enormous wasp to leave the opening behind while it clung to the side of the house and crawled up onto the roof.

  "Saints preserve us!" Alto whispered at the sight of the thing. The wasp was at least three feet long.

  A woman, barely more than a girl herself, rushed to the open window and reached up in vain. The wasp had already climbed too far away. She looked down and spied them and cried out, "Help!"

  Alto scrambled to get his bow off his back. He leapt off his horse and bent the weapon to fit the string to it. "Hold, you'll hit the child!" Kar warned.

  The wasp moved to the
apex of the roof and spread its wings. Alto ignored the wizard’s command to wait and fitted an arrow to the string. "If it flies, the babe will be lost!" He drew the string back even as he heard the wizard chanting.

  Alto's arrow struck the edge of the roof and glanced off. It sheared through one of the wasp's wings, dropping it back to the roofline and causing it to turn and drop the baby over the edge. Kar's magic reached out at the same time, spraying out silky strands that covered the house, roof, and the wasp and baby. The magical spiderweb arrested the baby's fall but did nothing to silence its cries. Alto fitted another arrow and took better aim before losing it and killing the struggling wasp.

  "First wasps and now a spider? Why has evil fallen on us!" The woman sobbed. She tugged at her arms and tried to escape the clinging webbing that trapped her in the window. Alto could make out someone behind her pulling at her. After a few more tugs, she fell free of it and disappeared.

  "Seems the town's not deserted after all," Tristam said.

  "That was Geraldine and, I'm betting, her husband Evan. We must hurry and find out what's happened here," Baldwyn said. He was already guiding his horse closer to the house until he stopped and eyed the glistening magical web.

  "Not to worry, a bit of wind and rain will wash it away. It'll burn right quick, too, but it might take the house with it," Kar said.

  "No more fires," Tristam growled.

  Alto found himself nodding even as he led his stallion, Sebas, towards the house. He unstrung his bow and tied it to Sebas before drawing his broadsword and stepping close to the front door. He raised his sword to clear the webbing away when Kar cried out.

  "Don't do that, you'll have a bundle of web on your blade! You can't cut through a cobweb! Come, some wine would melt it away, or water would suffice."

  Namitus joined him with a skin of water. He removed the stopper and flung the water on the spiderweb. True to the wizard's words, the web melted away where the water touched it. A few more splashes cleared a path through the sticky strands. Alto glanced back to his horse where his shield was resting, and then decided it was better to have his sword in hand than a shield. He used his free hand to open the door and stepped into the shadowy house.