Shattered Destiny

by West, Shay

  Forka cursed silently. It was obvious the animals could sense his presence. The man finished and passed within a few feet of him. The man's stench made the Guardian gag. He pushed his face into his arm and breathed through his nose. They live like animals.

  Suddenly, he felt a tingling behind his eyes.

  The signal.

  The combined camp of the Horde and the Cowboys exploded in a flurry of activity. Forka yelled and waved his arms at the horses. It wasn't until later that he realized how silly it had been to flail his arms while he was still invisible.

  The terrified animals bolted, running down anyone in their path. They also trampled tents, adding to the confusion. Forka could hear explosions from all around, the brilliant work of the Astrans. The enemy ran about the camp, trying to find someone to fight, but all they could see were their own kind. The screams of the burned and dying filled the air.

  Forka threw down his blunt blade and took a sharp knife off the corpse of a Cowboy. As soon as it touched his skin, it became invisible. Forka darted through the camp, stabbing and slashing at any enemy he could find, men and women alike.

  Most of the Jhinn were being held in tents toward the center of the camp. The Chosen and their Guardians made their way toward these tents. The enemy was scared and getting more terrified by the minute. They couldn't fight what they couldn't see.

  Forka continued to slash and cut, driving them away from the tents that held the Jhinn. He could hear them inside, screaming, too frightened to come out and see what kind of terror had descended on the camp.

  He jumped as Sloan and Robert appeared right next to him. Both men turned and faced opposite directions.

  “People of the Jhinn! Come out! We are here to rescue you! You must hurry!”

  The men had practiced the speech until they could say it at the same time. One of the Astrans - Forka forgot who was in charge of this task - had used their magic so the voices of Sloan and Robert carried over the din to reach the far edges of the camp.

  Forka turned from the two men. He needed to give them time to get the Jhinn to safety. The smoke made it difficult to see. His eyes watered, and his throat burned. He wiped at his eyes absently, straining to see in the haze.

  Suddenly, Samson himself materialized out of the smoke, wielding a wicked-looking blade. The man was as tall as Forka but was so wide as to make him appear shorter. His red hair and beard were singed black at the ends. Forka moved to intercept the man's knife, taking perverse pleasure in the look of shock on the man's face when his blade stopped in midair.

  The Horde leader swiped randomly, eyes wide with fright. Forka dodged his clumsy efforts easily. He could have finished the Horde leader in one stroke, but he found himself enjoying tormenting the man. Forka circled slowly, tapping Samson on the backside, on a meaty arm, even on the back of his head.

  “Stand and face me like a man! Why do you run from Samson? Afraid?” The man's shaky voice diminished his boasting somewhat.

  “A man wouldn't live like this, taking and not giving back,” Forka snarled, unable to keep himself from rising to the bait. He cried out as the man centered on his voice and nearly took his head off.

  “A real man takes what he wishes and answers to no one!” Samson was covered in a sheen of sweat.

  “We all answer to God,” Forka said, quickly darting to the left to avoid a crushing blow.

  “There is no God, you pious fool! He has deserted us.”

  “There is a God. And when you die, you maggot-ridden piece of dung, you will find yourself burning in the fiery pits of hell,” Forka whispered. He was done playing games. He moved in for the kill.

  Just then, Wild Bill came running out of the smoke. “What are you doing? We need to get out of here.” The cowboy hat he normally wore had been lost somewhere, and his jet-black hair stood up wildly.

  “We don't run from the enemy. But if you are frightened, then by all means, run like a girl.” Samson sneered at Wild Bill.

  “I want to live, damn it! We're being attacked, and we're losing!”

  Forka took the opportunity and sliced at the exposed arms of both men, drawing blood. He reveled in seeing the red welling out of the wound. He felt invincible.

  --Robert and Sloan have managed to get most of the Jhinn out of the camp, and they are heading for the other camp by the water.

  Forka shook his head, wondering how the two could have possibly gotten the Jhinn out so quickly. They had figured it would take at least ten minutes to get them out of the camp. Forka glanced about him, keeping an eye on Samson and Wild Bill as well. He was alone with the two men.

  He was stunned at how easily he had lost track of time. Wild Bill tugged on Samson's arm, succeeding in pulling the man toward a stand of trees.

  --The Astrans will drop the invisibility shield. Everyone make for the safety of the trees.

  Forka had no idea which clone had sent the message. All of their voices sounded exactly the same. No inflection, no emotion, no individuality. He growled as he made for the trees in the opposite direction of Samson and Wild Bill. It galled him to watch the two men run away. Why didn't I just kill them?

  He had barely made it to the trees when the invisibility shield dropped. His skin tingled a little. He glanced around, looking for enemy fighters. Now that he could be seen, he didn't feel as arrogant and sure of himself.

  Gwen and Keera were nearby, both covered in blood and looking none too pleased about it. The two girls gazed about in confusion, unsure of the direction of the Jhinn camp.

  Forka called out to them. They sighed in relief and ran as fast as they could, looking around them in fear, certain that someone was going to come through the smoke to kill them.

  Forka fought the urge to follow after Samson and Wild Bill. He knew that if those two were killed, the rest of the enemy would flounder. Only those two men had been able to maintain control over the rest. Every now and again, someone would confront Samson or Wild Bill about their ability to lead the camp. A fight would ensue, leaving the rival dead. Samson and Wild Bill led their people with an iron fist and an insatiable blood lust. Both men knew that by allowing the men and women their fun, it was easier to control them.

  Forka and the two girls headed back to the Jhinn camp. Along the way, they met up with Feeror and Voilor. Both men were coated in blood. In contrast to Gwen and Keera, these two looked perfectly at ease, as thought they were unaware of the filth covering their bodies. Feeror looked pleased that Gwen was safe. The man walked with the dwarf girl, close but not touching. He did not seem to notice the disapproving looks Voilor shot his way.

  It wasn't long before they came upon the Jhinn. The men and women in the back of the group spotted Forka and the others. They sent up a cheer of joy and gratitude. Forka squirmed under all the attention. The questions bombarded him, coming too fast to answer any of them.

  “We need to get you to safety. Samson and Wild Bill are still out there. If they regroup, they will come after you again, and this time we won't have the element of surprise.” Forka moved to the front of the large group. His heart sank when he saw the condition of the men, women, and children. Their too-thin bodies were covered in a multitude of bruises, some old and yellowing, others fresh as if they had just happened that morning. The children clung to their parent's legs, not making a sound, their eyes shadowed and haunted.

  Forka wanted to run them back to the camp, and yet their condition did not allow such strenuous activity. The Chosen had taken up positions surrounding the Jhinn, eyes peeled for any pursuit, but that didn't alleviate his anxiety. Gerok held a bloody blade in front of him, wielding it like a club.

  A quick glance showed Forka that all the Chosen had survived the fight. The risk to them had been great. But the plan had worked. The enemy could not fight what they couldn't see. Forka thanked God for the Astrans’ power. If not for that, a rescue would have been impossible. Or at the very least, most of them would have been killed, and most of the Jhinn would still be trapped in the camp.


  Brok came to stand next to his friend and comrade, holding the reins of several bedraggled horses. They carried children who had been unable to find their parents. Forka knew that someone in the camp would adopt them and give them a good home.

  “We did it, old friend.” Brok looked like he was ready to fall over. His hands trembled and he stumbled, hardly able to keep his footing.

  “I can call for a break, if you need.”

  Brok shook his head. “The sooner we get to the camp, the better. We will have a hard time defending these people if we are caught out here.”

  Forka kept as close an eye on his friend as he did the surrounding countryside. Brok grew more pale with each passing mile. Forka noticed that the old man was massaging his left arm and wincing in pain. But the stubborn old man refused to stop.

  “We're almost there. I can rest then.”

  The Jhinn breathed a collective sigh of relief when they saw the camp. Their pace picked up, and they began talking, discussing what they needed to do to get the camp back in order. The people dispersed, each going to the remains of their homes, sifting through ash and dirt to see if there was anything worth salvaging.

  Forka's spirits fell when he saw how few Protectors were at the burned-out hulk of the bunkhouse. They greeted their General carefully, still unsure what to make of their comrades’ strange return and rescue. They had noticed the fireballs coming from out of thin air and had watched the enemy fall, their bodies pierced by unseen blades.

  A few were angry at the General for leaving and taking the best fighters with him.

  Forka could see the accusation in their eyes. It was hard to face. He had questioned the decision to leave the night Tess had been murdered in her bed. His mind had been a jumble, and he had simply acted on instinct.

  He frowned. A thought suddenly occurred to him. Was it possible that if they had stayed behind that night - if he had waited for the signs to appear before taking the Chosen to the portal - was it possible they would have been taken or killed when the enemy came? He shook his head. These thoughts would do no good. What was in the past, was in the past and could not be changed. It was madness to think that Tess’ death had perhaps prevented more of them from being killed. Her death certainly didn't save Martha, or young Brent, or Mark. Forka took a deep breath. He would need to find their families and tell them that their loved ones were gone. It was going to be difficult to come up with a cover story that would satisfy the people.

  Why not tell them the truth?

  Mark's logical voice broke through Forka's thoughts. He smiled ruefully. The man had had a knack for simplifying a complicated problem. It would be hard to convince the others to tell the Jhinn the truth, about everything.

  Perhaps not as hard as you think.

  He had heard the whispers of the Jhinn while they walked. They were trying to convince themselves that the fireballs, the enemy being slashed by invisible knives, and people appearing out of thin air were all in their heads, brought on by hunger and despair. They had all seen things that, to their minds, were not possible. Forka wondered if perhaps the time for secrecy was over.

  “Forka! Come quickly!”

  Forka looked at Gerok who raced toward him, his face tight with worry. “What is it? Is the enemy coming?”

  “No. Something is wrong with Brok,” Gerok said.

  Forka said a silent prayer as he followed Gerok. Brok was lying on the ground, and Mark Halliwell, the closest thing the Jhinn had to a doctor, was helping the man to sit and drink some water.

  “What is it? What's wrong, Sawbones?”

  Sawbones glanced up at Forka, and the spasm of pain that wracked his face was all Forka needed. “Someone needs to bring the Astrans here.” He ignored the strange look Sawbones gave him and kneeled down next to Brok.

  The man's face was grey and sickly, and his eyes were covered with the film of impending death. His breath rattled in his chest, and with each one Brok winced in pain.

  “Is there anything we can do?” Forka felt helpless, as helpless as he had felt while watching Amber die so very long ago.

  Sawbones shook his head. “It's his heart. It's done in. I don't have any of my supplies so I can't make him the white sleep. All we can do is wait. And pray.”

  Brok slipped in and out of consciousness, crying out for his sires, apologizing for his failure as a Guardian, pleading with the good Spirits to take him. Forka could not believe they were about to lose another of their party. Gerok and I can't do this alone.

  “What's wrong with him?” Keera demanded as she ran up. The others stood by her, staring at Brok with wide eyes, hands gripping each other tightly.

  “Where are my Chosen? Are they here?”

  Gwen hated hearing Brok's voice so feeble. She wanted to hear the strong and sure voice, yelling at them to pay attention to their lessons, or reprimanding some mistake. He can't die! She felt as though her world were spinning out of control.

  “We're all here,” Saemus whispered sadly.

  Brok mumbled incoherently. Saemus leaned in close trying in vain to make sense of the man's words.

  “He is fading fast,” Sawbones whispered. “Best say your good-byes.”

  “NO!” Jon roared as he shoved past Gwen and Keera. He hit his knees and drew so much of the dark power so fast that he nearly fainted. He placed his hands on his teacher and carefully sent the magic into the man.

  Brok sat up, mouth gaping like a fish out of water. His arms flailed and his legs thrummed on the ground, stirring up dirt.

  “Jon! What are you doing?” Kaelin wanted to throw up. The magically-animated corpse made her skin crawl and sent an icy shiver of revulsion down her spine.

  Come on! Come on! Jon sent more and more of the magic into Brok, throwing his will to bear on a single act: to force Brok's body to live. Brok's chest rose and fell, and the air wheezed in his throat. But there was no life in his eyes.

  “Stop it! He is gone. You can't stop death, no matter how powerful you are.” Keera stood sheltered in Sloan's arms. He had come to the distraught girl, wanting to offer what support he could. He had surprised even himself when he found his arm coming around her shoulders, and he was even more surprised to find her melting against him. Like Valery and Amber used to do.

  Jon did not answer. He continued to send the power into the body of his teacher, his Guardian, animating the corpse and yet unable to give it life. It was a grotesque display.

  Forka had had enough. He grabbed Jon's arm in a vice-like grip. “You will stop. Now.” Forka did not flinch as the boy stared him down with jet black eyes, nor did he loosen his grip. He simply stared with his piercing blue eyes with a look that had been known to force others to do his will.

  Jon cried out in anguish and rage, screaming until Forka was certain the boy's throat was going to tear in two. He rocked back and forth, weeping and crying out that it wasn't fair, it wasn't right for Brok to die.

  Forka did not know how to console the boy. He was dealing with the turmoil of his own emotions. Mirka's death has been so quick. The enemy fireball hadn't even left a body to mourn or to bury. But looking at Brok's body left no doubt that the old man's spirit had left him. His chest no longer rose and fell; his eyes were open and staring at nothing.

  “What are we going to do?” Kaelin asked dully. She stared at Brok's body with no expression. Her body felt as though someone else were animating it and she was very far away, a bystander watching the horror unfold. She knew she should feel sad or angry or bitter, but it was as if she understood what the emotions meant but couldn't actually feel them.

  “We have a cemetery behind the church. Robert can say a few words.” Brad came up behind Kaelin and held her shoulders. He knew she was in shock. He had seen it when the Jhinn had been forced to fight and come face-to-face with death. The mind sheltered the person from the horror so that it could be dealt with later, when things weren't so fresh and painful.

  He also knew that the sooner she came to grips with the death of
her Guardian, the better. The longer she put off grieving, the worse it would be. Brad forced her to turn to him. “Robert has some nice scripture he can read. But we need to do it now. We still have a job to do.” He touched her cheek, taking some of the harshness from his words.

  Her lips trembled as she gazed into his eyes. She blinked a few times, trying to keep the tears at bay. “Whatever you think is best.”

  “It is best. Once we have the Jhinn settled, we have to return to Gentra.”

  Her eyed hardened. “What is the point? We are obviously lost. We should just all return to our own worlds and enjoy whatever time we have left.” She barely got the last words out before the sobs took over.

  Brad took her in his arms, wishing to shelter her from the harsh reality of death. This was the first person close to her that had passed. The dead back on Astra, the deaths of the other Chosen, even the deaths of the enemy were not the same thing as losing someone you knew. It brought up feelings of intense loss and an emptiness that seemed would never be filled.

  “Why don't we honor him in the Volgon way?” Gwen spoke up timidly. “He was a fighter, and he deserves to be honored as such.” She wanted to feel that wild abandon again, to dance and revel in Master Brok's death rather than wallow in it.

  “That is a nice thought little one, but I think perhaps burial might be best.” Robert glanced knowingly at the Jhinn moving about them, trying their best to remain unobtrusive in this sad moment.

  Gwen nodded in understanding. “You are right, of course. I just wish we could give him a memorable send-off.”

  Robert smiled down at her. “I promise I will do my best.”

  “Of course you will! I didn't mean to imply…I mean, what I meant was…”

  Robert laughed. “I was there for the Volgon ceremony. It was quite spectacular. My words won't be, I'm afraid.”

  “I am sure that the burial will be just perfect.” Gwen resigned herself to a common burial. But they really couldn't be dancing about in the nude while burning Master Brok's body. The poor Jhinn would think they had all gone mad.