Forging Destiny

by Marc Alan Edelheit

  Anguish struck at Tovak when he recognized Jodin. A desire to turn and run hit him like a lightning bolt. For a fleeting moment, he wanted to be anywhere but here. He closed his eyes, took a breath, and forcefully pushed the feeling away.

  “Are you alright?” Maragorn asked with a concerned look.

  “I’m fine, Father. Thank you,” Tovak said finally. “That’s Jodin back there.” He pointed at the warrior who had coughed. “May I speak to him alone?”

  Maragorn gave a nod. He placed a comforting hand on Tovak’s back. “Call for me if you need anything, my son.”

  Tovak nodded in return, then unclipped and dropped his pack on the ground. He took one difficult step after another, drawing nearer to the comrade who had saved his life. The stench inside the tent made his eyes burn.

  When he reached Jodin and got a good look at him, he suppressed a gasp. Jodin’s eyes were closed. His face was ashen and his lips a pale white with tints of blue. Small beads of sweat dotted his forehead. Although the blanket covered his body to his throat, his arms lay on top, exposed. There were splotches of dried blood on both sleeves of his tunic. Tovak realized that even Jodin’s hands were ashen.

  Tovak stood there, staring, with no idea of what to say or do. He knew for certain there was nothing he could do to help Jodin get better. So still was he that Tovak wondered for a moment if the corporal had already passed from the world of the living. He found himself looking to see if Jodin was breathing. He was relieved to see his chest rise slowly—too slowly—and he had to wonder how long Jodin had to live.

  At that moment, Jodin opened his eyes, as if he’d sensed Tovak’s presence, and slowly focused on the figure above him.

  “Hello, Tovak,” he said in a hoarse whisper that was barely audible.

  Tovak went down to one knee and placed his hand on Jodin’s arm. “Hello, Jodin. How are you fee—?” He cut off and closed his eyes for the automatic question that had sprung to his lips. He felt embarrassed for such stupidity. “I’m—I’m sorry,” he whispered. “I didn’t think—”

  “It’s alright,” Jodin said weakly. “There’s nothing to be sorry about.” Tovak felt Jodin’s hand on his own. “In all honesty, I have felt better.” A weak chuckle slipped past Jodin’s lips. The chuckle turned into a wet, sickly coughing fit that wracked his body. Jodin covered his mouth with his hand, and he almost sat fully up as the coughing fit took him. He closed his eyes in what Tovak knew was agony. He groaned once the coughing fit subsided. “Thulla’s mercy, that hurts.” He let his head fall back to the pillow, trembling slightly. Jodin looked at Tovak through red-rimmed eyes. “I appreciate you coming to see me. You have proven yourself to be a true … friend.”

  Tovak felt tears prick at his eyes. There was so much in that one word, friend. He and Jodin had hated one another, even fought, beaten each other bloody, savagely, but after everything, it meant a lot for Tovak to be named a friend. It had all started over Tovak concealing who he was, a Pariah. Now they were all past that. Funny though, Tovak could almost still feel the blows from that fight, as if it had just happened.

  “It’s good to see you too,” Tovak said. “And we are, you know … friends.”

  It was Jodin’s turn to nod.

  An uncomfortable silence hovered between them. Tovak didn’t know what to say.

  “How is the company?” Jodin finally asked, breaking the silence. “Did Struugar ever show up with Second Section?”

  How should he answer? Tovak wasn’t sure if he should tell Jodin the truth or not. There had been so many casualties, so many losses. After a moment of consideration, he decided Jodin deserved the truth, however difficult it might prove to be.

  “Karach led us and one of the infantry companies to go find Struugar,” Tovak said. “They had been ambushed by a tribe of gnomes. We rescued the captain and some of the Second. They lost a good number before we could get to them.” Jodin had gone still. “We’ve taken some terrible losses.”

  Jodin closed his eyes and let out a pained breath, obviously struggling not to cough. Just when Tovak thought he had lost consciousness, Jodin finally opened his eyes and stared at the roof of the tent for a long moment.

  “It is the way of things,” Jodin said quietly, his voice strained. “We fight and we die, and I’m not long for this world.” He turned his eyes to Tovak. “Yet the Great March will continue, without me—as it should.”

  “What kind of talk is that? You’re going to be fine,” Tovak said, in a weak attempt to soothe Jodin’s mind and give him what little comfort he could. “Where there is hope, there is strength, and I’m not about to give up on you, Jodin.”

  Jodin reached out and took Tovak’s hand. He squeezed lightly. Jodin’s hand was ice cold.

  “Thank you,” he said. Jodin fell silent for several heartbeats, and then a strange, almost embarrassed expression crossed his face. “I would clear the slate between us. I regret—well, everything that happened. I’ve been doing a lot of thinking. What else am I going to do in here?” He searched Tovak’s face.

  “I do as well,” Tovak said.

  “Do you think—I mean …?” Jodin hesitated. “Would you be willing to say a prayer for me, like you did after the battle? I—I was told you prayed over me.” He looked sheepish. “Another prayer couldn’t hurt, could it? After ignoring Him so long, would Thulla mind? That is another slate I’d wipe clean.”

  “I don’t think He would mind,” Tovak said and placed a hand gently upon Jodin’s chest, closed his eyes, and bowed his head. Reaching within, he thought on what he wanted to say to his god. “Thulla, I kneel before a noble warrior who seeks Your everlasting love. Like so many others, he has strayed, but in the end has returned home. Turn Your gaze not from him. Show him Your love and bless him, for he is a good person.”

  Tovak felt something within him seem to bubble up, a light or power. It was unexpected, happened so fast, he found it shocking, and then in a heartbeat it was gone. It left his fingers tingling and had vanished almost as soon as it had come.

  He opened his eyes and the tent seemed to sway before him. He suddenly felt terribly weary, exhausted even.

  Jodin’s eyes were wide as he looked on Tovak. Had he felt it too? Tovak shook his head. No. He’d imagined it all. He was just run-down and tired.

  “Thank you, Tovak,” Jodin said, his voice sounding slightly stronger. “Thank you for praying with me. I think when you go, I will speak with our lord too.”

  Another coughing fit seized Jodin. He groaned in pain, covering his mouth with the back of his shirt. When the coughing ended, he pulled back his arm, revealing fresh blood spattered on his sleeve.

  “Perhaps I should get a healer,” Tovak said, looking around. Both priests had gone.

  “No, it’s alright,” Jodin soothed. “You’ve done enough. You have given me my faith back. All I can do now is wait till the end.”

  “And hope,” Tovak replied, “and pray.”

  “And hope and pray,” Jodin said. “I feel tired. I think I will take a nap.”

  “Rest,” Tovak said. “I will come see you tomorrow night if I am able.”

  “I would like that. But I overheard the surgeon saying we were pulling out in the morning. You may not be able to.”

  Tovak gave a nod. The warband still had a mission, whatever that was. “I will come if I am able.”

  Jodin closed his eyes and seemed to fall asleep.

  Tovak turned away and left the tent. He stood outside for a bit, breathing in the fresh air. He could still taste the stench of death on his tongue. Thunder rumbled once again in the distance.

  Thulla, save him, if You can, Tovak pleaded silently. There was no answer. He had not expected one. With that, he started out into the night to find the company camp.

  Chapter Five

  As Tovak made his way through the camp, his thoughts and worries on Jodin were interrupted by a flash of lightning, followed quickly by a deep rumble of thunder. The dying light of the day had fully faded. The temper
ature had finally dropped to the point where he felt cool in his armor. This was probably due to the coming storm. He was tired, weary, and fully worn out.

  He heard the whispering hiss of rain as it overtook the camp, pattering softly against the nearest tents. And when he looked up at the dark sky, a light sprinkle of rain hit his face. He had the feeling that before the night was over, the storm would get much worse.

  Tovak continued quickly through the encampment. He made one wrong turn, but quickly found his way again. It didn’t take him long to return to the Baelix Guard camp. As he passed by Struugar’s tent, he saw that the tent flap had been pulled back. A small lamp was lit, but from what he could see of the interior, Struugar was not inside.

  As he made his way around the supply tent, he spotted Karn walking away from the water barrels, where Gorabor was busy filling waterskins. Gorabor had removed his armor and wore only his tunic, leggings, and boots. All around his feet lay filled waterskins. His blue cloak was wrapped about his shoulders and covered his head in order to keep off the drizzle, which was slowly picking up.

  “Gorabor,” Tovak called wearily as he stepped up to his friend.

  Gorabor turned, a concerned expression filling his face. Having just filled the last skin, he set it down on the ground.

  “Did you find him?” Gorabor asked. “Did you see Jodin?”

  Tovak nodded slowly, feeling wretched as he began to say the words he wished weren’t true. “He’s still alive, but he’s in the death tent. They don’t expect him to make it.”

  Gorabor’s face paled and he drew in a long breath before letting it out slowly.

  Glancing at the back of Struugar’s tent, Tovak asked, “Has the captain returned yet?”

  “I don’t think he has,” Gorabor said. “At least, I haven’t seen him. Do you believe Jodin’s going to die?”

  Tovak studied his friend and saw the disbelief there. He gave a confirming nod, and with it, Gorabor’s shoulders sagged.

  “The conquering heroes return,” a voice boomed out behind them.

  He and Gorabor turned to see Sergeant Bahr stepping out from the supply tent. He held a wax tablet in one hand and a stylus in the other. Bahr’s generally sour expression eased only slightly as he eyed them both.

  “I’m glad to see you both made it back in one piece, lads.” He set the tablet down on a table just outside the supply tent. “Far too many did not.” His eyes shifted to the skirmishers moving about the camp or sitting around fires working at cleaning their gear. Everyone looked tired, run-down, and just plain exhausted.

  Tovak looked around as well. There were now far too many tents for the number of warriors present. A pang of loss tugged at his heart. He felt guilty for having survived when so many had not.

  “Aye,” Gorabor replied.

  Bahr turned his gaze back upon them, hesitated for a moment before speaking. “Word around camp is that you two in particular had a rough time of it out there.”

  “We did, Sergeant,” Gorabor said and absently touched his swollen face. “I was a guest of the enemy.”

  “Uh huh,” Bahr said and his gaze shifted to Tovak while he pointed at Gorabor. “I heard you acted quite heroically in rescuing his sorry ass.”

  Embarrassed, Tovak glanced at the ground and said nothing.

  “Or was it stupidity that drove you on? A misguided sense of friendship perhaps?” Bahr asked, his voice hardening. “You, rushing out there all alone to save your comrades. Are you hunting for Legend? Is that it?”

  Tovak was surprised by the sudden hostility in the sergeant’s tone.

  “I’m grateful he came for me,” Gorabor said, “otherwise I’d be a goner for sure.”

  “Shut up, you,” Bahr said, his gaze fixed on Tovak. “I am talking to the hero.”

  On unsure footing, Tovak kept silent.

  “I heard from a little bird that you left camp without orders,” Bahr said. “Actually, that’s not correct. Someone told me you left against orders. Going off into the darkness and into an enemy camp by yourself. Are you stupid? Vainglorious?”

  Tovak wasn’t sure what vainglorious meant. “No.”

  “No, what?” Bahr asked, in a deadly tone. He took a half step nearer that Tovak found incredibly menacing.

  “No, Sergeant.”

  “Are you a hero, then?” Bahr asked.

  “No, Sergeant,” Tovak said, after a moment’s thought. “I don’t think that I am. I wasn’t able to save Staggen.”

  Bahr was silent for a long moment as he regarded Tovak. When he spoke, some of the hardness had left his voice. Though the sergeant had not been out in the field with them, Tovak thought he detected an edge of weariness in his tone.

  “In my tablet,” Bahr said as he let out a long breath, “heroes tend to get people stone dead, son. They get full of themselves, think they can do whatever they want. Heroes stop playing with the team. So, I’ll ask you again. Are you a hero, Tovak?”

  “I am not a hero, Sergeant,” Tovak said. “I just couldn’t leave them out there.”

  Bahr blew out an angry breath and seemed to soften a little. “Don’t make a habit of it.”

  “We’ve lost so many,” Tovak said softly, glancing around tents, several of which would now be empty.

  “Yes,” Bahr said, “we did. Our job is a dangerous one, during the best of times. We are the shield for our people. We sacrifice so that others may live. That’s why the warband is out here, so our people can survive.”

  Bahr let his eyes move over to where Karn, Bettoth, and Torimar had emerged from a tent and then turned back to Tovak. “Looks like they’re heading to the mess area for some hot food.” He glanced up at the dark sky. The rain was coming down a little harder, but had yet to become a full downpour. “You both better get going, get some food in your bellies before lights out.”

  “Gorabor.” Karn stopped and looked over at them as Bettoth and Torimar continued on. “You can finish that up and distribute the skins later. Come, let’s get some food while it’s hot.” He paused. “You too, Tovak.”

  “I’ll be along shortly, Corporal,” Tovak replied. “I want to get out of this armor and into a fresh tunic.”

  Karn nodded and started off. Gorabor joined the corporal. A moment later, they were gone, having disappeared into the night. Tovak watched them go.

  “You’ve been assigned a new tent, with the rest of your squad,” Bahr said, pointing to one nearby that the corporal and his two squad mates had just emerged from. “Karn wanted you billeted with the rest of his squad. I trust, this time, with the rain, sharing a tent won’t be a problem?”

  “Thank you, Sergeant,” Tovak said. “And it won’t, at least not for me, not now.”

  “Good,” Bahr said, “now get going.”

  Tovak made his way across the camp to the tent. Pulling the flap aside, he stepped into the darkened interior. A small oil lamp in the shape of a fish had been left burning on the ground. The tent smelled strongly of canvas and waterproofing. He brushed off the rain from his cloak and set his pack and sword down on a patch of grass that was not taken. Removing his cloak, he quickly got out of his armor, which badly needed a cleaning. It smelled of sweat, as did his tunic. He changed into his spare shirt and leggings. They weren’t fully clean, but they weren’t soaked with sweat, either. The tunic was presentable. He also needed to bathe. Though it would be cold and out of a bucket, after dinner, he resolved to do just that. Wrapping himself back up in his cloak and pulling it over his head, he stepped into the rain, which was light and had become almost misty.

  As he started off, he nearly bumped into Dagmar, who was coming the other way.

  “What did the healers say?” Tovak asked.

  “Don’t get bit again,” Dagmar said sourly.

  That made Tovak chuckle and lightened his mood.

  “It hurts,” Dagmar replied wearily. “They cleaned it. That was fun, let me tell you. They said it would heal. The ankle will take time too.”

  “I’m headed f
or dinner with the rest of the company,” Tovak said. “Wanna go?”

  “I had some stew in the healers’ tent,” Dagmar replied. “All I want to do right now is get out of this armor and beneath a blanket.” He let out a long breath. “I swear, I could sleep for a week.”

  “I’m tired too,” Tovak agreed.

  “No matter that we got the stuffing kicked out of us, they’ll be sending us out in the morning,” Dagmar said. “I’ve seen it happen before. Mark my words, there will be no break for us. The warchief needs the Baelix too much.” Dagmar glanced sourly around. “I am going to change, clean my kit, and then turn in.”

  “I’ll see you shortly.” Tovak turned and then halted. He pointed. “That’s our tent there.”

  “Bahr said so too,” Dagmar said and headed off towards the tent as Tovak turned away.

  It didn’t take him long to reach the mess area assigned to their company. Exposed to the rain, dozens of long tables filled an open space, bordered on two sides by the backs of tents. Another side opened up to the mess kitchen, the very one where he and Gorabor had fetched the dodders before the disastrous expedition that led so many of the Baelix Guard to ruin. Now, that seemed like an age had passed.

  There were four lines of warriors who had queued up and were waiting for the cooks to serve them. Most of the tables were occupied by those heartily spooning or sopping up a thick stew, chewing on a hunk of dark bread, or lifting large tankards to their lips.

  By the smell, Tovak guessed it was heratta. He let out a long breath. As much as he liked heratta, in all the forms he’d eaten it since joining the Blood Badgers, he was already growing tired of what seemed to be the warband’s staple. Still, his stomach rumbled with hunger.

  Tovak joined one of the four lines and patiently waited his turn. When he finally reached the serving table, he found an unhappy cook, who dumped several ladles of the thick, gray stew into a wooden bowl, plopped a spoon in, and stuck a thick chunk of bread in the middle. An assistant cook placed a large tankard beside the bowl and then motioned for Tovak to take it and go.

  “Thanks,” Tovak said, grabbing the bowl and tankard.