Tides of Fate

by Sean J Leith

  “No, Miss Mirado. We’ve been quietly sipping our mead. Do you really think Miss Ralta would wish to speak to me?” He meant to hide his emotions, but his expression still showed sorrow over anything else.

  Domika could tell something was up but shrugged and sat down beside Vesper at the bar. “I guess I can’t argue that.”

  Kayden knew he was saying that for her benefit, and she silently appreciated it. Her gaze didn’t leave the window nearby.

  “So, what’s the plan, Kayden?” Domika asked. She scratched her head, hand in the small flame that flickered over her hair. The flame in Blazik hair wasn’t truly real, Kayden knew, but still thought it was strange. It was warm, but not too hot, or painful to the touch.

  Kayden was suspicious. Why is she being so nice, let alone asking about my plans? Kayden looked around the bar, seeing no one around. Even then she whispered to the others. “Sewers. Word is, the sewers lead under the noble’s manor. They have guard towers all around the place, as well as soldiers at every gate,” Kayden whispered. We really shouldn’t be talking about this outside of our room, despite the bar being absolutely desolate, she thought nervously.

  “Ew, sewers! I hate the smell of those,” Domika whimpered.

  “Be quiet. Do you want people to hear us?” Kayden furrowed her thin brow.

  Domika blinked owlishly and nodded quickly as her eyes shot left to right. She hadn’t paid much attention. “Sorry.” She smiled sweetly, looking to the kitchen door as Dran brought out goat flanks and potatoes for everyone, with a Flanbird stew for Magnus.

  He likes that stuff? Everyone had preferences, she supposed. Flanbirds had brittle, translucent skin, yellow and white, with thick feathers. Their skin was filled with thick juices, which formed the base for the stew. It was goopy slop that curdled in the mouth. Gross.

  Each of them dug into their meals. Vesper carefully cut his potato with fork and knife, as did Lira and Domika. Kayden grabbed her potato in hand, whole, and took a big bite. It tasted glorious. It was hot yet fluffy, not dry or pasty. “Mmm,” she moaned. “Damn, that’s good.” She opened her eyes to see glances from the others, except Magnus, who silently sipped his flanbird soup. “What?” she asked.

  Each of them held utensils. Domika raised a brow and gave an irritating smile, Vesper, a funny, sly grin, and Lira was altogether confused.

  Kayden looked them right in the eye, turning her head to stare both ways as she took another giant bite of her potato. “Mmmmm!” she mumbled loudly. The rest laughed as she enjoyed her food. The potato was even all the way through, and it had been awhile since she ate a meal this well made. She finally used utensils for the flank, jamming a fork into it like an enemy she vowed revenge on. She was shoveling pieces in as fast as she could. She felt as if she hadn’t eaten in days.

  Food was precious to Kayden, in a way. She went hungry many times in her life—in her youth, adolescence, and adulthood. When she joined the rebellion, she felt free. She felt the stares of her comrades at that moment but couldn’t have cared less.

  In her periphery, she saw that Magnus was the only one not staring, eating his meal quietly. He held his spoon like a feather between his middle and forefinger, clasped together with his large thumb. Eyes closed, he was sifting the spoon from the closest end to the farthest of the bowl to gather the soup, pouring it into his mouth without a slurp or even a sound.

  The rest dug into their flank with a knife and fork, removing one piece at a time. The succulent meat juices poured out with each gentle draw of the knife. Kayden cut viciously, tearing off large pieces and eating them without pause.

  “Someone’s hungry,” Domika said.

  Kayden shot her a fierce eye with a mouth full of flank, swallowing her last bite. The last thing they needed was another fight. Why did Jirah send us together, again? He knew there were problems before. She just shrugged, attempting not to provoke an issue again. Domika actually turned away, deciding not to poke further, to her surprise. Kayden sat back, noticing that everyone was still eating. While she didn’t mind the silence, she had a plan on her mind.

  “Since I’m done, I’ll explain what we should do,” Kayden whispered. She looked around, seeing no one in the bar. She felt that Dran and Krag were trustworthy enough to overhear. “We go tomorrow night. Until then, we gather information about the manor and the situation, but don’t provoke anyone.” She sneered at Domika. “Then we move for the sewers and hope we can make it there. We don’t have maps, so we’re on our own.”

  Everyone paused their meals to listen, and they all nodded to her. Well that was easy, she thought. At least everyone is being nice, today of all days.

  While they continued to eat, Kayden leaned on the bar and stared out the window. She knew what day it was, but clearly didn’t mention it to anyone. It didn’t really matter, anyway. Four seasons of the elements reigned over all lands—Water, the season of rain; Fire, the season of dry weather and heat; Earth, the season with minimal rain and the approach of the coldest season; Air, of cold winds and snow. She lived through the air in the north, barely. The season was as long as the others but killed many due to its severe cold. She liked the season of Water.

  It was the fifty-seventh eve of water—her eighteenth day of birth. Kayden disliked birthdays. Why does anyone need their own day? Why that day? She didn’t remember her birth, so it wasn’t important. She hadn’t celebrated a birthday since her parents’ death. No one ever knew it except Jirah, who demanded the birthdays of all those who entered his command. The last gift she received for her birthday was the marking upon her back. She moved her arm to touch it, feeling the pain over again and wincing strongly. She asked Sheeran if she was to have a gift, and she certainly did when sent to Callidan. A shiver went up her spine and she shook subtly.

  “Kayden, are you okay?” Lira asked. Her warm, brown eyes were wide and filled with concern. She moved her hand to place it on Kayden’s back.

  Kayden felt the claw of a dagger and shrank back with a yelp. Her eyes shot to Lira in an instant, and her breaths ran to a charge. Watching Lira pull her hand back to her mouth in a gasp, she—it took a moment to recover. Remembering. No knife this time. “I, uh, slept funny last night. Don’t worry about me,” she added.

  “Okay,” Lira said quietly. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to impose.”

  “Don’t worry about it, princess.” She dropped into thought about the marks and what they meant to her—what they meant for her past and future.

  “I must retreat upstairs, I have much reading to do,” Vesper said. He glanced at Kayden, and she nodded in response. She would keep his secret.

  Lira nodded. “I, the same. I have to improve my magic and do my nightly prayers if I’m going to be of any use!” she said. While she didn’t have confidence in herself, she at least tried to help. “Do you want to come, Kayden?”

  “No, I’m going to sit here a little while longer. I like time to myself.” She spent long stretches alone, whether there were people near or far. Sheeran made her feel alone. She wanted to forget his existence entirely. For her, a day of birth was a day best spent alone.

  Lira nodded and followed Vesper upstairs.

  Domika grabbed Magnus’s arm, leaning into him. “I love the moonlight at night. Magnus, would you walk with me? I promise I won’t get us into trouble,” she said longingly.

  Magnus nodded slowly, finally finishing his flank and stew. “Of course, my lady. I will escort you.”

  Oh please, Kayden thought. Domika was nowhere near subtle. It was as if she found his quiet listening endearing. Kayden thought they were a decent pair since she talked and he listened. It was exhausting for Kayden to be within earshot; she had no idea how Magnus handled it all. She figured his age had something to do with it. She wondered how much experience he’d gained in the one hundred and twenty-six years he lived.

  Magnus followed Domika out of the tavern and inn, leaving Kayden alone at the bar. He was calm and quiet, wearing his ridiculous, rusty, cracked armor and carry
ing two blades on his left hip, one inside a black sheath she hadn’t seen as of yet. He always drew the brown one, which was a typical, steel long blade. He held the black sheath as he walked and kept it close while he slept.

  She touched her teal scarf, wondering if it was something as important to him. He never spoke of it and ignored the questions about it—or was furious if anyone pushed the question. Kayden never inquired about it, as she felt his business was his business. It’s probably just a keepsake, she reasoned.

  The moonlight shone brightly through the windows. She loved the moon, her beacon of hope in darkness. She thought of the time she spent in darkness, wrought in fear of what her fate would be. ‘I won’t forget you, little lady,’ Sheeran would say, before leaving her for minutes, hours, days, or longer in the hole. It was always for her ‘own good.’ It unsettled her now, still.

  The moon comforted her when she spent her nights alone traveling from Zenato to the crystalline forest of Kholrani, to Orinas, and finally to Loughran. She had been alone for a year, but it was the best year she lived since her parents’ murder.

  She had enough time thinking to herself. She wanted to dig her nose into a book or two—it had been too long. “Hey, do you have any books?” Kayden asked Dran, who was cleaning tables nearby.

  “Oh, yes, m’dear. Just a couple. Would you like to see them?

  “Yes.”

  Dran brought out three books, one filled with cooking recipes, another about the history of the nobility, and one about species in the region.

  Kayden didn’t care for recipes much, and she already read the history book. “I’ll take the one about the species. I’ll put it behind the counter after I’m finished.”

  “You’re very welcome, dear. Please let me know if you need anything else,” Dran replied.

  Kayden nodded, looking to her book. It detailed descriptions of various birds, wolves, and fish in the forestlands and marshes. Even some about the Treants in the north, living in the dead Forkal forest. A bit of an ironic name if you ask me, she thought. They would stand between six and twenty-five feet tall, but were peaceful as long as they were not provoked.

  The Broken tribes in the north end of Loughran attempted to burn the forest to take over the region and not allow the Treants to interfere. Sadly for the Broken, they did not expect the Treants to be difficult to burn. They had to be carved down with weapons, which did not end well for the Broken. They were powerful warriors, but treants were over twenty feet tall.

  Kayden sat at the bar in thought for over an hour it seemed, sipping at water while staring into space. She felt sleepy but resisted the urge to go upstairs. She did not know why, possibly because the others were still out. Her heart did not slow until the group was whole, whether hunting when at camp, or on a walk through the town. Whenever someone left her presence in the twilight saying they would return, her mind did not relax until they did. She knew if she attempted to sleep, it was wasted effort.

  Another hour passed, her mind raced still. Where are they? she thought. What if something happened? What if they were captured? She tried to calm down but couldn’t. After another half hour, her breathing became panicked. She looked around, only seeing Dran cleaning the empty tables by the other side of the bar. She smashed her fist on the bar, frustrated. That’s it, I’m going out there.

  Slam.

  “Whoops!” Domika exclaimed, falling into the door as it swung open, laughing hysterically. She’d had a bit of the drink, clearly. She brought her forefinger to her mouth, “Shhh,” she said, giggling, her bronze skin glowing in the dim lanternlight. She lumbered to the stairs, tip-toeing as carefully as could be, otherwise known as loud and clambering.

  Magnus strolled in after her with his hands casually behind his back. He glanced at Kayden, with a subtle smile. He meandered to the stool beside her, sitting down without a noise. “She requested a stop at an interesting establishment owned by Blaziks,” Magnus explained. “We walked through the town. It is a delightful place at night.”

  “You shouldn’t’ve been gone so long,” she said, fists clenched. She was worried sick and anxious but wouldn’t dare admit it.

  “I apologize, my lady,” Magnus replied.

  “Just be careful next time,” Kayden sighed. She wondered about his background. He’d been alive for over a century. What has he seen? How much hate has he endured? After a moment of silence, she added, “You can just call me Kayden, you know.”

  “I will, my lady.” His comforting red eyes flickered with the light in the room.

  Kayden sighed. “Well, it was worth a try. I’m no lady.”

  “And I am not a sir.” He lifted his arm to feel the small black horns above his forehead protruding from his hair. “Who would knight a Hellspawn?”

  She truly disliked when someone felt inferior due to what they were. His horns weren’t bad—she liked them, actually. “I would. I don’t care what someone looks like.” She was a branded low-born; the only thing she wasn’t was a bastard, but those weren’t frowned upon in most regions as much as the others. Some of the royal Kings and Queens of the past were bastards, she knew. Even if one was born out of wedlock, the blood ran strong. “I just care if they’re on my side or not. You’re a sir to me, and clearly to Vesper and Jirah.”

  Magnus chuckled, “I am not knighted. Why name me a sir?”

  “It’s a term for a brave, honorable person to them. Titles don’t mean anything. They name people knights for being high-borns, leaving low-borns to be farmers and other laborious professions. A knight can be a coward and a rapist. A rogue sell sword can be a brave man and a savior. You determine which one you are.” There was a long silence after that, and Kayden’s gaze didn’t leave the wall. “How do you handle being called a monster for so long?”

  Magnus paused, letting out a long sigh. “I know my people are monsters. I do what I can to change the tide.” He drew his mouth to the side, “It never stops hurting, however.”

  “My people aren’t monsters, either,” Kayden said gruffly. She scratched her head and ruffled her long, knotted mane of hair.

  “I know,” he said, gazing at the brand behind her ear. “Some regions just need more guidance. If I’m not mistaken, the leader of the Archipelago is a branded low-born.”

  “She is?” Kayden blinked, wide-eyed. “I didn’t know.” Maybe that will help. Maybe I could meet her—but doubtless, she wouldn’t want to meet with me, Kayden thought, dejected. They were silent for a time, sitting at the bar, leaving their silent words to the lanternlight and night beyond.

  Magnus glanced at her as if he had something to say, one hand still behind his back. “Sir Mirado had a list in his bag of people’s days.”

  Damn it, he better not know.

  “Why did you not mention your day to the others?” Magnus asked. “I do enjoy days of birth. They remind me of my parents. Mine is on the fifth eve of Fire,” he said with a light tone.

  “I haven’t celebrated a birthday since I was eight, Mags. No one’s ever known it or given a damn,” Kayden grumbled. “Who needs a special day for entering this world, anyway?”

  “Everyone deserves to be appreciated,” Magnus said.

  I just don’t like attention. Lira definitely loved a day of birth—Kayden already knew hers was on the thirteenth eve of Earth. Did he tell anyone? Before she could accuse him, he was ready.

  “Do not worry, I did not mention it to anyone,” he said. “I felt you would be displeased.”

  Not as dumb as he looks. She huffed and looked away, closing her eyes dismissively.

  “I saw you smile at them when we entered town,” he said quietly. “I thought you may like it.”

  She looked over, seeing a pristine, blooming black flower decorated with little starry-white specks and its quintessential veins of pale lavender—a nightrain flower—gently held between his large fingers. He held it out to her.

  “That’s really—” Overcome with emotion, she remembered her mother giving them to her on her birt
hday so long ago. She grew teary-eyed, and sniffed loudly, barely stuttering her words. “That’s really sweet—” her voice trailed off as she held out a shaky hand. She carefully accepted the flower, in bloom from the evening sky. As violet-black as the universe above, its eye a white hue as beautiful as the stars. “It’s my favorite flower.” She sniffled and rubbed her nose as she held back her tears. “It’s beautiful.”

  “It is beautiful,” Magnus agreed with a light nod. “Do not forget that you are, as well.”

  “Th—thanks,” she said in a quavering tone. “I haven’t gotten a gift in ten years.” She smiled, drowning in nostalgia. “You made my day.”

  Magnus smiled at her, getting up from his stool. “I am glad I could,” he chuckled. “I will not mention you smiled, either.”

  She sniffled a laugh, still eyeing the flower between her fingers. “Your pretty ladyfriend is gonna be pissed to know you’re giving other women flowers.”

  “It is not like that,” Magnus said. “She enjoys talking. I listen. You learn a lot more from someone when you observe.” He walked to the bottom of the stairs. “Good night, Kayden.”

  “Good night,” she said, as he walked to the top of the stairs. Suave idiot, she chuckled to herself. He was observant. He was kind and strangely gentle, but seemingly very intimidating as a presence. She glanced around, realizing she was the only one on the bottom floor. The only light came from the moon and the ever-lit lantern behind the counter. She slowly twirled the nightrain flower in her hand. She smiled again. ‘Don’t forget that you are, too,’ he’d said.

  “Thanks, Mags.”

  Chapter Twenty

  Broken Consciousness

  Zaedor Nethilus

  Zaedor awoke to the smell of sweat, feces, and rotten food. His vision was hazy, the cloth he was gagged with clearly had some alchemical agent to sedate him. It was slightly cool in the echoed room he was in. He wondered where he was, and hardly believed he was still in the desert. Iron rubbed against his skin as he shifted—a metal cage. It was big enough for one man, but two would be too many—which there were.