Tides of Fate

by Sean J Leith

  “Will Amirion fall again? Will they defeat the giant that has broken their walls? My friends, let us find out now—why wait? Kuralian company and Fallad company shall engage in combat once more, and there is no more time for talk! I bring you, Gorlin, the Giant-killer! Zaedor, lone survivor of Amirion!”

  The announcer spread his arms wide. “Begin!”

  Zaedor knew what to do. Agility was key, as was a lack of mercy. Blood must have blood. He saw the wolf cowl atop Gorlin’s head.

  Zaedor knew no fear, only anger. He dashed forward with no holds barred. He expected Gorlin’s fist and dodged it. Zaedor swiftly grabbed the so-called giant-slayer’s torso and struck the sensitive spot on his lower-mid back repeatedly, causing the beastly man to growl in agony.

  He felt Gorlin’s pull throw him to the ground. Zaedor kicked up in no time with the bounce, shaking it off. His stood tall as Gorlin dashed at him again. Zaedor evaded his charge, dropping quickly to slam his arm into the back of Gorlin’s knee, causing him fall to his other. Gorlin swung for Zaedor’s head, knocking him hard in the chin, but he latched onto the grisly man’s arm; Gorlin couldn’t shake him. Zaedor bit his arm with all his might, piercing flesh with his guillotine of a jaw. With another growl of pain, Gorlin gripped Zaedor’s long, slick flow of hair and ripped it back, attempting to release his bite, and tore some hair out with the force. Zaedor released his arm, and both fell to the ground.

  The crowd was in an uproar of applause, screaming for more. Both combatants rose and looked to each other with hatred and fire in their eyes. Gorlin released a clenched fist, dropping Zaedor’s hair to the ground. He chuckled and circled around Zaedor slowly. Zaedor watched his every move: the vibration of his hands and muscles, the movement of his dark eyes, and the trickle of his sweat. Blood flowed down his forearm from the wound Zaedor gave him.

  Dirty shifter! All he saw was Cloaker.

  Gorlin dashed at him, but Zaedor was ready. He evaded the swings like Cloaker’s vines, and his head-butt like the plant form’s maw. Zaedor quickly dropped down, grabbed Gorlin’s legs, and pulled them out from under him. Gorlin slammed onto his back. Zaedor jumped onto him and chopped his throat and shoved a fist, middle knuckle forward, under his ribs. Gorlin choked and gasped for air. Zaedor’s fists came down immediately after and slammed Gorlin’s head into the ground.

  “Pay for what you’ve done to me! To my home, to my king!” Zaedor yelled. His teeth clenched like a vice. His fists pounded blood out of Gorlin’s nose without mercy. Gorlin slammed the ground with his arm in surrender, but Zaedor didn’t care. He didn’t stop. He couldn’t stop. His bloodlust had to be satiated. Gorlin attempted to block Zaedor’s, blows but to no avail.

  “We have a winner!” the announcer yelled. The crowd went wild. Zaedor did not stop. Soon, the crowd’s cheers faded into silence. “Stop him, stop him now!”

  With a final blow, Zaedor cracked Gorlin’s chin to the side. His hands felt so brittle they seemed broken. The massive guards pulled him off of the corpse and dragged him away.

  Zaedor’s scalp was bloodied and his face was bruised. He stared at the body of Gorlin, also bloody with broken face. He lay motionless, eyes unmoving. It was Gorlin’s body. Not Cloaker’s. There was no cowl. There only lay Gorlin, dead and disfigured.

  The announcer’s voice grew tremulous. “Th—the victor—the lone survivor of Amirion!” The crowd stayed silent as the guards dragged him out. A thousand pairs of eyes watched Zaedor as he was taken away.

  The guards quickly unwrapped his arms and moved him back to his cage with Kindro. Maroia stormed into the prison dome moments later. “What the hell was that, boy?” he roared. Many of the other prisoners grew alert. Zaedor looked slowly to Kindro and Freya.

  What happened? Freya mouthed to him. She looked at his blood-covered fists.

  “Are you trying to get me killed?” Maroia said with a steeled voice, pointing furiously at Zaedor. “Listen up, whelps. It looks like the traitor had a different idea in mind. You’ll be lucky if Kuralian lets you fight against his own again, and you know what that means. If he says no for three weeks away from the ring—I’ll let you wonder what happens then,” he growled.

  “Zaedor, did you kill him?” Freya cried, a tear forming at the corner of her eye.

  Why is she sad, all of a sudden? She killed someone before. What’s the difference? He stared back to Maroia. “You told me to fight, so I fought. You told me to win, so I won,” Zaedor said bluntly, shaking the bars.

  Maroia only showed a steeled, stone face, without a hint of humor. “You won me a lot of gold,” he said, turning. “That’s why I’m not going to kill you—yet.”

  “Then what do you want?”

  “Just know you’re hanging by a thread, just like your people.” Maroia struck a nerve, knowing he would. “You killed a Breaker, even when you were told to stop. You’re reckless, a loose cannon, and a danger to our organization. You pull something insane like that again, and I’ll have you executed. Your friends, too. The hairy idiot, and the beast.”

  “What the hell did you just say?” Freya yelled, rattling her cage.

  Fallad gave her a dismissive wave. “Calm down, woman. You fight like an animal—feral, pouncing as you fight. It’s a nickname. You fight well, and the people like you. I would rather not have you die because of this endangered knave.”

  “I would die, so I killed in return. Perhaps you should be more specific.” Zaedor shook the cage again, bearing his teeth.

  The flamboyant slave-owner’s face went stone cold. “Open his cage,” he said. The Guards carefully opened the cage, and Zaedor stepped back as the door opened. Fallad quickly drew a metal rod and whipped Zaedor across his head with fierce might, causing him to topple. Maroia struck him again on the ground. Then he backed out, and the guards closed the cage. “Don’t make me do that again. I should cut your manhood off, but I hear that kills one’s ability to fight well,” Fallad growled. “Now they have to choose a new Breaker, and I won’t get anything from victories against them for months. You won me money tonight, but I will lose more over time, depending.” He strolled away, slowly. “Do not disappoint me again,” he said, before slamming the rusted prison door.

  Zaedor shuddered at those words, the same ones Eryndis, his wife, used.

  Freya turned to Zaedor quickly. “You killed him? What the hell is wrong with you?”

  “What a way to go,” Kindro said quietly, still huddled in the corner.

  Zaedor knew what he had done. He killed a man who did nothing but his work, for the acts another man had perpetrated. He could have stopped and let Gorlin live. A man who lived as a slave died as one. Zaedor refused her criticism. Who does she think she is? She’s a murderer. “What does it matter? You killed someone didn’t you?” he snapped.

  “Once. They were murderer before he came here. Serial killer. He did call me a beast, but he deserved to die for what he had done.” She huffed and turned her head away.

  “Oh? What was the ‘Giant-killer’ like then, Miss righteous? He looked at me with nothing but mockery and anger in the ring,” Zaedor scoffed. “What could you possibly know?”

  “A lot more than you, you idiot!” Tears streamed down her cheeks. “His name was Gorlin Taggard. He stayed in the cage beside mine before he became a Breaker,” she paused. “He was kidnapped on an expedition for a new mine. He was a miner in Lothrad, a mining town east of Orinas. That’s why he was a big guy.” She bared her teeth. “He had a wife and three children, Zaedor. Two daughters and a son. You just go around killing people without knowing what you’re doing!” She crossed her arms and turned away. “Being a Breaker gives a chance of release. Think about that for a time, and don’t speak to me until you have something intelligent to say, you sheltered ingrate.”

  She walked to a small, wooden chair in the back corner of her cage, sat down, and leaned up against the bars. She closed her eyes tightly.

  Zaedor looked to Kindro, who simply shook his head in fear of them both, low
ering his head to his knees.

  Zaedor won a battle and shown his strength, he thought. Instead, he killed a man who may have seen his family again. Gorlin’s wife, now a widow, cared for her children alone.

  What kind of man have I become?

  Chapter Twenty-six

  Experience from Pain

  Kayden Ralta

  Kayden sat on the bed in the inn room the night after they returned from the manor. Her eyes still felt empty from the flood the previous night on the roof. The bed was soft—not what she was used to. It had a pink wool blanket, with bushy white feather pillows. There were a few candles and a lantern on the plain, rickety wood table beside the bed for lighting.

  She felt relaxed, but not for long since it was more than her and Lira sleeping in the room. Of all people, she knew Lira was the most trustworthy, but Domika was with them too. Everyone was still downstairs having a slow dinner.

  They pulled off the mission well. The prisoners were released, and the nobleman got the life scared out of him. They hid in the dark of his room, spoke from the shadows, and threw him the bloody torturer mask. She just hoped it worked in the end, and that things in town would lighten up. Callidan was dead—deservedly so—and the noble nearly pissed his pants; the main issue was solved, she hoped.

  Old wounds were ripped open. They were wounds that drove her to the top of that building, drove the blade to her neck, but she was stopped in her tracks by Lira. Without her, the wounds would have bled her dry.

  Part of her really wished to do it, wished Lira never found her, but something about Lira made her feel like she was home. Lira called her a friend; Kayden smiled subtly at the thought. She hadn’t had a real friend in years. Maybe I’m glad Lira stopped me. I can still make a difference. I just hope I can repay the favor one day. A life debt she’d happily owe.

  Kayden didn’t deserve to be saved. In the past year alone, she killed over a hundred people in the dead of night—each one deserving of a painful death. But they had wives, husbands, and children.

  She became what she hated most.

  Fear flooded her mind at the very thought of what they’d think—of what they’d do with her if they knew what kind of person she really was. The Shadow of Death.

  Kayden wished to take her mind off it all for at least a little while, if she could—and opened up her book, Elemental Attunement. It spoke of how wizards controlled the elements with magic, and how each individual channels their power differently. She was curious of Vesper’s power; she hadn’t seen him do much yet. He’s only a circus entertainer. What could he really do, after all? Then again, seeing the incident with the fire snake, I’m not sure. Kayden felt for his loss, as she lost family as well. He had been more social with her recently, seeing something special in her. I’m nothing like his daughter. I’m tough, but I’m not as redeeming as he thinks. She carefully moved her hair behind her ears, barely containing it.

  Kayden knew she wasn’t magically inclined. Alas, she stared at her blades sheathed in the corner by her bed, knowing they were ultimately what protected her best. I don’t need magic, she thought to herself. I am strong enough to take care of me now. I don’t need power like that.

  The pattering of footsteps shot up the stairs. Kayden closed her book in a hurry, placed it on the side table, and lay on her bed. Lira creaked the door open and slipped in.

  “Sleeping in your armor?” she asked jokingly.

  “Very funny,” Kayden scoffed. “How was dinner?”

  “It was great! Why didn’t you join us?” She glanced over to the side table, spotting the big book. “Were you reading?”

  “A little,” Kayden replied casually. “I just felt like relaxing.” She sat up and turned toward the window. The stars were out, and she needed time to cool off.

  “Do you read often? I love reading. I used to read books all the time in—” she paused. “In Solmarsh. I learned in the temples when I was being taught divine magic.”

  Oh right, Kayden recalled. That’s her old town. That’s concerning. She remembered Callidan saying the tortured prisoners were being sent there. “I read a bit, when I can.”

  Kayden read more than a bit. She’d read every book in the old sandy library in Zenato. It was rarely populated, as most people in Zenato couldn’t read or write. Kayden’s parents taught her how to do both when she was young. While growing up alone, she found solace in reading. Even if she hated something, she read about it.

  “Are you worried about your town?” Kayden asked. Of course she is. But I can’t just jump into it.

  Lira sat down on her bed, facing Kayden. She got a little teary-eyed. “Of course I am.” She looked to the floor, curling her lower lip in. “I left because of my brother, and now the town is in danger. He’s in danger too, and to make it worse, he might be there. What if I’d stayed? Something might be different. I could have found him. Now Asheron’s brother is involved, maybe stealing their life with some form of blood magic.” Divine magic had many forms—and blood magic was gifted from Baelogar, the Beast of the Abyss.

  “Princess, come on. You can’t help what’s happened. Instead of being alone, you have a team now. We all can find out what’s going on, all right?”

  Lira’s head didn’t rise again. She didn’t seem to hear a word. Kayden leapt off her bed, and lifted Lira’s chin to look at her. “Chin up, princess. It’ll be fine.” Lira’s sad, glistening eyes were identical to hers, years ago. It was a very different time, then. I want to work alone, but I can’t just leave her. She said the same thing Lira told her the previous night. “We’ll do it together.”

  Lira sniffled, coming back to reality. “Okay, thanks.” Her dark copper skin shone in the lantern light as she smiled, finally. Kayden let her chin go, and Lira’s expression changed to a curious one. “Can I ask you something?”

  She better not ask about that drake in the manor, Kayden thought. She could only stand the thought of Callidan now that he was dead. She was a member of the guild for eight years, where she was controlled, punished, and alienated. She believed she couldn’t do any better, worth nothing more than thievery. She knew different now. Kayden made her own fate. “It’s about Callidan, isn’t it?”

  “Yes. It’s okay if you don’t want to talk about it—it must not be easy,” Lira said quietly.

  “No, it isn’t,” Kayden agreed. She felt like she could tell Lira, as she was honest, loyal, and kind. “Go ahead, ask.”

  “What did he do?” Lira asked quietly.

  Kayden’s eyes connected with Lira’s dark ones, and she took a deep breath. “He worked for the Guild of Shades, like I did. When we messed up, we were taken to him.” Kayden spoke in a quiet tone. “I didn’t mess up, but others said I did. Many times.”

  Lira waited a moment, and scratched her neck. “Is that why you touched your back in the manor? Got upset when I—“

  “Yes.” Kayden got up.

  “May I—May I see?” Lira spoke barely above a whisper, as if afraid of her own voice.

  Am I ready for this? She hadn’t shown anyone her scars, let alone her body as a whole, for a long time. She didn’t like being touched, or even seen. Her skin crawled from the memories of her past. She carefully undid her armor, revealing her loose-fit, ocean blue linen shirt and matching pants beneath.

  “You want to know why I hated him? This is one of the reasons,” she explained. Kayden lifted her cloth shirt, revealing her back. Lira squeaked a gasp as Kayden displayed a massive, raised, three-inch wide scar, slashed from the upper left to lower right sides, encompassing over half the skin there. The rest was covered in scars as well, but they were just minor cuts and gashes. There were also malformed, pale red scars where smooth olive skin used to be. Kayden could still feel the blades dragging across her back, one by one, opening her flesh more and more.

  “Without healing magic, I would have bled to death. Healing may be effective, but it doesn’t hide scars.” A rush of ice crawled up Kayden’s spine. She felt sick from the thought of it, l
et alone revealing it to someone else. She quickly dropped her shirt, still faced away. She didn’t hear a response. She turned her head to see Lira standing up, eyes hidden by the onyx black hair sweeping in front of her smooth-featured face.

  Lira sniffled loudly and pulled Kayden into a hug.

  Kayden yelped. This was the second hug she got from Lira in two days, and it was unsettling. Lira’s brother was missing, Domika hadn’t seen hers for over a decade, and Vesper lost his family. Kayden wasn’t the only one who lost something. She wasn’t sure about Mags, but she saw scars on his wrists, neck, and hands. He hadn’t shown anything further than that, and he bathed in private. We all have scars, she thought. It’s the scarred ones who fight. But what are they fighting for? she wondered. What am I fighting for?

  Lira wasn’t muscular at all but had a foot on Kayden in height. She held her tightly, quietly crying. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry.” She kept repeating her apology, over and over again.

  Sorry for what? Kayden thought. She dealt with it as best she could, and finally took her vengeance for it. “Don’t worry, Lira. There’s a reason I showed you. I can trust you, right?” I also want to teach you a lesson.

  Lira relaxed, looking Kayden in the eye. “Of course, I won’t tell a soul. Not a person, or a tree, rock, or anything.” Lira went a bit overboard, but Kayden appreciated the effort. Lira released her, stepped back, and sat down again. Lira clearly wondered why she’d shown her the scar, but it was for a good reason.

  Kayden had also been naive, self-conscious, and the opposite of confident, once upon a time. She made many mistakes, gained many scars, and watched her parents die. Lira watched her brother be taken, and he may have been dead already. It was only a matter of time before she blamed herself—if she hadn’t already. “Lira, it isn’t your fault.”

  Lira picked at her nails and rubbed her neck. “What isn’t?”

  “Your brother’s arrest. It isn’t your fault. I don’t want you to blame yourself.”