Tides of Fate

by Sean J Leith

  “Yes,” Saul replied.

  Thalia grabbed a map out from her desk scribbled away on it. After a bit of silence, she handed him the map. “Here. This is a safe passage to the capital. If you expect to see your friends, take that route. The Terran Miners within the Blackcore Mountains shouldn’t give you much trouble and will allow you to pass. If they try to cause problems, just mention my name.”

  Saul accepted the map and nodded. “Can you tell me about the Stormspire?” Saul wished to know more about Gadora’s monument. He wondered what else they didn’t tell him in the Vale. How much he needed to learn.

  “It was raised from the sea shortly after her ascension, they say. The winds that surround it are quite strong, and anyone who attempted to climb it died. Either been blown off, or struck by lightning.”

  “I wish to see it,” Saul determined.

  “All the more reason to go. We will keep you and your people safe here, but if you wish to go, that is your prerogative.” Thalia leaned back in her chair, looking to the ceiling. “Maybe there you will learn to discard the ideal of a people and raise one of ideals themselves instead.”

  “I can’t simply abandon my people,” Saul growled.

  “You killed a multitude of them in Rhoba,” Thalia said with a strong tone.

  “They were not my people,” Saul retorted. How could she dare to call me that, after saying they deserved to die? What is she trying to prove?

  She shrugged her small shoulders. “What’s the distinction? They were Broken, just like you. You killed them because they disgraced your ideals, not because of what they were. Tell me—if you were faced between joining forces with an orderly and strong Hydrian society or a dishonorable, backstabbing Broken one, which would you choose? Well?” She closed her book with a loud clomp and shot him a sharp glare.

  Saul burst into a cough, barely able to catch his lost breath. He stared into her eyes with suspicion, shock, and disbelief.

  Thalia looked around with a tilt to her head. “Did I—say something inappropriate?”

  He shook his head slowly. She said the words. The question. The one his goddess asked. “I’ve heard that question before.”

  She just smirked, unknowing that she just spoke the words of a being of absolute power. “Good, that means I’m not the only rational being in the world. Do you have an answer?”

  He halted as his mind sped up to meet his emotions, even now, Saul fought with the question. “I suppose I may—I—I don’t know.” Saul couldn’t answer her. He was bound to his people still—and needed time to change what he was. He was a proud Broken, but he was also a Broken of honor and order.

  Saul could hear loud voices barking of orders from outside. “I’ll give you time to think about that.” Thalia sighed. She got up from her chair, and rushed to the stairwell. “Stay here. Don’t move,” she whispered. “There are too many of them.”

  Bang, bang, bang! A slamming knock came from the door. Saul heard Thalia’s door swing open, and a Hydris with a commanding, hissing tone roared from outside.

  “We have heard a small horde of Broken was sighted in the area. Have you seen them, woman?”

  “I heard there were here, but they left two days ago, going to Elaston. How many were in the horde?” Thalia replied.

  “Our scouts said twenty. You do realize what this means if you lie to us?” the man growled.

  “I wasn’t born yesterday,” Thalia said. “Check the buildings and the barracks—you won’t find any. We’ve been cooperative, have we not?”

  Saul knew there was a trap door to the lower levels in the homestead, and he prayed that the others descended. Saul was furious. He wanted to slay the man where he stood, but he did not know how many soldiers were in town. He felt himself a coward, as he knew he could kill many of them alone.

  “How about we break in your walls and make sure you are?” the other hissed.

  “Not necessary. We’ve given many supplies, and stripped of most,” Thalia said. Saul had seen the thinning supplies as they walked through town before.

  “If it were up to me, we would take more. We know you’re a little Broken-loving bitch just like your father. How about I bed you now and teach you a lesson?”

  Saul shot to his feet and almost stormed down the stairs, but barely held himself before the stairs. Betraying her request would only anger her. He had to trust her. A Hydris. He held himself back, and sat back down…

  A brief, frightening followed. But Thalia was the first to speak. “Try me,” she said coldly. “Try it and I’ll choke you to death.” Another pause. “You know I can, and you know I will,” Thalia said.

  The door slammed loudly, and he heard no steps, no breath, nothing. Stay up there, Thalia had said.

  Am I a coward? How could I stay here? I desire death of them. A man threatened to bed her—I should make him bleed to death for the threat, Saul thought. But something deep within him kept him still.

  He heard plate footsteps outside, then running and yelling, but no clashing of blades, only arguments and commands. It went on for half an hour it seemed before the yelling dissipated, and the large door of Thalia’s home opened once more. Quiet footsteps ascended the staircase, and Thalia appeared at the top.

  Saul exploded from his chair. “What happened? What did that disgusting wretch—”

  “Nothing, calm yourself.” Thalia sighed. She touched a hand to her cheek, and gave a sarcastic, worriful expression. “Did you worry for me, Saul? My I must say I’m flattered.” Thalia gnashed her teeth and chuckled. She placed a hand to her forehead and acted as if to faint. “Oh, my, I’m a damsel in distress, Saul help—oh—” She opened her eyes and gave a mocking grin.

  Her jest faded, and she placed hands on her hips and walked to the window by the desk. “That ingrate always comes into town with his so-called knights, taking our supplies and harassing us. I had to keep an eye on them while they went through. Your friends weren’t found. He wishes he could bed me, but I’d rather remove my own head before I let that thing touch me.” Thalia shuddered in disgust and mouthed a yuck. “His threats are empty. Couldn’t touch me if he tried. I’d disembowel him before he’d come within ten feet.” She chuckled. “They’re gone now. I’m surprised you stayed here.”

  “I wanted to leave,” Saul grumbled. “I wanted to kill them all.”

  “Yet you probably couldn’t kill fifty armored knights alone. Fifty civilians without fighting experience is one thing. Knights, another.” She turned her head and gave a nod of approval. “It’s good you stayed. They would have killed fifty citizens upon finding one broken here. You saved more lives than you would have avenged.”

  Now I live as a coward. “At great personal cost.”

  Thalia frowned. “A ridiculous cost. Don’t be high and mighty, Saul. Would you feel so honorable if fifty died by your actions, when you could have saved them?”

  “I don’t live in fear. The blood is on their blades, not mine.” She knew nothing of honor. She told Saul to cower while soldiers reaped the resources of her town. “Why don’t you use your magic to save them?” Saul asked in a snarky tone.

  “Don’t sass me, Saul. Do not speak to me like I’m an idiot,” Thalia scoffed. “It’s not that simple. One person can’t stop a hundred blades alone and save every innocent. It takes one death to fail. I save lives by helping them endure.” She sat down in her small chair and slouched into it. “As for blood on blade, it’s quite the contrary. If your action could save fifty, their blood is on both. Don’t proclaim yourself innocent just because you did not cover your blade with their blood. Your hands would be just as stained as theirs would be. Negligence is dishonorable. Running out and killing a few soldiers, that provoke ten other soldiers to kill fifty civilians, is negligence. I’ll let you make that connection.”

  Saul growled. He didn’t like being corrected, let alone from a Hydris or a Sorceress. She was everything he saw as a coward—and yet, he was the coward now. She was right; many would die if he attacked al
one. She was that which he couldn’t stand, yet she had a strength of character that impressed him. For a small woman, she was very bold—in a way that was… No, he couldn’t think that.

  “You may be right.” Saul admitted, very reluctantly. Not many could change his mind, and even he was surprised at the turn.

  Thalia chuckled, “Good, it seems we’re making progress. I believe we just had a moment.” She grinned slyly.

  Saul tilted his head. “What?”

  Thalia sighed heartily. “Nothing.” She began reading through the white-covered book on the desk. “Do you know what you plan to do?”

  Saul knew. He felt drawn to the Plateau. He felt the Stormspire was what he needed to see. A monument to his god, a storm which could not be tamed. The very one that struck him every night. He needed to seek out Serpentarius, the Hydrian capital. He took a deep breath and stared out the window to the setting sun. The sky gleamed of red, orange, and a hint of violet. “I will seek the capital. We will stay the night and move in the morning.”

  “I thought so. I do enjoy prophecies.”

  Saul raised a brow. “What prophecy?”

  “Ah, I spoke out loud. Just predictions and fates, like the blue one on your right arm.”

  Saul looked to the six-pointed sun. Fates. His goddess spoke to him about them. He did not know the origin of this second marking. He glanced to her as she looked into his eyes. “Will you join us?” Even Saul didn’t expect that to come out of his mouth. Her demeanor was bold yet graceful, and her words tactful. She was a formidable ally, despite her shortcomings.

  “No, I don’t believe so. You’re on your own. Although it is endearing that you’d have me join you,” she said in a smokey voice.

  “Don’t take it to heart, I do not trust Sorceresses. A voice of their race might help, that’s all,” Saul said. Her voice, especially. She had a commanding way about her, one appropriate for handling the affairs of an entire city.

  Thalia nodded slowly, closing her eyes. “I see,” she chuckled. “Magic can come in handy, you know. Maybe one day you’ll see.”

  She rose from her chair once more, walked down the stairs, and waved for him to follow. Saul obliged.

  “Well, Saul Bromaggus, we will prepare some supplies for you and your band of warriors. Take the map.” She gently touched his left marking, eyeing it carefully. “Be careful out there. As you said, a storm is coming,” Thalia giggled, eyeing him closely as he left. With a subtle smile, she said, “Perhaps we’ll see each other again?”

  I would like that, Saul thought. But he couldn’t bear to say those words to someone he only just met. He simply gave a subtle nod, and her smile grew.

  Saul exited her home. He glanced back to look at her as he walked, and she waved. He looked back to the map, wary of his journey ahead.

  Chapter Twenty-nine

  Chaos of Freedom

  Zaedor Nethilus

  It had been another week since they initially thought of the plan. No one else had been told. Some may have overheard, but Zaedor was thankful that none told the guards. Zaedor wished he could have more information to go on. They kept the prisoners locked away, only letting them out to fight. They brought them past the other prison rooms, the first three doors, to the prep room, fourth door on the right, past the three rows of doors without windows, to the final door at the end, the pit.

  I have to try. I can’t give up this time. I have to fight like a monster but remain resilient and self-aware. I must escape, he thought resolutely.

  Then he remembered that he shouldn’t be so selfish. Since the destruction of his city, he only thought for himself. He was beaten, kidnapped, and broken at every instant as he thought without care for others. No, we must escape together. All of us. I won’t leave them behind. Zaedor frowned and crossed his arms on his chest. What if the guards get away? What about the knave, Fallad? He had to do something about him. There were many unknowns to consider.

  I must be ready.

  “Hey, if you ever get out of here, what would you do?” Zaedor asked. He knew that would be a common question among the prisoners, so he paid no worry to the guards.

  Kindro pondered to himself with a furrowed brow, while Freya played with her hair. “I dunno, probably head north. See if I can get work in a mine or something. My family lives there now, my mom and dad. My brother lives away from home, though. I don’t have a wife or kids.”

  Freya paid the conversation no mind, not mentioning her plans. She winced from a comment about parents, especially the mention of a mother. “I don’t know,” Freya finally said. “I would rather not go home. I might go with bear-boy over here.” She motioned to Kindro, with his overly hairy body and lengthy beard.

  “Words can hurt, you know,” Kindro said sullenly.

  “Don’t get me started on that brain of yours, it’s a little lacking,” she replied with a smirk.

  “Just ‘cause I’m not a high-born like you—don’t know how to read or write or anything doesn’t mean—well, okay, maybe it does,” he scratched his jet-black haired head, drawing his large mouth out in displeasure. Kindro had a knack for laughing at himself, knowing what he lacked and where his strengths were. Freya was able to make fun of him, but Zaedor didn’t feel the need to gang up, even if it was a joke.

  Zaedor hadn’t been there long, but it felt like he knew them both since birth. Being right beside each other all day, every day can do that, he thought with a smirk. After he got out, Zaedor knew his path. He wanted to go to Solmarsh. He did not want to part ways with his friends, but he felt he had to go.

  “Why don’t you come with me, to the west?” Zaedor asked.

  They both looked at him with awe. “There’s a war raging in that area. I don’t want to get involved in that,” Freya said.

  “I just want a quiet life. I’ve fought here for too long. I don’t like being chained up, and a war will get me just that,” Kindro added.

  He knew that would be their answer, but they were his first friends since the catastrophic event.

  “Don’t worry, Blondie,” Freya said. “I’ll be in the north. I’m sure if you come up there, you’ll find us somewhere.”

  Maybe I will, he thought. He had his goal, but how long would it last? Would it be quick, or ongoing? So many uncertainties came with it, but Zaedor knew it was where he wanted to be, not where he had to be.

  He wondered what the forests were like. He had never been there, only having seen pictures and heard stories. It rained more there than anywhere else in the land, giving life to many different kinds of animals and other creatures. He also wished to see the capital of Orinas, built with icestone streets, and walls stronger than any city in the realm. The stories reminded Zaedor of home, and he was nostalgic. I will see you again.

  Zaedor saw the pillar of light slowly shifting, coming from the air vent in the roof of the dome. It slowly approached the spot, telling them the fighter’s choice was coming. Zaedor watched it carefully, readying himself once more. He looked to Kindro, who nodded. They had a plan. Quick as the wind, tough as a mountain, silent as the night.

  The moment the light hit, Maroia swung open the prison door and sauntered in. He walked directly to Zaedor’s cage. “Well Amirionian, looks like it’s your time again. Don’t do anything stupid this time, or you’re dead.” His face scrunched, and his long mustache twitched with each sharp word.

  Zaedor’s mind raced, heart rate speeding to an incredible rate. What do I do, what do I do, what do I do? he repeated over and over in his head. He thought he prepared for this moment, but he began to doubt himself.

  Fallad backed off. “Take him,” he said. “Have him put out in five minutes.”

  Zaedor spat up the first thing that came to his mind. “Can I piss first?” He heard Freya cough up a laugh, quickly stifling it. “I really have to go. It might affect my fight.”

  The flamboyant fool laughed heartily. “Fine, let him piss. Make it fast. You have seven minutes to be out there. I’ll try to calm the crowd.
They want to see you fight again. Even though you killed a breaker, which I remind you, is the one fighter you aren’t allowed to kill, it made you a fan favorite,” he said, twisting his oily moustache. “Let him finish, and then get him ready.” He walked to the door, closing it.

  Foolish idiot, Zaedor thought.

  “Piss. Now,” one guard commanded.

  Zaedor turned to look at Kindro, then walked toward the bucket. He went slowly, preparing himself for what was to come. He breathed deeply. Calm as a summer breeze, he thought. His lessons from Amirion helped; they told him that remaining calm helped one accomplish a goal that required careful execution. He knew what to do first. He couldn’t have them yelling, after all. He slowly turned after finishing and walked methodically toward the guards who were now in the cage with them.

  The cheers of the pit rang in the distance, yelling and chanting for the fight they hungered for; they were ready. That’ll cover the sound. With a vicious flash, Zaedor jabbed the smaller guard in the throat, causing him to lurch forward, gasping for air.

  Kindro did the same to the taller one, except he grabbed the guard by the back of the neck, throwing him further down to force his knee into the guard’s throat again. He coughed in pain, but Kindro was as large as they were, and faster. Neither guard could even croak a cry.

  Zaedor kicked the back of the smaller guard’s knee, dropping him to the ground. The guard grabbed Zaedor’s arm in response and smashed his face with his fist. Blood spurted from Zaedor’s nose, most likely broken again. Gasps echoed from the surrounding cages; the seven pairs of eyes watched the action carefully. Zaedor threw his guard to the ground and choked him with all his might. The guard frantically swung at him, smashing his eyes and nose, but Zaedor’s grip didn’t loosen. Nothing dimmed his glimpse at freedom.