Fates Choice

by Tristan Fairfield

  Bernhart explained that was another reason for getting this done tonight. “There would be a distinct possibility that any magic you inadvertently channelled tomorrow could interfere with anything I try and conjure. The results could be spectacular but likely disastrous” he explained.

  “Once their skills are triggered we keep the new student here to teach them how to control their gift and the responsibilities that come with it. Each new warlock then has a choice whether to remain here or go back out into the world to rejoin their old life. Sometimes it takes young student’s years to master their abilities and some only need stay for a few months. We are also lucky here that we have the facilities never to have to turn any young soul away but, unfortunately, we can only help those who can reach us. There are three other similar facilities in both the Wealds and Alrunia but, unfortunately I fear, many young people who need help with their new found gifts outside our continent or at the far edges of it, are either killed out of fear by their own communities or have their abilities abused by others or turn to demons for help”.

  Bernhart had another faraway look in his eyes, as if he had seen more than his fair share of tragedy on this topic.

  “So is it just humans that can...I mean, are we likely to encounter any gaestnips tomorrow who can...?”

  “Oh no dear boy”, Bernhart said, snapping out of his thoughts. “There are many creatures that can use magic, gaestnips included”. Torr must have gulped visibly at this. “But I discerned no such power or signs when I visited them before”. Bernhart re assured the young man. “It is possible to mask the signs but, generally, only by the more powerful and experienced warlock. Gaestnip magic is a base and untamed thing, as are many other types of magic which course though our world and all its denizens, past and present”.

  Bernhart focussed his gaze more intently on Torr now.

  “Which perhaps leads me onto the source of what has caused your powers to trigger themselves, or perhaps more accurately, who”. Torr was starting to look a little perplexed again.

  He had gathered, during their short time in the lounge, that magical ability, amongst humans at least, was quite random and not genetic. It almost always required some form of event, often tumultuous, before it triggered or became evident. Bernhart had asked him whether he could recall ever feeling the tingling sensations or the hairs standing up on the back of his neck, or fires starting near him unexpectedly, but Torr could think of none. His home environment had been quite measured and, by most people’s standards, quite safe and predictable.

  “I do not wish to pry or seem forward” continued Bernhart, “But I gather you may have had ahh... how shall we put it, an adventure earlier this Highsun?”

  If Torr was still feeling a little peaky, then this latest revelation certainly put embarrassed colour back in his cheeks.

  “I’m sorry, but how did you know about that?” Torr said, trying to keep his tone even and anger in check. He thought he saw one of the candles flicker a little out the corner of his eye.

  “Now, now, don’t be bashful young man, who wouldn’t want to be the object of affection of three such lovely creatures, although as I am sure you now know, their desires were not altogether altruistic or carnal. Or, at least, as you would understand them. And, as for your indignation at my knowledge, I would be a poor neighbour if I took no interest in the activities of all creatures with whom I shared this land”.

  Torr gave up, slumped heavily back in the sofa and waved his arms in despair as it now seemed every occupant of the wealds knew about Eagred. He half wondered if even the gaestnips would try and taunt him about it tomorrow.

  “No”, continued Bernhart. “I mention it because no man would likely survive the kiss of a Dryad. From that moment on, they are little more than a mindless husk at best”. This was something of a slap from reality for Torr. No one, up until now, had been able to explain what might actually have happened to him if he had been taken into the forest. At least with any authority. Certainly the church’s apothecary seemed completely clueless then in this regard.

  “Unless, of course, they had some inherent or latent magical ability”. Bernhart raised his eyebrows waiting for the penny to drop.

  “Ohh...you mean...” started Torr.

  “Yes indeed I do. Not only did your magical ability save you from the fate reserved for most, but it also acted as the trigger for what has transpired in the alchemist’s lab just now”.

  “Well, I’ll be...” exclaimed Torr, who almost felt like laughing, although he quickly felt a pang of resentment that Eagred may have been quite willing to discard his mindless body after whatever it was they were going to do. Perhaps I’ll go back and snog her again, just to teach her a lesson, he thought.

  As if to interrupt his internal monologue, Bernhart added that time was marching on and they both needed to be at their best tomorrow, despite having just found out what would be earth shattering news for anyone.

  Bernhart agreed he would try and stick close to Torr tomorrow, just in case of any magical accidents but, for now, it was time for him to return to his fellow officers for as much sleep as time would allow.

  Torr was still bursting with questions and, as they got up, was still asking about the nature of what he could do, what he could learn in the future and what different types of magic there were. Bernhart, reluctantly, provided a few brief details about the different schools of magic, and that the more powerful mage could easily learn most of these different disciplines. It was also agreed that Torr would probably need to return to Oaks Keep sometime after the battle, so he could be evaluated more thoroughly. It was also suggested that Garel was not to be informed of this development, at least for now.

  “I do not wish to break confidence with Commander Garel as I find him to be quite a fair man but, in my experience, military men have quite a narrow dogma and he may not appreciate the news so close to the culmination of our plan. Should you feel the need to confide in your friends’, however, is another matter for you to ponder. For now, I shall bid you goodnight young man because, if we both do not get some rest soon, we will fall asleep in the middle of the battle I shouldn’t wonder”.

  Bernhart had opened the door from the lounge as he finished his sentence. Standing outside was another robed young man. Although there had not been time to broach the topic, Torr suspected these were the young trainee’s. He wondered if they had a rota for clearing up the puke left by every poor sod who went through the test he had just been subjected to.

  Bernhart confirmed the silent and robed young man would show Torr back to his room. The excitement of all the questions now finished, Torr’s body was starting to complain how tired it was. He hadn’t considered if he would tell Carodin and Raeknor about his new found gift when he got back to their room.

  As it happened, there was no need. Both the other young men were sound asleep in their bunks when Torr returned. It did not take long for the new young wizard to join them.

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  T orr awoke with a sharp pain in his shin. Voices were coming into focus as well. “Oi, are you actually going to join us today Captain fucking Skarsdale?”

  “Would be nice, if we had a cavalry officer, yes”.

  The second voice sounded slightly further away. Torr turned his head and saw Carodin adjusting the buckle on his scabbard belt.

  “I hate longswords. Didn’t I tell you I hated longswords”. How am I supposed to swing this thing around quickly?” Torr rolled over slightly in his bunk to see Carodin trying to swing his sword around, in its scabbard, in their bunk room.

  “Careful you moron otherwise the gaestnips won’t need to skewer us” said the first voice. “Come on, get up cavalry boy”. Torr felt another sharp pain in his shins and realised Raeknor was kicking him.

  “Yes, alright, I’m coming” said Torr blearily.

  “Well that’s very good of you considering we need to be outside mustering the men in just a few minutes”, continued Raeknor.

  “What,
why, what time is it?”

  “Well you’ve missed breakfast, put it that way” answered Raeknor.

  “You can have some of mine” said Carodin, still examining his longsword, “not really hungry”.

  Torr was levering himself out of bed as Raeknor continued.

  “So how is your new boyfriend then?” Torr was still not fully awake but the panic of oversleeping was starting to make itself felt as well, so he was only half paying attention to his friend’s jibes.

  “What? Oh...I see...yes very funny. Shit, where’s all my riding gear?”

  “One of those brown robed men took it all first thing this morning when he came to wake us up” said Carodin. “So really, where did Bernhart take you last night?” Carodin had given up waving his sword around and was now trying to adjust the buckle on his shield.

  Torr had fallen asleep last night before he had the chance to consider what he was going to tell his two friends.

  “Umm...just nerves” Torr lied. He wasn’t awake enough to explain it and, if he tried, they would probably end up missing the battle.

  “Yeah, right” responded Raeknor. However, the young magistrate also realised that he did not have time to try and beat the truth out of Torr either. “Look, I’ve got to go. The wagon with all the equipment on had to be parked about as far away from the sodding horses as these blasted magicians could manage so I’ve now got to go and get all that crap ready”. Raeknor turned to Carodin. “Make sure dickhead here doesn’t fall back to sleep. I’ll see you when we muster outside”. Raeknor had to shout the last comment as he was already outside the room in his hurry to carry out his duties.

  Carodin seemed quiet once the noise of Raeknor had gone so Torr quickly got ready, ate a few mouthfuls of Carodin’s large bread roll, meats and slices of fruit, whilst splashing water on his face, in order to save time and hurriedly get into his armour.

  He was still trying to adjust the strap on his open faced helmet as they were shown out of their room and tower by another robed apprentice. Torr presumed Raeknor must also have been guided out as well as the corridors he and Carodin were shown seemed to be taking them in a different direction from when they came in. Torr presumed this was some form of similar defence to how you got around Valheimer’s garrison but Oaks Keep was so much smaller, on the outside at least.

  Torr was still trying to come to terms with last night’s revelation as they quietly made their way out of the tower and into a blaze of activity. Carodin was clearly nervous otherwise the young Tantes merchant’s son would have been as vocal as Raeknor was before the young magistrate left them. Torr also thought that Raeknor’s earlier comments had been to mask his friend’s fears of what was to come.

  Torr now had too much on his mind to be fully focused on the battle as he parted from Carodin and went to the small stable yard to get Raelf. It was no bigger than the stables at Home Manor. As he got there, Caenet was bridling his own horse. Torr realised he would have to put last night’s events out of mind if he was going to perform as the officer in charge of this small cavalry detachment. He wondered if there was some magic trick he could suddenly perform to accomplish this.

  He tried to snap his mind out of his whirring thoughts. “Sergeant”. He greeted Caenet as professionally as he could. Caenet turned quickly and saluted in the same vein, the two men giving nothing away about any nerves or reluctance to see their task through.

  “The men have just mounted and are mustering outside now sir”. Caenet pointed to the main entrance to Oaks Keep and Torr saw the last few of his men trying to jostle for position under the main gate, which certainly wasn’t built to accommodate so many men trying to leave at the same time. It put Torr in mind of all the riders at his last race trying to jockey for position as they reached the start. He also felt relieved that, despite oversleeping, he was not noticeably late. His men were, essentially, just in front of him. In fact, he realised Caenet’s horse was still to be saddled. “Did you sleep well sergeant?”

  “As well as can be expected on the night before a battle. And you sir?”

  “Likewise”, Torr responded, which was partially true at least, save that Torr’s thought’s before he fell asleep were not bandit related.

  Torr felt he needed to confide in the older man as they saddled up. “I know I’ve not seen action before but I will do my best to lead the men well sergeant”.

  Caenet responded with the hint of a slightly softer response, in deference to their previous roles.

  “I know you will sir, but you will have Sergeant Caenet with every step of the way for good measure”.

  By the time the two men had saddled up, the troops were being mustered. Each units sergeant competing with each other’s voices to make themselves heard. There was also the clanking of equipment of some one hundred and forty men and the general clamour of the troops and horses themselves.

  The bottleneck under the main entrance to Oaks Keep meant that Torr and Caenet left this sanctuary right behind the last two riders from their unit anyway. Both the young cavalry officer and his sergeant quickly realised, when they came out into the organised chaos of around one hundred and thirty footmen, being formed into their five different units for the march, that the best thing they could do was move the cavalry well away. As the most mobile unit they could do so far more easily. They were also the smallest unit here, if you didn’t count Raeknor’s five militia and wagons.

  The magistrate’s men came out last, the two wagons being pulled by two horses each. By this time, the infantry had formed up and Garel had gathered all his officers for a final briefing, before the two hour march to the track that led to the camp.

  It was a terser Garel that addressed them now. “Right, gentlemen, let’s be clear on our assignments and positioning. Be prepared to be attacked from any point this morning, just in case The Dog Pack has missed any scouts or the gaestnip pack just decide to attack anyway. Torr, keep your cavalry at the back of the column and be ready to shore up any flank that looks like it’s in difficulty. As soon as we are off the track at the far end, I want the infantry units formed with all the haste they can muster. If we’re attacked before this, then there’s a good chance we’ll all get butchered”.

  Torr had plenty of time to reflect on Garel’s warning as they left Oaks Keep and headed down the continuation of the main turnpike. He wondered if his nerve, or that of his men, would fail when those around needed them - whether he would flee for his life, forsaking those around him. The fact that he had allowed the thought to enter his head made him angry. He checked his gear again as he rode. His breastplate and long splint leggings seemed well adjusted and he flexed his greaves on the stirrups. His open faced helm seemed firm and Raelf seemed content with his barding on. He looked behind him. All fourteen cavalry marched slowly and sullenly at the end of the long column. Raeknor was just in front with the wagons. Even from a distance, Torr thought the young magistrate seemed nervous. He resisted the impulse to go and check on his friend but he resolved himself to be the first one there if the wagon got into difficulty or was targeted.

  It had been dry enough that the long column threw up a mist of dust as they marched onwards now. The events of last night quickly retreated to the back of his mind. At any other time, he wouldn’t have been able to think of anything else. He wondered how his powers could develop. Torr realised that it would matter little if he left his head on the battlefield.

  His fear and focus on the upcoming conflict kept any thoughts of magical prowess firmly suppressed.

  Just as Torr was working out how long it would take his riders to gallop from one end of the column to the other if they were needed, he felt the presence of another rider just pulling up behind him on his right. He turned to see Bernhart, clad in a thick cloak that looked like some form of exotic leather. Torr fancied he could see swirling patterns on it but, as soon as the thought focussed, the spiralling disappeared. The wizard had a matching cap of thick leather as well. Torr also saw that he had a sword swinging b
y his leg and a wooden staff strapped to his back, at least six feet tall. At least he actually looks like a wizard now, he thought.

  However, his demeanour still seemed polite as he greeted Torr a good morning, as if two riders had just come up on each other quite by chance on the road south.

  “Sleep well?” Bernhart enquired. “Yes, well, well enough”. Responded Torr.

  “Just remember young man, keep your focus and we’ll be fine. I promised to keep an eye on you and I shall, but I also promised Garel I would give what aid I could at his direction as well, so I shall be at the head of the column for now”. Bernhart gave Torr a nod, before he galloped off, racing past the column to the front where Garel was riding. In addition to his own cavalry, Garel and the other officers were mounted. Even from the rear Torr could make out where each of his counterparts were situated.

  The clanking of armour, spear and sword became quite rhythmic, Torr thought, as they marched the two hours to where the track off the turnpike was situated. In the distance, even at the rear of the column, the road was straight enough that he could see what looked like a fork in the road at the very edge of his horse backed horizon. The fork to their left would take them to Bereofs Town. Torr knew they were close now to turning off the road but he could see no sign of the wood to their left thinning.

  However, Torr then saw Garel charging back towards them just as he thought he saw the front of the column disappearing into the trees on their left. As Garel drew closer Torr could now see the troops at the head of their force disappearing, as if willingly walking into the mouth of their fate. The troops in front of Torr’s cavalry were slowing down though, to the point where Torr had to keep stopping Raelf as their march was reduced to a shuffle. By this time Garel pulled up alongside Torr, having stopped to speak to each officer in turn.