The Echoes of Destiny: An Epic Mage Fantasy Adventure (Legend of the Ecta Mastrino Book 5)

by BJ Hanlon

  Edin waited. He drank from his bottle, barely noticing the movement of anything else in the city. He concentrated only on that light.

  He pictured the man and his boy climbing the stairs with the oil while Edin and Arianne hid in the closet. Edin saw him stop at the door on his way out and speak. The man didn’t call the sheriff or constable. It was like the village homeless shelter.

  A loud laugh came from the left that nudged his mind out of the little dream-like state he was in. Edin glanced up and saw a group of soldiers taking a cross street. None looked his way as they headed back up toward the inn.

  They got close to him, possibly within striking distance and he was unaware. Then his drunk mind looked back at the lighthouse. It was still unlit, that did not sit well with him.

  Edin hopped off of the cart and began to follow the road south. He zigzagged through the town as dusk came. Edin drank from the whiskey as he passed an open door that let out the smells of woodsmoke and food. What it was, he couldn’t tell.

  Edin headed toward the outskirts of town. It took a while as he cut through the same forested path he followed with Arianne when she was just getting back on her feet. The woods around grew dark as a quarter moon offered its pale and cold light.

  A light that felt somehow sad. Edin thought.

  He exited into the small clearing before the lighthouse and saw the flame still unlit. The smell of the ocean came back to him, triggering his thoughts and memories.

  Off to the side of the thin peninsula was the small dock he’d tied up to while Arianne was out of energy.

  He watched it in his mind as if he were some god looking at the past. Edin saw himself carrying her up the few steps. He remembered the fear in his heart and the pain that came from the idea that he may have lost her. That she’d stay in that state forever.

  But he hadn’t lost her, at least not then.

  Edin moved slowly toward the dock. He drank from the bottle and stared out over the ocean. Somewhere out there was the Isle of Mists. A place he should’ve left her.

  Edin plopped down on the edge of the dock and let his feet dangle above the water. He closed his eyes and tried to see her.

  It was the face that was growing more difficult to picture. Her body, lean and strong, her luscious hair, and her curvy figure were easily brought back to his mind. Her face, her gray-green eyes weren’t.

  Edin smacked his dry mouth open and gulped a deep cold breath of salty sea air.

  He tried harder to see those eyes, those thin lips, that cute grin. He strained to picture the look she held when she stared at him or the smirk when she hit him with one of those playful jabs.

  “You can call me whatever,” he whispered, “if only you’d come back.” He felt the tears welling, “just reach out, say something.” Edin swallowed. Somewhere she was still alive. She had to be.

  The underground river was wide and slow and she had food; very little of it, but it there was fresh water and she had a raft and weapons and she was a magus.

  But where did it go? Where was that dwarven city and how many others were there?

  Edin leaned back on the cold and clammy wood and stared up at the sky. He spotted a twinkling star to the left, somewhere over Bestoria. Then he saw a comet heading toward it in a straight line.

  It was as if someone threw the comet at the star to give direction or point something out.

  But barely a moment later, the streak of light faded out and the star seemed to disappear amongst its brethren.

  Edin closed his eyes and envisioned it coming back, a twinkling light that pointed to where she was.

  When he looked again, he saw that nothing happened. Edin stayed warm with the thick mountain spirit cloak but after an hour on the uncomfortable wooden planks he stood.

  He had to make his way back to their shack, if he could even find it. The booze bottle was still over halfway filled and he hadn’t drunk from it since he laid down. As he began to bring it up to his lips something in his peripheral vision caught his eye.

  It was movement in the brush. He glanced toward it but saw nothing of note. Just the bare branches and a few evergreens in fading light.

  Edin lowered the bottle and stared harder trying to see what was in there. It was difficult, his eyes were wobbly… or was it the world. His respite from the bottle didn’t sober him up much since he’d stopped.

  Were soldiers around here? Por Fen? People that wanted him dead because he was born. He’d thought he’d gotten out of their grasp. He was quiet and didn’t let anyone see him go. And now he was at least a mile out of town down a thin dark path through creepy woods.

  Did someone follow him? Edin blinked back the thought. He’d been here for more than an hour and no one had approached. No one attacked him while he was prone on the dock.

  There was no other sound but the soft rustle of the naked trees in the wind. There was no movement or reflection off eyes.

  He still felt as if he were being watched. Edin turned his back to the dark lighthouse. It had been a refuge once before. He began backing up, not taking his eyes off of the spot where he’d seen movement.

  A thought crossed his mind. Was he seeing things again? It was quite probable. He wasn’t necessarily completely there, and the whiskey was like streaks on the windows of his eyes and brain at the moment.

  Edin took a breath and headed for the lighthouse. It took a lot to turn his back on the forest, but he tried to keep his senses open. Edin knocked on the door, though he was certain no one was there. After a moment, he opened it.

  The light entering from the small windows was scant. He saw the bench he’d laid Arianne on and the closet they’d hid in. All were like shadows in the barely illuminated room. The room smelled old and unclean. Edin let go of the door and took a step on the creaking floor.

  The door slammed behind him and Edin turned while summoning a small ethereal ball to see. The light shined and offered nothing but the closed wooden door, rotten at the base and on its last legs. Or hinges as it were.

  Edin took a moment and stepped back. Something seemed to snag his hair and Edin spun again, this time drawing his sword.

  But when he looked, he saw nothing but a cobweb partially hanging from the wall. Edin spent a few moments catching his breath before he turned his attention upward. The rickety stairs that circled most of the lighthouse were still in place, though Edin wasn’t sure for how long, or if someone would come to fix them and far above, turn on the great sea light.

  He moved toward the closet he hid in with Arianne, when he had carried her because she still hadn’t woken from overexerting herself as they headed north on the Dales Horn. She’d used all of her strength to save them… despite the fact she thought him a liar and a terrible person.

  And I am, aren’t I? He thought.

  If he wasn’t, he’d be with her. He would’ve jumped into the black hole and rushed through the freezing river with her. He’d have followed her, called for her, and found her. But he didn’t. Despite his memory of the situation, he thought he could’ve somehow made it into the water in the ice cavern.

  He pulled open the closet door and saw mops crusted with age and old dust brooms and dustpans. A bucket held old water that stunk like a terribly flatulent sow and would’ve been filled with bugs had the insects been alive at this time of year.

  Edin didn’t like how the place looked. He didn’t like how neglected everything was in this place. He felt a sort of homey feeling toward it despite only spending a day here, a day that saved their lives.

  He set down the bottle on the old wooden table and took the bucket to the kitchen window. The window slid up with some difficulty and it was followed by a chilly breeze that pushed in like a cat through its cat door.

  The wind wasn’t chilly, it was cold and he got gooseflesh. But for a few minutes he simply stared through the window at the moonlight on the waves as they rippled in the ocean.

  “I’ll find you.” He said in his drunkenness.

  After a whil
e, Edin realized where he was and what he was holding and dumped the boggy water out into the night and let the wind wash over him.

  He stayed in that place for another minute before closing the window and looking around. There was a hearth to the left, though it was empty and cold. There was a single oil lantern near the kitchen sink. Edin picked it up and found it sans oil. He set it back and moved toward the hearth.

  To the side of the hearth was an iron U-shaped rack for holding wood, but it was empty. With the moonlight shining in, he saw the figures projected on the wall behind. It took Edin a moment but his mind, like what happened with most people, saw a shape, one that wasn’t really there.

  To Edin, it was a wolf’s head howling into the sky.

  He needed a fire; he needed this loneliness. It was what he deserved. Edin made his way back to the front door to try and find wood. He stepped out into the night toward the forest.

  His hackles rose. Edin was halfway to the path and the woods when he got that feeling of being watched again and remembered the movement in the forest.

  How could he have forgotten? His mind was on Arianne, that was how. Edin stopped mid-step and tried looking around for the someone or the something that was watching him.

  Edin was between the front door and the woods; there was no cover. Twenty feet to the right was the dock and freezing water. A small lip into the ocean on the left was only a few feet away.

  Edin peered into the forest for a moment, he could light it up, summon a great ethereal ball that’d blind the person that was there. Or he could send a wave into the forest or a large gale forced wind. Edin ran through the possibilities in his head and was for the first time scared about everything he could do.

  Edin steadied himself with his hand on his sword hilt and took a breath. “If anyone is out here, come out now.”

  There was no response. He didn’t feel any suppression of a wan stone so he guessed that there wasn’t a Por Fen out there. Nor did he see the glint of an arrowhead or steal nor hear any movement.

  He felt for the ethereal light, the spirit and energy inside him. He felt the tiniest of tugs in his gut and placed a hand beneath his back. After a quick breath he flung it forward into the woods. About a foot into the forest, the light exploded and blinded him. There was a white and gray imprint on his eyes. In that imprint, he had barely a moment to look around. Edin saw trees, bushes, grasses but nothing that seemed unnatural.

  Edin dropped to his knee and rolled to the right just in case someone was going to loose an arrow in his direction.

  The only sound was a sort of barking and braying call followed by crashing through the woods. He waited a minute, rubbed his eyes and then looked out.

  The woods were again still with nothing but a few branches swaying near chest height. The animal was gone and his breath began to return to an even pace.

  Edin spent about a half hour gathering wood, he made piles on either side of the entrance while he continued to search for more. Finally, he had a good pile and brought it inside and started a nice cozy fire.

  Smoke rose from the logs in small gray puffs. He didn’t know the unending, smokeless fire spell and even so, he just wanted to watch the smoke rise. A part of him wanted this to be a normal, mundane fire.

  And it was. He moved the bench over and sat on the floor before it. He leaned his back against the hard wood and closed his eyes. The flames warmed his feet and slowly the room. The white cloak kept his body a perfect temperature. It was a great gift for a man of the north, but he didn’t think he’d be in the north much longer.

  It was an inkling. Like that twinkling star in the vast black sky. But where did he go? Did he stay here while they build the wall? Did he await orders from Sinndilo or a knife in the back from one of the zealots?

  Sticking around would probably not do much for his longevity.

  “Arianne,” he whispered as he waited for sleep to take him. “Come to me…” He said and tried to send out his thoughts, his prayers, his feelings and whatever else he could like a fishing line for her to snag. Maybe she could catch it and reel him in.

  It hadn’t worked so far, but there was the hope that maybe tonight she’d come back.

  There was shouting and bells from somewhere outside. The sound was far off but still woke him as if someone were banging a drum just above his head.

  Edin blinked and quickly sat up. The dim lighthouse was lit by an early cloudy sky. Dust motes hung in the air next to cobwebs or spider webs. He hoped it was the former. Edin pulled himself up and saw the fire in the hearth had burned nearly to ashes.

  Edin gave the cloak a quick brushing with his hand and started for the door. As he moved, he saw the bottle of whiskey. It was open and after a quick search of his trousers, he found the stopper and plugged it up. He checked the room, replaced the bench, not really certain why, and headed once more toward the door. As he did, something seemed to tickle in his brain. Something from the night previously. A dream.

  One of a man that was familiar, and one of Arianne.

  His mind was twisting in the thought as he exited through the only door of the tall gray lighthouse. He dropped the few steps down to the path and began walking, things moved around but he was thinking, stuck in his own head.

  A moment later, he felt it. The suppression of the talent.

  It came at him like a thousand-pound bull and rushed over him. It was more than one, more than two.

  Edin’s eyes widened as he saw the men appearing from the bushes and coming down the path. He heard shuffling behind and could see more rounding the sides of the lighthouse trying to press him in.

  There were seven, Edin counted that many, though only three were Por Fen. The rest were some of the soldiers, Duke’s Guard, including Arsholnol. The big bearded man stood at the center of the path, back to the city with his two-handed greatsword drawn and resting on his shoulder like a pick does a miner.

  “Well look here, a beast has emerged from the sea.” Arsholnol said.

  “It seems there’s a problem in the town,” Edin said. “Shouldn’t you be helping out your betters, you know, like the muckrakers?”

  A man to his right snorted.

  Edin’s eyes darted that way. He saw a Por Fen out of the corner of his vision. It was one he’d seen before, one who’d fought only a few yards away from him during the Battle. He wore the badge of a justicar, while the other two had ranger badges. He didn’t know the name, but he was bald, they all were, and had upturned eyes and a creepy half grin that made him look like he had a stroke.

  “That isn’t something that needs many people. Just a little fire at an old residence. One that is used to a little burning,” Arsholnol said with a grin.

  Edin’s chest pounded. He glanced back up at the town and saw the long line of smoke. He could hear the faint shouts of men. His friends…

  Edin looked back at the smirking Arsholnol.

  “If you hurt them—”

  Arsholnol waived a hand cutting Edin off. “Be honest, do you really think you can take us all on and live? You sucker punched us yesterday, but we were close and not expecting it. Now, you have us as well as three terrins and a pair of wan stones to stopper your damned abilities.” He grinned then lowered his voice. “Maybe you worked some magic and convinced a few of our leaders that you should be allowed to live.”

  “A damned abominable curse if ya ask me.” Said the justicar.

  Arsholnol continued, “but I highly doubt they’d be too upset when you are killed. You’re an abomination, just like your one-armed father. When you’re all wiped out, that is when we will take the fight to the dematians and free the lands. We will prove once again that there is no need for abominations, that there is no need for your evil in this world. We will survive, and we will thrive!” His voice began rising like some commander giving a battlefield speech to rouse the troops.

  And it worked. The men, even the Por Fen, all cried in unison while raising their swords and in one case, a quarterstaff. Edin spied
it started wishing he had that dematian’s horsehead knife.

  But he’d take that staff of the man anyway.

  The quarterstaff man was a Por Fen, but was he a terrin? That was the real question.

  Edin heard movement and flicked his eyes back toward another one. The justicar he’d recognized. He was stepping forward slowly with his sword off to the side and holding it in both hands.

  “Wait!” Edin said shouting and putting his hands up to stop them. He was still a bit groggy from the booze and sore from sleeping at the weird angle, half against the bench and half on the floor.

  For some reason, the men stopped. All of them. He took off his cloak rolled it up and turned, tossing it off to the side.

  Edin drew his sword and stretched his neck side to side. “Alright, who wants to die first?”

  “You.” The voice was quick and the movement quicker.

  Edin felt the air coming as the terrin on the other side of him, the quarterstaff one, was now barely three feet away. Edin dropped to his rear and rolled backward. As his feet came up, he caught the down stroke of the staff in the arch of his right foot. A slapping, stinging pain ran through him and he winced as he completed the roll all the way over and landed a foot from the tower entrance.

  The other ranger, a young guy, a terrin, came at him with his sword. He tried a slash across Edin’s body. A twist with the blade and Edin stopped it in mid-strike. Then the ranger twisted it and thrust it at Edin’s heart trying to pop him like a blister.

  Edin leapt back up the stairs and stood just before the door that led into the lighthouse. He slammed a foot back and the door ripped open and crashed against the wall.

  The rest of the men were moving now, converging on him and the lighthouse. One of them leapt toward him; he was a normal warrior, but he was fast. Edin lifted his blade to block when his vision went white for a moment. He felt the strike and heard the clang of swords.