Fate's Fables Special Edition: One Girl's Journey Through 8 Unfortunate Fairy Tales (Fate's Journey Book 1)

by T. Rae Mitchell

  As their blades clashed again, all Fate could do was stare helplessly into Finn’s eyes as Murauda made her lunge at him. As they stood blade to blade, she was so scared for him. His face was growing paler by the second and the resistance he offered was weakening.

  “I love you,” he whispered, seeing past the shell of her body straight into her soul.

  Fate strained against her bonds, every part of her reaching out toward him.

  Incensed, Murauda’s powerful will and energy surged through Fate’s body so fast she could barely track her own movements. In one swift blur, her sword hooked Finn’s blade from his grip and sent his flute flying. The puppet master pulled the strings and Fate’s arm came down. Steel sliced the air, ready to carve him in half.

  In that second, something exploded inside Fate, a detonation fueled by protective rage and pure indignation. Finn loved her. She was determined not to let anything get in the way of that. And screw this body snatching business. Somehow through her connection to the war goddess, Fate knew she could turn this powerful energy coursing through her to her advantage. Murauda didn’t know it, but she had crossed into enemy territory.

  Focusing inward, Fate embraced Murauda’s energy and pulled it in, allowing it to build. Then she made it her own and redirected the sword’s aim. The blade crashed down at Finn’s feet, splitting the striated rock. “I’m back,” she said, giving him a triumphant smile.

  “Cutting it a might close, love,” Finn said wearily, though his green eyes lit with relief.

  She picked up his flute and tossed it over. “Ready to kick some immortal ass?” She barely had the words out when a furious roar echoed through the hall. Fate turned, raising her shield. Murauda’s shock wave smashed against her arm, blasting her into Finn. Thrown backward, they hit the floor and slid several yards, coming to rest near a big man, a wild-eyed young woman and Gerdie, who was holding a trembling, amber-eyed white cat.

  “Hey Gerdie…Sithias,” Fate said as she scrambled to her feet.

  Gerdie waved, her eyes round as she looked at Fate’s armor. Sithias stayed in character and meowed. Then he suddenly went stiff, hissing with his hair raised on end as he looked over Fate’s shoulder. She glanced back to see Murauda charging across the great hall toward them.

  “Uh, we’ll catch up later,” Fate said, trying to sound brave, but she was suddenly very afraid. It was one thing to boot Murauda out of her body, another to face the pissed off twenty-foot tall deity head on.

  Finn played a series of piercing notes on his flute. A fierce gale rushed in through the broken ceiling and churned at the center. Taken aback, Murauda slowed, glaring at the tornado forming in front of her. But it wasn’t enough to keep her attention off Fate.

  “Traitor!” the war goddess roared.

  Fate held still under her wrathful gaze as she unsheathed her lightning sword, her giant strides rapidly closing the space between them. Instinctively, Fate took a few steps back, an automatic sense of helplessness welling up from within. Then she stopped, reminding herself she wasn’t weak and powerless anymore. She didn’t have to be the victim here. Sucking in a deep breath, she let out a scream that reverberated throughout the hall, a screech of bitter anger and resentment at being used.

  Her war cry punched into Murauda, doubling her over, pitching her off her feet. When she hit the floor, the lightning sword fell from her grip. Fate leaped at it. Flying fast and low, she grabbed the sword, slowed down at first by its great size and weight. Holding it with both hands, she climbed to the highest peak of the hall to the gaping hole in the ceiling a hundred feet above everyone’s heads.

  From there she saw Finn direct the tornado on the old statesmen. It snatched them up like a vacuum sucking up specks of dirt, turning them into a roiling cone of blurred purple robes. At the same time the big primitive-looking man raced after the older girl with the wooden doll. She seemed to be under Gorm’s influence, because she’d walked unnoticed over to the sorcerer, the carving in her hand extended out to him. That’s when Fate remembered the carving of Bremusa and realized the girl must be Valesca. With a savage growl, the huge man flung his dagger, embedding the blade between Gorm’s dark eyes.

  Just as Fate returned her gaze back to Murauda, a thunderous, ear-piercing shriek slammed into her with the force of a semi truck. Stunned by the bone-throbbing pain, she fell to the floor, the jarring impact of the fall shooting another wave of pain through every inch of her body. Struggling to breathe, all she could think about was how she’d be dead right now if she hadn’t been physically altered by Murauda’s energy pumping through her.

  Still dazed and in physical agony, Fate rolled onto her front, hunting for the lightning sword she’d dropped. Murauda was several yards away, bending to pick it up. As the space closed between sword and master, thin streams of lightning flowed between the hilt and her huge hand. Fate scrambled desperately toward it, knowing she didn’t stand a chance the moment Murauda turned the lightning blade on her.

  Just as Murauda’s finger touched the sword, Finn’s tornado swept in and swallowed the war goddess whole. Her furious cry shook the hall, fracturing giant columns and rupturing the length of the marble floor. Fate lunged on the lightning sword, still crackling in response to Murauda’s nearness.

  “Use the sword to light the twister on fire!” Finn yelled above the cacophony.

  Fate plunged the blade into the raging wind. Lightning poured from the sword, igniting the vortex into a spinning cone of blue flames. As jagged bolts of lightning streamed out in every direction, Fate ducked behind her shield, her mouth filling with the metallic tang of electrified air.

  “It’s time, Rudwor!” Finn shouted. “Throw it in!”

  Surprised by the name, Fate turned as the big man flung the cursed effigy of Bremusa into the burning tornado. Ear-splitting, inhuman shrieks came from Murauda, cracking the walls.

  Finn stumbled toward the fiery maelstrom. He was bent over and holding his side. Nearly half his shirt was soaked in blood. Icy fear gripped Fate’s heart. She started toward him but he shook his head, gesturing for her to stay where she was. He looked away, his pallid features hardening with effort as he shouted in a language she didn’t understand. Wholly unprepared for the preternatural volume of his voice, the deafening sound vibrated in her bones. The blazing cyclone responded to his command, ripping through the hall, ramming against the far wall and embedding Murauda and Beldereth’s enemies within solid marble.

  The scene was grotesque. Murauda’s burnt, petrified face was partially buried in rock, forever captured in an enraged scream. As for the calculating old men, their bodies lay scattered around her face with only an arm or elbow protruding here, a leg or an occasional terror-stricken face there.

  Silence followed. As Murauda’s thrall lifted from the other warriors, they straggled out of order, staring at the horrific wall and then at Finn, the destroyer of the mightiest destroyer. A mixture of fear and respect shadowed their faces as they kneeled to their new king and his champion.

  Fate joined in the awe, her mind in shock as she stared at Finn. She thought she’d witnessed the limit of his powers before, but this latest demonstration was one she couldn’t even begin to comprehend. Her battered body still pulsed with danger, leaving her wide open to the disquiet building just below the surface of her troubled thoughts. Her Finn was back, but for how long?

  His eyes met hers and held across the expanse of the great hall. Fate’s heart beat faster, her worry falling away as she felt that invisible filament between them tighten. She fell into a run, wanting only to feel him near. Then the connection snapped, a sensation as physical as being stabbed in the heart. She was suddenly on her knees and bent in anguish, her chest hollowed out by a frightening emptiness. Terror blasted through her as she leaped into the air and shot across the great hall to where Finn lay collapsed on the floor in a bloody heap and still as death.

  Chapter 30

  "MISSS, DON'T YOU THINK IT'SSS TIME you brought your day to an end? I kno
w you’re usually at thisss from sssunup to sssundown, but the hour’sss quite late even for you,” Sithias said, worrying his hands together. “You haven’t even eaten sssupper yet.”

  An arrow whistled past his head.

  Startled, Sithias tensed his legs to keep his knees from knocking together. “If you’re trying to ssscare me, it’sss not working,” he said, trying for an unflustered, noble expression by arching his brow and lifting his nose.

  Another arrow shot out of the darkness, spearing the generous fold of his fancy velvet hat, snatching it off his head. Sithias stomped his foot and frowned. “I liked that hat!” Taking a breath to calm himself, he smoothed down the front of his silk doublet. “I’ll forgive you for puncturing a hole in my favorite hat if you put that bow down and come insside right now. It may be ssspring, but the night air isss ssstill chilly.”

  Fate emerged into the light of his lantern, her bow in hand and quiver removed. Even now after two months of seeing her this way, he was still caught off guard by the unnatural pale gleam of fire under her skin and the luminous red glow emanating from her chest. The lingering effects of Murauda’s lightning sword were thankfully fading day by day but not nearly fast enough for him. Fate remained changed and not just physically.

  Sithias breathed a sigh of relief as she set down her bow and arrows on the grass but stopped halfway when she drew her sword. “Oh pleassse. What can you posssibly do with that? Your sssparring partnersss are all in bed for the night.”

  She moved with deadly elegance toward him, her blade slicing the air with swift precision. “I guess that leaves you then. Spar with me.”

  He rolled his eyes. “In all the time we’ve been in Beldereth have I ever sssparred with you?”

  Fate swiped the blade next to his ear, fluttering his hair and jangling his nerves. “No,” she replied, her obvious disappointment apparent in the way she stabbed her sword into the ground.

  “Well I’m not about to ssstart now. My pen isss my sssword. And I’ll have you know I’ve been ssslaying them in court with my clever prossse. Not that you’re ever there to sssee.”

  “Party pooper,” she muttered.

  “Misss, thisss nonssstop ssstrenuousss activity isssn’t healthy. Look at your armsss. They’re getting mussscular. That’sss unsssightly on a young woman.” He looked her up and down, not bothering to hide his distaste. “You look posssitively mannish.”

  “You know why I’m doing this. I have to be ready for Mugloth. I just never thought I’d have to wait this long.”

  Her shoulders dropped and for a second he saw the vulnerable girl he’d grown so very fond of. “I know, misss. But I’m sure it won’t be much longer.”

  Picking up a cloth, she wiped the sweat from her brow. “Yeah, but it’s the waiting that’s killing me. I have absolutely no patience anymore. This energy inside me, it just keeps building up. I can’t just sit around. I have to do something about it or I start coming unglued.”

  “You’re not feeling that way now, are you?” he said, hunching his shoulders up in alarm. “The lassst time you came unglued, you disssappeared for three daysss and came back covered in––”

  “You promised you wouldn’t talk about that ever again.”

  He gulped. “I promised at the time, but––”

  “No buts, Sithias.”

  Avoiding her stern expression, he dropped his gaze to a tiny wrinkle in his silk sleeve and went to work smoothing it out. But he was tired of skirting around the issue. Clearing his throat, he plucked up his courage and looked her straight in the eyes. “Misss, we can’t keep ignoring that you went missing for three whole daysss without remembering a thing. And your clothesss, they were ssstained with sssomeone else’sss blood…and you came back with that,” he said, pointing at the necklace with a thin bar of gold resting against the pulsating scarlet light of her heart.

  Shame and confusion clouded her expression as she pulled the laces of her blouse tight to cover the necklace. “Are you trying to torture me? Don’t you think I haven’t run it through my mind a thousand different times? I don’t know where I went, or what I did, or who this belongs to!”

  Seeing the tears glittering in her eyes made him want to cry also. He pulled out his handkerchief and blew his nose. “I’m sssorry, misss. You’re right, it’sss not worth talking about if there’sss nothing to remember.” He managed a smile. “Ssso the glue’sss holding at leassst?”

  Her lips formed the ghost of a smile. “For the moment.”

  Sithias shook his head, knowing the actual problem was really about how much she missed Finn. If he was here, everything would be very different. “Well, I sssee only one sssolution to thisss. Let’sss do a bit of sssparring.” Heaving a sigh, he grabbed the hilt of her sword and struggled to pry it out of the ground.

  •

  Sunshine hit the stained glass windows, scattering sapphire and ruby specks of light over Fate’s bed. She woke with a feeling that something was different about the day, though there was nothing to indicate anything out of the ordinary. Since her talk with Sithias a few days before, she’d made plans to go riding and hunt for pheasant, a welcome departure from the intensive training she’d been putting herself through with Beldereth’s most experienced warriors. She’d formed deep bonds with them and was looking forward to joining her new friends.

  She jumped out of bed, reaching for her leather breeches and white cotton blouse. Pulling open the balcony doors, she let the sunlight warm her skin––glad the snow was gone at last. Sithias was right. She’d been pushing herself far too hard, but it was either that or spiral into a state of utter madness.

  Even now she had to be careful. Quiet moments such as these were dangerous and inevitably turned her mind to the sublime moment Finn had spoken those three magic words to her. But the grievous wound she’d dealt him just before he’d declared his love would always mar that special memory. Her throat tightened with grief. If only she could erase the trauma of that terrifying feeling of emptiness when he’d fallen and his life’s blood had spread over the marble floor.

  Rudwor had worked fast to staunch the wound, calling for Lortaun’s best healers to minister him. They did everything they could for Finn while he hovered for days at death’s door. She’d stayed by his side while he’d slept––a deep sleep broken only by nightmares he never fully woke from.

  Then one afternoon, she’d gone into his room after a brief respite, only to find him gone. Her grief-stricken wail had echoed through the halls, attracting servants from every quarter. They tried to explain, but she was inconsolable. When Sithias found out what had happened, he was the only one she would listen to.

  Rudwor had taken Finn away to the Springs of Almsdeep to help him fully heal. She was told they would return only when he was completely well. She’d been furious, and wanted to fly there, but everyone was forbidden from telling her where the springs were hidden. No one would explain why, which infuriated her to no end. Worse yet, when she’d tried to use her Words of Making to go to him, the location eluded her as if cloaked by some sort of magic. The temptation to take charge and write up Finn’s swift recovery and return to her had been stronger than any desire she’d ever had to overcome. For this, she hated Rudwor. Not only had he taken Finn away from her, but she’d been forced to endure each day waiting for his return without knowing when that might be. The only thing that had kept her from meddling with the Words of Making was her colossal mistake with the Green Man. She feared the possibility of an unimaginable backlash more than the anguish of missing Finn.

  With him gone, she’d been left with a horrible sense of loss, like something had been torn out of her. The world stopped spinning and time slowed to a torturous crawl. There was no joy in anything. Even the food she put in her mouth tasted like cardboard. She probably would’ve spent the last two months too depressed to get out of bed had it not been for the high voltage energy constantly surging through her, building into a frenzy that pushed her into an almost murderous rage.


  Taking up the sword, plus every other instrument of war she could get her hands on was the only alternative to going all Lizzie Borden on everyone. Training was the only time she felt even a modicum of peace, not to mention the best possible preparation for when Finn returned and they moved onto the next fable. She must’ve read through it a hundred different times, searching for some sort of advantage for when they would finally face Mugloth. Unfortunately, the book never spelled out in advance all the dangers they’d encounter. There were always surprises. Even so, she lived for that day, because if all went well, their future together would be wide open.

  Or would it? There was always that one niggling worry. Ever since Gerdie had told her of the Orb’s imperfect power, she couldn’t stop wondering if there was something innately wrong with Finn, that maybe the poison wasn’t the only reason for his struggle against the darkness.

  Fate fingered the necklace hidden beneath her blouse as she stepped out onto the balcony. She suspected the tiny gold bar might be the Rod Gerdie had spoken of. But for some reason, she couldn’t bring herself to show it to her and ask. She couldn’t shake the fear that Gerdie would want to take it from her, especially if she knew how it had come into her possession. It was bad enough Sithias had been in her room when she’d returned with the necklace in that gory state. She closed her eyes, wishing she could forget the blood-encrusted sword, her clothes spattered a deep red and hands coated like she’d dunked them in paint. At times she felt the awful stickiness between her fingers and she still couldn’t look in the mirror without seeing arterial spray covering her face.

  But no matter how much her gut twisted with shame, the pain wasn’t enough to make her take off the necklace. From the moment she started wearing it, the maddening tension always building in her wasn’t nearly as severe. The little gold bar had a soothing effect she desperately needed and wasn’t willing to give up. She only wished its influence would lift the nagging guilt.