Victim of Fate

by Jason Halstead

  Easier, certainly, for the boy had picked a random path that took him towards Therion's home in the woods. Or perhaps it wasn't chance that chose the path. Therion had made his way in the bog in the northern part of the forest on purpose. There was a source of magic there that he'd been studying. A dark and powerful magic that came from the bowl of a tree that had long died.

  Legend held it had once been the willow that a willow nymph made her home of. She'd fallen in love with a young man who had wandered into her glade and used her magic to ensnare him. Over time, he resisted her lures but she'd stolen too many years of his life. He was a withered old man who died trying to make his way back home. The nymph had turned inward and grown darker, seeking out the harmful side of the nature magic she wielded. In time, she languished and so did the willow that was her home. As its health failed, so did hers, until all that remained was a vengeful and corrupt spirit that poisoned the earth around her. It was that magic that drew Therion. He'd learned much from it and based many of his experiments on how she'd twisted the powers of nature to create unwholesome aberrations.

  The glade turned bog had called to him many years ago; perhaps now it called to the warrior as well? Did the warrior, perhaps, remind the shadow of a spirit that remained of her own lost love?

  Therion smiled as he strode through the forest. Perhaps there was more he might learn yet from this. No matter the course, he would soon have the girl convinced of his supreme power. As soon as she threw herself upon his mercies and understood that she was to serve him in all ways, to offer herself to him in all ways, then she would be his. Then he would at last have someone who would share his appreciation of all things in life with.

  * * * *

  Alto trudged through the forest and began to regain his wits. The corrupted animals disappeared behind him as he wandered. Whether they fell behind or sought easier prey, he wasn't certain. He hoped his friends had found similar respite.

  He rested against a tree and glanced around. Ahead of him, the forest seemed darker. The ground had squished under his boots, suggesting wetter forest or perhaps even a swamp. In the dark, he admitted he'd lost his sense of direction. The trees overhead kept him from seeing enough of the stars to guide himself.

  Alto started to sheathe his sword and then stopped himself. Having his sword ready seemed a far safer idea. Unless he tripped and fell on it. He took a breath and let it go. Perhaps leaving his father's farm wasn’t such a smart idea after all.

  The warrior pushed himself forward, continuing into the darkness. It made sense that wetter ground would mean he was nearing the stream again. If he could find a safe way to cross it, he only needed to get to the edge of the forest and he could make his way back to the horses and his friends. With that hope in mind, Alto pushed himself faster through the darkness.

  Several minutes later, his boot splashed into a puddle. Alto stopped and pulled his foot out of the sucking mud. He scowled and looked around, trying to make out details in the darkness. Plants and vines that had gone dormant for the approaching winter offered threatening shapes in the darkness. He remembered the animals and expected one of them to leap out at him at any moment.

  Alto jabbed his sword into a thicket. Other than the rattle of cracking twigs, he was both disappointed and relieved that nothing happened. Alto stepped around the thorny mass and moved forward into the soggy ground. If the stream had erupted in poisonous bubbles, he wondered if the marsh he'd found himself in would do the same thing. Alto sucked in a deep breath and held it until colors danced in his vision. He repeated the process, hoping against hope it would keep him safe from the fog.

  Alto paused after several minutes of trudging through the swamp. He panted a few moments and then stared into the darkness. Leaning to the left and the right, he confirmed his hunch and grinned. He saw lights. He wondered if it was the torches of his friends or someone's house he might rest and recover in.

  With a final breath, he made ready to head out when something splashed in the marsh behind him. Alto spun, sword held ready, and peered into the darkness. He saw a ghostly white image materialize from the shadows, starting with what looked like a pointed spear.

  * * * *

  Rosalyn was detached. The adventurers neared the wasp nest, making it far further than they had any right to. The magic of the mirror allowed her to see through the dark, showing how doomed they were soon to be by the wasps. She turned her thoughts away, wondering instead what she needed to do to convince her captor that she was ready to be his plaything. At least until she could escape and return to her family. The wizard's mirror had shown her they were alive.

  Without explanation, the adventurers turned and fled from the nest. Rosalyn perked up, surprised by the turn of events. All but one of them ran as though their lives depended on it, for surely they did. The one who lagged behind still fled but he seemed confused. He glanced about and slipped on the banks of the river. At one point, the young warrior even dropped his shield. Rosalyn bit her lip; he was the one she'd hanged her hopes on. Now something was wrong with him.

  Her tooth split her lip open when she saw shapes emerge from the trees that looked to have come from a nightmare. Animals with mismatched parts converged on the adventurers, driving the warrior farther from the rest. He was surely doomed this time.

  The warrior looked up in time to take the swipe of a bear on his armored shoulder instead of the side of his head. He was sent sliding back into the river but at least he was alive a few minutes longer. He rose up and attacked, moving with a speed and strength she hadn't seen before. The aberration that attacked him soon fell to the side. The warrior moved on, calling out to his friends through the mass of unnatural creatures.

  Rosalyn frowned. Why had the mirror focused on the warrior and not the rest of his troop? She could see through the battle that they were fighting and retreating, but she couldn't make out any details. One of them was even casting spells. She wondered what Therion thought of that. Was this wandering wizard a threat to him?

  The warrior made his way up the bank of the stream and away from the river, only to be attacked again by another aberration. He was knocked off his feet, pinned against a tree this time, but the beast that assaulted him was also stunned by the assault. He used the precious seconds well and threw himself at the hybrid animal, cleaving its deer head in two on his way past. He kept going, lurching deeper into the forest and picking his path at random. He kept glancing back but none of the creatures gave chase.

  His breathing slowed and he seemed to settle down. As he came to his senses, he studied the forest and took breaks, appearing to try to determine his direction. Rosalyn began to suspect he was a dullard until she noted how carefully he was studying the ground and the trees. He was trying to figure something out. She sucked on her lip and wondered what it was that intrigued the man so. He moved on, picking his path with care as the ground began to soften under him.

  Rosalyn grimaced. She could see the puddles and pitfalls that lay ahead of him but she could tell from the way he walked that he could not. He stopped and retraced his steps many times, searching for safer passage through the swampy forest. He stopped at last and stared ahead, peering straight at Rosalyn through the mirror. His eyes widened and his lips parted, and then they curled up into a faint smile. Rosalyn realized she was smiling as well.

  "You fool, he's not looking at you," she chastised herself. Or was he? When Therion had brought her to his home, they'd come through a marsh. Maybe he'd found the wizard's house? Rosalyn stiffened and looked down at herself. She had no clothes, just the cruel tattoos imbedded in her skin. He couldn't see her now, even if he was coming to rescue her!

  Rosalyn looked back up, torn between wanting to cry out for help and her fear of this handsome young warrior seeing her in such a scandalous state. Surely he'd turn his back on her, maybe even kill her for being so brazen and shameless. A whimper escaped her throat. She stared into his eyes and felt herself drawn to them. She felt a connection, as though he was her li
feline. Her path to freedom and sanity. The warrior turned away from her to look behind himself.

  The spell broken, Rosalyn followed his gaze and saw what he could not: a magnificent white horse moved through the marsh. The mud kicked up by its hooves failed to gain purchase on its pure hair. It was no simple horse, she realized. A straight horn emerged from its forehead, marking it as a unicorn.

  Rosalyn was confused. Unicorns were supposed to be beautiful and pure creatures, not the unwholesome corruptions that the warrior had fought earlier. Yet he was squaring up against it and raising his sword aggressively. Didn't he know any better? What sort of a fool was he?

  The unicorn came to a stop in front of him and shook its head. It stamped its foot and blew. The warrior lowered his sword and, after the unicorn bobbed its head up and down, he sheathed it. He reached out and ran his hand along the majestic equine’s face, and then moved to rub its neck and side. The unicorn stamped its foot again, showing impatience.

  The warrior grabbed on to the mane of the horse and vaulted onto its back. He nearly slid off but righted himself just in time. The look on his face made a giggle slip out of her mouth. The warrior looked like he'd never ridden bareback before.

  If he was able to ride a unicorn, surely he had a heart as pure as she'd hoped for. Something to match his boyish and handsome face. She felt her chest swell with hope. They were so close; they just had to ride through the marsh to the wizard's home and come inside. Her cage was only two rooms in from the front door.

  The unicorn turned away. The warrior held on tightly and lowered himself before the beast bolted through the dark forest in a gallop. She watched it go, expecting the rider and horse to crash into a tree at any moment. After a few moments of the unicorn gracefully navigating the runways of the forest, she realized she'd been left behind. He'd been so close!

  Rosalyn found herself on the floor of her cage. Her legs had given out. She stared at the floor, her mind trying and failing to wrap around the foiled rescue.

  "Pity, he was so close to finding you."

  Rosalyn looked up to see Therion staring at her. She reached up to brush the tears off her cheeks.

  "When given a chance at escape, you're not so important after all," Therion said with an air of dismissal. "Embrace me, Rosalyn, and I'll show you how to make yourself important. You can make that boy rue the day he turned around. You can show them all!"

  Rosalyn rose up to her knees and bowed her head. Her last hope was gone. She had to rely on herself if she wanted to escape. And perhaps along the way, Therion could teach her things that would not only make escape possible, but would allow her to show the world that she wasn't just a stupid farm girl worth casting aside! She lifted her eyes to his smirking face and then dropped them again. "How can I please you, Master?"

  Chapter 9

  Alto clung to the unicorn’s neck as it raced through the forest. It had been running for ages without pause, a sign that the forest was greater than he’d thought and that the unicorn was truly a mystical beast. Even his stallion, Sebas, couldn't hope to hold out a steady gallop for so long without showing signs of exhaustion. He'd heard of riders running their horses so hard their hearts gave out but he couldn't imagine doing such a thing. Not only that, but the unicorn showed no signs of faltering.

  Alto had glimpsed shapes in the darkness many times. Shapes of creatures that meant him harm had it not been for the protection of the unicorn. His mount was intelligent beyond anything he'd ever seen in an animal, which excited and scared him.

  The unicorn leapt over a fallen tree and passed into a different part of the woods. Alto sat up and gasped, and then cried out as the unicorn twisted. He felt a moment of weightless terror and then crashed into the ground and rolled along a ground padded with fallen leaves. Alto sat up and groaned. He tested his limbs and found nothing broken, but everything seemed bruised. A snort and the thud of a stamping hoof made him turn around.

  The unicorn shook its head, making its mane fly about. "Yeah, I know," Alto muttered. "Keep my eye on where you're going."

  The unicorn stamped its foot again, and then lowered its head and pushed him with its nose.

  Alto climbed to his feet and looked around. "The forest looks different here. Healthier."

  Alto received another nod and a poke from the unicorn. He turned his side to Alto and offered his back to him.

  Alto smirked. "Okay, I get it. We can't stay here. I have a horse, you know. If Sebas knew I was riding you, he might get upset."

  The unicorn blew its nose and stamped a foot again. Alto got the message and climbed onto its back. He realized he could see it better and lifted his head up. The trees had more leaves here, but in spite of that the air was lighter. He suspected dawn was breaking. And that meant he'd spent the night in the forest. His friends had several hours’ head start on him. Would they wait or fear the worst and come looking for him?

  "We need to hurry," Alto said. "My friends will rush back in looking for me if I don't show up." Alto frowned. When Gerald had disappeared, they hadn't looked for him. They had no idea where he'd gone to, but they still hadn't looked beyond guessing. Their guesses had been confirmed; Gerald had fallen prey to a dragon named Sarya. A dragon that was behind the creatures of the mountains rising up and seizing Highpeak. The same dragon was still alive and, for all they knew, scheming up more ways to disrupt the Kingdom.

  The unicorn was off like a shot from a bow, making Alto grunt as he clung to the beast’s mane. He lowered himself to its neck and took better care to watch where the unicorn ran to keep himself from falling off again.

  The forest grew brighter as they ran. Alto glimpsed other creatures in the forest, creatures that looked more like he was accustomed to. He saw a massive brown bear rise up and watch them race past, and then a bull elk and other animals that looked like they belonged in a hunter's dream. He saw figures in the trees that looked like small people, but they ducked behind the trees and bushes before he could get a good look at them. Other shapes flitted through the air, moving so fast that he couldn't identify what sort of birds they were.

  Alto and his magical steed rounded a thorny pile of brush and came upon a small grove with a pool in it. Four unicorns stood on the far side of the pool and turned to look at them. The unicorn Alto rode came to a halt and whinnied what sounded like a greeting.

  The unicorns stared at him and Alto could sense the intelligence in their eyes. Three of them turned away while a fourth dropped his gaze to the beautiful creature beneath Alto. The unicorns stared at one another until the one near the pool dragged its foot across the ground and then violently jerked its head to the side. The unicorn's horn pointed off into the forest.

  Without another sound, the unicorn bearing Alto took him away from the heart of the forest. It gathered speed after a few moments and was soon leaping over streams and weaving around trees. Alto clung to the unicorn and gave up any hopes of seeing the forest as they streaked through it. He lost track of time again until they burst out of the edge of the forest and bright sunshine forced him to squint. The unicorn continued at a walk, giving Alto no chance to dismount.

  "I have to meet my friends; they're near where the stream leaves the forest," Alto told the unicorn. The magical horse shook its head. "Yes, I do! If you won't take me, I'll walk."

  Alto sat upright and stared at the unicorn. It had stopped, allowing him to slide off his back. Alto grimaced at the soreness in his legs, butt, and back from the long gallop. He turned to look at the forest and then glanced back at the unicorn. "You really understand me, don't you?"

  The unicorn huffed and stamped its foot.

  "I'm having a conversation with a horse. I don't believe this," Alto muttered. He chuckled and glanced at the forest again. "All right, well, I have to meet my friends. They won't leave me behind, just as I wouldn't leave them."

  The unicorn whinnied and dug a hoof into the hard ground. It kept working the dirt until Alto looked down and saw that a shape was forming in the trench it
dug with its hoof. He frowned at the intertwining circles dug into the dirt. "I don't know what that means," he admitted.

  The unicorn snorted again and turned back to offer him its side.

  "Does this mean you'll take me to them?" He was answered with a stamping hoof.

  Alto climbed onto the unicorn, grimacing at the discomfort of riding bareback. They started again, moving at a calmer pace that allowed Alto to sit up and see around him better. The improved visibility did him little good; he had no idea where they were. He lifted his face to let the light of the rising sun on his face warm him. His thoughts drifted as he rode, from the horrors of the night before to thoughts of reuniting with his friends. He wondered about the lights in the forest; was it a home deep in the darkest part of the woods?

  Alto glanced to his left at the forest. He'd seen the twisted creatures in one part and an almost magical area in another part of the forest. To call it enchanted seemed like calling a sling a catapult.

  The young man turned back to the east and wondered how far they had to go. Already the unicorn had turned to the left, causing the sun to no longer be ahead of him. Alto closed his eyes for a moment so he could bask again in the warm light. He jerked his eyes open and looked at the sun. It was in the east and now the forest was north of him. He'd not only ridden through the night, but through the forest. He'd entered it near the northeastern edge. That meant he had many miles to go. Hours of riding, especially at a slower pace.

  Alto sighed and shifted to ease the ache in his loins. It was going to be a long day.