World in Chains- The Complete Series

by Ryan W. Mueller

  "What the hell are you doing," Klint whispered harshly.

  Berig ignored him, pressing farther into the darkness. The moonlight was a dim shadow of itself beneath the thick canopy. Voices came out of the darkness, low grunts that were unfamiliar at first.

  What was Berig doing out here? Had his success with the snake given him too much confidence? He was an idiot. He had to get back to the others.

  But something held him in place. Fear? Courage? Sheer stupidity?

  He soon came to understand the grunting, though it still sounded like another language. Two voices came from the darkness, brimming with anger.

  "They're trespassing in our lands. They must die."

  "No. We must take them prisoner. See what they're doing here."

  "You're a fool. Humans always mean us harm. We should kill them."

  "They shouldn't die needlessly."

  "If they fight back, I will not hesitate to kill them."

  "I'll grant you that right. But remember. I'm the leader here. You obey me."

  "For now."

  It didn't matter what these creatures—these goblins?—intended to do with Berig and his friends. Being a prisoner of theirs sounded little better than death, and maybe even worse. Berig turned, trying to step silently, but a twig crunched beneath his worn leather shoes. He cursed under his breath.

  "You hear something?" said one of the goblins.

  "One of the humans is nearby, listening to us."

  "That doesn't matter. Humans don't understand our language."

  That was strange. Berig could understand them just fine. Then again, when he thought about it, the words didn't sound like his language. It felt like something in his head was translating their words.

  The threatening steps came closer, and soon Berig could see the goblins' shadows. He turned to run, but a rope went over his head, then tightened around his body. When he struggled against the rope, its grip only became tighter. His pulse pounded in his ears.

  The goblins stepped out of the shadows. Berig tried to reach his sword but couldn't move his arms. He could still use his legs, though, and as soon as one of the goblins stepped within range, he kicked at the goblin's legs.

  Something hard slammed against his head. There was a moment of excruciating pain before darkness overtook him.

  Chapter 28: The Wanderer

  Berig woke to a pounding head. Light glared in his eyes, and he couldn't make out anything. He felt a wet cloth against his head. The hand holding that cloth felt gentle, too gentle to be one of the goblins.

  The room came into focus. He was in a wooden building, and a beautiful woman stood over him. She had light brown skin and black hair, but the most beautiful thing about her was her eyes. They were dark and mysterious and full of intelligence.

  Was Berig still unconscious and dreaming? A woman this beautiful couldn't exist.

  "Where am I?" Berig said weakly.

  "Wanderer, you are under the protection of Clan Forest Snake. We encountered the goblins holding you captive. When they saw us, they ran and left you in the forest. We're glad to have found you, Wanderer."

  Berig tried to sit up, but a wave of dizziness hit him.

  "Wanderer, you suffered quite a blow to the head. You need to relax. I have some healing talent, but it'll take time for you to recover. Give it at least a few hours."

  "My friends are still out there," Berig said. "The goblins captured them."

  "I'm sorry to hear that, Wanderer. We'll do what we can to help them, but you are more important. We must keep you safe."

  Berig was making no sense of this. Why the hell was he important to these people? Didn't they understand that he didn't belong here? He had to save his friends. Somehow.

  He tried to sit up again. The dizziness wasn't as bad this time, but he still lay back down.

  "Wanderer, you need to rest."

  "I don't want to rest," Berig said, sitting up and waiting for his dizziness to go away. "And why do you keep calling me Wanderer? You're saying it like it's some kinda title."

  "It is a title," she said. "A very important title."

  "I don't understand. How could I be important to you people?"

  "I'll let my father explain." She smiled down at Berig. "I'm Lara, by the way. I'm pleased to make your acquaintance, Wanderer." She strode out of the room, then returned maybe a minute later. A middle-aged man with dark skin and a black beard stood with her.

  "This is my father," Lara said, motioning for him to approach Berig.

  The man stood at the edge of Berig's bed. "I am Zak, the clan chief."

  "It's nice to meet you," Berig said, "but I really need to help my friends."

  "I understand, Wanderer, but we can't rush these things. We'll send some of our warriors to help them. Don't concern yourself with their fates. No, your fate is much more important."

  "I don't want to sound ungrateful," Berig said, "but why the hell am I more important?"

  "He doesn't know who he is," Lara said to her father.

  Zak frowned. "Hmm, this might be a tough one to explain."

  "I think I know who I am," Berig said. "I'm Berig."

  "That might be your name," Zak said, "but you are much more than a name. You are someone with the power to change the world."

  Berig laughed, and his head pounded again. "Me? Changing the world? Is this some kinda joke? I'm just Berig. I've never amounted to anything, and I never will."

  "We aren't concerned with your past," Zak said. "It's your future that's more important."

  Berig groaned. "Don't tell me you've read these stupid Webs of Fate, too."

  "We've read what we can. They show us many things."

  Berig remembered now what Darek had told them about Clan Forest Snake. Strange. Mystical. There couldn't be any truth to what they said about him. Could there?

  He thought of Cyrus, who hadn't seemed so strange. Cyrus had hinted that Berig might be destined for great things.

  And Berig had pulled off quite a few heroic feats lately. Even a few months ago, he never would've dreamed of doing these things. He'd been different ever since Crayden. It had been subtle at first, but with every passing day, he was changing into someone new.

  "And what have these Webs shown you about me?" Berig asked, trying to keep his tone calm and patient. As far as he could tell, these people meant no harm.

  "Have you heard of the Great War?" Lara asked. She stood now at the edge of the room, frowning at Berig with concern.

  "Yeah, I've heard of it," Berig said, "but that happened hundreds of years ago. How could it matter to me?"

  "The Great War isn't over," Zak said. "The Webs have told us that much. In the near future, it will begin anew, and you will play a major role in that war. Without you, we cannot hope to prevail over Krinir."

  "Who the hell is Krinir?" Berig asked.

  "He's the source of all the monsters you see in our world. The source of everything that is evil. In the Great War, we exiled him to the Shadowed Land, but he will return, and when he does, we'll need powerful heroes to stand against him. We'll need you."

  Berig fidgeted in the bed. "But I'm not powerful. I can't do magic. I'm a decent thief, but that's all I've got going for me."

  "You're not powerful yet," Zak said.

  "I don't care about any of this." Berig put his feet on the ground and slowly got to his feet. He wavered a bit before steadying his balance. "I just wanna help my friends."

  "I'm afraid we can't let you do that," Zak said. He placed a hand on Berig's shoulder and gently pushed him back down to the bed.

  Berig felt a stab of anger. "Am I a prisoner here?"

  "Of course not," Zak said. "But you're too important to risk yourself. In time, you'll come to understand that. Until then, we'll have to keep you here."

  Berig glared at him. "So I am a prisoner, then."

  Zak shrugged. "If that's what you want to think, then I suppose you are."

  Lara stepped closer to Berig's bed. "My father only wan
ts what's best for you, Wanderer."

  "If I'm supposed to be some kinda hero, how can I do that sitting around here? I mean, aren't heroes supposed to do heroic things like saving their friends?

  Zak sighed and leaned against the wooden wall. "I think you need some time to think. There will be guards outside the door. Please don't make them necessary."

  He stepped out of the room, leaving Berig alone with Lara. She sat down at the edge of the bed, offering him a sympathetic smile. For a moment, he returned the smile, but then he remembered that he was a prisoner here.

  "Do you agree with your father?" he asked.

  "My father is perhaps a bit overprotective," she said, "but his heart's in the right place. I'm sure he'll come to understand that we can't keep you here." She ran a hand through her black hair, a gesture that only made her more beautiful. "I'm sorry about your friends."

  Berig leaned against the wooden headboard. "Will he really send people to rescue them?"

  "He will. My father is a man of his word." She shifted on the bed. "You'll get another chance to convince him to let you go, too. He's not normally this stubborn. I think he's surprised and afraid. Surprised that the Wanderer has come during his time as clan chief. Afraid that he'll do something to jeopardize the future. He isn't a bad man. Not at all."

  Berig held back a sigh of frustration. "Can you please call me Berig? All this Wanderer business makes me feel queasy. I'm just Berig. I'm not some great hero. Not yet at least."

  "All right, Berig," she said. "That is an interesting name. I've never heard it before."

  "Yeah, I don't know where my parents got it."

  "Well, I like it."

  "Can I leave this room?" Berig asked. "I'm tired of sitting in bed." He glanced toward the wooden door, imagining the guards stationed beyond. "I promise I won't run. It'll help me feel less like a prisoner if I can at least walk around your settlement."

  She rose from the bed. "Yes, I think we can allow that."

  Berig got to his feet with Lara's help. He wavered less this time, though he still needed her support as they crossed the room. By the time they reached the door, he thought he could stand on his own. The pain in his head and his dizziness had faded.

  "So you said you could do some healing?" he asked. "Can you do any other magic?"

  "No, that's all I have," she said, "but I'm thinking of making the Pilgrimage someday."

  As they stepped through the door, Berig said, "The Pilgrimage?"

  "There are eight temples of magic spread throughout the world. At each temple, you gain one type of magic. It's a very difficult quest. Even most of the sorcerers in Luminia can do only one or two types of magic. Some have never even begun the Pilgrimage."

  They passed the guards at the door, who glanced at them with concern.

  "It's all right," Lara said to the guards. "He's with me."

  They nodded and let the two of them pass.

  "So am I destined to make this Pilgrimage?" Berig asked as they marched through wooden corridors. He figured he could walk on his own, but he liked Lara's touch, so he didn't say anything.

  "I believe the Webs say you'll do so. If you want some answers, you can talk to Tyrell, our High Priest. He can read the Webs of Fate better than anyone else here."

  Berig's stomach churned. He still didn't like the thought of his future being out of his control. As they walked, he said, "Do these Webs control everything?"

  "No, they don't. They merely show us which outcomes are more likely than others. The future isn't set in stone, and it never will be."

  "Then why do I have to be this Wanderer, this hero?"

  "You don't have to be anything," she said as they stepped through another door, emerging in a large clearing within a much larger forest. "But if one of your potential futures is one in which you're a hero, is that something you can ignore?"

  Berig scratched his head. "I don't know. I've always lived life in the moment. When you grow up on the streets like I did, all you care about is where your next meal's coming from."

  Dozens of people filled the clearing. To Berig's surprise, no one approached them.

  "I thought they'd all worship me around here," he said.

  "My father hasn't told them who you are. Only three of us know: him, me, and Tyrell."

  "The guards don't even know?" he asked.

  "All they know is that they are not to harm you in any way. It's common for us to be cautious around outsiders. The forest protects us from the worst of the clan wars, but they do occasionally make raids in our territory."

  "You're not like the other clans," Berig said, glancing around. A few of the people here had lighter skin, but most had light brown skin like Lara. Some even had skin darker than any Berig had ever seen. "You must come from somewhere different."

  "Our ancestors came from the same place as everyone else," Lara said, leading Berig through the forest. The building they'd left was the largest around. The rest of the settlement consisted of dozens of wooden shacks, plain but well-constructed.

  "Then why do you look so different?" Berig asked.

  "Our ancestors were a diverse mix of people. Over time, many have intermarried, and that diversity has all but vanished, but there are groups of us throughout the world that don't mix as much."

  "Yeah, I guess that's true." Berig thought of the moneylender, Amar, and a few others like him, whose families hadn't mixed much with the Empire's generally lighter-skinned population. In truth, Berig had never given much thought to things like that.

  He'd changed in a lot of ways recently. He barely recognized himself as the same person who'd fled Bradenton. That Berig felt like someone who belonged to a different lifetime.

  "So where are we going?" he asked as they passed a couple of children playing with twigs as if they were practice swords.

  "Didn't you want to talk to Tyrell?"

  "Yeah, I guess so."

  They entered one of the wooden huts. Inside, a man sat at a table, eyes closed as if he were in a trance. Berig shared a nervous glance with Lara, who put a finger to her lips. They waited for a few minutes until the man opened his eyes. He was a few inches taller than Berig and younger than Berig had expected, with a short black beard.

  "What do you need?" asked the man. His eyes settled on Berig. "Ah, you must be the Wanderer. I am Tyrell, High Priest of Clan Forest Snake." He held out a hand to shake and Berig took it. Tyrell's grip was firmer than Berig had expected.

  Berig swayed on his feet. "So, what can you tell me about these Webs of Fate?"

  "Please sit down." Tyrell motioned to a pair of wooden chairs nearby. Once Berig and Lara seated themselves, Tyrell said, "I can tell you a great deal. I've made studying the Webs my mission in life. Few have the talent like I do."

  "Did these Webs tell you I'd be coming?" Berig asked.

  "Yes, they did, or at least they said you might come. That's the important thing about the Webs. They don't deal in certainties. Some threads had you dead by now. Others had you traveling to different parts of the world. Others yet had you remaining in the Empire." He stroked his beard. "We're pleased that you came here, and we were ready for the unlikely event that you would show up, but we weren't expecting it. I'm glad we were wrong."

  Berig shifted in his chair. "How far ahead can you see?"

  "It depends on the strength of the strands. Some strands are easier to see than others, usually those strands involving a Weaver like you. But even then, we can't see the future with certainty." He paused. "Oh, I should probably tell you what a Weaver is." He stroked his beard again. "The simplest explanation is this. A Weaver is someone who pulls on the threads with unusual strength. That is, important events tend to cluster around them. I'm afraid to say I don't understand this, but you are very important, Wanderer."

  "Please call me Berig." He leaned forward in his chair. "What do you see in my future?"

  "I see no certainties. I see only possibilities. And the farther in the future we go, the vaguer those possibilities
become. I can only tell you that you will play an important role when the Great War begins anew. To play this role, you must begin the Pilgrimage. Start out by going to Luminia. You'll find some answers there, I think."

  "And if I don't wanna do any of this?" Berig asked.

  "It's your choice."

  Berig had to think about this. A part of him was excited at the prospect of being important. Another part wanted to fade into the background like he always had. Had his recent challenges changed him enough make him a hero?

  Well, he knew one way he wanted to be a hero. He had to save his friends. "Can these Webs tell you the near future?" he asked.

  "They can, but only in possibilities. Remember. Nothing is certain."

  "That's fine," Berig said. "I want you to look into the future and see if my friends can be saved, and if I'll have any role in saving them." He told Tyrell what had happened to the rest of the party and gave him all their names.

  "It'll be a few moments." Tyrell closed his eyes and fell into his trancelike state again.

  Berig leaned forward in his chair, feeling queasy.

  It seemed like an eternity before Tyrell opened his eyes. "There are a few major possibilities regarding your friends. The most likely possibility is that they will all die, but that possibility diminishes if you set out to help them. However, that also puts you at risk."

  "Are you saying a rescue party without me will fail?" Berig asked.

  "It's not a certainty, but it is highly likely. Their chances of success are perhaps one in a hundred. If you go with them, the chances become more like one in two. Not good, but better."

  Berig turned to Lara. "We should tell your father."

  Tyrell cleared his throat. "I should also point out that the rescue party will almost certainly all die without your help. So I agree. Zak should know this."

  "You think he'll let me help?" Berig asked.

  "I'm not sure," Lara said, "but I think he will. He is not a foolish man. Again, I don't think he intends to keep you here forever. He's just worried about your fate."