Altered Destiny

by Shawna Thomas

  Selia nodded. “I think so. I should.”

  He examined the forest. “There is a hollow, a depression in the ground surrounded by berry bushes just north of here.” He paused. “It’ll shelter us from the wind, but we still can’t risk a fire.”

  Twice now they’d been lucky. Jaden didn’t want to risk a third. Three Svistra weren’t ever sent out alone. Where was the rest of the patrol?

  Chapter Twelve

  “Are you s-s-sure about the fi-re?”

  Jaden added another stick to the blaze. He wasn’t, but he was as equally worried that Selia would fall ill without the warmth. With any luck, the smoke would blend in with the haze of the Wastes. Not that he put much hope in luck.

  Despite her words, Selia scooted closer to the flames. He eyed her blanket, only a finger’s width away from the fire. When he looked up, she was watching him. Her eyes captured the fire’s flames, and for a moment, he stared transfixed.

  “Yes. I’m sure,” he lied.

  After they’d reached the hollow, he’d asked her to take off her wet things while he started a fire. She hadn’t protested. He handed her a blanket, attempting not to stare at the bruises peppering her naked flesh.

  The clothes in her pack were damp and now steamed by the fireside. His clothes had fared better. Selia had averted her gaze when he’d changed, but remained silent. Did she still think him a monster?

  “You’re terrible at that, you know?”

  Jaden turned from the flames’ erratic dance. “What?”

  “Lying. You should practice more often or stick to the truth.”

  Her stammering had disappeared. Her blood must be warming. Jaden shuddered. He would have to feed again soon. Soon, but not yet. He retrieved the pot he’d set at the side of the flames and poured half of its contents into the wooden bowl. “Here.”

  Selia made a face.

  “You might like it.”

  She took a tentative sip, her eyes lighting in surprise. “Not bad.”

  Pride brushed his heart. He smiled. “It will warm you from the inside.”

  From under her blanket, she pointed toward the pot. “Then you better drink some too. You’re pale.”

  He nodded but didn’t reach for the pot.

  “I mean, you’re more pale than usual.” Selia sipped a little more. “Is there something you’re not telling me?”

  She was only now starting to trust him. How would she react if he told her he needed blood? It didn’t matter. He wouldn’t leave her alone that long. “The day after tomorrow we’ll cross the Wastes,” he said, sidestepping her question.

  “What?” The hand holding the cup froze halfway to her mouth.

  “If we start at daybreak, we should be across before the sun is far in the west.”

  Selia looked to the east then back to Jaden in obvious puzzlement.

  “There is a finger of the Wastes that stretches out into the forest just north of us.”

  “And we’re crossing it why?”

  “Alacrity is paramount, no? That’s why you risked the White Forest.”

  “Yes.”

  “Then this is the fastest way. The road skirts the Dead lands far to the west.”

  “And we’ll elude any trackers,” she finished. “Because no one is stupid enough to journey into the Wastes. No one but us apparently.”

  He met her gaze. “Even Svistra have a hard time tracking on the Wastes.”

  “The White Forest idea didn’t exactly turn out the way I’d expected,” Selia reminded him.

  “It did save you several days.”

  “Only because you followed me.”

  “And I’m with you now. You’ll be safe.”

  “What are you doing?”

  Jaden looked down. Without thinking about it, he’d picked up a piece of rope and was tying and untying knots. The blind magician had taught him many things; one of them was his special knot. He smiled at the memory. “After I left my father the first time, I journeyed south. I stumbled onto an old man attempting to fix a fence. His goats had wandered down by the river. To my surprise, he turned, looked in my direction and said, ‘Are you going to stand there all day watching or help an old man?’”

  “What did you do?”

  “What could I do? I helped him mend the fence and discovered he was blind. After we fixed the fence, I rounded up his goats, which were not happy to see me. He invited me to dinner.”

  “Did he know you were Svistra?”

  Jaden peered into the flames. He’d asked himself that same question many times and gave Selia the only answer that made sense. “I don’t think it would have mattered. When I went inside for dinner, it began to rain, and he put out several pans to collect the water. The next day I set out to mend his roof. When the roof was sound, he needed help with the harvest. And so it went. I stayed the rest of the summer and throughout the winter.” Jaden swallowed, veering away from less pleasant memories he’d rather avoid. He held up the rope. “He’d been a traveling magician and taught me many tricks.”

  “How is it a trick?” Her dark hair had begun to dry, curling into tight ringlets that softened the hard angles of her face.

  He straightened the rope then constructed a knot. “Pull on the knot to test its strength.”

  She took the rope in both hands and pulled. “It’s secure.”

  “Try a little harder to make sure.”

  Selia frowned in concentration, pulling at either end of the rope until her knuckles whitened. “It’s no use. I’m only making the knot tighter.” She handed the rope back to Jaden.

  Jaden smiled, took the rope back and with a flourish, shook out the knot.

  Her mouth dropped open. “How did you do that?”

  “Ah, it took me weeks to get the secret of that particular trick from Eli.”

  “I don’t have the patience.” She smiled.

  Or the time. He held the rope out and with slower, precise movements retied the knot. “It’s in the way the knot is made. You were right to say the more you struggle against it, the stronger the knot becomes.” He held the knot in both hands and tugged once to demonstrate. “But when you push instead of pull,” he pushed the knot into itself then held up the unknotted rope, “the knot comes apart easily. Here try it.” Jaden tied the knot again.

  After fumbling with it a few times, she unraveled it. “Can I try again?”

  He took the rope and tied the knot, handing it back to Selia.

  This time she undid it with ease. Her brown eyes gleamed. “Nice trick.”

  “Eli told me this was the key to some of his best received performances. He’d have his assistant tie him up, say to a stake with bramble all around him. Then he’d have someone from the audience check the bonds and set the bramble on fire. After they let another person check to make sure the flames surrounded him, the assistant would herd the audience toward the front. Once the smoke had thickened enough, Eli undid his bonds and snuck out through the back, detoured around the area then joined the back of the crowd. When the crowd had begun to mumble their concern, he’d make his presence known.”

  “That would have been a sight to see.” Selia’s eyes sparkled in the firelight. His fingers itched to brush a lock of hair away from her forehead.

  “Yes. They made sure there was more smoke than fire and took advantage of the crowd’s attention on the fire instead of their surroundings.” He smiled. “Eli used to say the easiest thing in the world was to fool someone who wanted to be fooled.”

  “Sounds like a smart man. What happened to him?”

  Jaden froze, the memory of that day etched forever in his mind. He’d gone out to plow the fields and ready them for planting. When he’d returned, Eli was tied to the fence he’d repaired the summer before, beaten almost senseless and bleeding from several wounds as his father’s warriors fed. “He died.”

  A flush of anger followed so closely behind a wave of dread that for a moment, Nathan wished he was in his office so he could sit. Instead, he stared at the scr
ipt before him, the letters dancing then blurring together. The Svistra had attacked a village near Bain’s Crossing, but unlike the previous attacks, they’d had fun with the villagers first. The report in his hand didn’t spare him any of the gruesome details.

  His stomach churned acid. He looked up, suddenly aware the messenger still waited. The man stood, impassive, his eyes focused on the men working in the garden.

  Nathan shook himself. “Thank you.”

  “Will there be a reply, Commander?” The man sounded weary.

  He couldn’t know what the message contained. Nathan’s hands shook. “Take care of your horse then get some food and rest. I’ll give you my answer later.”

  The man touched his forehead with the tips of his fingers before leading his horse toward the stables.

  Nathan made his way into the fortress. Three days. That’s how long the Svistra had stayed in the village. Three days of terror. He couldn’t let it happen again. Yet he knew, unless he found a way to stop it, that it would.

  As he made his way up to his quarters, he blinked, adjusting to the dim light, and breathed in the tangy smell of minerals, moisture, and smoke from the torches.

  Once behind his desk, he sat heavily in his chair. The Svistra were vicious before, but they hadn’t been cruel. At least they hadn’t tortured their victims before killing them. What had changed? What happened during the Svistra’s hiatus?

  He scanned his desk as if the answer lay there. His gaze settled on a piece of good news. He picked up the letter without reading it again. King Leisle had sent word that, as a show of good will, King Josiam of Darmis was sending half a battalion of men to aide the battle against the Svistra. The soldiers were already on their way.

  Nathan held the two letters in either hand. One didn’t outweigh the other. He couldn’t get the villagers’ lives back but maybe with the southern soldiers to help, he could stop it from happening again. Gods knew he needed all the help he could get. His every instinct said the storm had finally been unleashed.

  Chapter Thirteen

  Even with the tent flap closed, Keldar smelled the approach of humans long before he heard them. He’d never understood their penchant to remain unwashed for weeks at a time. It would be a glad day when he was done with the lot of them, or at least when he could keep them penned. Downwind.

  The broad sounds of the southern king’s rich tenor rose slowly over the voice of his men, until shouts filled the air.

  Keldar straightened his tunic and stepped away from the tent flap. He heard the southern king grumble under his breath, “How dare the northern barbarian,” and, “He doesn’t know who he’s dealing with.”

  He smiled. The humans always underestimated Svistra hearing. The words couldn’t hide the acrid stench of fear. Keldar’s mouth filled with saliva. Josiam had come expecting to trample over an untried boy. He would find something entirely different.

  As the king and his men approached, Keldar breathed deeply, savoring the scent. He’d always enjoyed the fear of his quarry. This time, his hunger would have to be denied but he determined—as two of Josiam’s bodyguards stepped in the tent, looking everywhere but at him—that he would dine on the southern king, sooner rather than later.

  Apparently satisfied, the men stepped to either side of the door and held open the flap.

  “Your Majesty.” Keldar bowed low as the king stepped inside.

  Josiam’s eyes narrowed. “What is the meaning of this?”

  “I take it you didn’t wish to first refresh yourself?” Keldar rose and fixed a small, polite smile to his face. Quite a feat, since he was imagining how the king’s hot blood would taste after he tore out his throat. “The wine is excellent.”

  Josiam stood still, his body trembling with suppressed anger and fear.

  “Please, Your Majesty, have a seat.” He waved his arm to one of the two chairs before a low table.

  “Not before I know what you’re up to!” Josiam blustered, his dark face turning a shade of purple.

  Interesting. Too much blood. Bad sign; it would be a shame for the king to die of natural causes before Keldar had his go at him.

  “I come in peace, and you treat me like a prisoner,” Josiam continued.

  “Please, sit. I will explain everything.”

  Josiam opened his mouth to continue his tirade but stopped when Keldar again indicated a chair.

  The king moved his bulk toward the proffered chair, hesitated, then sat in the other one. Perhaps the king was savvier than he at first thought. He’d chosen the chair facing the door.

  Keldar settled into the other and without a word, poured two cups of tea. “Sugar?”

  “I didn’t come here for a fucking tea party. Why did you take my weapons?”

  Charming. “Of course. Forgive me.” He stood, spreading his arms wide. “A show of faith. As you can see, I am unarmed and without escort. I ask for less than I’m prepared to give.” Keldar glanced at the two guards, sat and sipped his tea. Did the human king know he was only a flick of the wrist away from death? “We are meeting as equals, no?” Keldar leveled his gaze on Josiam and pulled back his lips in a mockery of a smile to reveal his teeth. “Or should I ask why you have need of your weapons?”

  The color drained from Josiam’s face, leaving it the pale shade of baked silt. “It is dangerous to travel these lands unarmed,” he sputtered.

  Keldar sheathed his teeth. “Indeed, and that is why you will have your weapons back before you leave. As I said, it’s only a show of faith. A forced courtesy, so to speak.”

  Amazing how the color once again returned to the king’s features. He’d seen spiders with the same ability.

  “I see,” Josiam said. Then he picked up the cup and sipped.

  When Josiam made a face, Keldar deftly added a spoonful of sugar to the king’s tea, stirred and laid down the spoon in the time it took the king to glance down at the cup.

  “Er…uh…thank you.”

  “You’re welcome.” Keldar leaned back in his chair. “Now, there are a few details I’d like to review.” He was enjoying this meeting.

  The king inclined his head.

  “I am prepared to take Newhaven within a moon. Will you be ready?”

  Josiam blinked. “That soon?”

  “My men are impatient. It’s only a matter of gathering the force. Right now they are out…playing.” He waved his hand toward the tent flap.

  “It will take me some time, more time. Give me two moons, and I’ll be ready. I’ve sent men to Leisle to aid in the fight against you.” The hand holding the tea shook slightly, but Josiam’s voice was even.

  “And?”

  “I want you to kill them.”

  Keldar turned the sugar spoon end over end. “The lives of your men mean so little to you?”

  “Not when their deaths would profit me more. If I have aided Leisle, he will be more inclined to turn a blind eye to any inconsistencies he might see.”

  “Such as your army poised on his doorstep?”

  “Ready to avenge the death of my men and rain destruction down on the Svistra. Yes.”

  “Where are these men you’ve sent to Leisle?”

  “On their way to Eagle Rock,” Josiam answered. “I gave the orders several days after I left. They should arrive in four days’ time.”

  “I see. Not an easy feat. I take it you haven’t officially left your lands?”

  “No, I’m sick in my chambers with only my private physicians in attendance.”

  “Wise.”

  Josiam shrugged. “I must return quickly. The kingdom will grow restless if their monarch lingers too long in his sick bed.”

  “You have no heirs?”

  “That bitch Leisle pawned off on me is barren.”

  Keldar raised an eyebrow.

  “Yes, there is a son I could name, if I so desired.”

  Keldar’s vision blurred as anger burned in his gut. So the king would not claim a bastard son. Did he know he spoke to one now? Yes, he would ki
ll this man easily, and with great satisfaction. “I hope that is not a consideration for many years, Majesty.”

  “And you? Do you have an heir?”

  He smiled. “I’m working on it.”

  Josiam returned the gesture.

  “Very well.” Keldar set down the spoon with a soft clink. “I will kill your men. You’ll be ready to attack Newhaven at the new moon next?”

  “My men will wait for your signal.”

  “Wear this.” Jaden handed Selia a rectangular piece of fabric.

  They stood on a rise looking down into a shallow gorge, but one that could inspire nightmares. As far as she could see, the land stretched white and cracked. Tall, black, craggy spikes punctured the ground at intervals. It took her a moment to realize they’d once been trees. The occasional glint of water pooled in shades of rust in such a way it appeared the earth bled. She wondered why the land didn’t absorb the moisture and shuddered. It was too much like the White Forest for comfort.

  She glanced at the proffered fabric. “Why?”

  “White wind.”

  She must have looked doubtful because he took the cloth from her and tied it over her nose and mouth. “Have you ever been this close to the Wastes?”

  “No.” It was hard to take her eyes off the expanse below them.

  “When the wind blows, it carries pieces of the Wastes with it. We call it death dust. I don’t know what humans call it or if they call it anything. I’ve seen stretches of forest coated white and slowly dying. If a Svistra or a human breathes it in, he or she will begin to cough. Breathe too much, and you cough until you throw up. Eventually, you will throw up blood. Few survive after that. It’s a slow, painful death.”

  Selia’s mouth dried. “I see. I can’t say much for your choice of paths.”

  His golden eyes narrowed. Perhaps he’d heard the panic she tried hard to hide. She’d heard once that it was never wise to look a Svistra in the eye. She wondered, when she had trouble breaking the contact with him, if that little snippet of rumor had a basis in fact.

  “A man who never knows fear cannot be brave.” His eyes softened, then he turned to look out over the Wastes.