Fate of the Fallen

by Kel Kade

  Dolt abruptly turned down a rough path that led away from the road. Aaslo shouted, but of course his calls were ignored. Aaslo was about to give up on ever seeing his belongings again when Teza said, “Hey, look at this.” She had bent down to retrieve something from the path. After brushing off the dirt, she held up a rotted sign. “It says ‘Ruriton,’ and it has an arrow.”

  Aaslo searched the brush beside the road and eventually found a broken post that had been consumed by plants. He lined up Teza’s piece of the sign and groaned. “Of course that infernal horse knows the way. There’s something off about him.”

  “Yeah, he’s yours.”

  Teza said, “Maybe he used to belong to a magus. I’ve seen them use spells to teach their horses to do unusual things.”

  “Well, he certainly looks weird enough to be bespelled.”

  “Says the dragon man.”

  “I’m not a dragon man,” Aaslo grumbled.

  “I wonder if you can breathe fire.”

  “That’s absurd.”

  “Yes, it is,” said Teza. “Dragon man sounds like some bard is trying too hard. How about man dragon—or mandragon.”

  Aaslo groaned, “That’s even worse. You two please stop.”

  Teza glanced around, then leaned in and whispered, “Is he speaking to you now?”

  Aaslo rubbed his temples with his fingers and yelped when he nearly put out his own eye with a talon. Mathias laughed, and Aaslo said, “He never stops.”

  Teza said, “Do you think you really hear him, or is it a manifestation of your guilt over not being able to save him?”

  He glanced toward her uncertainly. “I don’t know. Mostly, I think I’m crazy.”

  “Well, then you’re not. If you know you’re crazy, then you’re not really crazy.”

  “I’m not sure that’s true,” he said. “Magdelay cast the preservation enchantment. I sometimes wonder if she trapped his soul inside his head.”

  “I don’t think it works that way,” she said.

  Aaslo shook his head. “I doubt it’s true anyway. He doesn’t sound like himself. I mean, his voice is the same, but he doesn’t act like Mathias.”

  “How so?”

  “Mathias would tease in good fun, but he was always positive and encouraging. Even though he was far better than I was at almost everything, he always told me I could be just as good if I worked at it. This Mathias—the one in my head—he’s harsh.”

  Teza shrugged. “Death could change a person.”

  “He said something similar,” said Aaslo.

  “Then he has a point.”

  They both paused when they noticed that Dolt was standing across the middle of the road unmoving. He seemed completely unconcerned as they approached and even let Aaslo take his reins. Aaslo was so relieved that he told Teza to close her eyes and shucked his filthy clothes right there in the road before putting on a fresh set.

  “Um, Aaslo?” said Teza from behind him.

  “Yeah?”

  “I think you need to see this. Hurry.”

  He slipped the clean shirt over his head and stepped around Dolt to join her. Not far ahead was a man sitting beside the road on a folding chair. His head was bent, and a book was open in his lap. A horse grazed next to him, and both appeared unfazed by the creatures encroaching on them from either side of the road.

  “Does he not see them?” said Teza. The man licked his finger, glanced up, then looked back down and turned the page. “Maybe he’s with them,” she said.

  “No,” said Aaslo. “They’re preparing to attack.”

  “Are those the things you told me about? The things that killed your friend?”

  “Yes,” he said, his stomach churning.

  “You told me the others were controlled by a magus. Maybe he’s their magus, and they want you to think they’re going to attack him.”

  “I don’t think they’ve seen us yet,” said Aaslo.

  “I’m surprised they haven’t smelled you yet.”

  “How could they not?” said Teza. “We’re standing out in the open, right in the middle of the road.”

  “Can you tell if he’s a magus?”

  “Can you tell if someone’s a fisherman by looking at him from a distance?”

  Aaslo scowled at her. “No, I just thought maybe you could use your power to detect if he has any. You know, cast a spell or something to sense when a magus is near.”

  She shook her head. “That would have been wonderful at the academy. I would’ve avoided being the butt of so many practical jokes.”

  Aaslo watched as ten of the disgusting, saggy-skinned grey things drew closer to the man on the chair. Most were wearing clothing like any commoner, although some were dressed as soldiers complete with leather and plate armor. Aaslo didn’t recognize the uniforms or the crest, a white ring containing a white starburst on a black field. In the light of day, the creatures looked more grotesque than sinister.

  “They were certainly sinister when they killed me.”

  Aaslo’s guilt rolled over in his stomach.

  “Well?” said Teza.

  “Well what?” he replied.

  “Are you going to help him or not?”

  He frowned at her. “Of course I’ll help him. I’m not going to just stand here and watch a man get slaughtered. I’m thinking of a plan.”

  “Taking your time again, I see. Will you be too late to save him as well?”

  “A plan?” said Teza. She huffed with frustration, then raised her hand toward the monsters. A tight ball of white light manifested in front of her open palm. It suddenly streaked toward the monster closest to the waiting man. When it was about ten feet from him, the white ball struck and shattered a magical barrier before colliding with the creature. The monster was knocked off his feet but recovered quickly. All the creatures turned in alarm, as if just seeing them. The man in the chair continued to read, seemingly without concern.

  Aaslo spun and grabbed his axe from Dolt’s saddle with his monstrous arm. He was surprised that, in its strong grip, the axe felt as if it weighed almost nothing. He drew his sword and held it out for Teza. “Here, take this!” he shouted as the monsters closed the distance.

  “What am I supposed to do with this?” she said as she took it. The tip immediately dropped into the dirt. “I don’t know how to use a sword, and I can’t even lift the thing.”

  Aaslo growled and took the sword from her, offering his belt knife in exchange. “You won’t have any reach with this. It’s only for an emergency. Stay back or use your powers to attack them.”

  “I tried that,” she said. “It didn’t work.”

  “Don’t you have any other spells?”

  “Um … probably. I just can’t think of them at the moment. I wasn’t training to be a warrior. I was training to be a healer.”

  Aaslo ground his teeth. “Then why did you attack them?”

  She pointed to the man in the chair. “I was afraid they’d eat him!”

  Without responding, Aaslo leapt in front of Teza to meet the first creature. He slashed the unarmored monster across the chest and then kicked it backward into one of its comrades. He ducked as one swiped at his head with a rusty sword and smashed his axe through the creature’s leg. It screeched as it fell to the ground but continued to attack despite the egregious wound. Aaslo hacked at another of the creatures that was attacking him from the side. A third was abruptly knocked back by a brilliant ball of light, which gave him the chance to smash his axe through the head of the monster crawling toward him. From the corner of his eye, he caught sight of an armored monster sneaking up on Teza. He threw his axe as he turned, lodging it in the back of the creature’s skull just before it reached her. As it fell, Teza blinked at Aaslo in shock, then screamed and pointed behind him. Aaslo got his sword up in time to stab his immediate attacker, but the blade became lodged in the monster’s chest cavity. He placed his boot on the creature’s chest and yanked, but the blade wouldn’t budge.

  A female c
reature flanked Aaslo, bringing a saber down toward his head. He raised his arm as the blade flashed in the sunlight. The sword struck the green-black scales and was deflected, casting sparks as it slid to the side. Something inside him stirred—something foreign. He instinctually lashed out, raking the razor-sharp talons across his attacker’s sagging face, then sank the claws into her neck and ripped out her throat. When he realized what he’d done, bile swept up his throat. He tossed the white, bloody mess aside, then reached again for his sword. The blade finally came free, and he swung with the strength of both arms to lop the head off the next foe. He was showered in white blood as he engaged the final attackers amid a stream of white sparks that dazed and delayed them.

  When nothing remained but mutilated corpses, Aaslo slunk back to join Teza. She looked up at him with wide, frightened eyes, then smirked as she pulled a piece of gore from his hair, discarding it with a flick.

  He said, “I’m so frustrated.”

  She glanced at the mess behind him. “Why? You were amazing—much better than I expected.”

  He shook his head. “It’s not that. I need to change again.” As he turned to grab fresh clothes from his pack, Teza started to laugh, then doubled over as she became hysterical.

  She wiped her eyes and said, “I’m sorry. I don’t know what came over me. I was just so scared.”

  Aaslo didn’t change right away. Instead, he grabbed a rag and wiped the worst of the milky blood and gore from his face and hands. He cringed as he cleaned the black scales, remembering how he had ripped out a woman’s throat with nothing more than the claws of a foreign beast—his claws. As he scrubbed his neck, he strode over to the man in the chair, who was still reading. When Aaslo stopped, the man finally snapped his book shut and stood. He raised his face and met Aaslo’s gaze.

  “Greetings, Sir Forester. It is a great honor to finally meet you.”

  “I feel like I shouldn’t have to say this, but never trust a man who reads through a battle.”

  Aaslo studied the man’s fresh face. He appeared to be near Aaslo’s age, but he looked to have never spent a single day in the sun or laboring. His hair and skin were immaculate. His pale grey eyes stood out in contrast to his thick black lashes and dark mahogany hair and brows. His face was clean-shaven, his teeth white and straight, and his smile seemingly genuine. He wore a black and brown tunic over black trousers, and his polished, knee-high black boots looked too new to be comfortable.

  Aaslo said, “You seem to know who I am. Who are you?”

  The man tilted his head. “My apologies. Sometimes I forget that we do not yet know each other. My name is Ijen. And yours?”

  Eyeing him skeptically, Aaslo said, “I thought you knew who I am.”

  “So did I, but now you’re something else, aren’t you?”

  The man tapped the book he held against his chest, seemingly out of habit. He said, “I know much about you, but I’ve never caught your name.”

  “Lie.”

  “I’m not going to lie,” Aaslo muttered. “I’m Aaslo. She’s Teza,” he said, pointing with his axe.

  The man eyed the black scales on Aaslo’s hand. He appeared thoughtful as he tapped the book. He said, “Hmm, interesting.” He opened the book, lifted the pen that was pinched between the pages, and made a notation. He muttered, “I didn’t realize that part came first. I was certain it happened afterward.”

  Teza cautiously traversed the battlefield and came to stand beside Aaslo. She crossed her arms and said, “Who are you? Tell us now or Aaslo will rip out your throat.”

  Aaslo looked at her aghast. The man glanced toward her, nodded, mumbled another “Interesting,” and made another note in the book. He blew across the page, then snapped it shut before gripping it against his chest again.

  “I have not done a good job of introducing myself,” he said. “I apologize again. I’m not used to interacting with people.”

  “What do you mean?” said Teza.

  The man bowed in formal greeting and said, “I am Ijen Mascede. I—”

  Teza pushed in front of Aaslo and placed an accusatory finger in Ijen’s face. “Don’t listen to him, Aaslo. Don’t talk to him.” To Ijen, she said, “He’s mine! I won’t let you experiment on him.”

  Ijen raised his brow. “It looks to me like you already have.”

  With a stomp of her foot, Teza said, “It wasn’t like that. I did what was necessary to save his life.”

  Ijen said, “Truly, I mean neither of you any harm.”

  “Likely story.”

  Aaslo pulled Teza back to his side. He said, “What’s going on?”

  “He’s a Mascede,” she said angrily. “Their bloodline believes in observation and experimentation, both physical and social. They think seculars are their playthings. They toy with them to see how they’ll react.”

  Aaslo looked at Ijen with disgust. The man held up his free hand and said, “That is true. Most of the Mascedes do feel that way, but I am not like that. I cannot be, due to the nature of my power.”

  “And what’s that?” Teza snapped.

  He bowed again. “I am a prophet.”

  Teza took one step back, and then another. She held up a hand as if to ward off impending evil and said, “Don’t you dare tell me how I die. I don’t want to know.”

  “I already know how I die.”

  Ijen tilted his head at her and said, “You need not concern yourself with that. I do not know how you die at this time.”

  Aaslo interrupted the exchange with a more pressing question. “Why are you sitting in the middle of nowhere on the side of the road?”

  “I’ve been waiting for you.”

  “Why?” said Aaslo.

  “Because this is where and when we meet,” replied the prophet.

  Teza said, “Don’t talk to him, Aaslo. Don’t ask questions. Nothing good comes of speaking of prophecy.”

  Aaslo looked back at her. “My entire life has become prophecy, Teza, and yours now as well. It cannot be avoided.” He turned back to Ijen. “Why didn’t you run or fight against the creatures?”

  Ijen tapped his book and said, “Because that’s not how it happened.”

  “In the prophecy,” said Aaslo.

  Ijen smiled. “Yes, you understand.”

  “No, I don’t,” said Aaslo. “You would just sit there and trust your life to this prophecy?”

  “Oh, not at all,” said Ijen. “There were lines in which I did not survive. Sometimes you do not arrive in time, sometimes not at all. Once I saw your horse, I knew you would defeat them.”

  “But you didn’t think to help?” said Aaslo.

  “Coward.”

  “No, no. That would have been bad. In all of the lines that I fought or ran, I died. It was best to sit quietly while you worked it out.”

  “Wait a minute,” blurted Teza as she pushed in front of Aaslo again. “Prophets aren’t supposed to see their own lines.”

  Ijen nodded. “Yes, that is true. That is my curse.” He looked toward Aaslo. “If a prophet sees his own line, it creates paradoxes and self-fulfilling prophecies. I came here to await you because I saw it in the prophecy. If I had not seen it ahead of time, I would not have been here. The results of the prophecy could not, or would not, have occurred without the prophecy itself. Hence the reason I am not good at interacting with people. I have spent the majority of my life studying the events of the future, the events from this point forward, rather than actually living.”

  “Why would you do that?” said Aaslo.

  “Because I am a Prophet of Aldrea.”

  Teza gasped. “You study the Aldrea Prophecy? You can’t be.” She looked at Aaslo. “The Prophets of Aldrea are revered and kept under close guard. They aren’t permitted to communicate with anyone except, under supervision, with those who have been approved by the council.” She turned her attention back to Ijen. “They would never have left you behind.”

  Ijen tapped his book and averted his gaze. “I didn’t tell them.
”

  Teza shouted with dismay, “You didn’t tell the council that you were receiving the Aldrea Prophecy?”

  “I didn’t tell anyone—until now,” replied Ijen. “They would have locked me up, and I wouldn’t be here to meet with you, although I’d rather be with them right now.”

  Aaslo growled, “If you’ve seen the future, and you know what will become of this world, why would you abandon it to that fate?”

  Ijen blinked at him. “I haven’t seen the whole future, but what I have seen is dark. Why would I want to live in a world of death?”

  Aaslo slapped the filthy rag into the dirt and said, “Here I was thinking you were going to tell me how to save it.”

  Ijen shook his head. “I’m afraid that’s not possible.” Then, with a glance toward the sack hanging from Aaslo’s waist, he said, “Death is an inevitability at this point.” He tapped the book again. “It’s good you didn’t change your clothes yet.”

  “Why?” said Aaslo.

  “Because this line means we still have a chance of survival. Now, if you would please unsheathe your sword?”

  “Why?”

  Ijen met his gaze and said, “Because you forgot to kill the magus.”

  The prophet abruptly ducked and scrambled to hide behind his folding chair as a sleek red javelin shot through the air where his head had been. It collided with the rock outcrop on the opposite side of the road and exploded. Aaslo spun and began running toward the attacker with Teza on his heels. Just as he shouted for her to go back, another javelin struck an invisible wall in front of him, ricocheting backward to obliterate a swath of boulders.

  The air became a haze of ashy sediment, but Aaslo made out a darker figure shifting toward another pile of rocks. He leapt forward just as flame filled the air in front of him. His heart skittered as he remembered the last time he had experienced such a sight. He twisted to lead with his left when the fire struck. The scent of burnt fabric reached his nose, but he felt no discomfort from the heat where the scales provided protection.