Fate's Hand

by Lynn, Christopher

  The faint smoke permeated the cloth and filled his nose. This cave was much drier than the last few he looked in and there was a complete absence of spider webs. He kicked a rock across the stone floor and he closed his eyes and held his breath as it skipped across the cave, echoing all the way. He waited, straining to hear anything he might have disturbed. After several minutes with no sound, he made his way in. When the light gave him no more help to see the surrounding cave, he gave up his stealth approach. Val kneeled and went through his pack for a torch and flint. He took out a small bottle of oil one of the men from the village had given him and dripped it over the torch. Assuring himself if anything was in this cave it would have come when he kicked the rock, he struck the rock against the stone floor. When the spark caught the oil soaked rags, the cave lit up brightly. In an instant, Val saw eyes staring his direction from only a few feet away.

  His gut reaction was to throw his torch and run from the cave. The fire ripped through the air and flared past the creature and in that moment Val realized it was no threat. The eyes he saw were dead and glazed over. Before him was a partially eaten goblin, impaled on his own spear, made to stand straight up. The torch gave the cave a soft orange glow and deceitful black dancing shadows across the rock walls as it crackled and popped on the cave floor. Val edged around the dead goblin and retrieved the torch. He held it high to get a better view. The cave was fairly large with only one other exit, a small crack on the far wall. Another wind whistled through the crack to batter his small flame around, exciting the dancing shadows all the more. Val searched the ground. The stone was scattered with blackened scraps of wood and soot. Val rolled a log over wishing to find any live coals but the fire was dead and cold. From the looks of the goblin, it had only been dead a few days, hardly bloated.

  Several long scratches across the stone floor caught his eye. He walked over to investigate and noticed a sliver of rock. Val picked it up, feeling the texture of the cold rock. He pocketed it and turned to walk out of the cave, spirits renewed, and almost bumped into the dead goblin—a very real reminder of the dangers he faced ahead. He extinguished his torch and stowed it. Once he exited the cave and got a few breaths of fresh air, he consulted his scrying devices once again: straight north. Several hours in the day remained and every moment he could move as the orcs rested helped.

  Val continued up the path.

  The red wizard Yusar lay on a plush sofa in the main study, now his residence in the tower. Drask had taken the top floor, his former room and study, for himself. Yusar thought about the tower’s design and its limitations. The tower provided many rooms and secret passages, but nothing could get him back to the top floors without Drask’s knowledge. The room was designed for the master of the tower alone. Yusar sighed and closed his eyes, contemplating his situation. He was now a general for a great and powerful demon, but he felt more like a servant. He had been the master of the Tower of Solic, named after the master architect wizard who created it, for over three years now and life was going exactly how he wanted it to. Yusar was content with his solitude, safety, and wealth. Not to say Yusar was a wealthy man in coin, but he had an untold fortune in magical weapons. A smile came across his face as he thought to the secret room holding his precious collection: one wall covered in axes, bows, maces, halberds, daggers, and a wide variety and arrangement of swords from across the world; down the middle, many stone mannequins adorned and covered with magical armors and leather sets; on the opposite wall, dozens of shelves and pedestals, each covered with magical rings, bracelets, necklaces, and other jewelry and accessories. In the far back of the room was another hidden room with all of Yusar’s favorites. The wizard detested close combat, but still kept one of his favorite daggers concealed on him. His concentration was broken when he heard the sound of metal falling out in the hall. Hushed voices followed shortly after.

  Yusar opened the door to the doorway and was greeted by a tall, sleek demon with multiple sets of arms and the bottom half like that of a snake. In one of her hands was a beautiful purple-blue scimitar, a weapon Yusar knew very well. She smiled a full row of fangs and made her way behind several smaller demons, all carrying weapons.

  Yusar slammed the door and ran to the nearest wall, and said the words to summon a door from the tower. As soon as the door appeared in the stone, Yusar opened it, afraid of what he would find on the other side. He clinched his fist tightly, digging his long, sharp fingernails into his palm. His prized hidden room had many empty weapon pegs, naked mannequins, and barren shelves. He whirled around and slammed the door. As Yusar stormed across the room to confront Drask, the door behind him disappeared into the wall to leave the smooth black stone solid once again.

  Yusar walked into his former room to stand before Drask, who was comfortably sitting in Yusar’s favorite chair. The naga that fetched him stood behind Drask, next to a large stash of weapons and armor. Yusar tried to keep calm as the naga smiled at him.

  “Yusar, this is Sirash, from the third hall of blades. She will serve as one of my advisors and generals,” Drask said as he rolled a dagger around in his hand.

  “Looks like you have been busy. Summoning demons and acquiring my weapons,” Yusar replied with a sharp tone.

  Drask grinned and waved Sirash and the imps from the room.

  “Yusar, you have a beautiful collection of items and weapons. I saw it as a travesty to let them all sit in that room unused.”

  Yusar quietly considered how to respond. He looked at his fortune in magical items laying on the floor like a pile of treasure. Drask waved a hand before his face in dismissal and spun the chair to turn his back on Yusar.

  Yusar went to say something, but felt a sharp edge press against his neck and heard a deep whisper in his ear. “You would do well to stay silent human. We will take what we want.”

  Yusar stood sweating and short of breath. Drask spun the chair back around to face the shaken wizard.

  “Ready yourself and a meeting room on the ground floor. Your friend Temo is coming for dinner. When I’m done having a chat with him, you can have your chance to kill him.” The pressure on the blade across Yusar’s neck disappeared.

  Yusar finally smiled back at Drask. “I will have the room ready, Prince.”

  As Yusar turned to depart, he looked around, expecting to see one of Drask’s guards, but the room was empty.

  Val walked and climbed for several days, each day giving him one more clue that he was on the right trail. He found another such sign in the form on a young boy’s corpse in one of the caves. The grim and terrible sight actually gave him hope of reaching his sister, as the blood on the cave floor was only sticky and not dry. He kneeled over the boy and fought with himself over continuing on with his travels for the day or burying the unfortunate child.

  Val heard the noise of a rock skittering behind him. He immediately snuffed the torch in the boy's blood and turned to face the light. He saw the silhouette of a man crouching at the front of the cave, moving his head back and forth to adjust his eyes to the light. Val held his breath and watched. The man looked back into the sunlight and motioned for someone to stay where they were. He ran his hands across his chest and removed something small and cylindrical. He held it up to the light and inspected it. The light shined through the container and showed a milky red liquid inside. He held it close to his body for a few seconds and did something in the shadow that Val couldn’t make out. He recapped the vial and replaced it, then took a deep breath and rubbed the back of his neck.

  “I see you! Is that you, Val? Is that right? Val? Hey, I’m sorry if we scared you away before; we really mean you no harm. Actually, I convinced my brother to track you. We found some dead goblins in the woods and thought you might have gotten caught up with them.”

  Val slowly rose up from the cave floor and approached the light.

  “I’m not sure if you know this, but you are on an extremely dangerous trail. This is an orc slaver passage.” Rylan removed a rag from his pocket and wiped hi
s neck, his motions all silhouetted by the sun.

  “I know. I’m tracking them.”

  Val walked past Rylan, trying not to make eye contact. Rylan reached out and grabbed his left arm.

  “Hey—” he called, but was cut short as Val’s right hand struck out and grabbed Rylan by the wrist and wrenched. Val’s face was one of surprise—even more so when he heard a stern voice.

  “Release him now. I’ll not ask again, boy.”

  Val turned his head to stare down the shaft of an arrow nocked and drawn.

  “I’m sorry. Please don’t,” Val said as he reached over with his other hand and pried at his red hand. “It’s not mine! I mean, I…I can’t control it.” He finally forced the fingers away from Rylan and still held his wrist.

  Val looked down, embarrassed, and softly said, “Please, just leave me alone. Thank you for searching for me, but I just need to be alone.” He walked away in silence, wishing he could cut his hand off.

  Temo arrived at the tower a few days after hearing a curious imp’s message late one night in his room. “The red wizard has been defeated and the tower’s new master would like to speak with you, alone.” At first Temo thought it to be a trap for sure, but it had been years since he had heard anything about the tower. The tower should have been Temo’s.

  Many years ago, before he died, his uncle had written a letter detailing the instructions and warnings about the tower. Temo set out from his mercenary guild immediately to locate the mighty artifact and claim it, but Yusar had beaten him there. The red wizard had a camp at the base of the tower and invited Temo to come rest. He told Temo he was sent by his uncle to secure the tower and wait for his arrival. He gave great detail and information about his uncle and the travels they had. Temo was suspicious since the letter he had didn’t mention the man, but after a short time of talking he felt at ease. He tried, with the man’s help, to get into the tower. Temo took his time carefully reading about the tower as the red wizard stood by.

  After several hours, Temo finally stood up and exclaimed “I’ve got it!” and gestured the right hand symbols to conjure the door for the tower. The second the door appeared in the stone, Temo felt a sharp pain in his chest. He looked down to see a long poniard’s tip, covered in blood. His knees went weak and he fell to the ground as everything faded to black.

  When he awoke, the tower was gone—along with the red wizard and Temo’s prized magical axe. Thankfully, the man hadn’t checked him very well and his ring of regeneration saved him from death. Temo sat up and looked at his chest. The wound was sealed up, but he was weak from the blood loss. His clothes and armor were caked in dried blood. He stayed in the wizard's abandoned camp for another day to finish healing his muscles before he set out, planning to find the man. Then kill him.

  The trail went cold after a week, so he returned to a nearly empty guild house. Upon his return, he learned that shortly after he left to find the tower, the same red wizard came and talked to his men about him and his quest. The wizard tried to pass himself off as a friend of Temo’s uncle, but one of the men saw through his lie. When the members started to press him, he went on an rampage that nearly leveled the place. Several members were left dead or injured before the others chased him off. The lead guild members started to get matters under control, also sending out a few scouts to find Temo and inform him of the events and danger. The scouts hadn’t found him, but did happen to spot a strange black tower a few days' travel away. Temo gathered a few of the best mercenaries with promise of great pay and revenge, then went on the hunt for the wizard. When they arrived, the red wizard, enclosed in a green ball of light, met Temo at the base.

  “Well, you’re not supposed to be here.”

  “Perhaps you should have stabbed me in the back twice…” Temo replied, letting the last words linger as a question.

  Yusar smirked. “Yusar the Red, and—”

  Temo burst into action, cutting his words short, throwing his hammer and charging in immediately behind it. As Temo ran, he charged both hands up with electricity. Yusar tried to start a spell, but the explosion of movement in which the large mercenary acted caught him off guard. The hammer struck the protective globe of light, covering it with deep, web-like cracks. Temo jumped into the air, grabbed the handle of the hammer, and released the electricity into the globe. The green surface shattered in a massive release of magical energy and sent both men flying in opposite directions. Temo scrambled to his feet as his band of mercenaries charged past him on the attack. Yusar grunted and got to his knees. He wiped a small trail of blood from the corner of his mouth and looked to the tower, now only an arm’s reach away. He looked back to the men running toward him and smiled, placing his hand on the tower and uttering a single word. The wizard disappeared as the men came to slide in the dirt at the base of the tower.

  Temo heard a low humming noise. Temo shouted an order to his men to run and sprinted as fast as he could away from the tower as the noise began to rise. The base of the tower exploded in an outward concussion push, splintering nearby trees and hurling men through the air. Temo came to his knees, coughing up dirt and trying to focus his eyes. A sharp, painful ringing noise ran through his ears. He looked around to his group, finding one of the men impaled up in a tree, the others on the ground trying to gather their bearings.

  The tower started to vibrate and a blur light raced up the stone. An instant later, the tower disappeared, leaving the broken men scattered on the ground in disbelief. Temo knew from his uncle’s notes that was one of the tower's defense features. The holder of the tower could shift it to another plane, then reappear in a new location within a day’s walk away. Temo collected his men and returned to his guild. After helping assess the damage Yusar had created, Temo realized his guild needed him for rebuilding. The mercenary group continued on with their work with the understanding the red wizard Yusar would certainly die.

  Temo had spent all of his resources and spare time in search for any and all knowledge of the tower. He never received a shred of credible information to help his search. Until now. This opportunity, trap or not, was too tempting to pass up. Temo told his men where he was headed and invited one other to come along. The man, Jora, had joined Temo’s guild after his brother, the man impaled into the trees by the towers defensive concussion, was killed. He made his promise to be there with Temo when Yusar was finally found. Shortly after receiving the invitation, the two men left the guild house.

  As it began to get dark, Val stopped to make his camp. He sat by a very low burning fire at the entrance of an empty cave. He looked through his pack and realized for the first time just how low he was getting on supplies. He took the ration of bread he was going to eat, broke it, and placed half of it in his bag. He snuffed the light when he was done and wrapped up for bed. He rubbed his hands together to bring them warmth under the covers, but it felt like he was rubbing a cold stone. He ran his human hand over his other, feeling every muscle and line. It was what he could imagine holding hands with a dead person would be like.

  Val rubbed his scarred and disfigured wrist, still feeling only a slight amount of his own touch. He thought about all his uncle’s stories and anything he had ever read in a book. Nothing sounded remotely like what he was dealing with. It couldn’t be any infection or disease, at least none he had ever heard about. He gave up his thought process, frustrated, and focused on the matter at hand.

  “At hand…” Val whispered into the darkness. He heard a scrape across the stone and his eyes shot open. He bit his lip and wished he wouldn’t have spoken. He heard another sound and his heart beating loud in his chest. Val tried as hard as he could to focus on the darkness, but couldn’t see anything. The distinct ring of a blade being pulled from a sheath finally made Val spring into action. He threw his cover off and into the air, hastily trying to arm himself in the confusion. Val drew his sword and spun around to face two orcs standing before him. The two large orcs gave a look to each other then began to circle around. Val bent his knees
and shifted his weight, unsure of what to do. One of the orcs held a bow and the other a crude meat cleaver.

  Val decided to turn his main attention to the orc with the bow and tried to square off more to him. He listened for the orc behind him to make a move but kept constant eye contact with the archer. The large monster had a white hand painted across his face with a long scar trailing his jaw line. He gave a deep grunt and pulled an arrow from his hip and began pulling it back in the bow. Val stood and tried to gain a good footing to try and dodge the coming arrow. As the young man looked down the shaft of the arrow a wave of adrenaline and fear ran cold across his chest. He felt his arms go almost numb with the rush of emotion as he focused on the orc's weapon.

  The sound of the orc behind him coming in a rush broke Val's concentration and he turned his head to see the other enemy standing in place, stomping his feet. Before Val could turn back, he heard the twang of the bow releasing an arrow. Val twisted and sprung off his back foot in an attempt to dodge the arrow. His red hand released the handle of the sword and struck across his body, catching the oncoming arrow just behind the head, breaking it in half.

  Val looked down in confusion then turned to face the space between the two orcs. He quickly exchanged glances between the two orcs and held his ground. The one standing to his left stopped stomping and looked on in confusion. He gave out a growl and began to advance on Val. The second orc cut him short with a loud grunt. He grabbed another arrow and pulled back, aiming for Val once more. Val turned slightly more toward the threat and held his ground. The orc released the second arrow and Val could see once more there was no way he could dodge it. Once again, his hand shot out, but this time it ripped the sword from his weak hand and thrust it down and to the side, catching the arrow on the shaft and deflecting it. He looked over to see the blade-wielding orc clutching the arrow protruding from his shoulder. The large creature stumbled backward over Val’s supplies. The other orc yelled and drop his bow to charge Val with a thick short sword he pulled from its scabbard.