Fate's Hand

by Lynn, Christopher

  Drask sat in the low candlelight for the third night in a row. The book was much more confusing and longer than he anticipated. The author was indeed insane. The pages were covered in writing, sometimes sideways or upside down. The book had summoning circles and scribbles that Drask could only conclude were the result of a psychotic episode, and did nothing at all. Regardless, he read and reread each and every page. His left hand copied everything he could feel with his right. In his eons of living, he had taught himself to transcribe with his off-hand. As he finished the book for the third time, he closed it and slowly laid his head on his desk.

  “Does the book hold the answer?” came a voice from the corner. Drask didn’t lift his head.

  “When did you come in?”

  “Hours ago.” The silent guardian placed a glass and small plate of food next to the copied book. Drask raised his head and looked at the plate with tired eyes.

  “Yes and no,” he said. The demon prince picked up a small piece of cheese. “Yes, it has the answer. No, I can't quite figure out what it is. I know it’s in here, but it is hard to see through this ramblings. I have studied other works from the priest of Krevios. This is completely different. He was either at a different stage of intelligence or insanity. I fear it may be a mix of both. I remember Lilith saying he was suicidal and crazy, and I now believe her. Some of the things he has written actually deft Krevios, almost asking the Devil God to come and claim him. I wish the man were still alive; I would love to meet him.”

  Arihem stayed silent as he listened to Drask pour out his thoughts. “I will figure it out, it will just take time,” Drask said as he finished off the cheese. “How are things out there?”

  “Good. We have more orcs, gnolls, and even some giants come into the legion every day. More than a few bloodthirsty leaders that pledge their life for your cause. Yesterday, Sirash had reports of a band of dark elves coming to set up trade with us. I guess word of your empire has spread faster than anticipated.”

  Drask removed another candle from a nearby box and lit it as the other burned low. “I knew when we started to build we wouldn’t be a secret for long. I have had dealings with the elfkin before. I may even see a familiar face or two considering the location. What about Yusar? Are you keeping him busy?”

  “He has been keeping to himself, reading and writing in his journals a lot. I gave him a few meaningless tasks, but he knocked them out and went right back to his room. I haven’t been able to see what he is writing yet.”

  Drask polished off his wine and looked at the new candle. “Hmm. Well, until I decipher these texts, I need him out of the way. Give him a chance to run or betray me. Now that the riddle of my hand is solved, I need to see if he can be trusted. Talk to Sirash, figure out something he won’t see as a trap and send him away—without a collar. Watch him. If he does anything out of line, I want him brought back alive. After I finish with this book, we can dispose of him.”

  “Are you sure you want me to go?”

  “Yes. I will be fine. Set a sentry outside my door. You are one of the few I can trust to do the task right. Arihem, don’t kill him. I still don’t know how that would affect my binding.”

  Arihem bowed even though Drask couldn’t see it. “As you wish, my Prince.”

  Drask put the book down with an exasperated sigh. His hand was aching from the extensive copying process and his head was throbbing. He had been going over and over the text for some time, trying to find a hint of an answer. Drask lie back on his bed and let his tense body relax. He realized he was famished and called out to the guards outside his door. When no answer came, he sat up and listened closely. Nothing.

  Drask looked over at the low candle he had lit hours before. The flame didn’t stir at all. He waved his arm over the table to create a gust. The flame didn’t move nor flicker. He walked over to his door and opened it. Outside the two guards stood on each side. He waved his hand in front of their face and received no reaction.

  Drask smiled, thinking back to a passage in the book. It seemed like incoherent rambling, but now, in this frozen moment in time, he realized it was truth. Drask ran down the stairs and into the open grounds before his tower. All of his minions were frozen in place. He held his hands out and let out a wail of happiness.

  Drask walked around for a time, taking advantage of the frozen moment. He found Sirash and Lar caught up in a heated discussion. He could actually see the magical energies beginning to crackle around Sirash’s fist. He reached out and carefully touched them. They tingled across his human hand, but held no real power yet. He decided to diffuse the situation by placing an apple in her hand and another in Lar’s wide open maw. He stepped around the many still bodies and tried to recall the details of the book. He looked up to the sun and realized not everything was still. He shielded his eyes and studied it closer.

  The sun was not actually going down but it was getting dimmer. He held his breath as he realized five large spheres in the sky were actually rolling in from the side of the sun’s glaring rays to block the light out. Drask realized the entire process was going to take a lot of time, so he ran back to his room, collected the book, and found an open spot in the court yard. He flipped through the pages, trying to find the passage about time stopping. The eclipse progressed and the sky became dimmer. He summoned some illusionary fire to light up his surroundings.

  The light cast lines and shapes that slowly rolled across his workers, including the face of a squatting orc. He placed his hand in front of the orc and watched symbols transfer to his human skin. It burned the skin on his hand and left a silhouetted rune etched into his skin. He looked back up to the spheres as they moved into place and realized they were not solid. Drask turned his head to see smoking clothes and skin all across the open ground. The rays converged on one spot. He ran across the yard, throwing orcs and demons out of the way, and cleared the small area as the runes settled into place. They created a shape similar to one of the sketches he found in the book. He opened his journal and copied what he saw.

  The light across the uneven ground made the lettering almost impossible to make out. He tried to smooth the dirt out, but the rays became stronger and singed his skin. He looked up at the sun as the spheres grew larger; he spheres were not growing, but actually getting closer to the ground. As they did, the symbol on the ground began to shrink and clarify.

  Drask dropped his book and smiled. The devil prince moved closer to the beam of light as it shrank before him. Once he saw the beam finally stop moving across the ground, he quickly shot his human hand out into it. Drask howled as his hand smoldered under the intense light. He grabbed his wrist with his other hand and held it as still as possible. He clenched his jaw tightly and continued to scream through his teeth. The light came to an abrupt stop, and Drask pulled his hand close to his chest. He watched as the massive black spheres crumbled into millions of small black stones and hailed upon his courtyard. All life erupted into motion at the same time.

  Drask stood among his troops,who ran around in confusion. In the middle of his palm was a clear and perfect burned image of a summoning circle. Smiling, Drask walked through the chaos back to his tower. When he caught the eye of Sirash, he waved for her to follow him. She looked at Lar, confused, and dropped the apples. As the two entered the tower, Drask commanded the door to close, shutting out the sound of the raining rocks and pandemonium.

  “My prince, may I ask—”

  Drask held his hand up to display the fresh scar on his palm. “We have work to do.”

  Yusar was out on his own for the first time in a long while. He stopped in the woods and checked his gear, afraid something was planted in his clothes. Satisfied he was truly free, he leaned up against a tree and took a moment to collect his thoughts. Sirash had sent him out to nearby town of Llamour to gather information. He was confident that no one would recognize him, but still he wore his cowl down low and decided to don a disguise when he entered the town in a day or two. He placed his hand into one of his de
ep pockets and casually slipped on the ring he had taken from Drask’s room.

  Nothing on the other end.

  He slid the ring off and let out a deep sigh. He didn’t know what he was going to do when he got to the town. He suspected he was being followed, but after he reached the town, what could they really do to him? Drag him off into the woods as everyone watched? No. Once he got around other humans, he would be safe. Or would he? Yusar rubbed his temples and began walking once again with plenty of time to think about it on the way.

  Temo stood to be recognized by the main speaker. The large conclave of men and women, soldiers, generals, dukes, wizards, and mayors had all come to the meeting to discuss the issue of the Devil’s kingdom. Temo maintained his calm as repetitive questions and angry yells came out from the crowd. He held his hands in the air again and tried to calm the assembly. Temo's reputation as a respected mercenary and an honorable man helped quell the rumbling.

  “Please, be calm and have respect for each other. This issue will not be settled with a quick decision. Wait your turn and be civil until we have heard from everyone who wants to speak.”

  A hand came up from the back of the room and Temo brought his hand to his temple.

  “Please, just wait until it is your turn. Then you may have your say.” The man used his staff to rise up from his seat and conspicuously cleared his throat. The host of the meeting pushed his glasses off the bridge of his nose and looked out.

  “The house does recognize Jerib Merrithorn, of Ashwood and the Order of The Green Veil. Hello, old friend.”

  Jerib smiled and gave a small nod as the entire house looked at the man who was given permission to speak out of turn.

  “I am sorry for not being able to wait, but I believe you will be interested in what I have to tell you.”

  It took longer than Val originally thought, but the group finally came to the outskirts of their small village. His house was on the other side, but he was glad to be able to see some familiar faces before he went home. As the group came closer to the main road, Daria grabbed Rylan’s hand and skipped off toward the houses.

  “Has he always been a ladies man?” Val asked.

  Asher smirked and held his chin up a little. “Never, not once. He had a boy crush on one of our adopted sisters, but Master Tori made it very clear that was not going to be tolerated.”

  Val watched the two running up ahead like children and smiled. “She has never been like this either.”

  Rylan and Daria rounded the corner to enter the main village square and the two men lost sight of them. Asher scanned the village and the sky for a moment.

  “Something is wrong. Look.”

  Val’s did, and saw the crows. Not only the few in the air, but the murder on the rooftops and trees at the village's edge.

  “We’ve never had crows like that before,” he said.

  Asher pulled his bow off his back as the two walked between the first set of houses. The well-traveled roads had become sloppy and muddy. Val treaded carefully through the mud as he followed the path his sister had taken. Daria and Rylan stood in the town square, looking around. The normally busy village was quiet and still. The flapping of wings and caws from the crows disturbed the silence. Several bloody and broken bodies were stacked up near an overturned cart. The sound of wet footsteps turned the group's attention to one of the small alleyways.

  Rylan removed his daggers and stepped before Daria to shield her. Asher nocked an arrow and sought a better vantage point. Val had only begun to draw his greatsword when the man came walking out in the open. It was one of the men that had originally gone on the search for Pent and Daria, but something was wrong. Val stopped and watched him slowly shuffle out into the square. His arm was broken, with the bone sticking out through his ripped shirt, but the man didn’t seem to notice or care. He dragged his feet in the mud and shambled toward the well in the middle of the square. His dark, yellow-tinted eyes were set on a crow that sat on the edge of the well, cleaning its feathers. When the bird noticed him, it cawed out of agitation and flew away before the man got close. The man looked down until Daria began walking backwards, her feet sloshing in the fresh mud. The man slowly turned his head and gave out an empty groan before walking toward the group.

  “I don’t know if he is a friend of yours, but I’m going to stop him,” Asher said.

  Val looked up from unwrapping his greatsword. “Just hit him in the leg or something. He isn’t a bad man.”

  Asher raised his bow to let loose an arrow.

  “Sir, I don’t know what happened here, but I need you to back up. We don’t want any trouble, we just want to help and find out what happened here,” Rylan said.

  The man stumbled through the mud at a steady pace, unaffected by Rylan’s words. Val joined Rylan in standing between Daria and the man.

  “Do you know this man?” Rylan asked.

  “Yes, but something is obviously wrong here. Stay back, Dretch!” Val answered and called to the man.

  An arrow came in from the side and ripped through the man’s calf and thudded deep into the mud. Again, his pace was unchanged. Rylan looked to Val, then back to the man’s protruding bone.

  “I don’t think so, buddy.” Rylan said. He grabbed Val by the shirt and began retreating from the man. “Come on, Asher,” Rylan called, but then noticed his brother had lowered his weapon and instead pointed into the town. A group of children were sneaking out of the alley the man had just been in. One of the smaller girls tripped and began to cry as the others helped her up from the mud. Dretch again turned his attention to the children.

  “Oh, you have got to be kidding me,” Rylan muttered as he replaced his daggers and fingered a vial of blood. Val grabbed his hand.

  “No, it's okay. I know the man. I’ll do it.”

  Before Rylan could argue, Val sprinted off across the muddy street. The children were too weak and slow to make good ground across the mud and had stopped to hide behind the well. Val closed in on Dretch as he was nearing the well and called out to the man.

  “Dretch!”

  The entranced man didn’t turn his attention, and instead reached in his last few steps toward the children.

  “Look at me!”

  Val slid in the mud as he hefted the large sword into the air.

  “Stop!”

  When Val realized his words fell on deaf ears, he brought the blade down hard across the man’s forearm. The sword slammed into the stone well, and Dretch’s severed arm fell into its dark hole. Val cringed as the arm made a loud splash in the waters below. He looked up, expecting to see Dretch fall back or wail in pain, but that was not the case. Dretch used his broken arm and clawed out, trying to get past Val’s sword at the children.

  “Run!” Val commanded. He righted his sword and kicked Dretch square in the chest, sending him stumbling lazily back in the mud before catching his footing and coming back on once again.

  “The head! Aim for the head!” came a call from a nearby rooftop.

  Townswomen gathered up on the blacksmith’s roof. From the looks of their clothes and faces, they had been stranded there for some time.

  “Tell me what's wrong with him,” Val called out. The man changed directions and began walking after the running children once again.

  “He is already dead, Val! Just save our children!”

  Val considered the pleading look in the women’s eyes and watched Dretch walk on, completely unaware. Val decided The blade came down as Dretch looked at him, mouth open and moaning. The head plopped down into the mud and the body slumped to the wet ground on top of it.

  Daria walked up behind Val and placed a hand on his shoulder.

  “You had no choice.”

  Val watched as the crying children and mothers were reunited. They were all covered in mud and dried blood.

  Yusar stopped at the edge of the forest, outside the city. He had donned his disguise in case Temo and his men might have warned anyone about him. He looked through the open city gat
es at the masses of people. His heart beat as his mind raced through his options. He could make a run for it. Go into the city, gather just enough supplies to last a few weeks, hit the road and not look back. Drask would find him; he knew it without a doubt. His knees felt weak at the hopelessness that washed over him. He slumped against a nearby tree and pulled off his disguise. He hated feeling so weak. He could not run, but he would not go back to Drask, either. He looked at the city and all the guards across the wall around the front gates.

  “I will tell them. They will protect me. They need me.”

  His knees strengthened and he squared his shoulders to the city. He took one step out of the woods before a massive forearm swept across his chest and knocked him back into the trees. He immediately realized his mistake and tried to call out to the guards but found his mouth clamped. He struggled to get up, but Arihem had his full weight on the red wizard. The smell of sulfur and smoke burned his nostrils as Arihem whispered into his face.

  “No, my good wizard. I cannot have you doing that. You don’t want to go back to Drask, good. Neither do I. But I do need you to do something for me before I let you go.”

  Arihem pricked Yusar with a poison-tipped needle and drug his unconscious body farther into the woods.

  One of the women, newly reunited with her child, looked at Val with sad eyes as the others shuffled away.

  “What happened here?” Val asked softly. The woman looked at his hand grasping the sword and cowered.

  “Your family is cursed. Because of your uncle, the whole town is either dead, turned, or on the run. Please just leave us be!” The woman swept her child up and fled. Val moved to stop her, but Rylan stepped in his way.

  “It will probably just be better to let them go. We need to figure out what happened here, but let's not terrorize these people anymore. What did she mean, your uncle caused this? I thought he was dead.”

  “So did I,” Val spat. He plunged his sword into the mud, and the fresh blood on the blade mixed with the brown clay.