Fate's Hand (5 page)

Drops of sweat rolled over the man's arms and, as they got near the hilt of his hammer, electrical charges sizzled them into vapor. He steadied his deep breathing and relaxed his muscles. The man rolled his head back to face the ceiling of his dark training room with eyes closed. Steam flowed off his freshly-shaven head like smoke. He released his hammer and brought both arms out wide to his sides. His large muscles began to tense and he recited the words of a spell in hushed tones. As he finished the last words, he flexed his arms and brought them together like a coiled spring, then slammed his palms down on the ground before him. The stone, several strides away, immediately hummed with magical energy and bubbled. A large rectangular slab of rock rose from the liquid stone then immediately hardened into the stone work.

As all this took place, the battle mage started a second spell. His hands, balled into fists on the floor, began to change color. His skin turned slightly white-blue and frost formed across his rough knuckles. He opened his fingers, breaking the ice and, with a thrust of his forearms, released a wave of ice across the ground.

The air cracked and hissed and the stone sprouted several long and jagged icicles. The majority of the wave slammed into the freshly created stone slab on the floor and quickly covered it with a layer of blue ice, several hands thick. The man exhaled and put his hands to his sides. He stretched his fingers out and wrapped them around the handle of his hammer, the feeling in the cold digits already returning. He rose up from his kneeling position. His eyes opened in an instant and he howled, throwing himself into the air with arm overhead. His mouth quickly went to work on yet another spell. He descended upon the ice-covered stone and brought his hammer down with all his might. The metal connected with a resounding crack that echoed through the chamber.

The ice splintered and exploded, the force of the hammer cracking the stone beneath before halting. With the man’s body still in the air and all the force and weight applied to his weapon, he finished his last spell. Electricity raced across his shoulders and down his arms and into the crack he created, blowing the stone into thousands of pieces.

The man landed in a crouch and concentrated on his breathing. He released his hammer and his hand immediately started shaking. He ignored the burning pain through his body and arose. He surveyed the dozens of piles of rubble like the one he was standing in.

“Don’t you think that’s enough destruction for today?” asked a soft voice from the darkness. “Why not come take a bath?”

A woman with dark brown hair and eyes emerged from the shadows. She was delicately wrapped in black leather armor from head to toe. He watched as she walked across the tiny rocks and ice, never making one sound. Her hips swayed back and forth a little as she caught his eyes. He grinned a little bit and looked away.

“I thought you would have told me that when you snuck in four stones ago.”

“
I like to watch you play in here,” she replied, looking up at the man with large, sad eyes. “And can’t you just pretend I snuck up on you at least once, Temo?”

The battle mage looked down at her and smiled. “No, Virmire. I can’t. I’ve seen what you do to men you sneak up on.”

The woman smirked, turned, and walked to the entrance to his room. She began removing her leather armor as she said, “Yes, well. Work is work.”

Temo watched her beautiful naked back disappear into the doorway and followed her into the next room.

Val had slept well all night and woke up feeling good. He quickly gathered his things and headed off, chewing on a biscuit. He had been walking for a few hours when he heard distant noises like someone screaming in joy or perhaps a bird of some sort. A loud crash off in the woods stopped him dead in his tracks. He stood between two large trees, holding his breath and listening. He gingerly stepped out from between them and into the open. He heard more crashing and small calls. The sound was moving all around. In the corner of his eye, he caught a flash of something between the trees. His head jerked in that direction to see a large black boar chasing something human-sized.

The prey was fast and nimble, jumping off trees and flipping in the air. He heard a shout like a man winning at a card game. Val followed the chase, his eyes coming in line with an arrow pointed his way.

A tall man dressed in dark greens and browns stood before him. He had pale skin and long black hair. His eyes, pale green, were ignoring Val's gaze altogether in favor of Val’s red-skinned hand. The man up looked into Val’s eyes with curiosity. Val gave a weak smile and brought his hands before his chest in a show of surrender. The man maintained his grip on the arrow and looked back into the woods. Val caught a glimpse at the thing running through the woods.

“
A man?” Val said aloud. He looked back to the stranger to see his bow facing the other way, still taut. The runner changed course and started in their direction. The man—if it was a man—jumped in and out of the trees as if toying with the boar. Val dropped his hands and watched on in disbelief.

The man was not all man
—he had long dark claws on the ends of his fingers. He jumped up and gripped a tree to push off and spin in the air through the branches, leaving a large gash in the bark. His eyes were large black ovals, several times larger than that of a normal man. Val noticed his ears were long with spouts of fur at the ends. That’s when he noticed the tail.

“
He is a squirrel-man!” Val exclaimed, taking a step back.

The stranger quietly replied. “Oh, he is much more than that.”

Val stood transfixed as the beastman ran, jumped, and spun through the trees. He dropped from a high branch and stopped for a second when he saw Val. His face turned into a large smile and he took off in a dead sprint at Val. The boar smashed through several small trees, sending wood splinters raining through the forest in his wake. Val quickly looked left and right for a place to run, his back pedaling putting his back to a large tree. The squirrel-man planted his feet and skidded in the leaves to stop before Val. With a smile and tip of a nonexistent hat, he leaped straight up into the tree. Val looked back down at the boar charging his way. He tried to run but found his legs unresponsive. As fast as Val had ever seen any man move, the stranger with the bow released his arrow and reloaded another, shot, then reloaded again.

Before the first arrow ever landed, two more were in flight behind it. All three arrows landed solidly into the side of the boar's head. The large black beast's legs gave out and it slid across the ground, several strides away from where Val was standing.

The squirrel-man dropped from the tree, landing next to the boar. Wiping the back of his neck with a rag and panting, he kicked the animal.

“
Aww, man. Wish you wouldn’t have done that. I really wanted to see what he was going to do with that knife.”

The bowman moved next to the other man. They both turned and looked at Val, who stood aghast. As the squirrel-man caught his breath and threw his rag down, he began to transform, his eyes, ears, and hands turning to those of a normal human. Afterward, the tall bowman handed him his pack and boots. He plopped down on the back of the dead boar and pulled them on.

He looked over at Val. “Well, what exactly were you going to do? Go for the eyes?”

Val looked down and saw his red hand holding his belt dagger. He carefully returned it to its sheath. The smaller man, fully geared and sporting crossed leather bandoliers that held tubes and vials of all shapes and sizes, cut the throat of the boar. He removed one of the smaller vials and filled it up with the fresh boar blood, then capped the vial and replaced it in his holster.

“Hungry, stranger?”

“
Is it finished?” Drask asked Yusar as he entered the uppermost study of the tower. The red wizard approached with a vial of purple liquid.

“
Almost. There is something I can’t seem to find or make out from this recipe.”

“
Good. That’s exactly how far you were supposed to make it.”

Yusar looked at Drask, nonplussed.

“I know you didn’t sleep last night. You stayed up trying to find a way to send me back. If you plan on spending your spare time in pursuit of a fruitless effort, then please, be my guest. Just don’t let it impede the task I set before you. You can’t finish that potion because the last ingredient, Crueltara Enduris, doesn’t exist.

“
I made it up. The potion is complete. Thank you. I knew you would stop, in fear of using the potion without that last ingredient. As I said before, you don’t need to know every detail of my plans.”

Yusar gritted his teeth and spun on his heel. Before he made it to the door, Drask called out.

“No, stay. I might need you to hold back the beast I summon.”

Yusar turned and walked to the center of the room, where Drask stood. His summoning circle was erased from the floor with a new one in its place.

“This is different from the one in the scroll.”

Drask took off the top of the bottle and flashed Yusar an evil grin.

“Right, fine,” Yusar said harshly, taking his spellcasting stance.

Drask turned the bottle up and drank the contents. His head dropped and he stood motionless, waiting for the potion to take effect. Everything in the room began to become enhanced to Drask: the crackle of the fire sounded like trees being snapped in half, the fires burning atop the candle were massive flares that warmed his face. He stood impassively and tuned it all out, listening. Then it came, softly, fading in and out at first but soon as clear as a whisper in his ear. The tone, the tempo, and
—most importantly—the name. He repeated every word, matched every syllable and note. The words ran off his tongue and formed a harsh and raspy mix. Drask spoke for what seemed like a night, but he knew the effects of the potion drew time out. Finally, the circle flared to life and the stone floor seemed to melt.

A large paw crossed the threshold. The claws ran across the stone until it found solid footing. The muscles of the coming arm flexed and pulled the monster up through the floor. Its eyes, all six of them, showed brightly. A deep growl bathed Drask with a wave of fetid breath
— the familiar smell of his father’s plane. His face turned into a grimace, but he kept his concentration and continued leading the Cerberus through the portal. Some of the bristle-black hair on the beast was still smoking as he finally set all fours on the floor. Everything came back to normal speed and sound at once and Drask looked on at his prize.

The three-headed dog stood before Drask ready to pounce. Yusar slid his foot ever-so-slightly across the floor and the beast turned and jumped at the wizard. Yusar exploded into motion, casting a spell to defend himself. Drask quickly cited a spell, lashing out with a fire-covered rope to catch the dog around his hind leg. Drask looked with amusement around the Cerberus to Yusar. The wizard was standing with several swords
—large and phantasmal—spinning and twirling around him.

The dog was using two heads to pull the fiery rope tight for the third to chew on. Drask jerked the rope and called out.
             

“
Strife. Come to me.”

The dog stopped chewing and walked cautiously over to Drask. The devil prince held out his hand and let the hell dog smell it.

“I know I’m not your master, but you know me. And I will give you something my father never let you have: fun. Elves, humans, dwarves, everything. You help me with one task and I’ll let you run across the land spreading chaos and death. The dog growled its assent and sat before Drask.

“
Good,” Drask said. “I need you to find someone.”

Drask pulled the end of the summoning from his mind, dispelled the fire-rope, and dissolved the summoning circle from underneath Strife. Drask removed a glove from his right hand and held it before the Cerberus, which dutifully inhaled the scent. Drask pulled his hand back, walked over and touched the stone wall. A large open window appeared in the masonry. Yusar watched with amazement.

“Now go, and I will reward you greatly. Kill anyone that gets in your way, but bring me this human alive.”

One of the dog’s heads
—the one that never turned away from Yusar—issued a loud bark. The beast then leaped out the tower window. Yusar ran over to the ledge to watch it crash to the ground, one of its legs snapping from the fall. He slowly stood up as his broken bone snapped back into place. Fully healed before the dust even settled, the dog let out a blood-curling howl from all three heads then took off into the forest.              

“
When did you learn how to control the tower?” Yusar asked. Drask was whispering to the imp Yarsik and handed him a small ring. The small winged creature jumped off the table and flew out the window after the dog.

“
We have much work to do, Yusar. I don’t need you brooding around in this tower like a prisoner. I need you and your skills.”

“
I have no reason—” Yusar began to reply.

“
Temo,” Drask said, cutting the wizard off. He let the name hang in the air. “This tower is the only thing keeping you safe from him. I can tell you, without a doubt, the mercenary has not given up. He has spent almost every waking hour in search of this tower or any clue that leads to you. You stay and help me, I will deliver him on a silver platter. Here, you will gain more power and wealth than you ever imagined.”

Yusar stood with his back turned to Drask, silently weighing his options. He lowered his head and finally responded in a defeated tone.

“Where do we start?”

“
No, I’m sorry. I must be going,” Val said.

The bowman turned away and started to unpack knives and rope to clean the day's kill. The other man held his hands out in apology.

“Hey, man, sorry to freak you out earlier. We are harmless, really. If you’re hungry, please eat. It’s the least I can do for running a boar at you.”