The Threads of Destiny - Chapter 14

Chapter 14: An Unusual Blight

Even though it was mid-autumn, it was still hot, and getting hotter with each step south they took. They made it to the border of Eldamar and for the last week had been wandering, almost aimlessly.

Villages in this corner of the forest were pretty spread out, but they were the only real option, as far as a place to start went. They’d tried two so far, and no one had ever heard of Jasper Mowbray or a scholar of any type living in the woods.

“Maybe Godfrey was lying. I mean, he knew who I was the whole time, and that he was going to try and capture me, right? What if there’s no cleric out here? Why would he have told us the truth?”

“Sometimes men like that think they are above any kind of repercussions, and will do it to show their power,” Rowan suggested. “That they can tell you what you want to know, but it doesn’t matter since you won’t be able to use it. Or maybe because the truth sounded better and he was trying to get us to tell him what we knew, or why we were looking for this guy, hoping it was connected to your ring and that document you stole.”

“But we should have found something,” Orsic said.

“Maybe not,” Talia countered. “We haven’t been looking that long and it’s a large area. We should keep going, at least for a little while longer.”

“And why is it so damn hot? I know we’re on the edge of the forest so there’s less cover, but it’s only two months until winter. Shouldn’t it start cooling? I swear it didn’t feel like this in Farvale.”

“I’ve only been this way a few times,” Rowan said. “But I don’t remember it being like this.”

Osric sighed, adjusting his pack, and kept walking, putting one foot in front of the other. They were following a simple road, one of the many that twisted in and out of the forest, connecting villages and towns away from the Great Road. Normally, as they got close to a village, there’d be signs. Farmhouses or just increased road traffic, so Osric was surprised when they turned a bend and saw one in front of them without any kind of warning.

While that should have filled him with cheer, since each village was another chance that maybe someone had heard of this Jasper, Osric had a feeling this village wouldn’t help them. While Osric wasn’t exactly well-traveled, he’d started getting a feeling for what other villages were like, and had seen more cities and villages in the past month than he had his entire life.

Which is why it was pretty easy to see something was wrong here. There was an almost stillness on the air. There weren’t people milling about, which was a major warning sign, since gossip was the number one way most villagers spent their time. No work could be heard from the shops in the area, no animals, and no children. He would have thought it abandoned, except there were a handful of people, heads down, going wherever they needed to be.

Strangers in a village were a big deal, and yet no one looked at them or otherwise acknowledged their presence. They seemed to go out of their way to avoid eye contact, their shoulders were slumped and their faces almost gaunt.

What should have been the main street of the village was partially boarded up and the occasional abandoned cart sat in disrepair, weeds growing through the spokes.

“What happened here?” Talia whispered.

“I don’t know. There’s a Tavern and it at least looks open. We should go find out,” Rowan said.

The trio made their way across the near-deserted street, and into the tavern. Inside, the common room was dim and musty, thick with the scent of old ale and despair. It was mid day, so Osric wouldn’t have expected a full tavern, but there was usually one or two people, even in small villages. Old-timers with nothing but time on their hands and a want for some company.

Not here, apparently. Except for the barman, there was no one in the room at all. Osric approached the bar, where a gaunt, haggard man stood polishing a pewter mug with a stained rag.

“Quiet in here,” Osric observed, trying to sound friendly. “We’ve been on the road for a few days and could use something to drink and maybe a little information, if you have the time.”

“Ain’t got nothing to drink, I’m afraid. Barely enough water for washing, let alone brewing.”

“Really? I thought I saw a pretty good stream a ways back heading in this direction, and assumed it ran into the town. You have no water here at all?”

“Stream runs through town, alright, but can’t use it. It’s tainted. Folk who drink it, they get sick, waste away. Same goes for the crops and the livestock. Hell, can’t even bath or play in it. Anyone whose smart stays as far from it as possible.”

“Someone poisoned the water?” Rowan asked, shocked. “Wouldn’t it just wash downstream? We were in a village a day or so to the north, and I would have thought it the same water. Why hasn’t the poison washed down to them?”

“Don’t rightly know, although don’t think it’s a poison. Like you said, something in the water would have gone done stream, but their waters fine. Hell, we send someone out that way every day or two, so they can bring back enough water to drink. Not possible to bring back enough for the crops though. This harvest is gone and our stores aren’t much. We sent word to Farvale, asking the Baron for help, but he’s a long ways from here.”

“So it’s just your stretch of the river?” Talia asked. “How is that even possible.”

“No idea, just know that it is. Can’t drink it, can’t touch it, can’t use it.”

“Has anyone gone upstream to investigate the source of the trouble?” Osric asked.

The barman nodded wearily, setting down the mug. “Aye, we sent two groups of men that way. Brave men, but none of them came back. Now, no one dares try. They’re all too scared. I reckon this village is done for. But still, it’s good to have folks here, even if I’ve got nothing to sell ya. What brings you to these parts anyhow?”

Osric felt bad, bothering him with questions with everything they had going on, but they really did need to know.

“We’re searching for an older cleric or scholar named Jasper. Heard he might have a cottage in the area somewhere. Would have a lot of books, although mostly histories and things like that.”

The barman scratched his chin thoughtfully. “Can’t say I know anyone like that around here.”

Osric’s heart sank. Another dead end.

“But,” the man continued, “I might know someone who does.”

“Really?” Talia asked, hopefully.

“There’s this girl, Grace Thornton. Hell, thief’s more like it.” The barman chuckled ruefully. “Wild child, that one. Moves around constantly, or gets chased out of places constantly, more like. But she seems to know everybody in these parts. If this person lives within a week’s journey in any direction, Grace would know them.”

“Do you know where we can find her?” Talia asked.

“Last I heard, she was in the village of Tillsby, about a day and a half west of here. Of course, she could have moved on already, but she’s kind of loud, I guess is the word for it. For someone who has as light of fingers as she has, she isn’t particularly shy about people knowing where she is. Gods, if she didn’t have a way with people, someone would have strung her up by now. Hell, I’m half surprised they haven’t anyway.”

“Thank you, my friend. You’ve been a great help.”

The barman waved off the thanks. “Ah, don’t mention it. Just be careful with that one. She’s a slippery little minx.”

“For the information,” Rowan said, setting down a few silver.

It wasn’t a lot, and Osric could see the man looked like he wanted to say no, but he just nodded and slid the coins into a pocket. Pride tended to be one of the first things to go when hunger came.

“We can’t just leave them like this,” Rowan said as they pushed through the tavern door, back outside. “As a ranger, it’s my duty to investigate what’s poisoning their water. I have to go upstream and see if I can find the source.”

Osric exchanged a glance with Talia, a silent understanding passing between them. Their mission was important, but he’d want someone to help Eldham, if it was in this kind of trouble, and he knew Talia felt the same.

“We’re coming with you,” Osric said. “We’re all in this journey together, and you might need our help.”

“Especially if this isn’t just a poison,” Talia added. “The way the barman described it, it sounds more like magic to me.”

Rowan looked relieved. Osric had no doubt that, if they had stayed silent, he would have gone off on his own. Besides, it was the right thing to do.

The stream followed along the very edge of the forest, bumping in and out of the trees. They followed it for a few hours until the trees opened up as the stream emptied into a small-ish lake, half of which had trees along its bank and the other, western half without, as it looked out onto the plains.

At one time, this must have been good farmland, this close to the forest and a source of water, with gently sloping planting grounds. There was even a farmhouse not far away that was abandoned, but only recently so, with signs of human habitation in and around it that had started to decay, but hadn’t all been carried off by animals and scavengers yet.

The other thing notable was how few animals there were. In the forest, there were normally lots of animals near ponds and lakes. Good grounds for foraging and a large source of water, it would have been ideal for them. Rowan actually confirmed as much.

“A place like this shouldn’t feel so empty,” he said. “No bird noises, no deer or stag. Just trees, dirt, and water. It’s unnatural.”

“That’s not the only thing unnatural,” Talia said, hugging herself in spite of the unusual heat. “I can feel... something, in the air. It feels like something that isn’t there crawling on my skin.”

There were other things. Old stones here or there, most buried enough that there could have been whole buildings under the sediment. The stones were rough, pitted, and cracked from years, maybe even centuries, of exposure, with all manner of moss and plants having found homes in its crevices. Something had been built here a long time ago, but time and the encroaching forest had reclaimed much of what had once stood here, giving no hint as to what it might have been.

Cinder sniffed the air and stayed well back from the water, not that they needed the warning. It was dark, almost thick-looking, but none of them were eager to put a limb in and test it. It reflected the trees and the sky like a black mirror, undisturbed by even bugs, which Osric had never seen before on any pond or lake. A faint, acrid odor clung to his skin, making him wrinkle his nose in distaste.

“Clearly this is where the taint in the water is coming from, but I have no idea how to fix it,” Rowan said. “I’ve never seen water like this.”

Osric stepped closer to the water, picking up a stick and swishing it about. It moved like water, the mirror rippling and fading as the stick passed through, but settling down again into a shimmering solid after just a few ripples. Faster than Osric would have thought.

“I’ve never seen anything like this before.”

Talia stepped behind him, looking over his shoulder. Reaching a hand out, she moved it around the stick, not quite touching it, but seeming to react to it as she hovered over it.

“It’s not natural, that’s for sure. There’s something almost...other, about it. Like it doesn’t belong here.”

“Of course it doesn’t belong here,” Rowan said. “Water shouldn’t burn.”

“I don’t mean here in this lake, I mean in our world.”

“You think it’s from the other side of the veil? From one of the other realities?” Osric asked.

“The Sage said it was getting worse, that the veil was weakening enough to let things through. What if it let something through, into the water.

Osric looked back at her, over his shoulder. “Like what?”

Before she could answer, there was a massive splash as a creature burst from the depths of the water. It was a nightmare made flesh - a twisted amalgamation of sea creature and monstrosity. Its body was a bulbous sac, pulsing with a sickly light. Underneath, a cluster of jointed appendages twitched and grasped, reminiscent of the legs of some great aquatic insect. But most horrifying of all was the gaping maw atop its body, ringed by seven writhing, suction-cupped tentacles. It let out a screech that shook the trees, its eyes burning with a feral rage.

Osric scrambled back, struggling to get to his feet in the slick mud. Before Osric was even upright, Rowan had pulled his bow and loosed his first arrow, the shaft burying itself in the creature’s hide. The beast barely seemed to notice, its attention fixed on Osric.

It lunged forward, its tentacles lashing out. Osric dodged to the side, getting his sword out and slashing at the grasping appendages. One of the tentacles wrapped around his leg, trying to pull him towards the creature’s waiting maw. Behind him, Talia’s hands weaved a spell, sending bolts of white energy slamming into the beast’s appendage. This the monster did react to, loosening its grip on Osric and pulling its tentacle back into the water.

Osric was ready as the next tentacle launched out of the water at him, bringing his sword down on it as it neared him, severing the tip of it, black ichor spraying from the wound. The beast retaliated, its remaining tentacles whipping about in a frenzy. One caught Rowan across the chest, sending him flying. He landed hard, the breath knocked from his lungs.

Talia wove another spell, a stream of electricity arcing from her fingertips, striking the creature and rippling across its slick skin, leaving blackened, charred scales in its wake.

Osric dashed back to check on Rowan, who was pulling himself up, only to stop, his weight still on his arms, as he looked past Osric.

“Talia, stop,” he called out as her hands moved through the air in preparation for another spell.

“What?” she said, her hands freezing in place, as she looked over her shoulder at him.

“Look at it,” he said, pointing at the creature. Really look at it. It’s not moving up on land. It’s even pulled back from shore a little bit. I think this ... animal, was just defending itself, not attacking us outright.”

Osric looked at the creature. Although he lived in the forest, he wasn’t like the Ranger, versed in the nature and ways of its inhabitants. He’d spent his time around people and metal. Still, even he could see what the Ranger meant. The creature’s movements were erratic, almost pained, hugging its injured tentacle.

Rowan lowered his bow, stepping forward slowly. He raised his hands in a gesture of peace.

“Easy now,” he murmured. “We mean you no harm.”

The creature slapped the ground in front of him with a tentacle. It could have grabbed him, but it didn’t. To Osric, that looked more like a warning than an attack.

Rowan started muttering to himself, his hand going to the symbol of Wyndra he wore around his neck. As far as Osric knew, most Rangers worshipped the Wild One, goddess of wildlands and beasts. As he chanted, the symbol in his closed fist began to emanate a soft, green glow. As it did, the beast stopped thrashing around, settling, its tentacles going almost limp. It let out an eerie, low whine.

“What was that?” Osric asked.

“I asked Wyndra to intercede. To calm this creature. It may not be one of hers, but here, in our place, I hoped she still had some power over it, which it seemed she did.”

“Can you communicate with it?” Osric asked.

“No. I don’t even know what it is, but most animals ... they don’t communicate how we would.”

“Look at its eyes, though. It’s following us. Watching us,” Talia said, moving side to side, the animals eyes tracking her, to prove her point. “I think it’s intelligent.”

“Which doesn’t mean we can speak its language,” Rowan said. “Or even that it has a language.”

“Maybe not,” Talia said, and then reached around into her satchel, pulling a small book out of it that Osric recognized as one of Elder Miriam’s.

She flipped through the worn pages, finger tracing the lines of text. Finding what she sought, she went over it several times before replacing the book and bringing her hands up, beginning a new dance of movements. As she did, the air shimmered between them.

When she finished, it returned to normal, all trace of the magic gone, but she said, “That should do it.”

“Do what?” Osric asked, still not sure what she’d just done.

“Elder Miriam gave me books to study as we traveled. It’s what I’ve been reading. Spells she said I wasn’t ready for before, but was now. Or at least might need. This one allows me to communicate with ... I don’t know, anyone. As long as they have language. It doesn’t last long, though, so we must hurry.”

“Why did you attack us?” Osric said, glancing at Talia to make sure he was doing the right thing.

He didn’t need the answer, as the creature responded, not in words, but in a series of haunting, screeching sounds that somehow came out as words in Osric’s mind, even though he could hear the meaningless sound the creature was making.

“You hurt me. Why?” it said, followed by a feeling of confusion and pain.

“I can... feel what it’s feeling,” Osric said, looking to Talia again.

“It’s how the spell works. Not all communication is words. It must give... I don’t know, body language or something in its speech. The spell says some creatures communicate on multiple levels.”

Osric nodded and said to the creature, “It was unintentional. We were trying to find out why the water had turned poisoned. You surprised and scared us. Why are you here?”

The creature’s tentacles writhed in agitation.

“I do not know. This is not my home. I live in...a deep place. The water here is too shallow. There is no food. I starve.”

“What about animals. From the shore?” Rowan asked.

“Sickness. Pain. Their flesh burns.”

“This must be one of the beings the Sage talked about,” Talia said. “Pulled from another reality into ours, through the veil. Maybe... maybe wherever it lives is so different, that our reality is poison. Maybe it’s poison to us, so just being in the water is affecting people.”

“Can we send it back?” Osric asked.

“I don’t see how. There doesn’t seem to be a rift here, and even if there were, I have no idea how to send something through the veil.”

“So it’s just going to starve to death here? If it can’t eat anything?”

It seemed the creature could not only hear them, but was listening.

At Osric’s words, it wailed, saying, “Pain. The air, the water, they burn. Please, end it. Let me die.”

Osric was almost overwhelmed by the emotions it transmitted. Anguish. Desperation.

“We can’t just kill it!” Rowan said angrily.

Talia placed a hand on his arm. “We can’t send it home, and we can’t stop its suffering. Wouldn’t it be kinder to grant its wish?”

Rowan shook his head and said, “I can’t watch this.”

Turning, he walked away, close enough that they could still see him, but his back remained turned.

Osric took another step toward the creature and said, “Is that what you want? Do you really want us to...kill you?”

“Please. Pain.”

“I’ll try to make it quick,” Osric said.

Osric waded into the shallows, ignoring the acrid burn against his ankles. Raising his sword and gripping the hilt with both hands, he positioned the tip against the creature’s skull just above where its eyes were, where the creature seemed to keep its brain.

“I’m so sorry,” he said and plunged the sword as hard as he could through the creature’s skull, piercing scales and bone.

The creature let out a piercing shriek that reverberated across the lake. Its tentacles thrashed violently for a moment, and then it sagged, the light fading from its eyes as it went limp.

Osric pulled his sword free with a sickening squelch, black ichor coating the blade. He stepped back, out of the burning water. He stared at the blade for a moment, his stomach churning, before kneeling at the water’s edge. He plunged the sword into the shallows, watching as the dark blood swirled away in lazy tendrils. He wiped the blade off on some nearby grass to remove the remaining poison. He then wiped it clean the rest of the way with a cloth from his bag.

He performed his task almost automatically as he stared at the dead creature, his mind numb.

Talia’s hand on his shoulder startled him.

“You did the right thing,” she said softly when he looked up at her. “I’m proud of you.”

Osric just nodded, not trusting his voice. He stood, sheathing his sword, and looked for the ranger.

“Rowan,” he called out.

The ranger, much more grim-faced than normal, came back. He looked from Osric to the creature and back.

“I very sorry. If there’d been some other way…”

“I don’t blame you,” Rowan interrupted him, sounding less angry than he had a few minutes earlier. “Talia was right, it was a kindness, in the end. That creature was suffering. I just… I don’t understand how Wyndra could allow something like this to happen. She is the protector of all wild things. How could she let a creature be torn from its home, left to starve and burn in a world not its own?”

“Maybe she isn’t,” Talia said. “It’s not clear to me which gods are part of this veilguard, but we know there are some who are communicating with us. If the Sage is right, they are trying to point us in the direction of a solution to the tears in the veil. The gods interfere with our world, but don’t work directly in it, so maybe this is the best they can do.”

“Maybe,” Rowan said.

“We need to get it out of the water,” Osric said, changing the subject. “If its body was burning just from being here, it’s probably still releasing something into the lake. That could be what’s tainting the water downstream.”

“Yeah,” Rowan said, joining Osric by the water’s edge.

Together, they waded into the shallows. Osric grabbed a tentacle, suppressing a shudder at the rubbery texture. Rowan took hold of another, and they heaved, dragging the creature’s bulk toward the shore. It was heavier than it looked, and they strained with the effort. With a final grunt, they hauled the creature fully onto the muddy bank and a little way away from the water’s edge, close to the tree line.

“We should burn it,” the ranger said, breathing hard. “Make sure nothing else can be tainted by it.”

“Rowan...” Osric began, but the ranger shook his head.

“I’ll gather some wood.”

He stalked off toward the treeline without another word.

“He’ll be alright,” Talia said, coming to stand beside him. “He just needs time.”

“I hope so,” Osric murmured. “Now that it’s out of the water, do you think it will be able to clean itself?”

“Probably. Ponds like this are supplied by underwater springs, usually. That and a few rains, the remainder of whatever it is should wash downstream. We know the stream was enough to dilute it before it got to the next village, so it should be okay, although it will probably take a few weeks.”

Osric just nodded. He didn’t doubt she was right. Talia knew things, after all.

When Rowan returned, they built a small pyre around the creature and lit it. Whatever it was made of, or what was on its skin, must have been very volatile, as the flames seemed to burst to life as soon as they contacted the creature’s body, burning hot enough to force them back a good distance. They stood and watched as the fire consumed the creature’s remains. Smoke billowed into the sky, carrying with it the acrid stench of burning flesh.

“We should go,” he said finally, when the fire started to die down. “We’re still a long way from finding this cleric, if he even exists, let alone finding the other half of the document the Sage needs.”

The other two didn’t respond, just gathering their things as Rowan put out what was left of the fire. As they started toward the village the barman had told them about, Osric gave one last look back to what remained of the pyre.

It felt like an eternity since this all started, and he could feel the scars from each battle, inside of him, marking him. He couldn’t help but wonder how much more he could carry.