The Threads of Destiny - Chapter 7

Chapter 7: The Watchtower

Osric ducked under a low tree, almost missing it in the fading light. They’d been walking for hours since leaving Silham, the air between them strained. He’d agreed that she could still go with him, in spite of the danger, but that hadn’t ended the issue, apparently.

Since they’d left the village, every time Osric tried to talk to her, she’d ended the conversation quickly, with muttering he couldn’t really hear, but knew were sarcastic from her tone. He knew she was angry at him, but he couldn’t help wanting to keep her safe. Their trip from the keep where they’d found the map and Silham had been harrowing and nerve-wracking in its own right, but at least there they’d been a team, working together. It had felt good, having her with him.

Now, he only felt nervous, acutely aware she was both with him and far away, all at the same time. He must have been in his own head, or maybe because it was dark, but he was surprised when she grabbed his arm, stopping him from walking any further. At first, he thought she finally wanted to talk, but instead she pointed past him. It took a moment to see in the dim light, but he was able to make out what looked like a thin, crumbling stone…tower, was the closest thing he could think of, although the top of it had been gone for a long time.

“What is that?” he asked, craning his neck to try and see it better through the trees.

“An old watch tower of some kind,” Talia said. “There’s one maybe a half day’s walk north of Eldham. It’s not on any road, but it’s near an area where some wild herbs Elder Miriam sometimes had me pick. When I asked her about it, she told me these towers were built in a time long ago, when the forest used to be much smaller.”

“This wasn’t always forest?” Osric asked, the thought never having occurred to him that The Great Forest would be anything other than The Great Forest.

“No. The forest was once, a long time ago, much smaller than it is now. I think these might have been built near the edge of the forest, but it’s hard to tell, since they were put here so long ago.”

“How long does it take the forest to grow from here all the way up to the Beartooth Ridge and Wolfridge. Wolfridge is hundreds of miles away.”

“Hundreds or even thousands of years. Elder Miriam said these ruins likely predate the formation of the Crownlands themselves.”

Osric stared in amazement at the revelation. He knew little of history and his notion of how old the Crownlands was kind of vague. To him, they might have well have always existed. He knew, somewhere, that they hadn’t. He’d been told tales of the Age of Darkness, full of dragons and demons of fire, but those were as much stories. Dragons and demons weren’t real. They were something made up to scare and entertain children.

Not that he doubted Talia or Elder Miriam. They both knew more of the world than he ever would, and if they said these existed from a time before the Crownlands, then they must. The crumbling structure did look old. More a stack of stones held together by vines than a structure, at least from his limited view through the trees.

Osric was about to ask something else when Cinder’s ears pricked up and he began sniffing at the air, as though catching an unusual scent. Osric and Talia exchanged a glance before peering more intently at the tower in the distance, searching for whatever set the wolf off.

Osric stared through the trees for almost a minute before he saw it, a thin wisp of smoke drifting lazily up from the other side of the structure, rising in a plume that curled and twisted in the breeze.

“There,” Osric whispered, pointing a little to the left of the crumbling tower. “Smoke. Coming from the other side of the tower.”

It took Talia a moment before she found it, saying, “Ohh. Someone must be camped there. Do you think?”

They exchanged a glance. This was one of the locations marked on the map, more or less, which meant it might be another one of the strange men that had been chasing him. Like the ones at the bottom of the keep guarding the map.

“We should circle around and see. Real far out so he doesn’t spot us.”

Talia nodded. Moving as silently as possible, they looped far out and came up slowly behind the crumbling tower. Crouching in the underbrush, they could make out a small campfire flickering beside a bedroll. A figure sat hunched near the flames, dressed in dark leathers similar to the men who had attacked them.

“He’s dressed like the others,” Osric whispered.

“We should capture him. He might have answers about why they’re after your ring, or that page, or something.”

This had been why they’d come out here. To find some way to get answers. But now that he was here, looking at another one of the men trying to kill him, he hesitated.

“Osric?” Talia prompted.

“Yeah. You’re right. We’ll go on my signal,” Osric said, before kneeling down to look directly at Cinder. “We want him uninjured. We want to frighten him. Don’t bite him unless you have to.”

The wolf cocked its head at him, but otherwise did nothing.

Osric looked up at Talia who whispered back, “It worked outside Silham.”

“Yeah,” he said, slowly pulling his sword out of its scabbard and creeping to the edge of the forest close to the ruined watchtower, ready to charge if the man gave any indication he heard them.

“Now,” Osric yelled as they got to the edge, pushing himself up and charging forward.

Cinder dashed past him, springing onto the man’s back and sending him crashing sideways with a startled shout. The stranger started to move and froze as he looked up, directly into the face of a wolf looming over him, lips peeled back to reveal dripping fangs as it growled menacingly.

The man’s hand started to slide sideways, to a sword just in reach, maybe hoping to not startle the wolf until he struck it down. Just as his hand got near the hilt, Osric stomped hard on the back of it, eliciting another sharp cry of pain.

The man’s eyes darted from the wolf to Osric, going even wider as he found Osric’s blade poking into his exposed throat. Osric pressed the blade harder, drawing a thin line of blood as the man’s breathing grew shallow and his eyes bulged.

“Don’t try it,” he warned.

The man froze, barely breathing.

“Why have you been chasing me? What do you want?”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” the man said. “I’m just a traveler.”

“Just a traveler? Wearing armor like that and carrying a sword? Camp right at the spot where we expected to find one of you? I think not. Cinder, rip his throat out,” Osric said, hoping Cinder wouldn’t actually do it.

The wolf’s growl began a snarl as it leaned closer in, saliva falling down onto the man’s chin as the wolf opened its mouth.

“Alright, alright!” he cried out, his composure breaking. “We’re looking for something you found, some kind of relic.”

“Cinder, wait,” Osric ordered, although the wolf had already stopped on its own. “What kind of relic? Why were you looking for it?”

“I don’t know exactly. Something small, maybe an amulet, talisman, or ring. All we know is it’s very ancient. My superiors said someone found it near the village of Eldham, but they escaped and ran into the forest. We were told to find it.”

“Who ordered you? Who are your superiors?”

The man hesitated again.

“He’s only had a few sausages in the last day. I guarantee you he’s hungry. If you won’t talk, I’m willing to let him feed.”

“The Brethren!” the man blurted out. “We serve the Brethren.”

“What are the Brethren?”

“We protect the world. We’ve done so since the reckoning, a thousand years ago. We protect it from threats and tyranny.”

“What do you mean…” Osric started, but his question was cut off by another voice.

“Roland, why are you …” a man was saying as he suddenly appeared, coming around the watchtower, only to cut off mid-sentence as well, freezing in place at the sight of Osric, Cinder, and Talia standing over what was, presumably, his friend.

For a moment, no one moved, all just looking at each other in pure shock. Then everyone started at once, including Roland, who ripped his hand out from under Osric’s foot and grabbed for his sword hilt.

Cinder, however, was faster, his teeth sinking into the man’s neck, which was only saved by his lunge to the side, causing Cinder’s teeth to rip out a chunk of flesh on the side of the neck, instead of his throat out entirely.

Roland yelled, his eyes going wide with shock and pain, his weapon clattering back to the dirt forgotten as he pressed his hand against his neck, blood seeping from between his fingers.

Talia moved nearly as fast. Raising her left hand, fingers splayed as if to grasp the very air. Her right hand began to circle rapidly in front of her splayed fingers, tracing a glowing path. As her right hand finished its circular motion, it thrust forward sharply. Suddenly, three glowing bolts shot from her thrust palm, each finding their mark on the second man’s chest. He staggered back, letting out a cry of pain as the glowing bolts penetrated through his armor and into his flesh.

Osric charged the man, swinging his sword with all his might. His opponent had stumbled back as Talia’s magic had struck him, however, causing Osric’s sword to swing through empty air where he once stood.

Roland, still on the ground, made a desperate attempt to defend himself. He reached for his fallen sword again, only to have Cinder release him and attack again, this time straight across his throat. Roland made a weak gurgling sound as the wolf jaws clamped down.

Seeing his friend being mauled, the injured man rallied and swung with a mighty bellow. Osric tried to block it, but his sword was still out of position, easily pushed aside as the weapon slashed across Osric’s side, sending a bolt of searing pain shooting through him.

Talia, however, wasn’t finished. Her hands spun in front of her, dancing through their intricate pattern, sending a cone of fire past Osric and into the man’s face. Osric could feel the heat of the blast as it passed, causing him to jump back to avoid being scalded.

The man let out a scream as his skin started to melt and his hair caught on fire. Dropping his sword, he turned and ran the direction he came, his screams echoing through the trees as the glowing light receded away from them.

Cinder finally released his grip as Roland’s body went limp, the life drained from him.

Osric, clutching the wound on his side closed, looked from the smoldering remains of the trees where the wounded man had fled to Talia, who stood motionless, her eyes wide with shock.

“Are you alright?” he asked her.

She gave a small nod, still looking past him into the trees, the smell of burnt flesh still hanging in the air. She gave herself a little shake and looked to him.

“You’re hurt!” she exclaimed, rushing over to him and moving his hand out of the way to see the injury.

“It’s not too deep, I don’t think.”

Reaching down, she ripped a small tear in the hem of her dress and tore it around until she had a long strip of green fabric. Pulling his shirt up, she wound it around his middle, over the cut, cinching it tight.

“This isn’t great, but it should help keep it closed and slow the bleeding,” she said.

“Thanks.”

He looked over to the body of the man they’d been questioning, his throat a bloody mess where Cinder had ripped him apart.

“So much for that,” he said, pointing at the body.

“We got something at least,” Talia said. “Maybe we should check him. See if he has something like those other guys.”

“Yeah,” Osric said, pausing a moment before walking to the man’s body and bending down, digging through his pockets.

It was a strange act. Incredibly intimate and yet horribly morbid all at the same time. The man had a few silver coins, which Osric pocketed, and a small knife, which he handed to Talia. She was clearly more powerful with her magic than she’d ever be with a weapon, but he’d feel better if she had something.

What he didn’t find was a map, or a note, or anything that might be helpful to finding out more.

Suddenly, a shout sounded in the direction the burning man had run. It was far off, but still close enough for them to hear it.

“His friends?” Talia asked as all three looked in that direction.

“We can’t take that chance,” Osric said, grabbing her hand and pulling her in the opposite direction, to the south. “We should go.”

As the three hurried away from the dead man and his smoldering fire, Osric thought he could hear the voices getting closer.

Osric and Talia crashed through the underbrush, away from the sound of the approaching voices as quickly as they could, Cinder racing ahead of them. Osric hoped they could get enough distance between themselves and the watchtower that, after stopping to check on the now dead man, the trio would be far enough away that the racket they were making couldn’t be heard. Branches cut into Osric’s face, scratching his arms and legs, but he didn’t stop. They kept running until his lungs burned.

Finally, he could take no more, and pulled up short. Talia doubled over, silently retching, although if it was from what had happened in the fight or the physical exertion, Osric didn’t know.

Osric tilted his head and listened hard, Cinder circling around, sniffing the air. He couldn’t hear anything, and the wolf didn’t growl or otherwise react, which hopefully meant they’d left any pursuers behind.

“We should keep going,” Osric said, placing a hand gently on Talia’s back, as she dry-heaved into a bush. “We might have lost them, but they’ll try and find us.”

Talia stood up, wiped her mouth, and nodded weakly, following along silently as Osric continued their path south.

“Are you okay?” Osric asked after a few minutes. “Did you get hurt too?”

“No. I just... I’m still... I’m not used to this much violence. The way his face melted, and he ran, screaming, on fire...”

“He was going to kill us,” Osric said.

“I know. I know. I don’t regret it, I don’t think. I just don’t know if I can keep hurting people like this.”

“Yeah,” Osric said, putting his hand to his side, the bandage already wet with his blood.

He was less worried about hurting people than them hurting him, which had already happened several times. She at least had her magic. He didn’t have the training to fight these people. He was learning, but without the ring to teach him, these lessons would turn fatal.

“Maybe you should...”

“No,” she said, predicting what he was going to say. “We went over that already. I might need time to deal with melting a man’s face off, but I’m not going to leave you alone out here. Especially since we have no idea where we’re going.”

“I know,” Osric said. “We at least know more than we did.”

“Not that it helps us. We already knew this was some kind of organization and they were after the ring. We also knew how ancient it was and that it had some kind of magic attached to it. All we really learned was the name of the organization, and that they had some kind of way of learning that about the ring. We don’t know why they want it aside from some vague statement of ‘protecting the world.’ None of that helps us find a way out of this mess.”

“Yeah,” Osric said, feeling dejected. “Maybe we should turn around, go to Wolfridge. Give the ring to someone there. The Greenwood Levy or find someone from the conclave. They might want it. Just... give it away. Make it someone else’s problem.”

“Maybe. If it’s lost its magic, I’m not sure we could convince the conclave to take it. They might be able to feel some kind of residual trace on it, but I can’t. And how do we explain to the Levy about everything that’s happened? We killed several of them. Wouldn’t they arrest us too?”

“I don’t know. If... if things had gone different at the watchtower, I was thinking to give them the ring, since it’s lost all its magic. That seemed to be the reason they were after it. They’d see it was empty and might leave us alone.”

“Or, they’d decide the magic transferred to you somehow and keep chasing us,” Talia pointed out.

“It can do that?” Osric asked, stopping and staring at her in shock.

He hadn’t even considered the magic might not have gone away, but somehow gone into him.

“Maybe. I have no idea. Don’t forget we also have that ripped in half page. They’d want that too.”

“Fine. I don’t care. We give it to them. To the Levy. To the Conclave. Whoever’ll take it.”

“And if they decide the magic has gone in you and want to cut it out of you, or something?” Talia asked.

Osric just shrugged. What could he say? Of course, he didn’t want that, but he had no idea what else to do. He was about to say something else when, to the north, they heard voices and the braying of hounds. Squinting, he thought he could even make out torchlight.

“Damn. They’re following our trail,” Osric said. “We can’t just keep running through the woods.”

“Across the Wyndemere?” Talia suggested. “Throw them off our trail. We could cross the Wyndemere into Brakendale, make our way to Mereham from the north side of the river.”

“Assuming they don’t have people in Brakendale as well. For all we know, they could be on the other side of the river, waiting for us.”

“What other choice do we have? Like you said, if we go south, they’ll keep tracking us.”

“Fine,” Osric said, turning and starting east, quickening his pace back to a jog as the sounds of pursuit got closer.

The distant baying of the hounds grew louder as they ran east, spurring Osric and Talia onward. They could now hear shouting, as the men closed the distance. Talia stumbled, and Osric grabbed her, pulling her with him.

“Just a little farther,” Osric urged. “We can make it to the river.”

Talia nodded weakly. He spent day after day in the forest, pounding out metal. He knew physical exertion. She spent her days reading books and collecting herbs. She wasn’t made for this kind of exertion. He could feel the sweat soaking through her clothes.

As the sounds behind them got closer, the forest started to thin, and he thought he could hear, above everything, the sounds of rushing water. Hope surged within him.

Osric burst from the treeline, the roar of the river no longer muffled by the trees. Ahead of them, the ground dropped off, falling to the frothing surface churning thirty feet below. The river was crashing over branches and stones, rapids that would be deadly to any who tried to swim it.

“This way!” he called to Talia and Cinder on his heels as shouts sounded behind them.

Osric ran along the edge, heading south, stopping every minute or so to peer over the edge, squinting to make out shapes in the darkness.

“What are you doing?” Talia asked after he stopped for the third time.

Instead of answering, he grabbed her hand and pulled her after him, looking back and forth along the edge. Finally, he saw what he was looking for. Skidding to a halt, he turned and knelt down in front of Cinder, whose yellow eyes looked back at him, reflecting the moonlight.

“Cinder, listen, boy,” Osric urged. “I need you to run upstream along the bank. Hide in the woods if they come. If it gets bad, just run, you hear me? Don’t fight if you can help it. Come back here when it’s safe.”

The wolf whined, ears pinned back.

Osric clenched his friend’s ruff, and said, “Please. I know you understand. Go on now. Go!”

He was breathless, his voice wavering as he tried as hard as he could to get the message across to the animal. He wanted it safe, and if it stayed with them, it would get them all killed. The animal held his gaze a moment longer, then turned and loped into the brush.

“What are we doing?” Talia demanded again.

In response, Osric took her hand and led her to the edge of the cliff, to the spot he’d located. The shouts of their pursuers, until it felt like the baying of their hounds were practically on top of them.

“Here,” he said, guiding Talia to the edge. “We have to climb down.”

Talia’s eyes widened as she looked at the steep drop. “Are you insane? We’ll fall!”

“We don’t have a choice,” Osric insisted. “It’s this or get caught.”

He swung his legs over the edge, finding footholds in the rocky face. Slowly, carefully, he lowered himself down, his fingers gripping the narrow ledge. Once he was stable, he reached up to Talia.

“Come on,” he urged. “I’ll help you.”

Talia hesitated for a moment, then nodded. She sat on the edge, letting her legs dangle over the side. Osric grasped her hand, guiding her down. She clung to him, her breathing rapid and shallow in his ear as she clung to him, audible over the roar of the river thirty feet below them.

Osric shimmied the two of them across until they were underneath a shallow overhang. Osric pulled Talia close, holding her tightly between himself and the cliff face, pressing them into the a shadow. The ledge was narrow, barely wide enough for both of them. Osric could feel Talia trembling against him.

Above them, the sounds of pursuit grew louder. Boots crunched on the ground, voices shouting to one another.

“The trail ends here!” someone called out.

“They must have jumped,” another voice responded. “To get away from the hounds.”

Osric held his breath, his arms tightening around Talia. He wanted to lean back and look to see where they were, but he dare not. He knew they were somewhere above him, and all it would take was one person looking over to discover them.

“It’s too dark to see anything down the river,” a third voice said.

“Damn it,” the first man cursed. “Zev’s not going to be happy about this.”

“Someone needs to go back and tell him they’ve gone down the river,” the second man said.

“If they jumped, surely they’re dead? Even in the dark, I can make out the rocks,” a third voice said.

“Do you want to tell Zev that?” the first voice said again. “Go tell him what’s happening. The rest of you, with me.”

The was a flurry of sounds above them, boots and paws moving in what seemed like every direction. In spite of the deafening sound of rushing waves, Osric held his breath, afraid someone might hear them, frozen in place even as the noises above faded.

For a long time, they remained there, minute after minute, Osric’s arms cramping as he pressed them into the cliff face.

“I think they’re gone,” Talia finally said, her lips nearly brushing his ear.

“Yeah, I think so too.”

Osric slowly released his hold on Talia, his muscles protesting as he unclenched his fingers from the rocky ledge. He tilted his head back, trying to peek past the ledge, looking for any signs of movement or sound. The night was still, but that didn’t mean someone wasn’t a step or two back, outside his line of sight, laying in wait.

Still, there was nothing for it.

“I think it’s safe,” he whispered. “But we need to move quickly. They could come back at any moment.”

Talia nodded, her face pale in the moonlight. “How do we get back up?”

On answer, he looked back and forth then reached above him with one hand and bracing himself. Turning her around, he used his one free hand to place hers in the handholds he used a moment before. Making sure she had a firm grip, he slowly, slowly, carefully, he pulled himself up, his feet scrabbling for support. It was a painstaking process, each movement deliberate and cautious. One wrong step, one loose rock, and he would plummet into the churning waters below.

After what felt like an eternity, Osric hauled himself over the edge, his chest heaving with exertion. He turned immediately, laying flat on his stomach and reaching down for Talia.

“Grab my hand,” he urged, stretching as far as he could.

Talia reached up, her fingers brushing against his. Osric strained, his shoulder screaming in protest, until finally, he grasped her wrist. With a grunt of effort, he pulled, bringing her up and over the edge.

They lay there for a moment, catching their breath, the solid ground a welcome respite from the precarious climb.

“We can’t stay here,” Osric said, pushing himself to his feet and offering a hand to Talia.

Talia glanced back at the river, then nodded. “Lead the way.”

They set off at a jog, Osric in the lead, Talia close behind. The forest enveloped them once more, the branches reaching out for them. Just as they crested a small rise, a rustle in the underbrush made Osric freeze. He threw out an arm, stopping Talia in her tracks. They stood there, hardly daring to breathe, as the rustling grew louder.

And then, out of the darkness, a familiar shape emerged.

“Cinder!” Osric exclaimed.

The wolf bounded up to them, his tail wagging. Osric dropped to his knees, wrapping his arms around Cinder’s neck, burying his face in the thick fur.

“Thank goodness,” he mumbled. “I was so worried.”

Cinder licked his face, as if to say, ‘I’m here, I’m okay.’

Osric pulled back, ruffling the wolf’s ears. “Good boy. You did exactly as I asked.”

Standing, he said, “Okay, let’s get moving.”