Altered Destiny (7 page)

By the time she’d stashed everything under the bed and crawled under the covers, her body shook. The throbbing of her head spread into her abdomen. She retched, but there was nothing left in her stomach. Her eyes closed of their own accord, and sleep took her.

The next night, the moon shone through the curtained window. After her trip up the stairs, Selia had slept the rest of the night and most of the day. She’d need every ounce of strength she could muster.

With an ear tuned to the steady rise and fall of Martha’s snoring, Selia pulled off the long white gown and began to dress.

They’d be worried, all of them, but there was no helping it. She couldn’t stay or ask anyone to go with her. The sense of urgency had only grown stronger. She had to find Oren. He would be scared, lonely and confused. He could be in danger or worse. Selia clamped down on that line of reasoning as she laced her pants then slipped on her white shirt. Like most of her clothes, the shirt was one of Oren’s old casts offs, cut and mended to fit her.

She fingered the material.
I will find you
.

The soldiers had taken Oren to Eagle Rock. She’d gleaned that much from conversation when Dara and Abel thought she was sleeping. King Leisle planned to begin his offensive against the Svistra from the northern fortress, drive them back into their own lands.

Eagle Rock was about six or seven days north of the crossroads. Of course she didn’t know if that estimate was walking or on horseback. It didn’t matter. Jemima couldn’t make the journey, so she’d walk. Commander Nathan would be at the fortress but parts of her memory were still fuzzy. He’d been nice enough. Perhaps he’d listen to reason and let Oren come home with her.
What if he doesn’t?
Selia scowled at the traitorous thought.
I’ll cross that bridge when I get there.
Her mother had always told her not to borrow trouble, then she’d wink before adding that there was enough just lying around.

She shrugged the leather vest over her shirt and laced it closed.
Now the tricky part.
With care she bent to pull on her boot and then tie the laces. The pounding in her head increased but the wave of dizziness was thankfully brief.

After writing a short note for Abel, telling him she’d be gone for a couple of weeks and entrusting him with the care of Jemima and the tavern, Selia shrugged on her pack, checked that her weapons were in place and walked into the hall. Stepping around the squeaky board, she made her way to the kitchen. She placed the note on the clean kitchen counter where Martha would be sure to find it. The cook would be beside herself with worry though. She couldn’t read and wouldn’t know what the note said until Abel arrived.

Selia pushed away the guilt as she stepped out into the dark of the pre-dawn night. She’d need to hurry past the village before the sun rose, or risk questions. The others would think she was foolish to go after Oren. They might try to stop her. She had no choice. Oren and the tavern were her life.

As she breathed the cool air, Selia couldn’t stop the vague images of Oren in battle. Of him standing, confused, while soldiers fought around him until…

She swallowed. He’d be killed trying to stop what he’d see as a slaughter.

Focus on the next step.

From the road, Selia glanced back at the tavern, and froze. Unexpected tears pricked her eyes. Save for a few days hunting in the woods, or trips into the village for supplies, she hadn’t left the tavern since the day she was born, and this felt like a goodbye. She glanced down the King’s road as it led into the west, mentally following as it meandered over mountains and valleys until it came to the great water. Then turned south, watching the moon play along the same road her mother had traveled years before. Without another look back, she walked north toward Oren.

Nathan wound his way across the courtyard and through the ragged groups of men staring ahead, appearing intent on something he couldn’t see, their eyes blank and red-rimmed. Some of them looked like they hadn’t been long from the apron string. The air reeked of despair, brokenness and unwashed bodies.

Ahead, a large man sat astride a bay stallion. When he saw Nathan approach, he straightened in the saddle.

“Commander.” He touched one finger to his forehead.

“Captain Darion, why are these men all here?”

Darion reached under his helmet and scratched his head. “By order of King Leisle, the men you requested.”

Nathan clenched his teeth. “These men are soldiers?”

“Well, more like volunteers.” Darion winked. “Had to help ’em along if’n you know what I mean. Down right disloyal if you ask me.”

Fuck! This is the king’s answer to my request?
Nathan’s hand itched to punch the smile off Darion’s face. Instead, he blew out all the air in his lungs and turned to survey the motley group. He stepped over to the stone wall encircling the well and leapt to the top. He cleared his throat. “I’m Commander Nathan.”

He waited until the men turned their dull eyes in his direction.

“I’d say welcome to Eagle Rock, but it might seem a little ironic to you. In a few hours, I’ll make sure there’s a hot meal and a bed for each of you. Tomorrow at sunrise, I expect you all back here in the courtyard. Understand?”

There were vague mumbles and nodded heads. Nathan jumped down, caught Matias’s eye and walked toward the kitchen.

Nathan lowered his tone for Matias’s ears only. “The king didn’t send me soldiers, he sent me arrow fodder.”

“I’d not want any of these men fighting at my back,” Matias agreed.

Nathan ran a hand through his hair. “Men fight to save their homes and their families, not for some noble idea of king and country. None of these men would last the first hour in a real battle.” He glanced back at the gathering. “Nursemaids. The king wants us to babysit a bunch of fucking villagers who don’t know one end of a sword from another.”

Matias nodded. “There are times when I’d question my king. Farmers, furriers…”

They stepped around a group of men huddled around the broken wheel of a cart as they might a campfire. They didn’t look up.

Matias shook his head. “Of course, we could use a wheelwright.”

Nathan froze and out of the corner of his eye, saw Matias try to follow his gaze. A large man sat on the ground, staring at nothing, his eyes glazed with confusion. “I know that man.”

Jaden stared at the empty bed. He’d known even before he entered the room that she was gone, but he’d had to see for himself. He sniffed. Her scent was a day, maybe two, old. The tavern itself had a soulless feel as though the life had left it. Perhaps it had.

Of all the foolish things to do.
Her going north alone was tantamount to suicide. If a wild creature or human patrol didn’t find her, the Svistra would.

Jaden had miscalculated, a mistake that could cost Selia her life. He’d detoured to one of his caches to retrieve supplies he’d need and in doing so, he’d missed her. He cursed under his breath. He’d bet his best horse she wasn’t fully recovered. But then, he no longer had a best horse to bet, and Selia was gone and in danger. The Svistra trails he’d encountered had been old.
A chance
. Now he had to hunt down a single wounded, human female before anyone else did.

The door to the outer chamber opened, bringing with it the cooler air from the hall and the unmistakable scent of Noe. Eyes closed, Keldar inhaled her floral fragrance deep into his lungs. She was angry. All the better.

After schooling his features, he turned back to the parchment in his hands. The air warmed with her presence but he continued to read the list of his new assets.

A tang of fear spiced the dull scent of Noe’s impatience as Keldar ignored her. For Noe to speak first would be a sign of disrespect, one they both knew she couldn’t afford. Not until her fear masked any other emotion did he look up.

Noe stood, draped in layers of sheer lavender cloth from shoulder to sandaled feet. The cloth softened the outline of her body but did nothing to hide it.

“Are you curious why I’ve brought you to my chamber?” He didn’t miss her glance toward the bed.

“You’ve found Jaden—”

Keldar bared his teeth, his nostrils flaring to catch the new burst of fear behind Noe’s bravado. “Jaden is dead.”

Her expression didn’t change. “And you think to make me yours.”

“I always liked your intelligence.”

“You couldn’t care less about my intelligence.”

“Oh, but that’s where you’re wrong.” He stood and moved around the desk to circle Noe.

She flinched.

“The leader of the Svistra should have an intelligent wife, don’t you think?”

“I will not be your wife.”

“No?” He grabbed the back of her neck, kicked her legs and pressed her to her hands and knees. “Want to place a wager?”

“You can take me, but that won’t make me your wife.” Fear tinged the defiance in her voice.

“I will take you.” Straddling her from behind, he molded his body to hers, his erection pressed against her rounded buttocks. Without loosening the pressure on her neck, he licked the exposed skin of her upper back.

“Taking command of the army doesn’t make you any less a beast. Jaden is twice the man that you are.”

Keldar reversed his hold, his fingers digging into the soft flesh of Noe’s throat. He trailed his teeth along the side of her neck then bit hard enough to draw blood. “You taste as sweet as I imagined.”

“I’ll kill you in your sleep.”

He sprang to his feet dragging Noe with him and threw her on the bed.

She lay stunned, eyes darkened.

“No you won’t.” He neared, breathing in the heady scent that told him more than her words. “You always were a shrewd woman. Power means to you more than anything. I smell your arousal. We want the same things, control, honor, respect. Jaden was never the man for you. I’ll take you. And you’ll enjoy every moment of it. Then you’ll be my wife.”

Nathan made his way across the courtyard toward the well, the weight of many curious eyes on him. Once again, he stepped up onto the old stone wall of the well and looked out over the crowd. Under the gentle light of the early morning sun, the men appeared more ragged than before, but also rested and fed. By the look of the eyes now staring at him, the men now had enough energy to be angry.

He shot a glance to Darion and another to Matias, running his fingers through his hair. “I won’t lie. We need you.” He didn’t yell, but pitched his voice to carry over the crowd.

The men looked at one another, their mumbling dulled like the galloping of distant horses.

“The Svistra are not many, but each of them fights like five men.” Nathan heard the grumbles of his men. “Have any of you ever seen a Svistra?”

No one moved or spoke.

“Do you know why?”

“Um, we’d be dead?” One of the men stepped forward. A dirty rag that might once have been red encircled his head and trailed down his back like a tail.

“Perhaps. But not always. You didn’t see them because they didn’t want to be seen.”

“You mean they can disappear?” another man toward the back of the group asked.

Nathan turned in the general direction of the voice. “No. They can’t. Svistra are flesh and blood like us. But they are skilled at one thing: killing.” Nathan took a deep breath. “They are warriors trained to fight. Svistra don’t plow, and they don’t tend flocks. They fight. That’s all they do.”

“But we ain’t soldiers, and our farms ain’t getting plowed or our flocks tended while we stand here chattin’. Can you tell me this will be over by harvest?”

Nathan looked to see who had spoken but couldn’t pick out the face in the crowd. “You’re not soldiers. But you could be. The Svistra will not stop. They will sweep down from the north and kill your flocks, your women and children, unless we stop them here.”

“Then let us go back to our families so we can protect them.”

Nathan met the dark eyes of the speaker. “Could you, alone, stand up against a band of Svistra?”

The man blinked.

Nathan turned back to the crowd and raised his voice a notch. “Could any of you? I couldn’t. And I’ve sent many men, women and children who also couldn’t to the Nameless god. Unless we fight together, we will be beaten. Only our unity can defeat the Svistra. Again, if we don’t stop them here, they will not be stopped.”

Nathan caught Matias’s eye again. The old soldier nodded. Still Nathan waited a few more heartbeats. “Your choices are clear. Learn to fight or die.”

The silence was complete until someone coughed.

“If you want to go back home, no one here will stop you.” Nathan glared at Darion. “I don’t want farmers fighting at my back when I need soldiers. But consider, if you miss one harvest, your family will go hungry for a season. If we don’t stop the Svistra, there will be no more harvests or families to go back to.”

The men exchanged glances. No doubt some would still leave, but Nathan didn’t want those idiots in his army.

“We can just…leave?” the man with the turbaned head asked.

Nathan raised his voice another semitone. “In matters of war, I speak for the king. Anyone who will not join the army and help defeat the Svistra is free to go.”

“How?”

Nathan pointed toward the gate. “That way. You know where you live.”

“But Svistra are out there, right?”

Only by an extreme act of willpower did Nathan not shake his head in disbelief. “Yes. There are.” He glanced around one more time. “If you choose to stay, report to the main hall to be fitted for armor and issued a sword, unless you already have one.” He jumped off the well’s wall and walked toward the fortress.

“Quite a speech there, Commander,” Matias’s voice was filled with humor. “I think you may have missed your calling.”

“Shut the fuck up, Matias.”

From a small rise, Selia followed the road between the trees as it curved toward the west before, presumably, continuing on its journey north. There was a good reason for its detour. Directly north, a pale mist swirled against the blue sky. It didn’t disperse with the warming sun or the gentle breeze.
The White Forest
.

Despite the day’s warmth, she shuddered. She’d heard stories about the dead forest, none of them reassuring.

Farther north, dark clouds hid the Telige Mountains from view and highlighted the ghostly mists. They resembled the pale smoke of the dark priests’ campfires as they journeyed near the tavern toward the Wastes.

When the sun brushed the treetops to the west, Selia decided to find a place to camp. Although she still had food from the tavern, her body craved fresh meat. She’d set up camp early to lay snares in the hopes of catching an unlucky rabbit or even squirrel.

She’d made good time. On her first day after leaving the tavern, Selia half expected some kind of pursuit, nearly jumping out of her skin every time she heard horses on the path behind her. Hidden in the dense forest to the side of the road, she’d watched groups of soldiers thunder by. Later, she found a nice hollow to spend the night and had slept until the sun crested the trees in the east.

Selia began down the hill. Her body was still sore and bruised, but her aches owed more to sleeping on the cold ground than to her injuries—though a spot on her head was still tender and swollen.

Twice, on the second day, she’d had to leave the road on account of soldiers. They seemed at ease, not like men preparing for an imminent battle. Yet a sense of urgency, a need to hurry, didn’t lessen.

Oren would have reached Eagle Rock by now, alone and confused. The thought itself was enough to prick her eyes with tears and send a rush of determination through her body.

Three full days since leaving the tavern, she knew the villagers had to be aware of her disappearance. Martha would be beside herself. Too late, Selia realized her gruff manner hid a soft heart. She could still hear the cook’s lullabies, sung while she’d lain half-conscious in Oren’s bed.
Could I have told her about Jaden?
Selia focused on the path. It was too late for that line of reasoning.

By the time the sun dipped below the tree line, she’d made camp and had set a few snares. The S’ian stretched out like a dark ribbon. Here it was only a gurgling stream—crossed by a crude plank bridge—but she knew that farther to the west, it sprang from the Sulat Mountains as a raging river full of surging waters and dangerous eddies. Ahead, the forest thinned and the slanting rays of sunset warmed the marbled trunks of trees, sending long shadows toward the east.

Selia studied the water rushing by, looking for signs of life. Her water bag had grown lighter and though the sky to the north threatened rain, these things were unpredictable. She stood still and kept her breath shallow, rewarded by a plop downstream. A few minutes later, a sleek weasel popped its head above the water with a small fish in its mouth, looked around furtively then swam to the opposite bank. The creature climbed up the muddy incline. Four legs, proportioned body, and a beady look of intelligence in its eyes. Chances were the water was good to drink.

Even so, she knelt on the muddy bank, scooped a handful and sniffed. The green scent of fresh water awoke her thirst and she drank greedily before emptying the last of her stale water and filling up the skin. Her thirst slackened, she walked back to check the snares. The possibility she’d gotten lucky so soon was slim, but it didn’t hurt to look. As she crossed the road, she paused at the bridge.

Through the thinning trees, a meadow stretched out into the distance. Grasses gleamed pale gold in the waning light, bowing before a slight wind. She crossed the bridge and walked a distance. She rounded a turn in the road, then stopped cold. On the other side of the meadow stretched what could only be the White Forest.

Pale mists traveled through limbs seemingly devoid of foliage and as colorless as sun-bleached bones. As she watched, the pattern in the mists changed in such a way it appeared they had become aware of her and now beckoned.
Come closer
.

Selia stepped back, though the desire to walk into the meadow grew. She glanced down the road as it veered sharply to the west, leaving the meadow between it and the White Forest.

She retraced her steps, feeling oddly vulnerable, like she shouldn’t turn her back on the mists. After finding one of her snares occupied, she returned to camp to clean and cook her catch.

The camp lay away from the road, far enough so a fire wouldn’t be seen, even through the thinning trees. Tonight, she needed the warmth and light of a fire. As she chewed on a stale piece of bread waiting for her rabbit to cook, an idea formed, one so ridiculous that she dismissed it at once. She knew the road turned west, looping around the White Forest and taking at least three or four days to travel. But by all accounts, though long, the White Forest wasn’t deep. It stretched like a finger from the Wastes into the green lands. She could save time by going through it.

No one crosses the White Forest and lives.

The voice echoed in her head as if the trees around her spoke the warning, but she’d heard the assertion from one of her customers at the tavern. Living close to the Wastes taught one there were strange things in the world, and sometimes the strange things had teeth. But she was also practical. Part of the fear the White Forest inspired in her was probably due to the legends. Her nerves had been stretched tight for so long, she was jumping at shadows. Jaden had proven many of the rumors about Svistra wrong; perhaps the gossip about the White Forest was equally unfounded. They were just trees. And trees, even strange white trees, couldn’t hurt anyone. It would take no more than a day to cross and, if she hurried and kept her bow ready and an arrow nocked, she should be okay.

Her stomach tightened and rolled, apparently trying to dissuade her. But the sooner she reached Oren, the better. Selia rolled up in her blanket and pulled the staked rabbit out of the fire, refusing to debate the issue. In the morning, she’d set off and let the Trickster decide.

The White Forest stretched out from horizon to horizon. The sun’s early light failed to penetrate the mists. Grasses in the meadow crunched beneath her boots as though the blades were frozen or dead. Selia didn’t stop to determine which; her gaze didn’t waver from the tall bleached trunks surrounded by the swirling pale, almost silvery mist.

Her curiosity grew with each step. She understood why they said the forest was dead. The trees resembled bones more than branches, but their nakedness was only an illusion. Thin, almost transparent pale leaves shuddered on the white branches. Unlike the trees in winter that shed their leaves and wore a mantle of snow for a season, these trees didn’t bear the promise of life. Yet the forest felt far from dead. As she drew closer, a sensation of expectation increased. It waited for her.

There was no moment when she crossed from the open air into the forest, at least not one she could perceive. It was a seamless transition. One moment she was under the blue sky, clouds skating along between the mountain ranges. The next she walked between the chalky tree trunks, shrouded in a perpetual mist eddying between gnarled branches or drifting down to linger among brittle-looking waxy flowers peppering the forest floor. The ground gave under her footstep, like thick moss, but as pale as the trees.

After a while, she could differentiate shades of white. The flowers grew on stalks a slightly darker shade than that of their petals and scented the air with a delicate sweet fragrance. The mist held a hint of silver in its cool breath and swirled among the trees, though she perceived no breeze and the leaves of the trees remained static.