Travis Starnes
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The Threads of Destiny - Chapter 11
🕑 Added 2024-05-06 14:02:01 +0000 UTCChapter 11: A Rip in the World
Bidding farewell to the Sage, who promised to continue trying to learn more about the half of a document they’d left with him, and into the people chasing them, the Trio followed the reappeared Valen through the forest, back toward the boundary wall.
He told them about living in the forest and his people as they walked. Osric found all of it fascinating and could have listened to the near-musical way his people spoke for hours, finding it incredibly soothing.
It couldn’t last, however.
Soon, they reached the boundary, and Valen and his friends bid them farewell. The pass through the boundary this time was much closer to what Talia had described. It was like passing through a waterfall without getting wet, the energy flowing around him, seeming to wrap him in a cocoon for what felt like both seconds and an eternity.
And then he was stepping out the other side. It was the same forest he had lived in more or less his whole life, and yet somehow, it felt less. Even when it had just been them, it never seemed to feel lonely inside the boundary, like the very forest was keeping them company. Now the trees were just... trees.
“Looks like we’re on our own again,” Talia said, voicing Osric’s thoughts.
“Yeah. I guess our break’s over. Time to get moving.”
Cinder whined, pressing his nose into Osric’s hand. Osric scratched the wolf behind the ears and then started walking northwest, in roughly the direction the Sage had indicated.
The walked for almost two hours, following a small animal trail that should lead them where they needed to go. This was a far cry from the woodsman trails or paths around their home village, and was not that much different than just pushing through untamed forest.
At first, they were silent, listening for sounds around them, as they had the last time they’d been in the forest, being chased by the Brethren, but all they could hear were birds and animals out in the trees. After a while, they finally started chatting again, keeping the conversation light, neither wanting to talk about the massive responsibility they, or rather Osric in their name, agreed to take on.
While it felt good to have some kind of direction after running aimlessly for so long, it also felt daunting. This was a job meant for someone else, someone who understood how these things worked. Osric was just a blacksmith’s apprentice.
It wasn’t until Cinder stopped in his tracks that Osric noticed the sound of metal on metal ahead of him. At first, he thought it might be equipment or some kind of cart, although they were too deep in the forest for either of those. Then he heard a shout and realized it was the sound of weapons coming into contact.
“Osric, no,” Talia warned as he started to take a step toward the sounds.
“Someone could be in trouble. That’s a fight, not someone chasing us. We have to check.”
A skeptical Talia nodded after a second and followed behind him as Osric pulled out his sword. The steel on steel sound growing louder.
Although Osric planned to stay back, observe what was happening in secret, he suddenly found himself in a clearing as he pushed through a particularly large, dense patch of foliage.
A man in a Greenwood Ranger’s cloak was partially surrounded by four other men. A fifth lay on the ground a few feet away from them, an arrow sticking out of his chest. Although Osric couldn’t say how he knew, he was certain these weren’t Brethren. Something about them, maybe their clothes or the way they carried themselves, said they were something else. Bandits maybe. That wouldn’t be so uncommon in the forest.
What was clear was the Ranger, whose entire task was patrolling and protecting the people of the forest, was outmatched. He glanced back at Talia, who was thinking the same thing as he was. The five people had all suddenly frozen in place, weapons held still as they looked to the newcomers, each probably wondering if the new arrivals were friend or enemy.
“Back away from him,” Osric said in his most commanding voice, which was, admittedly, much less authoritative than he would have wanted it to be.
The men heard it too, each smiling a cruel smile. They’d decided Osric was something else, something more to their liking. Prey.
“Deal with them,” one of the men, presumably the leader, said to two of the men.
Two men peeled off, dashing toward Osric and Talia. Cinder reacted instantly, shooting forward, a blur of dark fur and bared fangs, leaping at the closest attacker. The bandit swung his sword, but missed as the wolf twisted mid leap before his jaws clamped down on the man’s forearm, tearing through leather and flesh. The bandit screamed, staggering back as blood poured from the wound.
Talia’s hands danced, fingers tracing intricate patterns in the air. Three glowing bolts burst from her palms, streaking toward one of the bandits still facing the outnumbered Ranger. They struck him in the chest, sending him reeling, wisps of smoke curling from the impact points. The Ranger seized the momentary distraction, stepping forward and slashing at the other man facing him, his blade sinking into an exposed thigh.
Osric charged the fourth bandit, his own sword arcing in a vicious overhead strike. For a moment, their blades met in a jarring clang of steel, but Osric had learned a lot in his last several fights, and used a move one of the strange men had used on him. Twisting his blade, he sent the enemy’s sword sailing away from him while his sunk into the man’s shoulder, cutting through flesh and bone.
Cinder wasn’t through with the man he’d attacked. Rebounding after bouncing off the man, the wolf leaped again, this time for the man’s throat. The sudden second attack was fast, too fast for the man to react a second time or bring his sword up to defend himself as Cinder’s teeth found the man’s throat. Blood sprayed as the wolf wrenched his head back, tearing out the man’s jugular. The bandit crumpled, hands scrabbling uselessly at the gaping wound.
Talia also wasn’t done. Her hands had never stopped weaving, switching patterns as soon as her previous spell was completed. This time, she created an arch of lightning as she moved her hands before sending it slashing across the clearing, past Osric and the man he was fighting, against striking the bandit leader, the air splitting with a vicious crack as electricity ripped through the air. The man convulsed as it connected, his mouth open in a soundless scream as the electricity coursed through him. He collapsed, his face locked in a rictus scream, smoke rising from his blackened armor.
The Ranger and the remaining bandit traded blows, each hitting only metal or missing entirely, until the bandit, witnessing his leader go down in a frightening display of magic, tried to reverse himself, swinging wildly at the Ranger, who ducked under it easily. Seeing his opening, the Ranger struck, his sword cutting down the man’s body from shoulder to hip, sending him crumpling to the ground.
Osric and Cinder converged on the final bandit. The man backed away, fear clear on his face as the odds had suddenly, in under a minute, turned completely around, leaving him one against four. Osric feinted left, then lunged right as Cinder leapt. The bandit managed a single, desperate swing. Osric’s blade took him in the belly as Cinder’s jaws closed on his thigh, tearing away meat and sinew. The bandit stumbled back, pulling himself free from Osric’s blade and took two weak, staggering steps, trying to find an escape, before toppling over lifeless.
Osric hurried to the Ranger’s side. The man leaned heavily on his sword, blood seeping from numerous wounds.
“Hold still,” Osric said. “This worked once before.”
He laid his hands on the Ranger, silently imploring the Veilguard for aid. A soft white glow emanated from his palms, as it had from the ring once before, although this time the ring remained dormant and lifeless beneath Osric’s shirt. Under Osric’s hands, visible through his opened fingers, they could see flesh knitting and wounds sealing as if they had never been. The Ranger let out a groan, almost reflexively as the pain left him.
“Thank you,” the Ranger said. “I thought I was done for.”
The Ranger reached down and felt the newly mended skin, shaking his head once again before standing and shething his blade.
Extending a hand to Osric, he said, “The names Rowan Wycliff. I can’t thank you enough for your help.”
Osric clasped the offered hand. “Osric Yarrow. This is Talia, and the wolf is Cinder. What was this all about?”
Talia nodded in greeting as Cinder padded over, sniffing at Rowan curiously.
“These bandits have been raiding a villages in the area, the last one about a day’s walk north of here. They’ve been growing bolder with each attack, taking more and more each time. The villagers are terrified. I was passing through the village after their most recent raid and they asked for my help, which I of course am duty bound to agree to. I followed their trail, which they were making little effort to hide, but there were more of them than I anticipated. I thought I could take them by surprise, but...”
“Well, it’s a good thing we showed up when we did,” Talia said.
“Indeed.” Rowan said, before looking the trio over curiously. “I don’t mean this to sound insulting, but how is it that someone as young as you are has what clearly seems to be a loyal wolf companion? Wolves are notoriously difficult to train, yet this one appears completely bonded to you.”
“It’s a very long story,” Osric said, scratching Cinder behind the ears. “Cinder is my friend. He’s been with us through a lot.”
“Well, a good friend to have, I guess. The three of you make for a rather unusual group, if you don’t mind me saying. You’re not exactly equipped for a deep foray into the forest.”
It was true. The ranger had a pack that looked to carry supplies, was warmly dressed and in armor, while Osric and Talia were wearing the same things they had since they ran from their village a week ago, only much dirtier and torn.
“I know. It’s...complicated.”
“We were sent to retrieve something from a place in the forest about an hour or so northwest of here,” Talia said.
Rowan raised an eyebrow. “That’s rather cryptic.”
Osric nodded, a wry smile tugging at his lips. “I know. Believe me, I wish I could explain it better. It’s just...hard to put into words.”
“Well, whatever your reasons, you saved my life. I owe you a debt of gratitude. However, this area is known for more than just bandits. There have been reports of strange creatures lurking in these woods as well. We dealt with a nest of Webscuttlers not far to the west of here only a few weeks ago.”
Osric couldn’t stop the shudder that went up his spine. He’d never seen a webscuttler in person, but he’d been with Master Ironhand once to find some lost travelers, and come across their handiwork. Part spider, part humanoid, intelligent and evil, they hunted for large prey, and seemed to have little fear of people, although they tended to avoid settlements.
Master Ironhand had said that they hadn’t existed in his childhood. That the first time he’d heard about them was maybe ten or fifteen years ago. Osric had never considered where they had come from, but thinking about it now, and about some of the things the Sage said about larger tears allowing creatures through, he wondered if that was what was happening. The Sage had said the tears were getting worse, which would explain why there were more of them every year.
He and Talia looked to each other, both worrying that this could be a problem. Bandits and Brethren were one thing, but evil creatures… he wasn’t sure that was something he could face.
“Listen,” Rowan said, breaking the silence, “I don’t know what your mission is, but I feel I owe you a debt for saving my life. Let me accompany you to your destination. I can provide added safety and guide you through the forest.”
Again, Osric looked to Talia. They had been trying to keep a low profile, and adding another person to their group could complicate things. But Rowan was a Ranger, a trained fighter, and someone who knew the forest and its dangers. Talia gave a subtle nod, indicating her agreement.
“We’d be grateful for your help,” Osric said, turning back to Rowan.
Rowan smiled. “Then it’s settled. Lead the way, and I’ll watch your backs.”
With that, the newly formed quartet set off. As Osric took the lead with Cinder, he couldn’t help but wonder how they would explain things when they finally got to their destination. If they found the tear, and it was what the Sage had described, it seemed unlikely Rowan would continue to accept ‘it’s a long story.’
Still, even with that over his head, he felt better having someone else with them.
They walked for almost an hour and, thankfully, didn’t encounter any of the dangers Rowan had warned about. Near the end of the hour, Osric was starting to wonder how they were going to find the exact spot. The Sage’s directions were good, and got them to an area, but where he indicated was a good ten mile or so range of fairly dense forest.
If they had to search all of it, they would be here for days trying to find the weak spot in the veil, assuming they would even know they found it when they did.
Osric was trying to find a way to bring this up with Talia without freaking out Rowan when his friend said, “We’re getting close. I can feel the energy changing.”
Considering their previous interactions with the veil, that wasn’t necessarily a good thing.
“Is it dangerous?” Osric asked.
“I don’t know. It’s kind of like what I felt at the barrier, but different. Wilder.” She paused, as if searching for the right words. “It’s closer to what I felt in the keep, but more. Much more.”
Rowan, who had been walking behind them, asked, “What are you two talking about?”
“It has to do with magic,” Talia explained, not elaborating further.
Thankfully, the ranger seemed to accept that answer, giving a slight nod before turning his attention back to the path ahead. Osric didn’t blame him. Before he became involved in all of this, he would have reacted the same.
“We should be careful,” Osric warned.
They continued forward, much slower, their heads swiveling constantly, trying to see if anything looked weird. To Osric, everything seemed more or less the same. Just forest.
Clearly, Talia could sense more, because after five minutes she said, “We’re here.”
There was something in her voice. Fear, or perhaps awe.
Osric frowned, looking around at the dense forest surrounding them. “Are you sure? I don’t see anything.”
Instead of answering, Talia pushed forward, quickening her pace. Osric and Rowan exchanged a glance before following. As they broke through a thick bunch of trees and foliage, Osric stopped short, his breath catching in his throat.
There, hovering about ten feet off the ground, was a shimmering, raggedly oblong opening in … everything. It pulsed and writhed, shifting colors and blurred motion visible within its depths.
“By Wyndra,” Rowan breathed, his eyes wide with shock. “What is that?”
Osric swallowed, his mouth suddenly dry. “It’s what we came to find.”
Rowan turned to him, his expression one of stunned disbelief. “You came for that? It’s like a… a rip in the world.”
Nodding, Osric took a step forward, his eyes never leaving the otherworldly tear.
“Stay back,” he warned, holding out a hand to stop the others from approaching.
Talia started to make a move to stand beside him, saying, “Osric, I know more about magic than you do. I should be the one to …”
“No,” Osric said, shaking his head. “We don’t know how this will react to you. Remember what the Sage said? How magic affects the veil and the tears? I’ve interacted with it before and been okay. I should go first.”
For a long moment, Talia just stared at him, her green eyes searching his face. Finally, she nodded, stepping back.
“Fine. But be careful.”
Osric turned to Cinder and said, “Stay with Talia, okay boy?”
Cinder whined softly but didn’t move to follow as Osric stood and faced the tear once more.
“You don’t have to tell me twice,” Rowan said, holding up his hands in a surrender gesture as Osric looked to him.
Osric stepped into the clearing, consciously putting one foot in front of the other to keep himself moving, wanting nothing more than to run from the tear looming above him, seeming to defy all logic and reason as it pulsed. As he drew closer, he noticed thin, luminescent tendrils streaking out from the edges of the tear, undulating gently in the air like gossamer strands caught in a breeze.
Realization dawned on him. These must be the threads of magic the Sage had spoken of, what Talia was manipulating whenever she cast spells. It was strange, seeing them physically manifested. Strange and a little terrifying.
The tendrils seemed to sense his presence, their movements becoming more agitated as he approached. Osric’s hand trembled as he reached out, almost of its own volition. To his amazement, the threads responded, gravitating towards his outstretched fingers like iron filings to a lodestone.
They brushed against his skin, sending a tingling sensation racing up his arm. It wasn’t painful, but strange, almost electric. The tendrils coiled around his hand, pulsing with a soft, ethereal glow.
“Osric, be careful!” Talia called out from the treeline.
He barely heard her, his attention focused solely on the magical threads encircling his hand. They felt warm, almost alive, thrumming with an energy he couldn’t quite describe.
The threads pulsed brighter, their glow intensifying as the edges of the rift began to shimmer and ripple. Suddenly, the scene within the tear shifted, the blurred colors and motion coalescing into a vivid image of a battle raging around what appeared to be a temple. He could even hear their screams and curses, muted but still audible, as they clashed with sword and mace. Amidst the chaos, some wielded terrible magic, raining down fire, ice, and destruction. Parts of the temple cracked and shattered under the onslaught and men were thrown like dolls in every direction.
As the battle reached a crescendo, a mage stepped forward, his hands weaving intricate patterns in the air. The very earth beneath the temple began to tremble and shake. With a deafening roar, the ground opened up, a yawning chasm spreading like a gaping maw. The temple, along with many of the combatants, vanished into the abyss, swallowed whole by the hungry earth.
Then the battle was gone. The image within the tear shifted once more, the scene of destruction fading away to reveal a small, humble hut. Inside, an older man sat hunched over a table, surrounded by a multitude of books and maps. Osric could almost make out some of the markings on the map. He focused hard, looking over the man’s shoulder, until he realized he could make out some of the names scrawled across it. Aeloria, Edlemere, Greenwood … places he knew, or at least knew of.
He wasn’t sure how he knew, but he could almost feel that this was different than the battle. It felt old. Long ago. This scene felt somehow current, like he wasn’t looking through time, but rather through distance. There was something about it he couldn’t describe, more than a feeling, but less than knowledge.
As if sensing his gaze, the old man looked up, his eyes meeting Osric’s through the shimmering veil of the tear, a puzzled and somewhat frightened expression on his face.
The old man’s eyes widened in shock, his mouth falling open. He stood abruptly, his chair toppling backward, forgotten. He took a halting step toward Osric, his hand outstretched. The man’s lips moved, forming words Osric couldn’t hear.
“Who are you?” Osric whispered, knowing the man couldn’t hear him.
Reaching forward, Osric’s hand touched his side of the veil, the man copying his movement, doing the same. The threads pulsed brighter, as if in response to his question. They coiled tighter around his hand, their warmth turning to a searing heat. Osric gasped, trying to pull away. The tendrils tried to fight him, hold him in place, but he yanked as hard as he could until, with a final great tug, they released him.
As soon as he was free, a blinding flash of light erupted from the rift. A thunderous crack split the air, the force of it sending Osric flying backward. He hit the ground hard, the breath driven from his lungs, sending him into darkness.
