Chapter 25 — The Threads of Fate

Traveling across uncultivated fields toward the long stretch of forest that contained the Mirewood wasn’t an experience that Diviner Ephrem would have predicted just a few days ago. No, that was wrong, the prediction he had done after meeting with Sir Nerel about his son was the reason he was accompanying this fool baron.

Ephrem was mostly certain that Sir Fenton was dead, but there were inconsistencies in the weave that kept him from deciding conclusively one way or the other, and the scope of the weave that had been laid out before him indicated a grand turning point in history that would affect a multitude of people. Who could have guessed that a simple knight’s son would tie together the fates of so many people of importance?

As a diviner who believed in the usefulness of his craft, Ephrem regularly divined his own fate as an aid to his decision-making. After the shocking divination concerning Sir Fenton, he was even more shocked to discover that his own choices would play a large role in the outcome of events currently in motion.

What his divination had told him that evening was that he should willingly accept the job offered by the noble who would soon enter his shop. That such an unserious man would be fate’s lever had him doubting his craft, but there was a reason diviners often lamented that the gods work in mysterious ways.

“Aaaah, what could my Ayla be doing so far from civilization?!” the baron moaned.

Convincing the baron to continue on toward the location where Lady Ayla had traveled to after she had already left for a more distant location had taken considerable patience and fortitude. Ephrem was fairly certain that Lady Ayla was traveling via teleportation circles. Which meant continually changing directions to chase after her movements would always leave them one step behind.

What finally convinced the frivolous man was the argument that finding the location of the teleport circle would allow them to learn more about what Lady Ayla was involved in and, hopefully, the other locations she would be traveling to. That, and a fresh divination had shown the location was likely related to the lady’s cousin, surprisingly.

Grabbing a handle to maintain his seating as the carriage lurched over a bit of uneven ground, Ephrem held up one of the items from Sir Fenton’s backpack and, with a brief exercise of magic, consulted the weave again. Fortunately, the location they were seeking wasn’t much further.

As the carriage crested a hill, the ruins of a tower came into view, not far from the shadowed treeline of the now uncomfortably close forest. Crows were gathered in worrisome numbers on strange bramble-mounds that littered the field just past the ruins.

“Diviner Ephrem, tell me this dilapidated place of darkness and ruin isn’t our destination.”

“Seems a waste not to investigate after coming this far…” Ephrem hedged, not wanting to directly disobey the baron’s words even if they were meant as an expression of dismay.

One of the mounds was significantly larger than the others, and as its great many withered maws came into view, the knight accompanying the baron sucked in a breath. “A swamp horror!”

“Eeep!” was the sound that came from the baron, who’s eyes darted from one mound to the next, his finger at the ready, as if expecting one to suddenly spring to life.

“Someone must have killed all these. I’m not familiar enough with horrors to know how long they’ve been dead, but if horrors from the Mirewood are here in this number then this place certainly isn’t safe,” the knight, Sir Dyne, advised.

“W-what possible reason could the radiantly beautiful and gracefully elegant Lady Ayla have for coming to such a dangerous place?”

“Perhaps the answer will be found inside the ruins?” Ephrem offered.

Sir Dyne motioned for the two of the four mounted Hamlin soldiers accompanying them to inspect the tower’s archway. The other two he sent to investigate the rubble-strewn area around the tower. Some of the rubble looked freshly excavated.

Ephrem flinched as annoyed crows squawked and flew out the jagged top of the tower at the soldiers’ approach after dismounting, but nothing jumped out to attack them, and the soldiers bravely entered the decaying structure only for one to quickly return and wave Sir Dyne over.

After a brief discussion with the soldier that went inside the tower and the two that investigated around it, Sir Dyne returned to report. “There’s a pack with some clothes, a large inscription of some kind, and evidence of recent occupation—a campfire, recently discarded animal bones, and such. Of interest, a trapdoor to the tower’s cellar has been recently excavated. Pelthan is doing a more thorough search, but the bodies found there seem to have been dead for a very long time, maybe hundreds of years.”

“Bodies…” Baron Fredrick shook away whatever thought had come over him. “So, my diligent and determined Ayla came to this forsaken place of history’s past seeking a lost artifact?”

“It’s possible,” Sir Dyne admitted. “I’m not familiar with this tower’s history, so I couldn’t say what artifact might have been lost here.”

“Come Diviner Ephrem, your expertise will be needed with the inscriptions.”

“Yes, baron.”

Ephrem followed the baron from the carriage to the tower. The smell of old blood lingered in the air near a bloodstained block of rubble. The baron’s eyes seemed glued to the block before he was able to tear them away as Sir Dyne ushered the man inside.

Stolen story; please report.

When Ephrem approached the obvious teleportation circle, he couldn’t help a slight gasp at what he saw.

“That’s the teleportation circle you were insisting be found and investigated, isn’t it?”

“Ah, yes, baron. It’s just…” Ephrem hesitated to make sure he understood what he was seeing. “It’s been recently modified.”

“Modified?” Baron Fredrick raised an eyebrow. “What purpose would that serve?”

“It’s been modified to allow use by a relative of the mage who it was originally keyed to.”

“So, this teleport circle was placed here by a relative or ancestor of Sir Alennil of Breckan?” the baron deduced. “My emerald-eyed Ayla said that Sir Alennil was assisting her investigation as a diviner though…”

“I would need to perform a divination to determine that,” Ephrem suggested.

“Yes, yes. That is an excellent idea. Find out who the owner of the pack was while you are at it.” The baron nodded. “My men and I will continue investigating in and around the tower for more clues. I can’t help but worry at what brave Ayla has gotten herself involved with.”

As the baron went over to see the cellars for himself, Ephrem set to work drawing the divination diagrams that would bring about the sought-after answers. The blood-based solution used to modify the array seemed an excellent place to start.

The results of the divination were not what he was expecting. The modifications had been performed by the elf that had accompanied Lady Ayla at Sir Nerel’s house, the circle was Sir Fenton’s, and the blood was Lady Ayla’s. Did he dare tell the baron the truth?

That wasn’t the only surprise. The pack-owner’s weave was strange, as if his fate had been somehow cast into disarray and that disarray was extended into the weave around him, but a few threads were clear. The cat-kin had violently killed the man, and Lady Ayla had assisted in the man’s death. Another thing Ephrem wasn’t sure he wanted to tell the baron.

“Done?” The baron inquired as he returned from completing his investigations outside the tower as well. “Were you able to discover anything useful?”

Ephrem briefly considered lying, but if justicars became involved, the truth would surely come out anyway. Reluctantly, he told Baron Fredrick the truth.

“Tell me, Diviner Ephrem, is Lady Ayla safe?” the baron asked, his brows knitted together in worry.

“Yes. My divination shows she should be in Haverin City, together with the same companions as before.”

“And the location of the murdered man’s body?”

“All traces of the victim’s body have been erased from the weave. I have no idea how that is possible.”

The baron’s eyebrows shot upward. “Cult’s and murderers! Just what sort of dangerous characters has dear innocent Ayla become involved with?!”

Ephrem wasn’t about to correct the baron regarding Lady Ayla’s innocence—or lack of it.

“Maybe we should damage the teleportation circle to restrict their movements?” Sir Dyne suggested.

“Oh?” Baron Fredrick voiced with approval at the idea then turned back to Ephrem. “Would that risk injury to my wayward Ayla?”

“Hard to say. If the destruction is thorough enough, the beacon should become unusable and thus prevent the selection of this location entirely,” Ephrem considered then added, “But, Lady Ayla’s true relationship with her companions is unclear. If the use of this teleport circle gives her importance to them, it’s possible that her situation might become endangered should that change.”

“Such a thing!” Baron Fredrick sucked in a surprised breath at the thought.

“One more divination should be possible today, if you’d like me to attempt discerning the ramifications of such an act,” Ephrem offered.

The Baron immediately accepted and motioned for him to proceed.

Though he was fatigued from the continual use of his magic, Ephrem took care to properly draw the diagram and work the casting. What he saw left him shaken. One thing he was certain of, the circle MUST NOT be damaged. A great many fates would depend on it in the near future.

But, how to convince the baron?

“No, damaging the teleportation circle is too risky,” Ephrem hesitantly started then gained confidence as an idea took shape. “If I might be so bold, milord, Clear River Crossing is on the way to Haverin City. Perhaps Count Arden could be convinced to send soldiers to secure this location, instead?”

Baron Fredrick considered for several moments then nodded. “Another excellent idea. The count might even have knowledge about what relic my imperiled Lady Ayla sought here. Let us be about her rescue!”

Ephrem let out a relieved sigh as the baron turned to Sir Dyne to gather the men for departure to Clear River Crossing.

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“Thanks for sending the research notes to Master Arienos,” Alennil was telling Yillian, who was leading the way through Haverin City’s back alleys. “If your master can find a cure for my cousin, I’ll really owe you.”

Yillian glanced at the former cultist and seemed to change his mind on what he was about to say. “If Master Arienos decides to help, his price will likely be steep, and it might not work.”

“Even so,” Alennil asserted and muttered, “Besides, what price could be steeper than that required by a cult dedicated to an ancient evil?”

The diviner’s remarks drew a sharp glance and furrowed brow from Yillian this time.

Xyn was only half-listening to the conversation, instead tracking Ayla with the medallion as she moved further away from them and toward the large castle that overlooked the city.

Entering the city had been surprisingly uneventful just as Alennil’s divination indicated it would be. Xyn had worried that the assault on the tower would have caused the authorities within Ester to be on alert, but the gate guards hadn’t shown any indication that such was the case. Of course, with hoods worn during the ambush of the cultist mages and with Ayla’s hair dyed dark, maybe no one had gained a useful enough description.

The buildings around them were worn and in general disrepair, some even having holes or missing planks that probably let in more than the nighttime chill. Yillian led on with confidence. As usual, Yillian’s ability to find his way around such disreputable sections of human habitations was impressive—even in a city of a size that was hard for Xyn to comprehend. The city of Haverin was a sea of buildings extending to carpet the surrounding low hills, cut through by an unfathomable maze of winding streets and alleys, and awash with people, including the occasional beastman or elf.

Sighing, Xyn let his awareness of Ayla’s location fade. Ayla was right. She would be more likely to have a successful meeting with her brother without having to answer awkward questions about her foreign travel companions. And in the meantime, Xyn and the others could work on finding and rescuing the kidnapped orphans.

So, naturally their first stop was the local chapter of the Cartographer’s Society. Yillian had argued that not only might the local branch office have useful information, but it was best to coordinate with local Explorers to avoid misunderstandings.

Lost in thought and trusting Yillian to know where he was going, Xyn was caught off-guard when his companions suddenly broke off their argument about mandala designs and drew to a stop as they turned a corner.

Crossbow armed thugs were blocking the way forward.

“Whoever you are, you’re in the wrong place,” came a deep voice from behind.

Xyn spun around to see a cloaked human and two more crossbow thugs stepping out from an alleyway to block their retreat.

Somehow, the human had hidden his aura! And the guy was strong! As Xyn drew his sword and readied his aura, the reflected sunlight flickered across the man’s shadowed eyes—cat eyes.