Child of Fate (6 page)

“Here,” Karthor said, holding out a clenched
fist to Alto.

“What?” Alto stammered. He stared at Kar and
then the raven as it spread its wings and rose back into the sky. A
few more flaps and it soared off to the north, climbing into the
sky as rapidly as its shadow crossed the ground beneath it.

“Blackwing’s my familiar,” Kar explained.
“The bird’s too heavy to ride on my shoulder so they’ve got a bet
going. First one to see him wins.”

“Wins what?” Alto asked.

Karthor shook his fist and cleared his
throat. Alto reached out with his open palm up and had a gold piece
dropped in it. The others followed suit, most tossing them to Alto
when he was ready. Alto stared at the small fortune in his palm.
Three days with the Blades of Leander and already he held more
wealth in his hand than he’d ever possessed.

“I still don’t understand what a familiar is.
What good will sending a pet to the north do?” Alto asked after he
slipped the coins into one of his saddlebags.

“He’s more than a pet,” Kar explained. “I
share a magical bond with him. That means he understands me and I
him.”

Alto’s lips fell open. “You can talk to
birds?”

Kar sighed. “Don’t make me take all those
things back about you,” he snapped. “Just Blackwing because of the
spell that summoned him to me.”

“Oh, so you sent him north to scout
ahead?”

“There you go!”

“Why north? Why not south, to the caravan
that passed us?”

“Because we don’t care about that, do
we?”

“We don’t?”

“Hardly,” Kar said. He waited until Alto was
ready to burst with questions before he spoke again. “We want to
know why they’d leave in such a rush.”

“Why?”

“You’ll be the third to know,” Kar said. He
nodded to the north where Blackwing was already flying back toward
them. The bird landed on Kar’s arm several minutes later and then
started to croak and caw at him.

Alto winced at the painful sounds coming from
the bird. When he finished, Kar nodded and then told him to go
home. He threw his arm into the air, giving him a boost, and then
turned to the others.

“Highpeak’s been sacked,” Kar said. “There’s
smoke in the sky and still some fires that burn. No signs of life,
though.”

Tristam swore and announced, “Come, we
ride!”

“Where?” Alto asked as Tristam put his boots
to his horse to spur him forward. “The caravan?”

“Enough with the fool caravan,” Kar snapped.
“That’s just a clue, boy. It served its purpose. The true mystery
lies ahead of us.”

“What’s the mystery?” Alto asked as he put
his heels to Sebas.

“What happened to Highpeak and why.”

Alto thought it over as they rode. Their
horses moved at a trot, sending bolts of pain through Alto’s
muscles every half second as Sebas’s hooves hit the ground. The sky
darkened as the paces turned to miles beneath them. Alto kept
looking to the side and behind them. He expected an attack out of
the darkness at any moment.

The dark skies made the smoke from Highpeak
impossible to see but the fires that still burned lit the town well
enough to show them the way. They slowed as they rode in and began
to make out the first signs of violence.

“Light!” Tristam called out.

Alto scrambled with one of the packs on his
horse. A minute later, he pulled out a torch and balanced it across
his saddle while he struck flint to steel. By the time it caught
and he held it up, he saw that William and Gerald also held torches
high. Karthor’s holy symbol emitted a glow that rivaled their
torches.

Blackwing had reported no life but the bird
hadn’t mentioned the dead. Bodies littered the landscape, some
burned and others hacked apart. Glowing eyes stared at them from
the darkness. Scavengers had come for dinner when the sun set.

Alto loosened the broadsword at his side as
they approached the burnt and broken gates. At night, his bow would
do little good; he could only hope he’d learned as much as he
needed to with the blade.

“How long?” Tristam asked.

Kar walked amongst the wreckage just inside
the main gate. He knelt down next to a smashed-in door that led to
the guardhouse, and then rose. “Not today, last night perhaps.”

“Then who was in those wagons?” Alto blurted
without thinking.

Kar turned to look at him, as did the others.
“Who indeed,” the wizard said. He turned and glanced at them all.
“Anyone? Come, there must be some ideas? Some guesses?”

“Wizard, we don’t have time for your
lessons!” Tristam snapped.

“Do you have an idea then?” Kar turned and
leveled his dark-eyed gaze on the warrior.

“Looters,” Alto ventured.

“Perhaps,” Kar said. He winked at Alto.
“There were four wagons, three of them covered and the fourth with
tarps across it. How many men could fit in wagons such as
those?”

“Kelgryn!” Gerald cried out. He held up the
business end of a broken spear.

“The Kelgryn aren’t the only ones to use
spears,” Tristam snapped.

“Aye, but they’re the only ones that decorate
their weapons like this.” Gerald walked across the ground and
thrust the partial weapon up to Tristam.

The leader of the Blades of Leander took the
offering and studied it. Carvings of bears, wolves, and even a
troll had been etched into the wooden shaft. “Don’t see any Kelgryn
corpses. Does anyone else?”

Alto glanced about, not entirely sure what a
Kelgryn looked like. “Tall, with blond and light colored hair and
blue eyes. Strong and sturdy; perhaps you’ve some Kelgryn blood in
you?” Kar said in a hush to him.

Alto jumped at how easily Kar had moved to
his side without him realizing it. “You think Kelgryn people did
this, and then rode out past us in their wagons?”

“Seems fitting, aye?” Kar watched Alto
struggle with the thought for a moment. “But no, lad, this isn’t
the sort of thing they’ve done. They’re not cowardly but they
seldom shed much blood when they raid. They stick to the coast and
sea. Hunters may travel inland, or a war party if they seek
vengeance.”

“Vengeance?”

“Aye, they’ve been known to strike back
against the trolls, giants, and even dwarves in the mountains.”

“Stories, wizard,” Tristam growled.

“Of course they’re stories!” Kar exclaimed.
“Where do you think stories come from—daydreaming by fanciful young
men that don’t know the proper value of drinking and wenching?”

“There are dwarves in the Northern Divide?”
Alto gasped. He’d heard of dwarves—who hadn’t? But he’d never seen
one.

“Ages past, lad,” Kar said. “Goblins and
worse drove them out.”

“We’re wasting time,” Tristam grumbled.
“Alto, Kar, stay with the horses. The rest of you with me; let’s
see what’s left.”

“The horses?” Alto muttered after the others
had begun to dismount. He dismounted Sebas and led him to the
mostly intact stable inside the gate. One at a time, he gathered
the other horses and tied their reins to the stable, and then
wandered inside to find some hay and buckets of water for them.

“You make a good stable boy,” Kar observed
after the others had walked into the ruined city. Alto bit back on
his words but his scowl made the wizard laugh. “Don’t worry, lad,
they’ve good reason to leave the horses guarded. Might be you’ll
see more adventure than they do this night!”

“What are you talking about?”

Kar nodded to the open gate. “Wolves, boy!
Those eyes we saw weren’t bunnies hopping through the fields!
There’s wolves and probably worse out there.”

“Worse?” Alto’s eyes went to the gate and the
darkness beyond. He’d seen wolves before. He’d even helped his
father drive a pack of them off one time with his bow, but this was
night and his bow was useless in the dark.

“Yes, my young squire, worse. The goblins may
or may not have their filthy hands in this, but they do thrive in
these mountains.”

“Why would goblins want our horses?”

“Horseflesh is a delicacy to them.” Kar took
out his pipe, sniffed the air and put it away. “There are worse
creatures than goblins in the mountains, though. Everything you can
imagine, I dare say. Ogres, trolls, giants, birds that make
Blackwing look like a sparrow, and many a creature I’ve forgotten
to mention.”

“Do you smell something?” Alto asked at the
wizard’s awkward habit of sniffing.

“Bah, I don’t want to hear Tristam hound me
when he returns for lighting my pipe and giving my position away,
that’s all. The man’s worse than a woman at times!”

Alto covered his mouth to help stifle his
chuckle. “He’s got our best interests in mind,” he suggested.

“Yes, he probably does,” Kar said with a
wink. “But don’t make the mistake of thinking you can trust or
follow anyone who claims they’re doing the right thing without
thinking it through.”

Kar turned to his mount and pulled a book out
of one of his packs, ignoring Alto. Alto stared at him, closing his
lips after he mouthed the words the wizard had just passed on to
him. They sounded like something his father would have said. He
smiled and turned away. One of the wolves outside growled and then
barked. Reminded of the closeness of savagery, Alto hurried over to
the main gate and peered out, hand on the hilt of his sword.

The light of his torch scattered the
scavengers, though not before he caught sight of a large wolf
running away with what may have been part of an arm. Alto drew his
sword and stared into the darkness where baleful yellow eyes stared
back at him. Kar muttered something behind him that he ignored.

Alto waited in the gateway, occasionally
taking a threatening step forward and swinging his torch when he
felt a wolf was venturing too close. Alto’s senses dulled over time
from the drain constant vigilance demanded of him. A yellow pair of
eyes loomed out of the darkness, startling him out of the daze he’d
drifted into. He swung the torch out of instinct and caused the
failing flames to blow out.

Alto stared at his torch in the faint light
that filtered out from inside Highpeak. The pitch-soaked material
at the end had been consumed and little but the wooden stave
remained. A low rumble brought his attention back to the wolf.

Alto retreated, swinging the torch and sword
in front of him. “Kar!” he hissed, fearful of attracting the
attention of goblins or the scarier monster Kar had spoken of. The
wizard didn’t respond. Alto risked a glance but saw nothing through
the gate. His shield and other torches were on Sebas, but the horse
was a dozen feet away through the broken gate. Another growl
reminded him that turning his back would be a bad idea.

Alto thought back to the advice he’d been
given. He’d been sparring against straw dummies and people, not
animals. With his bow, he knew to aim for a lung or the heart, but
face to face against a wolf, the animal wasn’t likely to turn
broadside to him and wait to be run through.

“I’m bigger than you,” Alto muttered to
himself. It was true, and something his father had often used to
remind him or any of his brothers and sisters when something scared
them. They were bigger than the spiders, mice, protective hens, and
other animals found about the farm. Alto was bigger than the wolf
and he was armed. It was the wolf and the countless others waiting
in the darkness to spring on him that should be afraid.

Alto scowled. Kar had said that the role of
the defender wasn’t for him. If he could get rid of the wolf, he’d
buy himself time enough to retrieve another torch. Maybe even
enough time to light it. Alto threw his burnt-out torch at the wolf
and charged after it.

The wolf sprung to the side and snapped at
the night air. Alto turned to face it but he was off balance. He
tried to bring his sword around before the wolf crashed into him
and snapped at his throat. He didn’t make it.

Hot, charnel breath blasted Alto in the face
as the wolf’s jaws snapped on empty air. He dropped his sword and
tried to throw the wolf away, but even his strength couldn’t
dislodge the beast. Only the wolf’s leg getting trapped between his
as they fell kept the creature from securing a death hold on
him.

Alto found the pommel of his sword with his
elbow. It numbed his arm but gave him hope. He rolled, the wolf
pushing him, and managed to yank his left arm free so he could
swing it back at the wolf and try to drive it away. It worked, for
a moment, but after the wolf brushed the arm aside, it lunged
forward to end the fight.

He rolled into it, punching the scavenger in
the base of its throat and making it let out a breathy yelp. Alto
wrapped his left arm around its neck and head and yanked it over
him, pulling it off balance and using his own body to trip it. He
rolled on top of it and lost his grip as its sharp claws stabbed
into his leather in an attempt to get away from him. The wolf
jerked and stiffened, and then tried to cry out in whimpers that
came out in bloody hisses.

Alto jerked his sword free from its side and
rolled away from it. He stood up, staggering until he reclaimed his
balance. Gasping for breath, the farm-boy-turned-wolf-slayer stared
into the darkness. The other wolves’ eyes had moved closer in the
darkness, some so close he could make out four-legged forms
stalking back and forth.

Alto snarled at them and grabbed up the still
dying wolf at his feet. He hacked three times until its head came
free, and then he brandished it and threw it at the first wolf he
saw. The wolf bolted away rather than be struck by the fleshy
missile. Moments later the others retreated, a nearby howl
signaling them. Other howls followed but the wolves kept their
distance.

“Well done, lad.”

Alto spun when he heard Kar’s voice. He
clamped his mouth shut instead of shouting at the wizard. Kar
wasn’t alone; the rest of the Blades of Leander had gathered to
watch.