Devryn - "Child
of Fate"
A chilled wind cut
across the Restorae Steppes. Winter was determined to arrive early,
chasing away the last warmth and modest hospitality of the grassy plains.
I felt like a bare nerve exposed to the harsh reality of my situation.
Adjusting the chains as they bit deep into my chaffed and bloodied wrists, I
looked up to notice we were nearing our destination. To my left and
right, a line of antiquated stelae stretched into the distance, marking the
southern border of the Windruck Valley.
Four days had passed
since leaving the ragged city of Gurda Churrac, and without food or
drink. All I have gazed upon in the last two days of walking in these
infernal chains was the hindquarters of the horse that led me and the other captives.
Even my nightmares were plagued with the constant fear of horse shit blasting
me in the face. The tail was my only warning to such folly. We
broke off the Restorae Road from the caravan party we grouped with two days
back and had made our way north on an overgrown trail, into rolling hills and
prickly scrub. Only the ever-present frost kept exhaustion from
overwhelming me in this weakened state.
I learned of my fate
from another prisoner, a rather twitchy Tressian, in quiet conversation one
evening. We were huddled away from the caravan’s people at night. No one wanted to acknowledge our presence or
show sympathy. He understood that the
Cherriza Lords who determined our sentencing still practiced an old custom of
tribute, the 'Ulta in sun Sutuara'. The Cherriza intended to chain us to
some bridge of a remote tower, as an offering to their ancestral spirits.
Traditions be damned if you ask me.
Our wardens urged the
horses into a quicker pace, pulling us down the little-used path, impatient to
deliver their prisoners to their new perches. Each soldier in the party was
massive, a bear among men. It would seem horses weren't the only things
Tressians excelled at breeding. They wore hardened leather stained in
deep blues and varying shades of gray. Heavy, fur-lined cloaks were
draped over their shoulders, so that they may endure the land's frosty
breath. At their sides, a long, curved blade hung to one side and a beaded
quiver to the other. Plenty of steel-tipped arrows for the short bows strung to
their backs. My chances of making an escape seemed slim but getting away
from the main trade route was a start.
On the horizon, a
lone tower stood upon a rocky rise, surrounded for miles by labyrinthine
hedge-mounds. This was deep into the old country, far from the
city-states and the principalities' interests. The few herdsmen that
lived in the region and travelers on the Restorae Road were the closest thing
to a sense of civilization encroaching on these lands for the past centuries.
As I understood it from local folklore, few pass through this valley for fear
of waking the ancient dead. The stories say souls lost in battle sleep in
shallow graves among these dunes, waiting for the day to take vengeance on the
living for their unending vanity to bring about war. Such nonsense... but
why take a chance.
A quick jerk sent me
stumbling forward. The climb was steep towards the tower, only a few
remaining stone steps helped to mark the way. The path ended at the base
of a crumbling edifice. A bare bridge extended over a jagged ditch that
encircled the base, leading to its grated entrance that remained
half-raised. The slim strip of stonework had small sets of platforms
extending from each side along its span. Two guards pulled the first
prisoner to a platform. They attached the leg shackles to iron rings
embedded into the center of a worn rune-knot carved into the stone.
My turn came after
the third prisoner was secured. I looked to the drop below as I stepped
onto the bridge. Rock and twisted shrub peered back. The wind
whistled through the aged stronghold and the crevasses surrounding the bleak
scene. I smirked at the thought that this was my end... my undoing.
As I placed my foot on the platform, waiting to be latched to the imbedded
ring, a blue-white light shot upward into the sky from the platform's
face.
"Woah, no,"
I pulled back, against the soldier's grips.
"Settle,
boy. Don't worry, you won't last too long out here," a toothless
grin spread on the guard's face as he slammed his meaty fist into my
stomach. Their strength put me back on the platform with ease. The
light sprang forth again.
Something snapped in me. My calm reserve shaken to the core. "Stop! Please!" My eyes
fogged over as exhaustion finally pulled me under.
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