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Battle Master Chapter 3 Fickle Fate copyright 2015 comidacomida

Although his morning started out so well, the rest of Baedyn's day was far worse than most of them. He spent the entirety of it in his room, paws still lashed together with the manacles he'd been wearing when thrown into the tower's cell. The clothing that had been 'gifted' to him hadn't been taken away, which meant he could count among his few good fortunes the fact that he wasn't as cold as he'd been when wearing his rags. It was a small relief, but it meant that he was able to nap his time away without being awakened every few hours with a case of the shivers brought on by exposure.

So it was that he leapfrogged most of the day catching up on the sleep that had been kept from him the past few weeks due to the dropping temperatures of early fall. When night fell the temperature continued to decrease and so he curled up in as small a ball as he could, taking care to make sure that the metal clasps around his wrists were at the center of his mass; he'd experienced ice cold manacles before and they were no pleasant prospect.

Baedyn awoke twice more during the night and, through sheer force of will alone managed to urge himself back to unconsciousness; the second time was only thanks to a deep meditation and purposefully resisting the inclination to extend his consciousness toward the skein of fate's threads. He hadn't used his Sorrani sight all day but the pounding of pressure in the back of his skull was still with him and so he chose not to push his luck.

Time passed without event for Baedyn; he didn't expect interruption; he didn't expect visitors; he didn't expect food. It was, therefore, quite a surprise when he was awakened in the early morning hours by the sound of two pair of boots making their way up the stairs outside his door. The footfall drew closer as whomever ascended the staircase drew nearer his cell. Torchlight blazed on the other side of the bars set high in the wooden barrier and the Wolf heard the Lord of Stone's unmistakable voice speak his order clearly. "Open it. "

Baedyn drew himself up to a sitting position, careful not to put his back against the cold stone wall. He maintained as even a posture as possible, legs crossed on the simple cloth mat beneath him, paws resting in his lap. The door finally opened, revealing the Lord of Stone accompanied by a Fossa guard. Fossa, Baedyn knew, where not a people native to Tenvier, which suggested to the Wolf that Loris Pyazo most likely recruited him from among the refugees fleeing Diermyna or Vensii because either would be incredibly cheap to hire.

The Wolf was just in the process of confirming his suspicions by looking at the digitigrade feet of the guard when the Lord of Stone spoke. "Wait outside."

The Fossa bowed and did as was requested, positioning himself just beyond the door. Baedyn knew better than to speak before being spoken to and so he waited until the Ram looked back to him and announced his reason for the visit. "I've brought you something, Talvin."

The Wolf, despite the poor treatment and promise of punishment for what the Lord of Stone viewed as his 'bad behavior' was not about to relent in his rebellious insistence. "And how much will I owe you for it, your Grace?"

The Ram pulled a lumpy, uneven leather pouch from its place half-hidden beneath his cloak and tossed it to the ground. The loose string parted and the tip of a tan-furred snout poked out. "It's priceless."

Baedyn had only ever seen Killian Pyazo on a dozen occasions; as the elder of Loris Pyazo's three children, Killian was usually far too busy with other pursuits to spend any amount of time joining his father during a fate reading. The Wolf was able to put together the implication, especially as blood seeped out onto the stone floor. Despite how self-centered and self-possessed he knew the Lord of Stone to be, Baedyn was taken aback by what he saw, and he was still hard-pressed to come to grips with it. "You... murdered your son?"

A faint twitch of one eye was the only indication that the accusation bothered the Lord of Stone in the least but the man's only reply was a stoic "No... you did."

Despite how ambivalent the Wolf was toward the nobleman's family and the Ram's impression of him, Baedyn had difficult not smiling as he baited his master. "I was locked away this entire time-- there's no way I could possibly have--"

The Ram growled as well as any Wolf. "The Sorra was a false one, Talvin Vuune. My heir is dead and I will have recompense for your lie."

Baedyn flicked an ear, but said nothing. Somewhere behind the Ram, Voydor spoke up. "My Lord, shall I value Killian's--"

The Lord of Stone raised an arm and the Coyote fell silent. The Ram's eyes never left Baedyn and, as he spoke, each word was clearly enunciated. "You have lost me my eldest child, Talvin, and his needless death will cost you dearly."

The Wolf finally failed his battle to keep his lips from pulling back into a sneering smile. "You are at fault for his death, my Lord, not I."

Loris Pyazo's voice increased many times over in volume, so loud that he was shouting into the room. "YOUR lie, Talvin! YOURS! Your false prophecy meant my son's doom!"

Despite the Ram's scream, Baedyn didn't bother increasing his own volume, preferring to maintain an even, quiet tone; he was beyond being rattled as everything continued falling into place. "No, your Grace, you have done nothing to disprove your Sorra, and I would attest that your heir will still be responsible for your death-- a Sorra is inescapable."

Leaning down, the Lord of Stone snatched the half-open bag from the stone tile and tore it open, letting his son's disembodied head fall back to the stone. "He cannot kill me if he is dead, Talvin. THAT is how I know you lie, you disobedient cur!"

Baedyn's vindictive grin grew wider. "Then he is obviously not the heir that was fated to kill you. Who is your new heir, my Lord? Could he perhaps be your murderer?"

The Wolf watched as the realization slowly spread across the Ram's face; Loris Pyazo remained frozen in place, expression half rage and half surprise as he understood the truth: he had killed his elder son and it accomplished nothing. "No... it-- it was Pos the whole time?"

Posig, the younger of the Lord of Stone's two sons had never been close to his father. Unlike Killian, Baedyn had occasionally interacted with the remaining lordling and was on reasonable terms with the well-meaning, soft-spoken teenage Ram; he also knew Posing wouldn't willingly harm anyone. Slowly getting to his feet, Baedyn took a step forward, ready to put an end to the Lord of Stone's next obvious thought. "I warned you no good would come of not releasing me, your lordship. Do not repeat this mistake with--"

The Ram's frenzied gaze bore into the Wolf with enough unbridled rage that it actually got Baedyn to fall silent. Loris' voice came out in an animalistic growl. "I will kill him myself... the little shit. He has never respected my--"

No longer floating high on the tide of victory, Baedyn quickly interjected, unwilling to let all of the Pyazo children pay for their father's avarice. "And then your daughter as well? She will be heir if you kill Pos."

Realization softened the Ram's stare, but only for a moment. "Is that your plan?"

The Wolf slowly shook his head. "I have no plan, your Grace. I desire only to be set free but you denied me that wish, and now you will pay."

The Lord of Stone's countenance darkened deeply. "Then when I kill every last one of my children to disprove your Sorra you will have the blood of three on your paws?"

Baedyn sighed, feeling almost sorry for the addled Ram who had never shown anything but the total countenance of composure. The Lord of Stone had always had all the power but that was quickly crumbling and he realized it. Smile returning, Baedyn shook his head. "No... still your own hands, your Lordship... but I would wager that means the next in line to inherit your throne will be acting out of self defense when they kill you rather than malice. You've done nothing but provide more reasons for your Sorra to come to pass."

Loris Pyazo said nothing, frozen in place as if his brain stopped working and he was trying to force his mind to restart. The first indication that Baedyn saw of any success was that both of the Ram's hands clenched and began shaking. "Remove this Sorra."

The Wolf shook his head. "I cannot, your Grace. I--"

The Lord of Izlegaol surged forward, grabbing Baedyn by the lapels of his coat and hoisted him off the ground, roaring into his face. "I ORDER YOU! AS AN INDENTURED SERVANT YOU MUST DO AS I COMMAND!"

Seeing the events play out before him, Baedyn truly began to regret the haste with which he gave into the urge to hurt the Ram. It wasn't from fear of reprisal or any sense of remorse for the man's pain; in truth, the Wolf hadn't anticipated or thought of the far-reaching consequences of using his anger as a weapon. Looking at the unraveling Lord of Stone in front of him and realizing that the Ram's two remaining children were at risk, Baedyn's ears lowered as he explained why he could not comply, and held up his glowing runed arm helplessly. "My Lord, once fate has been cast it cannot be recalled to paw."

As if suddenly remembering a sense of decorum, the Lord of Stone opened his hands, causing Baedyn to fall back to the ground. The Ram stood there for several seconds, readjusting his own tunic and his necktie as if standing in front of a mirror. He cleared his throat, and about-faced, heading back to the door. "You have spat in the face of my generosity and brought great personal pain to my household, Talvin. I will be taking steps to sell your contract."

It was Baedyn's turn to stand stunned. The Wolf was supposed to serve Loris Pyazo for seventeen years and four days; he had always presumed that he would go free and hadn't ever considered the possibility of the Lord of Stone relinquishing a Sorran's service to another. More than anything else in the past two days, the prospect scared him. In that moment, he sprang again to his feet and objected. "No... you can't!"

The Ram brought his arm to the side and lashed out, striking Baedyn with the back of his hand; the Wolf fell to the ground, seeing stars and feeling the flesh beneath his fur tear from the impact of one of the Lord of Stone's rings. Sinking to his knees, Baedyn supported himself with one paw, the entire world spinning around him. Despite being rattled, he could still clearly make out the Lord of Stone's decree. "As soon as I can find a buyer you'll be transferred into someone else's service. I'm done with you, mutt."

Although he was still off-balance from the Wolf managed to get to his feet and stumble forward. "Don't! You can't sell--"

The Fossa stepped between Baedyn and the Lord of Stone, leaning down and forcing the side of his steel shield into the Wolf's abdomen. Doubling over, Baedyn fell to his knees once again and collapsed to the side, gasping for a breath that wouldn't come. The guardsman followed the Ram out of the cell and re-secured the door behind them, leaving the Wolf alone once again with nothing but his thoughts to keep him company; they were no longer positive ones.

Loris Pyzo was within his rights to sell an indentured servant's contract but Baedyn had never even considered it a possibility; the Ram was too focused on getting as much as he could for as little a cost as possible and there was no better way to have a Sorran on staff. Had the Wolf overplayed his hand? Had he taken things too far? Had he doomed himself? It was a distinct possibility and that meant that he had confirmed the Sorra that released him from Izlegaol, but it helped in no way to give him back his freedom. That realization was enough to make him cry-- and he did.

Crumpled over on the stone where he'd fallen, Baedyn sobbed, shivering and writhing from the understanding that the hell he'd endured was much further from over than he'd hoped. He remained there for longer than he had warrented tracking, crying more than he had since he'd bothered trying to escape. He cried until the sun was up and the small cell was illuminated by the thin rays from the tiny window carved high up on the wall. Eventually, along with the banishing of darkness, his sense of hopelessness also left him, and he forced himself to stop and think carefully on what he knew.

Taking stock of his situation, Baedyn reminded himself that he had accepted the fate because he, unlike his brother, was able to think during times of stress. He would consider his options, come to a conclusion, and then act appropriately. Rubbing at his wrists, the Wolf realized that the manacles were still holding him secure and, while he still had his finery, it was not truly an improvement over his standard situation; if only he could do something about the bindings-- and that was when he remembered the nail file.

During his bathing the previous morning he had felt the tickle of a thread of fate and the nail file he'd used to sharpen his claws at that time had found its way to his pocket rather than back to its place on the manicure tray. Reaching around to the side of his coat, Baedyn managed to turn it out of the fabric and let it fall to the floor. From there, the Wolf picked it up and began to work it around in his paws until he could get a good angle on the chains of the manacles. The file was made of tougher stuff and after an hour he'd managed to work a very small groove in the links. It wasn't much progress but it was a start.

Focused exclusively on that single task, Baedyn forced the hopeless helplessness at bay by devoting himself entirely to the goal of being free from the manacles. He promised himself that he was still the master of his own fate; although he couldn't change his Sorra he could ensure that he would be free rather than in the service of some other lord. Talvin was coming for him and fate had decreed that he would not be in service to Izlegaol past midnight. Although the Wolf couldn't see the exact position of the sun he knew that, for every hour that passed he had less of a chance of being sold.

His dedication to his course of action took him to sunset, and the end of the business day. Although it was still possible that a new master would come to collect him after nightfall he refused to entertain the idea. No-- fate said he'd be out of Izlegaol, and he was adamant that it meant he'd be on his way. Baedyn continued working with the nail file, content to know that he was being ignored, which meant that he had the freedom to do his work uninterrupted... or so he thought.

An hour or two after the sunlight stopped streaming into his cell Baedyn was still working on cutting through the chain, but that ended with a sudden rumble in the ground, followed a split second later by the sound of an explosion. A moment afterwards the event was repeated, and then again, creating a series of rumbling and booms that were anything but natural. Straining with all his might, the Wolf managed to exert enough force to break the weakened chains holding his wrists together. The explosions sounded as if they were coming from WITHIN the town. If that were the case, he knew with confidence that his faith in freedom had been well placed.

Paws shaking from their exertion all day with the file, Baedyn rubbed at his wrists, which were still encircled by the metal bands. He had his arms separated which, in the scheme of things didn't do much for his freedom but it improved his morale; if he put his mind to it he knew he could accomplish anything. It was a first step, and the next would be to get as much information as he could about what was going on beyond his cell.

The explosions in and around town continued, which meant that whatever was happening wasn't an isolated event. It was impossible to get the full details from his ears alone and, with no ability to see the goings-on, Baedyn realized that he would have to rely on a different sense. It had been over a day since he'd last used his grasp of fate but he'd leaned heavily on that ability and he could still feel the faint buzzing headache that reminded him that he'd overdone it. Promising himself to observe some restraint, the Wolf let out a breath, sitting back down onto the ground as he sought his center.

There was too much going on to mediate but, thankfully, after years of practice, Baedyn didn't require the same level of focus than when he'd first started. Pushing the buzzing remnant of a headache to the back of his mind, the Wolf cast out, sending his perception along the skein of threads that made up the tapestry of fate. He looked at the city of Izlegaol as a glowing spiderweb of tangled lines, so entwined that the countless individuals within its boundaries were woven together to collectively make up 'the populace'. He peered at the living bolt of cloth, waiting patiently until he saw what he sought: an unraveling. Baedyn was surprised when he saw that there were many.

In a given area, numerous threads coming undone was an indication that there were many simultaneous deaths. A large piece of fabric like the city of Izlegaol could easily withstand the death of a dozen, but, as the numbers increased, the loss of numerous citizens started to make a lasting effect on the linen that was fate's design. What surprised him even more was that the finely embroidered edges of the circular fabric was whole and perfect; they were the city's immense stone walls. Izlegaol was known as the City of Stone because its walls were said to be impregnable, but this attack was coming from WITHIN the city!

Casting further into the weave, Baedyn sought out as much information as he could. It was a difficult prospect because he didn't know what he sought, nor did he know what specific event was guiding the attack on the city. It wasn't until he changed his search to seeking someONE rather than someTHING that his investigation bore fruit. The thread he located was connected to his in several places and, even though they were separated geographically the two of them were tied in a way that distance could not separate. The thread was right outside the keep! "Talvin."

The headache was starting to grow again and Baedyn realized that he was using far more energy than he'd planned; once again he was in danger of overdoing it, and that impression was accentuated by the feel of blood leaking from his nose. Slowly withdrawing from the fate sense, he lingered only for a split second longer when he felt the notice of a second Sorran. A poignant pluck of a single fate string was the only warning he received from his brother but, even after all that time they knew one another well enough for Baedyn to understand, and he threw himself forward onto the floor, paws covering the back of his head. A moment later the outer wall of the tower crumpled, showering him with bits of mortar and shards of stone.

Coughing as he sat back up, Baedyn fanned the dust away from his face as he glanced around his shattered room. Although the outer wall still held, there were numerous cracks along the mortar between stone blocks and various bricks at abdomen height had been pushed several inches into the room. Flecks of rock and hunks of mortar were scattered all about the floor and the Wolf's eyes and nose stung from the floating grit threatening to assault his senses. He coughed again, and then, recovering quickly, moved to the damaged wall.

His cursory inspection suggested that, although it had taken a serious beating, it still held and that it would still not be possible to escape. Besides, he reminded himself, it was nearly fifty feet to the ground and he didn't have anything useful to help him climb down the sheer drop. After that, the Wolf sought holes, cracks, or openings that would allow him to get a better view of the outside and the city below. A few minutes of inspection revealed nothing of help and any further investigation was interrupted by the sound of shouts in the stairway leading up the tower to his door.

Baedyn's heart began to beat faster when the shouts were accompanied by the impact of metal-on-metal; the battle had not only come to the keep, it was inside the tower! Moving back to the center of the room, the Wolf stood facing the door. He swallowed the apprehension in his throat as he waited impatiently to see who was working the lock. Baedyn didn't know how to respond to what he saw on the other side the moment it opened.

The Lord of Stone stood in the doorway, blood streaming down his left forearm where it appeared a sword blade had cleaved his hide open. There were numerous other cuts and scrapes on him and his breast plate had a good number of dents, but what really caught Baedyn's attention was the rapier the Ram held; it was dripping blood profusely, creating a small pool beneath it just beneath where the tip hovered a few inches above the floor.

Loris Pyazo's demand was straight and to the point. "Is this your doing?"

Baedyn didn't entirely know how to answer the question, and didn't know if he would be given enough time to elaborate his answer, and so he simply said the first thing that came to his mind. "You should have let me go, your Grace."

Growling, the Ram raised the sword again, stepping into the room. "I ought to thank you, Talvin. I may not have held a sword in years, but if there is one thing your accursed Sorra was good for it was the knowledge that none of these mercenaries could kill me."

The Wolf didn't reply, choosing instead to take a step to the right, holding his paws together to give his master the impression that his wrists were still chained. He backpedaled even as the Lord of Stone stepped forward toward him. Eventually, when Baedyn did speak, all he could do was repeat his first statement. "You should have let me go."

The Lord of Stone stepped forward again, following after Baedyn, sword at the ready. "They're here for you... I know they are. What have you started, Talvin?"

Baedyn watched the tip of the sword as another horrible thought came to mind; he was only fated to serve Izlegaol through the day and it was possible that Loris Pyazo would kill him, which would also conceivably satisfy the Sorra. His next words would literally see him pleading for his life. "Please... just... let me go, your Grace. Please."

The Ram stepped into the center of the room, which left Baedyn with almost equal distance between the enraged Lord and the exit to his cell. Just as he toyed with the idea of trying to make a break for it, Vyodor stepped into the opening, a crossbow held in both his paws. Seeing that he already had the Wolf's attention, the Coyote fingered the weapon, quarrel already in place, a snaggle-toothed grin on his old muzzle. "I'm not dead yet, Sorran, and you're not here for much longer."

Almost as if awaiting permission from his lackey, the Lord of Stone let out a bleating battle cry and rushed Baedyn. The Wolf quickly ducked, throwing himself to the side as the sword blade slammed into the wall where he'd just been. Recovering from the charge quickly, the Lord of Stone spun about and brought his weapon to bear for another strike. Standing with his back to the door, Baedyn didn't know if Voydor would pull the trigger but he certainly knew Loris wouldn't hesitate to strike, so he focused instead on the Ram.

Finally separating his arms, Baedyn brought his right paw around to defend himself, deflecting the sword strike with the loose chain he'd wrapped around his fist. With the parry sending the Ram's sword to the side, the Wolf pushed his left arm out, palm facing the Lord of Stone's abdomen, and urged the flow of fate into the symbol carved into the palm of his glove. Baedyn was forced back against the wall from the blast of energy and the Ram was thrown across the room, and through the damaged wall. His bleating rage followed him all the way down to the ground below.

Voydor cried out from the doorway, "Your Grace!"

The Coyote sprang into the room, surprise and alarm on his muzzle. The old man was no warrior and it took a moment for him to bring the crossbow up to a shooting position, but the attack never came; one white-furred arm reached around up beneath his armpit and cut the string with a claw, then gripped Vyodor around the mid section while a second paw equipped with a long, curved blade reached from around his shoulder and cleanly slit his throat.

Baedyn looked away from the cascading waterfall of blood that poured out, closing his eyes against the sound of it splattering the floor. A moment later the weight of a body hitting the ground caused the Wolf to look to where Vyodor had fallen; the Coyote was grasping helplessly at his opened throat, eyes staring right at him filled with fear and anger. Baedyn spoke softly in Vensian. "It wasn't a lie, Vyodir... it was fate. Your Sorra, not mine."

An Ocelot knelt down next to the fallen Coyote, using the old man's robe to clean off his bloodied blade. He was followed into the room a moment later by a well-built, white-furred Tiger. While the first feline said nothing, the second regarded him directly with only a basic grasp of the Tenvierian tongue. "You Baedyn?"

The Wolf nodded his head. "I am."

Once he had confirmed the Tiger's suspicion, Baedyn stood; a moment later the Ocelot did as well. The spotted feline stepped out of the room, leaning closer to the striped one and whispering something before leaving. The Tiger looked back to Baedyn. "I'm Choel. That's Willis. Your brother sent us here."

Baedyn knew little about combat, but what he did know was that neither of the men before him were amateurs. "Are you... mercenaries?"

A definitive snort from outside in the hall was a clear indication that Willis was offended. Choel, however, grinned. "Why... you offer coin?"

The Tiger's question was obviously grounded in humor; if Talvin had really sent them then his saviors would have known that he didn't have a coin to his name. Slowly inching his way around the fallen Coyote, Baedyn changed his approach of questioning. "Are you saying you work for my brother?"

The Ocelot finally spoke up once the Wolf was in the hallway, obviously more well-versed in Baedyn's language. "I owe the master a great debt, and you are helping me repay that."

Baedyn opened his muzzle to question further but Choel appeared beside him, shaking his head. "Now is bad time, Lord Baedyn."

The Wolf wanted to press the matter, but the Tiger's words caused him to stop for a different reason, and he had to come to grips with the title. "LORD Baedyn?"

The question went unanswered as a presence flooded his mind. It was a sensation he had not only been without, but he had actively missed for over seventeen years. Turning to face an enormous mountain of scale and muscle, Baedyn smiled in a way he hadn't in just as long. Although he knew nothing needed to be said, the Wolf did so regardless. "Hello, Ian."

In the way only a Sarvestinian could, Ian's simple presence conveyed that being without Baedyn was torture of the spirit that no amount of injury to the body could compare to agony of the soul. A moment later he was in the reptile's arms, collapsing against the Sarvestine scales as if they were the richest, most luxurious mattress in all the world. It had been so very long, and he suddenly felt old, and tired... and free.