Defying Destiny Read online

Taelien retrieved a smooth, oval-shaped white stone just a bit smaller than his palm. “A purestone. I know you do some travel, so you’re probably familiar with them.”

  Wrynn nodded. “Water purification. Drop it into a water source, it’ll eventually purify the whole thing. I’ve heard it even ‘purifies’ things like poisons. True?”

  Taelien nodded. “Yeah, as far as I can tell, although it isn’t exactly easy to slip it into something you think is poisoned before you drink it. Believe me, I’ve tried. Might even offer some protection against poison for whoever is carrying it, but I’m less sure on that part.”

  “Not something I need. I never get sick, and poison isn’t a threat to me. Useful bauble to most, though, I’m certain.”

  This isn’t going well.

  “You’re sure I can’t convince you to take it in trade, perhaps? You could even sell it.”

  “Eh, maybe. But it’s boring. I want something that excites me.”

  He wanted to argue, but he could tell that she wasn’t likely to change her mind. He tucked the stone back in his bag.

  At least I’ll have it for myself if Aayara tries anything.

  “What’s next?”

  Taelien hesitated. “I’m afraid this will be the last thing that’s up for trade right now.”

  He only had one more item in his bag, but it was a good one. It was a necklace holding a teardrop-shaped blue crystal. “I’m sure you remember telling me where to find the Arturo’s Amulet of Sanctuary.”

  Wrynn gave the necklace an appreciative look. “I’m impressed. The portal still worked?”

  “The crystals powering it were long gone, but I bought replacements and got it up and running. Barely made it out of the pocket dimension in time, but I got the necklace. And what appears to be a map.” He removed a piece of parchment from the bag, passing it to Wrynn. “I couldn’t read it, though.”

  Wrynn’s eyes sparkled as she unfolded the map and looked at it. “This is...Davorin, I think. The language, not the location.” She closed the map. “Hold onto these. The map and the necklace. I don’t need them, but they might be worth something. Did you manage to activate the necklace?”

  “No, couldn’t figure out how to work it. Maybe the map has the instructions.” Taelien turned the necklace over in his hands. “You’re sure you don’t want them? We’re both aware of the value of what the map might lead to.”

  “It also could lead to nothing.” Wrynn’s eyes remained focused on the necklace. “I’ll think about it. For now, pass me Silverbrand. I can always use more pokey things.”

  Taelien nodded, retrieving the dagger again and packing away the necklace and map. He was a little sad to part with the weapon, but at least it was for a worthy cause. Wrynn did love daggers. She’d take good care of it.

  Wrynn turned the dagger over in her hands. “I’ll get you into that auction, and I’ll give you something to trade with Kyestri.”

  “I appreciate it.” He began to pack the other objects back into his backpack. “What’ve you got for me?”

  Wrynn folded up the map, handed it back to Taelien, and pushed herself to her feet. “Hold on just a moment.”

  She turned, tapping on the metallic doors behind her.

  Then she vanished in a puff of smoke.

  Taelien blinked. Not because teleportation was a surprise to him at that point, but because it wasn’t usually accompanied by any sort of visual effect. The smoke was both unusual and seemingly unnecessary.

  Wrynn reappeared a few minutes later, accompanied by a similar swirl of soot.

  Taelien was standing by that point, his hand sitting on the hilt of his sword. He wasn’t expecting an ambush, but it was always best to be ready for one.

  Wrynn was armed, too, but not for a fight. The dagger she was holding was sheathed, and she flipped it around to offer it to him. “A dagger for a dagger. Seems fair, although I’ll miss this one. This is Sculptor.”

  Taelien raised an eyebrow, accepting the dagger. “Sculptor?” He immediately felt a familiar type of essence within it. “Ah, stone shaping?”

  Wrynn nodded. “It cuts straight through stone. Most famously, it was used by a Xixian prince named Shosan Ver. Not for anything insidious; he literally used for sculpting.”

  Taelien unsheathed the dagger, feeling the aura of it. He had some level of stone shaping ability, but it was minimal. He’d always been much better at manipulating metal.

  He could tell that the weapon’s stone shaping aura was much stronger than what he could manage on his own, but that didn’t make it particularly useful. His personal aura was able to burn straight through stone if he needed it to.

  Still, he could see why she was offering it to him. “Kyestri is the Prime Lord of Stone. I take it he collects items connected to his dominion?”

  “He collects dominion marked and bonded in general, but I suspect that a Xixian curio tied to his dominion would be an excellent fit for his collection.” Wrynn smiled. “I have a few other things I can show you another time, but for the moment, that’s what I’m offering.”

  Taelien nodded, sheathing the dagger. “Very well. I’d also like any personal information about Kyestri you’re willing to share. Any interests he has, how he got the mask, and anything else he’d be willing to trade for it.”

  “I’ll have to look through my notes first, but I can agree to that.”

  Taelien pondered for another moment. “Any chance we could get a meeting before the auction?”

  “Not a bad plan. I’ll send him a letter and see if I can arrange it. Is that satisfactory?”

  Taelien reached out with a hand. “I believe we have a deal.”

  Wrynn smiled and clasped it. “As always, it’s a pleasure doing business with you.”

  Chapter VII – Velas II – False Families

  Velas sat up, brushing aside her bedsheets. There was something wrong.

  It took her a moment to process the fact that she hadn’t gone to sleep in a bed, and certainly not in this location.

  The white walls and portraits on the walls were familiar, though. So was the bed, after a moment, though she hadn’t seen it in many years.

  Groaning, she dislodged herself from the bed entirely. This was also disorienting, because her standing height only reached the bottom of the picture frames.

  She cautiously raised a hand. It was familiar, too, but entirely too small. After a moment of dysphoria, she grabbed a strand of hair and pulled it in front of her. It was all black, her natural color.

  I must be awfully young if I haven’t bleached it at all yet.

  She scanned the rest of her surroundings, searching for anything that might be of use. Her closet was filled with a dozen identical white dresses. That, unlike the rest of the scenario, was not accurate to her childhood room.

  She ignored the clothing, searching for a weapon, but there were none to be found. While breaking something for an improvised tool would have been possible as an adult, she didn’t think she could manage much that would be useful with her child body.

  I can find some knives in the kitchen, assuming everything is where it should be. Or maybe something in the training hall with more reach.

  She opened the door, finding the hallway to be in the right place, and headed past her sister’s room toward the training hall.

  She slowly opened the door to the training hall, prepared to slam it shut if she detected any threats.

  Velas did find someone already inside the hall. And she was a threat. But slamming the door on her would have served no purpose.

  Velas stepped into the room, folding her arms. “Hello, Auntie Ess. Is this really necessary?”

  Symphony was dressed just as she often had been when Velas was a child, in a traditional Velryan fencing uniform. Pants and a shirt, nothing loose for an enemy to grab onto, with a rapier on her hip. She smiled brightly as Velas entered. “Good morning, dear.”

  “Is it?” Velas glanced at the windows, seeing light streaming in, then back to Symphony
. “I think I’m still asleep.”

  “Oh, you are.” Symphony waved a hand. “But I’m sure it’s morning somewhere.”

  “You didn’t answer my earlier question. What’s with all this?”

  Symphony had a hurt expression. “You don’t remember? It’s Children’s Day, dear. And the anniversary of when I first agreed to train you.”

  “Children’s Day.” Velas let out a sigh, then pointed to herself. “I think you might be taking the name a bit too literally.”

  Symphony laughed. “I know, I know. You’ve grown older. But you’ll always be one of my—”

  “Dolls? I remember you mentioning that you liked to play with those.” She took a step closer, in spite of the danger that posed. “I imagine you also break the ones you’re bored with.”

  Symphony gave her a considering look. “Admittedly, Lady Two-knot was eventually executed.”

  Velas took a step back in alarm, but Symphony waved a hand. “Oh, don’t worry about that. She was a literal doll. You’re not, dear, and I know that. I value your life and your autonomy.”

  “Do you? Because you didn’t exactly warn me when you sent Sterling to kill my friends.”

  Symphony rolled her eyes. “I didn’t have anything to do with that. Sterling can be...impertinent at times.”

  “He’s an ‘ess’, Auntie. You had to be aware of what he was up to.”

  Symphony smiled. “Of course. But you asked me for autonomy. Would you deny others the same?”

  “I’m not talking about pulling on puppet strings. I’m talking about keeping your agents from murdering people, especially your other agents.”

  “A valid point. I’m certain he wouldn’t have killed you, though. He had specific targets.” Symphony shrugged. “But do you really want to talk about that? I haven’t seen you in ages, dear. We should celebrate!”

  “I’m not even really here.” Velas sighed. “And frankly, this setup is more than a little creepy.”

  “Is it?” Symphony frowned. “I’ve never been very good at judging that. I was hoping it would be a nice surprise.”

  “Sending someone flowers or baked goods is a nice surprise. And I mean baked goods in the literal sense, not in guild code. This,” Velas waved at the building, “is putting me in a position that makes me feel vulnerable.”

  “Perhaps I overdid it a bit.” Symphony flicked her wrist and a single white rose appeared in her hand. “Can you find it in your heart to forgive me?”

  Velas rolled her eyes. “For the theatrics, perhaps. You’re going to need to work on the Sterling part. And you’ve reminded me about something I’ve been meaning to ask you for some time.”

  “Oh?” Symphony raised an eyebrow.

  “All this. Everything I grew up with. It was just as fake as this dream, wasn’t it? Those people who raised me weren’t my parents. I doubt if we were related at all. You certainly aren’t my aunt.”

  “Was there a question in that, dear?”

  “Why? Where did I come from?”

  Symphony nodded. “Ah.” She waved toward the ground, then sat. “Take a seat. I’ll tell you a story.”

  “Fix my body first.”

  “Very well. It’s irrelevant, though. This is just a dream.” She snapped her fingers.

  Velas felt her entire body tremble. There was an instant of pain after that, then it was done.

  She had her adult body again. She breathed a sigh of relief and sat down. “Thank you.”

  “You’re quite welcome. Now, let’s see. Where should I begin?”

  Velas narrowed her eyes. “The truth. I don’t want some Tarren tale.”

  Symphony’s eyelids fluttered. “Whatever do you mean, dear? Tarren barely figures into your childhood. Much less than some.”

  “Just talk. Start from the beginning.”

  “Well, when the old gods made the world—”

  Velas folded her arms.

  Symphony chuckled. “Fine, fine. Let’s find a suitable beginning... Ah!” She snapped her fingers. The light in the room dimmed, then faded to near blackness. “Perhaps a demonstration would be better.”

  A curtained stage rose from the floor, stopping at four feet in height.

  The curtains parted, revealing a scene. It was atop a mountain range dotted with tall trees, each of which was dusted in snow.

  “In days long past, when I was but a girl, there were two great heroes.”

  Two puppets descended from the air, jerking to a halt as they landed atop the stage.

  On the left was a woman in rune-etched white armor, carrying a sword that wrought from white stone.

  On the right was a man wearing an outfit of green formed from leaves and vines. He carried a two-handed sword with a handle that resembled living wood giving way to a golden blade. He wore a crown of leaves.

  That one is Vaelien, most likely. I’m not so sure about the first one.

  “Each was a legend, forged through the heat of many battles. They were, perhaps, the greatest warriors our world had seen. Each had triumphed over many terrible foes, and occasion, they even had worked together against common threats.

  The stage shifted briefly, showing a throne room. A third puppet descended, his body marked with obsidian scales, wearing a tall metal crown. In his hands he wielded a long spear that looked quite familiar.

  Vyrek Sul, the Xixian Emperor, wielding the Heartlance...? No, that has to be Cessius, his legendary staff. But the Heartlance looks so similar. I suppose Symphony is showing me that Lydia’s hypothesis about the Heartlance being a piece of Cessius is probably right.

  The two hero puppets flew toward the emperor puppet.

  There was no intricate fighting. They simply ran right into him repeatedly until the emperor puppet exploded in a shower of gore.

  Velas wiped a splotch of blood off her face and sighed.

  The scene changed back to the snow.

  “But alas, in spite of time spent working together, they knew there could only ever be a single end to their journeys. The world had room for only a single hero, and long had they disagreed on who that should be.”

  The two hero puppets lunged at another. There was an exaggerated “slash” effect of white as they passed by each other, then the armored woman puppet fell into two pieces.

  The stage darkened, and the two heroes vanished.

  On the right corner of the stage, another puppet appeared. A dark haired woman, fallen to her knees in the snow. Tears poured down her face.

  Velas turned to Symphony. “This is a good story, but what does it have to do with me?”

  “Patience, girl. You’ll see soon enough.” Symphony waved her hand and the stage darkened again. “The death of a hero is never a simple thing. Some were struck with great fear, while others sought to rise to replace what had been lost.”

  A diagonal beam of light struck the center of the stage, showing a pair of new puppets. A younger-looking woman puppet wore the armor of the fallen hero — with a clear stitch in the center, where it had once been cut in half. Next to her stood a man in a blue tunic, who held a shining silver blade.

  Velas frowned. “How long ago was this, exactly?”

  “Not important.” Symphony snapped her fingers. “The new generation trained hard, seeking to reach the great heights that their master once had.”

  The puppets ran around in a circle on the stage, chasing each other.

  Eventually, their strings got tangled together...which brought the two puppets closer and closer, until they were face-to-face.

  Most of this hasn’t been very subtle, but that’s not a bad metaphor.

  “Soon, the apprentices of the fallen hero were inseparable. They grew strong, and in time, they challenged the one who had defeated their master.”

  There was a flash and the green-armored knight appeared.

  The two other puppets rammed into him, then fell over.

  “But he was too strong.”

  The green-armored puppet vanished.

  “Still
, they were young, and he was merciful. His rivalry had been with their master, not with them, and he saw no need to end the lives of ones with such youthful talent.”

  Velas raised a skeptical eyebrow at that, but didn’t reply.

  “They continued to train, occasionally challenging the superior hero, but each time he proved victorious. Eventually, they gave up, and decided to settle down.”

  The scene changed to a home, showing the two apprentices in a humble cabin, legendary sword and armor hung up on the wall.

  The female doll had an obvious roundness to her belly.

  “They made one final mistake, however. One final challenge. They trained another.”

  The scene changed.

  A red-haired woman appeared on the stage, lifting a sword that glimmered with the light of dawn.

  She stood in the center of a coliseum, opposite from a younger man in a green and gold tunic. His resemblance to the green-armored hero — almost undoubtedly Vaelien — was clear.

  They charged at one another. A slash, and then the man in the green tunic fell to the ground. There was the sound of a cheer from the sides of the arena, though Symphony had not seen fit to fill it with any people.

  The scene faded.

  Velas understood immediately the “mistake” that had been made. Apparently, this red-haired woman had somehow hurt or killed one of Vaelien’s children.

  And, knowing Vaelien, that could not have ended well.

  The scene shifted to a forest glade.

  The red-haired woman was face-down in the dirt, a pool of blood collecting beneath her.

  That scene faded immediately, going back to the cabin.

  Both the male and the female “apprentices” were on the ground, with blood everywhere.

  There was a small child puppet in the corner of the room, wrapped in swaddling cloth. But, oddly, the female puppet still had a round belly.

  A continuity error, or were there two children involved?

  The Vaelien puppet stood over the two blood-stained apprentice puppets, his sword in hand.

  Then the scene went dark, and the curtains closed.

  Symphony clapped her hands together. “And that’s where you came from.”

  Velas put her hands to the sides of her head, rubbing her temples. “That was...completely unclear. Are you saying I’m the child that was in the corner of that room? Or the one that woman was pregnant with? Or was that all misdirection, and I’m the child of the red-haired woman, or one of Vaelien’s replacements for the child he lost to her?”