Fate's Hand Read online

  "I am here, Master."

  Drask rubbed his eyes as he commanded. "Tell the wizard I am ready now!"

  "Yes, Master!"

  As his vision started to clear, he stared at his hand. His human hand. It was small and pale compared to his own. He could not contain his smile as he felt a tingle in his head—the voice of Yusar, calling his name.

  The pain behind his eyes was intense. Trying to squint through the pain and morning light, he lifted his upper half to rest on his elbows. As he blinked and tried to look around at his surroundings, he realized he couldn’t quite see. Blurry images and sounds of the forest surrounded him.

  I don’t remember falling asleep, Val thought. He flexed his fingers and crunched the dry leaves under them. His right hand felt like it was asleep. He waited for the tingle sensation to run its course, but it never came. He looked down at his hand and almost fell over in shock. Even through his blurry image he could see his hand covered in pale red blood. He held his hand out before him, blinking wildly to clear his eyes. He reached over with his other hand and touched his fingers and palm. It wasn’t wet with blood and it didn’t hurt in any way. In fact, it didn’t feel any way at all. A sharp pain raced from his wrist up into his shoulder. He fell back onto his back once again. Through gritted teeth he whispered, "Now, that I can feel." He lay back in pain and confusion as tears formed at the edge of his eyes. His headache returned again tenfold.

  "What is wrong with me?" was his last thought before losing consciousness.

  Val woke up again and lay very still as his mind became aware. The sun was directly above him. He sat up again with his eyes squinted, waiting on the pain to return to his head and arm. He could hear his heart beating in his ears. He flexed his fingers on his right hand and took note he had no feeling in it. His heart beat slightly faster. Val finally raised his hand and took in the sight. With his eyes clear, he looked on and realized this was not his hand.

  The fingers ran longer and thicker than his own. They ended in charcoal grey fingernails, long but well-manicured. He turned the hand over to reveal a scar—a circular pattern—on his palm. Val stood, still scrutinizing the alien object now attached to him.

  Attached? he thought. But how? He frantically pulled his sleeve up to his elbow. The skin around his wrist was twisted and scarred. The skin and color of his arm ended at his wrist, fading into the scars to come out as an ashen red color on the other side. What happened to my hand? he thought just as a movement in the forest beyond his fingers caught his eye.

  He locked eyes with a goblin.

  Standing five paces away, brandishing a crudely fashioned spear, the goblin eyed Val curiously. Val started edging away, a look of horror on his face. The goblin grinned stupidly and made a guttural noise, calling two more of the creatures from behind nearby trees. Val found his back pressed against a large trunk. The first goblin advanced a few steps, then took a hop and threw the spear at Val. With the weapon flying through the air, Val felt his death was upon him. He tensed his body and threw his hands before him in fear, eyes closed. At the last second, his right hand shot out and grabbed the spear just behind the head. Using the momentum of the weapon, the hand spun the spear around sending it back to its source. Val felt his arm move on its own, but kept his eyes closed, unsure of what happened.

  The goblin's smile turned to an open-mouth face of terror as the spear thudded straight into its chest and laid him out on the forest floor. Val opened his eyes and saw the goblin sprawled out in the leaves.

  Val had never killed another humanoid before. Even though the goblin would have taken pleasure in his death, Val still couldn’t hold back his revulsion. The remaining two goblins looked upon their dead companion, then back to the human with fear spread on their faces. They waded in closer trying to take measure of this apparently dangerous foe. Val tried to roll around the side of the trunk and flee, but found one more goblin looking past him at its dead friend on the ground. With his back exposed, one of the other two goblins rushed Val. Val’s arm shot back and jerked him sideways. The goblin aimed to plunge its knife into an exposed rib, only to find a red fist slamming into its long—and now broken—nose.

  Val, hardly conscious of the action, adjusted his body and looked at the goblin before him. As the creature took a step toward him, he took one back. As he did, his hand reached back and grabbed the staggering goblin with the broken nose around the neck. The goblin dropped the knife and clawed at the hand clasped tightly around its throat. Val backpedaled, scared that he couldn’t control his hand and death was only a few steps away. Val could hear the other goblin behind him moving around to his left side. The goblin he held kicked feverishly and grabbed at his arm, coughing and gasping for air. Val looked back at his hand and saw the panic on the goblin's face. He tried to release the creature and just run, but the hand would not respond. In that moment, he felt his hand tighten and crush the goblin's windpipe. It stopped struggling and went limp in his hand. Val tried to drop the dead monster, but still his hand ignored his commands.

  Seeing the opening they were waiting for, the last two goblins charged him at once. Val’s entire arm exploded with motion and flung the corpse at the charging goblin to his left. The other attacker struck out with a short sword. Val’s hand quickly came back to grab the clawed hand, stopping the creature in its tracks. With its other hand, it tried to free itself. Val’s hand squeezed all the harder, cracking the goblin's knuckles around the sword’s grip. The goblin shrieked and tried desperately to free his hand. Val's hand reversed the blade and steadily began to press the point toward the goblin. Then, unmoved by the efforts of the creature, the sword tip began to ascend to the underside of the goblin's chin. The creature, seeing its doom, began to struggle like a trapped animal. The other goblin had crawled out from underneath its companion’s body and was trying to recover its weapon. Val grabbed onto his wrist with his free hand, trying to stop the weapon's ascension. He grunted and pulled with all his strength, but the hand continued to rise.

  The tip of the sword pierced the bottom of the goblin's chin slowly and steadily. His screams became a gargle, flecks of blood spitting all over Val's face. Yelling at the top of his lungs with blood and tears streaming down his face, Val turned to lock eyes with the last goblin. The creature was in mid-swing, but the intense look in Val's eyes stopped him. He dropped his spiked club and sprinted away from the clearing.

  Val stopped screaming as his hand released the sword and both he and the dead goblin fell to the ground. Val sobbed, his heart still beating loudly in his ears. His shoulders slumped and head dropped. He looked at his trembling hands, both covered in blood.

  Drask materialized in the dark room Yusar waited by his desk.

  "I assume you have what I want?"

  "Yes, and yourself?" Yusar asked.

  "But, of course! But first, I would like to ask you a few harmless questions." Wanting nothing more than to get his ingredient and be done with the demon, Yusar almost said no. But something in him was curious. Besides, he was in power over the situation. He tipped his hand and lowered his chin casually for Drask to proceed.

  "I’ve been watching you for some time now. You have done quite well for yourself. You’ve managed to obtain this magical tower and a massive collection of magical weapons and wares."

  Yusar shifted his weight, uneasy about the attention of such a power demon. "Get to the question."

  "Fine, is there one out there who wishes you dead? One who wants your tower, perhaps?"

  "If you have been watching, you know how I got this tower," Yusar replied.

  "Yes, indeed. And the mercenary is still hunting for you?'

  "Yes."

  "I will help you be rid of him, help you obtain more power than you've ever dreamed of—when you serve me."

  Yusar clenched his fingers tighter on the book and glared at Drask.

  "Give me my blood and begone. I will not serve a demon." Yusar walked over to the edge of the circle. "The blood. Now."

 
Drask’s mirth drained from his face and he glared at Yusar. "The last time you summoned me, you made a mistake on the circle. When you serve me, I will accept no such mistakes. You did well in the library. That is the kind of concentration and execution I will expect."

  Yusar found his jaw so tight he had to speak through his teeth. "The blood. Now, demon, or I will dismiss you to the Abyss and burn this damn book!"

  Drask’s smile returned. He calmly walked over to the edge of the chalk circle and turned his gaze to the drawing laid across the floor, his toes on the edge. Drask kneeled and reached out with his human hand, gently wiping away a small section of the circle. Yusar's eyes went wide with fear as he dropped the book. Without looking up, Drask's stuck his new handout and caught it. Yusar stumbled backward, knocking over chairs and piles of books. Drask arose, looking at his prizes. "No," he finally replied. "I think I'll stay.”

  Val ran for miles. He ran to flee the scene of death and to avoid the goblins that might come to investigate their missing brothers. It wasn’t until Val was far away and lost before he realized he had left half his supplies in the clearing. He fell to his knees and frantically searched through his pack. His hand came across the cool stone cup and waterskin in his pack and his heart stopped racing. He fell back on his rear and sat, letting everything calm down. He looked down at his hand. The long, bony fingers were casually rolling around a smooth, black ring on his right hand. He hadn’t noticed the ring before.

  The woods were easy on his ears, with the sounds of birds and a distant creek. He felt safe enough to really study his new hand. He turned it over many times from back to palm, searching for any clue or hint of himself in it. The hand was not his own; the entire bone structure was different. He felt all over his joints and bones, down to his wrist. He had no feeling whatsoever in his hand, but sensed slight tingles and numbness in the scarring around his wrist. Beyond the scar, where the skin was normal, he had feeling. He tested his reaction by throwing a rock up and catching it. His hand reacted normally. After rolling the rock around in his palm and trying to get used to the sensation of holding something, he couldn’t feel he dropped it. He looked off to the sun and set his thoughts on his plans.

  “What should I do about my hand? It doesn’t matter. I’ll have a priest look at it. After I find my sister.” He removed the pendant from the chain around his neck and filled the stone cup with water. He went through the motions Jerib taught him, then watched as the needle finally set on a direction.

  “I don’t understand,” Yusar said, watching the demon walk around his tower. “How, I mean, why—”

  “There is nothing for you to understand, Yusar. I will never set my foot in the abyss again. I am bound to this plane now.” Drask set down the book and ran his fingers over an old, dusty pile of scrolls. He silently cursed the lack of feeling in his human hand.

  “I am now this world’s walking demon prince, the only one from my knowing. Soon I will become a king.” Drask's gaze fell to Yusar. “You will help me. You shall rule at my left hand.” His white teeth shined bright even in the dim candle light. Yusar looked on in curiosity at first, then a spark came into his eye.

  “Rule with you?”

  “Yes. Unless you want me to just end your life? I highly doubt you want that, so let’s just get to the task at hand. Finish your potion. Its final form is part of my plan.”

  Drask removed the vial of blood from his belt and tossed it to Yusar, who jumped to his feet and caught it. The wizard's face was still pale and eyes curious when he turned to his alchemy table.

  “What do you say?” Drask called to his back.

  Yusar turned a curious head and looked back at Drask, now with the imp Yarsik sitting on his shoulder.

  “Yes…Prince Drask.”

  Drask carefully opened The Proclamation of the Dark Truth and ran his fingers across the page. He felt nothing. Drask flipped through several pages and still felt nothing on the pages. Drask reached over and picked up one of Yusar’s many spell books. He tossed the book to the floor and sat back, thinking as he watched Yusar work.

  Until I read the book and find the right spell, Yusar has the power to banish me back to Malad Omini. I must overwhelm him and keep him in fear until the feeling in my hand returns. Yusar looked back at Drask sitting in the shadows. Drask began drawing a small summoning circle on a cleared desk. Yusar turned back to his work, unsure on what to do, but also too terrified to do anything but work on the potion for the time being.

  Val noted the landscape was changing. He started seeing the large boulders and rising stone of grey that gave the hills their name. He stopped and performed the scrying ritual again. He stared at the needle, praying it would alter its course, but after several moments it stayed straight. Val put away his supplies and looked ahead. A sheer rock wall faced him. Val looked up the stone face and ran his hand across any cracks, searching for a hold. He set his foot against a recess and lifted himself from the ground. Val reached out with his right hand for the next crack but immediately stopped. He had no feeling; he couldn't find a good hold with his numb hand.

  Even if I do, who is to say my hand won’t betray me again and decide to let go. He dropped to the ground and stared at his hand, as if expecting an answer.

  “They didn’t climb,” Val thought out loud. “They couldn’t with Daria. I just have to find a trail.” Val looked around and started walking. After several minutes passed, he spotted a section of rock, worn and smooth. He was excited and started off down the trail. Only seconds passed before he found an impasse. What seemed like an old landslide was directly in his path. The largest boulder directly in the middle of the trail had scratches on it. Val found them to be letters: “No way around. Go back. One days walk. Left. Wooden bridge. Side of grey mountain with caves.” Val turned around and looked down the path.

  If they are on the other side of me in the caves, that means they are at least one day in front of me.

  He used the downward path to take off again on his way. In a few hours, he hit the forest line again. As he passed into the shade of the tall trees, he felt more at home and safer, out of the open and not exposed against the light grey stone. He walked through the wood until the sun began to set. Val found a spot hidden between an old fallen tree and a large mossy rock to make his fire. By his calculation, he would find the wooden bridge before mid-day tomorrow. He tried to set his mind away from his sister and lay down for the night.

  A slight motion in his arm caught his attention. He rolled to his side to look down at his hand. Once again, his fingers were playing with the ring. He reached over and tried to remove the ring, but it wouldn’t budge. He held it closer to the fire to study it. In the daylight it seemed like a plain black metal ring, but now, at night by the firelight, he could see tiny red runes etched into the metal. The more he thought about the mystery, the angrier he got. Val gritted his teeth and clinched his fist.

  “Why? Why is this happening to us?” he said out loud. He released his fist and lay there listening to the fire crackle and a distant owl making his nightly calls. He turned his head and buried his face into his cloak to drown out the light.

  Drask worked his mind and hand constantly in the hopes it would help return his feeling. He looked at several maps of the surrounding kingdoms and tried to decide where to start his plans in motion. He looked out the tower's open window. The light still gave him a slight headache but he didn’t mind it. Drask took a deep breath in and smelled the old parchment and stale wood smoke in the room. It was far better than anything he had ever smelled in the abyss. He looked down at his human hand and began rolling his fingers around.

  Damn, my ring, he thought as he walked over to another pile of maps. Where is my ring, my hand, whose hand is this? When this plan first came to him, he didn’t care about the human counterpart at all. But, due to the circumstances, whoever had his hand might also hold the key to gaining back his feeling. He ran his fingers across the grainy wooden desk, feeling nothing. How to find one sing
le human, though. The man! The man I used to summon the hand!

  Drask called for his imp. “Get the human I used in the summoning. I need to know where he was from. His name, his family’s name.”

  Yarsik shuffled foot to foot.

  “Well? Go.” Yarsik remained and began to look around nervously. Drask turned fully to face the imp and crossed his arms.

  “Master, the only reason I didn’t tell you was because your spell went off successfully. You seemed to be happy with the results but…”

  “But what, Yarsik?”

  “After the light was gone, sir, the chains were empty.”

  Drask uncrossed his arms and looked at the imp in confusion. “What do you mean they were empty?”

  Yarsik tried to keep his composure as he explained. “The human, sir. He was no longer on the plane. Your brothers came to your study only moments after you left the abyss. They tore into your servants and got all the information they could. They spent hours searching for that human male you used. He was just gone.” Yarsik finished and lowered his eyes as Drask stared at him, eyes burning. Drask sat in his chair, thinking back to the scroll he used. He had read over it hundreds of times. The information on the human part of the spell had to be in the destroyed section. He put his hands together, trying to ignore the off feeling of the numb hand.

  “Yusar,” he whispered. “Tell Yusar to come here, now.”

  Drops of sweat rolled over the man's arms and, as they got near the hilt of his hammer, electrical charges sizzled them into vapor. He steadied his deep breathing and relaxed his muscles. The man rolled his head back to face the ceiling of his dark training room with eyes closed. Steam flowed off his freshly-shaven head like smoke. He released his hammer and brought both arms out wide to his sides. His large muscles began to tense and he recited the words of a spell in hushed tones. As he finished the last words, he flexed his arms and brought them together like a coiled spring, then slammed his palms down on the ground before him. The stone, several strides away, immediately hummed with magical energy and bubbled. A large rectangular slab of rock rose from the liquid stone then immediately hardened into the stone work.