Bound by Fire Read online

Chapter 23

  Rodach stared at the forest in front of him.

  I've finally returned to the place where this all started. The Witchvale.

  The trees rose high above his head and were so close together, they seemed to be fighting a slow battle, imperceptible to the human eye for the soil they rested in. He squeezed his eyes shut and pressed a hand to his forehead. The side effects of the potion had kicked in, and he found himself blind in one eye. His head throbbed, and he had puked several times in the last part of his journey. The potion was rough on his body, but he never complained. The boost to his physical traits was well worth the side effects.

  He wasn't sure what lay ahead but he couldn't afford to stop now. The past two days had been tough, as the council had sent guardsmen to pursue him as he had expected. His only saving grace was the potion he downed every half day. They might be able to track him, but there was no way they would ever catch up. He couldn't allow that.

  Rodach pushed through a thicket and stepped into the forest. It was much more dense along the edge of the woods, almost as if the trees tried to prevent foreigners from entering. The brush fought against his every movement, and he soon found himself covered in cuts and scrapes from the sharp branches.

  And this is just the beginning.

  The moon dipped closer to the horizon as he worked his way through the forest. There was less snow on the ground here due to the thicker woods, which he was thankful for. Days of trekking through deep snow had strained his legs and left his feet soaked and cold. Now that he was in the forest, he'd be able to take the time to dry them out properly.

  The bushes in front of him rustled and shook. Rodach froze and placed a hand on his sword. Even with his vision impaired, he could still defend himself. Three eyes looked out from the bush and blinked. He gasped and took a step back. The bushes rustled and the creature vanished into the woods.

  Rodach took a deep, calming, breath. These things gave me the creeps when I first came to the Witchvale. Similar to rabbits, and cute to boot, they're actually carnivores. Woke up with one gnawing on my boot once.

  After a while, he found a small clearing and lit a fire. Rodach pulled off his boots and rubbed the warmth back into his feet. He'd allow himself a short rest before the sun came up, but that was all he could afford. He pulled out his water skin and took a swig. The water did little to quench his thirst, but it wet his throat and made breathing easier.

  The weariness from the past days hit him all at once. His eyes shut tight, and he drifted off into a restless sleep. Images of black snakes slithering around him and inside of his body filled his dreams.

  There was a squeak nearby and several branches snapped. Rodach's eyes opened and he cocked his head to listen.

  I'm sure I wasn't followed, but...

  He pushed himself off the ground and crept towards the source of the noise.

  Rodach tried to move without making a sound, but it proved to be futile. The snow crunched under his feet, and twigs snapped all around him.

  He stopped, squinted his eyes, and looked around. His gaze locked onto a dark red spot in the snow ahead of him. Rodach moved closer and spread the bushes in front of him apart. There was a small, furry creature laying in the snow with an arrow sticking out its side.

  Three lifeless eyes gazed up at him.

  He spun around and dove under the some nearby bushes just as a second arrow flew over his head. It bounced off a branch and landed in the snow next to him. Rodach crawled deeper into the bushes and rolled over onto his back. Whoever shot the arrow at him was well hidden. Rodach lacked the ability to retaliate with the state he was in.

  Rodach rolled over, and crawled to his meager camp site. There was one thing he could use that might give him an upper hand. It was risky, but the situation didn't leave him much choice.

  Another arrow whistled past and drove into the bushes next to him.

  A blind shot. Whoever it was, they were getting desperate.

  Once he reached the tree from earlier, Rodach reached into his satchel and pulled out a small, round ball. It was firm to the touch, and had weight to it, but it wasn't the outside that he was concerned about. It was what was inside that mattered.

  He pressed his body against the tree, and held his breath. He stayed like this for a while, slowly exhaling and inhaling while trying to hold his breath as long as he could. There wasn't a sound to be heard, but he knew that whoever the attacker was, they were still out there, waiting and watching.

  A branch creaked above him and a gob of snow dropped onto the ground.

  There you are!

  Rodach cocked his arm, and threw the ball into the trees. As soon as it left his hand he closed his eyes and covered his face with his arms.

  There was an explosion and branches flew all around him. The tree toppled over and crashed onto the ground. Pieces of wood pelted his body and cut into his skin.

  Rodach peeked from between his arms and looked around. The clearing had almost doubled in size and the ground was covered in branches and bark. He carefully edged past the chaos and scanned the area. A moan caught his attention and he walked over to where the sound came from.

  A man clad in black lay on the ground in front of him. There was blood across his face, and his leg was impaled by a sharp piece of wood. Rodach knelt next to the man, grabbed him by the chin and looked into his eyes.

  “I don't recognize your outfit. Who sent you?”

  The man's eyes started to roll back into his head.

  Rodach slapped him. “Answer me.”

  His eyes focused and he met Rodach's gaze. “T—Take it out. Please.”

  Rodach grabbed hold of the stick and ripped it out of the man's leg.

  The man's body spasmed, and he screamed, his eyes wide.

  “I won't ask you again. Who sent you?”

  “I—I can't tell you.”

  Rodach dug his thumb into the man's leg wound. He cried out and tried, unsuccessfully. to push Rodach away. “Wrong answer. Try again.”

  “Okay, just please, no more.” The man took a deep breath and closed his eyes. “A group of us were sent to watch you, but I was given orders to go ahead and assassinate you once you made it to the Witchvale.”

  Rodach narrowed his eyes. “Assassinate me? That doesn't sound like the council. Who sent you?” He pressed his finger deeper into the wound, invoking yet another shout.

  “Some noble. We don't meet face to face and he never uses his real name. I don't know anything else.”

  Rodach removed his finger from the man's leg. “I know you know more than that. I'm no fool. Tell me who he is.”

  The man shrugged his shoulders. “All right, fine. I'm dead anyway. I guess it doesn't matter now. I still don't know his name, but he does have a certain characteristic. He always smells of liquor. And not wine or ale. The hard stuff. That's all I know.”

  Rodach shook his head. “I don't have enough fingers and toes to count the amount of people that smell like alcohol at any given time of the day in the castle.” He held out his fingers for emphasis

  “It's all I know. Now, if you could, please just finish me off.” The man looked down at his leg and chuckled. “This is killing me.”

  Rodach drew his sword. “It's the least I can do.”

  He brought his sword down and severed the man's head. Blood sprayed from his neck and pooled in the snow around his body. Rodach wiped the sword off and slid it back into his sheath.

  Someone really wants me dead. How could they have known where I was going?

  Rodach scratched his head. He would have to watch his back even more carefully from now on. Not only did he have to watch out for the creatures of the forest, as well as the forest itself, but now he had assassins after him too.

  There was something else at work here.

  Time was against him, and he couldn't afford to dwell on it for the time being. All he could do was press on and hope that he could s
tay one step ahead of them. Rodach grabbed his satchel and continued on through the thick brush.

  The sun had risen well above the horizon, and the cold in his bones began to melt away.

  Over the next few days, he pressed ever further into the forest, stopping to rest only when his body forced him to. For most anyone else, the journey would be nearly impossible.

  But not for him.

  The stars were his guide. When night fell he would follow the path as lined out by the stars in the sky. Gaps in the tree cover gave him opportunity to study the map.

  It was a skill he'd learned long ago while researching Escitor, and one that had proved invaluable on his previous journey here. The people of old had used the stars as a guide in order to find their way. No matter how lost they became, a simple look at the stars would show them exactly where they were and where they needed to go. The night sky was the largest and most reliable map ever created.

  One was at the mercy of the elements, however. An overcast night often prevented him from traveling, and storms would often make it near impossible to find the stars through the swaying trees overhead.

  The fifth day of his journey through the Witchvale brought him to his destination. The top of a ruined building was his first indicator. More of the ancient city came into view as he closed in on it. Rodach pushed his way out of the bushes and into the clearing. Even after being abandoned for hundreds of years the stone paths still held together. Plants poked through in some places, but it was still clear of larger bushes and trees.

  The dead city, Escitor. He returned once more.

  Ruined and crumbling buildings dotted the area in front of him. The temple where he had found the chest was close. He just needed to find it.

  Rodach followed the path as it wound its way past and through ancient buildings. He felt the same sense of awe as when he first discovered the abandoned city. The architecture was something that he had never expected to find deep within a forest. Rodach had speculated on how they had gotten all of this stone here, but he never had any concrete proof.

  The buildings were constructed in such a way that they were sturdy, well supported, and made use of every bit of space around them. There was only so much open space in the forest and the people that had lived here made use of every bit of it.

  He blinked and held his hand up against the glare. The vision in his other eye had returned. The headaches had receded with the passing of time, but the blindness was the last thing to go. Rodach stood in front of the temple as it blazed in the sunlight with unrivaled beauty. The people of Escitor had made the entire temple out of blocks of gold.

  Their technology and resources must have been vast at their peak. That such a people would abandon this place strikes me as odd. I can only wonder what truly happened to the former denizens of Escitor.

  He couldn't imagine anyone being able to pull off such a spectacle in his time.

  The steps led up into a doorway that was at least three times his height and width. It was exactly how he remembered it. A structure symbolizing the best and worst of its people, unchanging in the test of time.

  Rodach moved up the steps and passed through the doorway. Inside, a man in a white cloak, with two axes strapped on either side, stood with his back to the door.

  He drew his sword and reached inside his bag. His hand wrapped around a vial of the potion. “Who's there?”

  The man turned around and faced him. “I figured you'd come back here, Rodach. I see you still haven't gotten your shadow back.”

  Rodach backed up in surprise. “Lochien. What are you doing here? Where's the Arguros chest?”

  Lochien smiled. “Don't worry. It's safe.” He patted the side of his robe. “We have much to discuss.”

  Rodach scowled. “Yes, we do. But first, I'm going to need that chest back.”

  The scholar shook his head. “You and I both know that's not going to happen.”

  “Then, I'll take it from you.” Rodach started to draw his sword.

  Lochien held up his hand. “That wouldn't be a wise choice on your part. However, if you are going to draw your sword, then you might want to use it on them.”

  Rodach turned his head in time to see several black clad figures running up the steps towards them.

  “I'm guessing they're friends of yours,” Lochien said from behind him.

  Rodach pulled out a vial, popped off the cork, and took a swig. His vision blurred for a moment, the ache in his head returned, and his hands shook.

  Bloody hell. I've taken too many. It's starting to lose its potency.

  He grabbed another vial and downed it. His vision returned, the aches faded and his hands steadied.

  This is the last time. My body can't take much more of this.

  Rodach threw the vial away and drew his sword. “They're no friends of mine.”

  Lochien walked up to Rodach and stood beside him. “Well,” he pulled the pair of axes from his belt, “I guess we'd better go and greet them, just the same.”