Eternal Beasts

Unlocking Madness

Quinn's thoughtful expression tightened slightly. The old ruins at Koth Extant were only a few sectants' on horseback from Black Bend, a distance one could walk in a day, if pressed. With water and easy provisions nearby, it would've made the perfect location for a raider camp, if one truly existed. It was odd, as Kellet said, that the trappers, normally quite thorough in their foraging through the forest during their long trips into the Kasidian, didn't find any trace of raiders. Such news threw a dark shadow of doubt over the young woman's story.

Yet there was no denying the young man's injuries, plain as day at dawn. Something had befallen the pair, that much was certain. But if not capture by Darkling raiders, then what?

"If you're thinking raider spies, constable, I suggest you look elsewhere," the big gentleman farmer rumbled, his thoughts still churning. "As cruel as they are, the Darklings don't beat their own as this young man has suffered. While I don't have any explanation for it, something strange is afoot here. Morgan reported conflicting scents swirled about the two when they first arrived, a cloud that hinted both of cinnamon and brimstone."

Kellet shot a tight look over at Quinn, eyebrow peaked with curiosity. Cinnamon was a rare spice in the settlements north of the Western Kingdoms, bought at great price from traveling merchants. Rare, but available, and quite desirable. The other scent, however, was an entirely different matter.

"Brimstone?" he repeated hoarsely.

Quinn jerked a nod in reply. By the expression on the wiry constable's face, the revelation had sparked the same thought in his mind as Morgan's revelation had in his. Brimstone, the stink of sulfur and scale, meant one thing, and one thing alone: dragons. Long thought legend, eight years ago saw their horrible return to the Cael Nerath, their fiery breath searing great swaths of destruction through the settlements. In a cataclysm of pyroclastic fury, the great flying reptiles proved to the vadu just how terribly real they truly were.

The subject of conversation and not a few silent musings and conjectures yet completely unaware of them, Jared relaxed slightly as another wave of tingling warmth, this time localized in his ribs to address his injuries there, washed through him. Whoever this woman was, she had the magical talent to reach inside his body and sooth the pain away, much as the book had done while he was in that cage. Bit by bit she was erasing the lingering effects of his torture, leaving healed tissue and eased nerves behind.

Despite the healing touch, the lanky young man couldn't force himself to relax completely. Even as the latest wave eased the ache in his side, he found himself tensing along the back as if anticipating another blow. Making things worse was the return of the burning city in his mind's eye, appearing every time he closed his eyes. What did it mean?

His answer came swiftly: as the healer worked on his side, the vision came strong, the air dark with dust and ash, his ears catching the screams of the dying and his nostrils filled with the stink of fire. Desperately Jared tried to open his eyes and blink the vision away, only to discover he couldn't. As he had before, the book's human form appeared out of swirling clouds of smoke obscuring the top of the wall the lanky young man found himself standing on once again.

"You must tell the healer to stop," the ordinary-looking man sternly commanded, arms crossed over his chest. He also wore a determined expression, his eyes so hard Jared took a half step back in alarm.

"Your destiny must unfold in its due course. The healer reaches too deep in her efforts to make you whole. Her magic will unlock what Fate put inside you, and will open the door before you are ready. She must stop!"

Jared blinked wildly and found himself staring up at the ceiling of the storeroom where he lay in the cot.

"Stop," he croaked, echoes of the book's alarm still ringing in his head.