Fate’s Pawn

“It’s bad enough how much can change in an instant. A couple of hours and bam. The whole world can look completely different.”

- Emdee, Time’s Auditor, from the Blue Box plays

Hoeru had never, not once in his life, known anger as strong as he felt sitting in the dark, staring at the door to his prison, waiting to pounce on whoever opened it. He’d been frustrated before, sure. He lived in a city of humans. Insane, absurd, ridiculous humans could frustrate even the most longsuffering changelings. He’d even been angry at them before. They could be thoughtless and even accidentally cruel. But before this, he’d believed them all to be basically well meaning, if a bit dull in the head.

Alban had changed that, and if Hoeru ever saw the slithering, black-hearted weasel again, there was going to be a reckoning. It was bad enough that he’d been locked in this pitch black hole for gods only knew how long. Worse still that they’d insulted him by thinking they could restrain him in one of their stupid chairs with the iron manacles. They’d have never gotten him into the chair in the first place if they hadn’t ganged up on him and clubbed him senseless while he was still in shock at what they’d done. Still, once he woke up, getting free had been simple. Extraordinarily painful, sure, but simple. He’d just had to pull hard enough that his hand broke. It fit through the hole just fine after that. Healing it had taken an effort that had left him hungry, but once he’d had a hand free, tearing the other shackles off was much easier. But it wasn’t the hunger, the pain, or even the indignity of his own imprisonment in this foul smelling hole that had Hoeru seething.

Alban had accused his human, Raziel, of being corrupted, knowing it wasn’t true. The wizard had falsely imprisoned his friend. That was unforgivable.

So Hoeru crouched in the darkness, waiting and watching the door. He had nothing but his rage to feed him, but the hunger growing in his belly only stoked that fire. Over and over again, he planned what he would do once the door opened. Normally he would have simply allowed his instincts to choose his actions for him, but in the dark there was little else to do but plan. There would be guards, but Hoeru wouldn’t be shocked or surprised this time. Whoever opened that door was going to regret it.

When the key was inserted into the lock, Hoeru felt the sound like nails scraping across his entire body. His rage filled his muscles, prepared him for battle. The blinding light tore at his eyes, but he was not human; he did not need his eyes. A howl ripped its way out of his throat as he flung himself through the door, into whatever luckless bastard was opening it.

He knew instantly that something wasn’t as he’d planned. He’d expected to hit metal. The guards would be wearing their armor. Alban was a fool, but not the kind of fool that would have opened the door himself. And yet what he hit was soft and squishy. And it squealed like a dying rabbit. Guards probably wouldn’t do that.

Still blind, Hoeru filled his nose with what was in the air. Fear was the first thing his nostrils reported. Sour fear-sweat. And blood, though not a lot of it. But there were other scents, scents he knew. The strongest one, the smell of the person he had slammed into was...

“Miles?” Hoeru’s hand was around Miles’ throat, and it took his confused mind a moment to realize why that might mean he wouldn’t be able to answer.

“Hoeru! Stop!” That was Keira’s voice. A hand fell on his shoulder and, instinctively, Hoeru slid away and snatched at it. The arm that was attached to the hand was large, strong. Immovable even to Hoeru’s changeling strength. Roland.

Hoeru stepped back blinking, trying to force his eyes to get used to the light. The magic lamps lighting the room weren’t particularly powerful, but they were more than enough to sting and bring tears to his eyes.

“Stay back,” he growled, hearing someone take a step towards him. Anger still coursed through him and he needed to be under control. He didn’t want to hurt them, but his fury didn’t care who its target was. Some part of his mind warned him that this could be some kind of trap. There was no reason for them to lay a trap for him when he was already caught, but humans were strange and their minds worked in twisted paths. He clubbed down the rage that filled him while he waited for his eyes to tell him more of what was going on.

When he was finally able to see, the scene before him was decidedly strange. Three guards were unconscious on the floor. That explained the blood smell. Keira, Roland, and Miles were all watching him warily. Hoeru had seen the expression on their faces before. Wary fear. Distrust. Uncertainty. He glanced down at his hands, ran his tongue over his teeth. His nails had begun to turn into claws and his teeth had grown sharper. He knew how he must look to them then. Wild. Like an animal.

Though their appearance could say otherwise, changelings were vastly different creatures from humans. Humans, shaped by the gods Destiny and Fate, had to chose to use magic. To learn it. The changelings were made by Passion and Beauty and had magic running through their very veins.

Every changeling took on traits from some facet of nature, generally animals. Their emotions could trigger the magic within them to bring those traits closer to the surface, to transform them. Most changelings lived in nomadic tribes out in the untamed places of the world. They needed that strength just to survive. But Hoeru was not in the forest. He was among humans. He didn't need strength just then. He needed control.

So he closed his eyes, though he listened intently for any sign of a threat, and breathed. The anger in his chest did not want to subside, rumbling within him like angry thunder. He soothed it, telling it that there would be a time and a place for it. After several long breaths, he felt his nails begin to recede and his teeth begin to lose their edge. It was an uncomfortable grating feeling though not exactly painful. When he was ready, he opened his eyes again. The fear on the human’s faces had faded.

“Where is Raz?” Hoeru asked, trying to sound normal though he couldn’t quite keep all of the wolf’s growl out of his voice yet.

“Hopefully in one of these other rooms,” Keira said, caution still filling her voice. “You… okay?”

“Hungry. Do you have food?”

Keira and Roland both glanced at Miles. He was still laying on the ground, staring at Hoeru with eyes that showed too much white. But he had a large backpack.

“Miles. Do you have food?” Hoeru asked, trying to be gentle. His voice still came out a bit rough. Miles nodded jerkily.

“Give me food, Miles,” he said when Miles didn’t move.

Miles never took his eyes off Hoeru. But he shrugged out of his pack and pulled it in front of him. He felt around in the bag for a moment and came up with a bag. He threw it to Hoeru. Hoeru caught it, and it felt like it was full of rocks. It was actually nuts and dried fruit. Almost as bad.

“What are you doing here?” Hoeru asked as he crunched through a mouthful.

“Miles, go try the other doors,” Keira said before turning back to Hoeru. “We’re here to get you and Raz. Alban is working with that corrupted person in the mask we saw in the woods. He wants something under that tower in the fort. We need you to help us get there.”

Hoeru narrowed his eyes while he thought. He could believe that Alban would do something like that. The wizard had always smelled wrong. Like he’d been hiding something. And it did help explain why he might falsely accuse Raziel of corruption. But something still didn’t sit right.

“Why are you doing this?”

“Saving you?”

“Saving us. Going into the forest. All of it. This isn’t your place. Why are you here and not Duriel. Dominic. Or one of the knights.”

Hoeru knew Keira was going to lie before words left her mouth. Humans always thought they were so clever with their words, but their bodies always told the truth. She’d tried to hide it, but she’d gone stiff. There was a moment of hesitation, and her eyes flicked away.

“I couldn’t trust them. If Mask has gotten to Alban, who knows who else he could have gotten to? We need to stop him first. Then we can worry about the rest.”

Hoeru poured more nuts and fruit into his mouth and chewed. She had locked eyes with him when she’d said that they needed to be stopped. That much was true, and he agreed with it. Hoeru had never met the spirit that lived in the fort but, much like the great wolf spirit whose territory bordered on the fort spirit’s, he knew of it.

He’d lived among the humans for a long time. At first out of necessity. Then curiosity. Finally because he accepted some of them as friends, as the only kind of family that he could have any more. But he couldn’t ignore his changeling nature, and that meant leaving the city. He’d come to know a lot about the surrounding forest. To hear its rumors and learn its secrets.

The spirit that lived in the fort was infatuated with humans. But it also lived to guard something. If one of the corrupted wanted whatever it was, it couldn’t be to a good end. The spirit would need help, and Hoeru could give it. The real question was, why bring her along? Hoeru was about to tell her no when Miles poked his head from the room he’d just opened.

“I found Raz. He won’t wake up.” There was a note of panic in his voice, not precisely controlled so much as uncertain how or in what direction to lose control.

Hoeru’s interest in the conversation with Keira died instantly. He was across the room and inside the door in seconds. What he saw drove a spike of emotion through him and left him standing perfectly still for several moments. Rage, sorrow, empathetic pain, hatred, all mixed together in a concoction that left him seething.

Raziel was stuck in a chair, much like Hoeru had been. Not being a changeling, he hadn’t been able to escape his bonds. His cheeks were sunken, the skin of his face seeming to hang from his skull. His lips were marked with black, dried blood where they’d cracked from lack of water. Hoeru could feel the ugly magic that had been used in the room again and again until it permeated the air. He could smell Alban in it.

One moment he was frozen in anguish at his human’s condition, the next he was at Raziel’s side, ripping the restraints from the chair like they’d been made of taffy. Without the restraints, Raziel started to slump down in the chair. Hoeru lifted him and was carrying him towards the door when Keira stepped into view.

“He needs help. Where’s Dietrich?”

Keira’s face went pale and she shook her head.

“Dietrich can’t help him right now.”

“Why not?”

“Alban… did something to him. There’s no one else here.”

Hoeru could hear his teeth grinding together as the wolf inside him howled in fury. He savagely fought it back down again. There’d be time for that later. He needed to think, and the wolf wouldn’t help that. If Dietrich couldn’t help, then perhaps one of the other doctors? But Hoeru didn’t know where to find them, and that was assuming Alban hadn’t gotten to them either. Duriel or Dominic might be able to help, but their skills in healing were limited at best.

Roland was still shaken though he was trying to hide it, keeping his face blank of emotion, though the tense set of his shoulders and his clenched fists betrayed him. Miles on the other hand was deep in thought, his eyes flitting about like an anxious bird, his hand hovering near his mouth.

“Hoeru, do you think Kusa could heal him?” he asked.

Hoeru rocked back on his heels at the thought. The spirit was powerful, to be sure. And it had already fixed Raziel’s broken arm. The more Hoeru thought about it, the more it became a question of if it would rather than if it could. They would need a way to pay it, though.

“Miles, did you bring any books with you?”

“Just a couple. Why?” Miles asked, but immediately his eyes widened as he understood. “Oh. Oh! That’s smart.”

“What?” Keira asked looking between them.

“Miles, tell her as we go. We need to hurry. It’s a long way to the fort.”

They had to split up to get to the wall surrounding Peritura. There was no way they could openly carry Raziel’s unconscious body without someone asking questions they didn’t need. Hoeru had told them where he wanted them to meet him, and then made his way to the rooftops with Raziel on his back. Jumping from the street to the top of one of the roofs with Raziel wasn’t easy, but the really hard part was doing it without making too much noise.

Running over the rooftops was much easier. Raziel’s weight wasn’t any more of a problem than a hat would be. The only tricky spots were a couple of instances where Hoeru had to leap between buildings. Hefting Raziel wasn’t an issue, but keeping his limp body from shifting and falling into the street below required precision in how Hoeru jumped and landed. Raziel’s weak, rasping breathing was in his ear the entire way, distracting him.

And yet he still beat Keira and the others to the spot. Maybe humans wouldn’t always be in such a hurry if they weren’t all so slow. Still, he could use the time to their advantage. He’d sent them to a section of the market district that was unlikely to be very active at night. A hub city like Peritura was never truly asleep. Skyships came in at every hour of the day or night. But near midnight people were less likely to need fancy new clothes or the magical crystal knick knacks they seemed to be so fond of for reasons that eluded Hoeru. Many such shops, filled with items that cost an unusually large amount, clustered near the wall in the market district. The logic was, as Hoeru had been told, that the shops were closer to the wall which meant they were closer to the guards and this would deter any would-be thieves from coming in the night when they were closed. Which was ridiculous, because the guards barely paid attention to the job they were actually being paid to do.

Why anyone would want the things in these shops was beyond Hoeru. Humans were like dwarves in that they seemed to enjoy collecting things, whether the things were needed or not. The clothes, for example, were laughably impractical; whether too hot, too cold, too thin, or made up of so much material that it was a wonder the humans didn’t use it as some sort of armor, they were all useless. The knick knacks at least had the advantage that you could probably throw them hard enough to hurt someone.

Raziel’s ragged breathing brought Hoeru’s mind back to the task at hand. Getting over the wall. If he were on his own, it would be easy. He knew it would be easy because he’d done it dozens of times. There were days and nights when he simply could not stand Peritura any longer. The overwhelming smells, sounds, crowds all wore on him, and he occasionally had to leave. During the day, it was simpler to get permission, promise to return before sunset and… well, he wouldn’t ever submit to having his mind picked over by that odious rat Alban again, but it had been simpler. At night though, he had to sneak past the guards. Fortunately the guards hadn’t had to deal with much in the way of spirits attacking the city, and so they were lax in their duties. Slipping past them was more a matter of patience and timing than anything else. He just waited for the guards to be distracted or asleep and jumped silently past.

But that probably wasn’t going to work for the others. They weren’t going to do well with a thirty foot drop from the top of the wall to the bottom. And they also weren’t going to be able to sprint the hundred or so yards of open ground between the wall and the forest in the couple of seconds needed to be sure they weren’t noticed by any of the guards who were actually doing their jobs.

So obviously, a distraction would be required.