The Threads of Destiny - Chapter 2 (Rewritten 12/30/23)

The general flow of this chapter is the same, and although new elements are written, they are generally not present in this story (although the exact way things worked out in individual instances is different, the outcomes are generally the same with everything)

Chapter 2: A Stranger’s Interest

After the excitement of finding the ring and his discussion with Elder Miriam, life returned more or less to normal. It had been nearly a month since he found the ring in the forest, and yet it was as if his life hadn’t changed at all. He was still here, working the forge, occasionally missing a step and getting yelled at by Master Ironhand, and he still slept in the small storage room in back of the Forge.

And yet, in other ways, it had changed completely. He was more distracted, for sure. Master Ironhand was forced to correct him much more regularly, to the point where he even contemplated sending him to a nearby village that had a healer, fearing Osric had somehow fallen ill. Osric had convinced his master that wasn’t the case, but it had been a close thing.

He knew why he was having so much trouble focusing, of course. He could feel the reason, lying heavy under his shirt. Each evening, when work was done, Osric would hurry to Elder Miriam’s cottage, asking if she’d found anything, and every evening he’d been sent away, disappointed. Last week, she’d told him she’d all but exhausted her own materials, but told him that wasn’t the end. She’d reached out to friends in Wolfsridge, the baronial capital, asking for their help in the search. Those assurances had also come with not-too-subtle hints that perhaps Osric should stop checking every night. She promised to let him know the very moment she heard anything.

He hadn’t been back since then. Not that he distrusted her, he just found the wait unbearable, and desperately wanted answers. Absently, Osric’s fingers clasped the ring that hung from a chain beneath his tunic. Its etched band was warm against his skin. Over the passing weeks, he swore he’d felt it stir subtly... but decided it was just his imagination, fueled by restlessness.

Osric barely saw Master Ironhand in time to refocus on his work. Ironhand stopped and inspected the glowing shoe Osric had on the anvil in front of him.

“Well struck, lad. See, if you just focus on your work, you do fine,” he must have seen the look on Osric’s face, because he paused and said, “Go on then, get going. Try to relax, shake off whatever has you so preoccupied. I want you back in the morning, focused and ready to do an honest day’s work.”

“Yes, Master Ironhand. Thank you,” Osric said, ducking his head in appreciation as he cleaned up his work area.

In ten minutes he had everything put away and the forge cooling for the night. Like he had all week, he stepped out of Master Ironhand’s shop and stopped in the doorway, looking one way toward the center of town and Elder Miriam, and the other toward the tavern where he would find dinner and a cold drink before returning to sleep on his pallet in the storage room.

He looked back toward the city center, thinking hard. It wasn’t just finding out about the ring, although that was certainly part of the pull toward the town center. He also wanted to talk to Talia. Ever since that night, the Elder had kept her apprentice Talia close at hand.

He wanted to ask her about the magic he’d seen that night. Not only what they had done to make the light appear, but how she even knew magic. They had talked so many times and not once did she let it slip. He couldn’t imagine keeping something like that a secret.

Or maybe he could, he thought, his hand going again to the ring around his neck. It wasn’t really a decision, though. The Elder was keeping her locked away, limited to quick trips here or there to retrieve things, on purpose, and she’d made it clear she wanted fewer visits from Osric.

Sighing, he turned towards the tavern. As with every night, the tavern was a hive of activity as people came and went, drinking with friends or getting something to eat that they didn’t have to make themselves. You could hear the laughter and noise before you even stepped through the door.

Osric entered the familiar warmth of the tavern and nodded greetings to the regulars as he pushed his way through the crowded room, finding an open table. They were a small community, so every face was a familiar face. Some he saw regularly, like the stable master, who always seemed in need of a horseshoe, while others he saw only on rare occasions, like Osbert, who lived far north of town.

He’d just taken his seat and waved for Lily to bring him a drink when he caught the briefest snippet of conversation. It was one of those moments when the sound dies down, just enough that a word or phrase can be picked out from a nearby table. While that wasn’t uncommon, what was said was. He heard the words ‘unusual,’ ‘found,’ and ‘recently.’ Separately, they might not mean much to others, but they sent a shiver down Osric’s spine. Turning as subtly as he could, he looked over his shoulder to see who had said the words. The man had a hood pulled up, covering most of his face, making it impossible to see what he looked like. That was also strange. It was warm outside and warmer still in the tavern. Much too warm to have a cloak on, let alone with the hood pulled up. He was talking to three men that Osric knew, none of whom seemed much interested in the stranger.

Osric felt his blood run cold as he stared at the hooded stranger. He knew with sudden, absolute certainty that this man was looking for the ring. How could he have found out about it already? Elder Miriam said she had told no one other than her friend in the capital.

Osric slowly turned back around, his mind racing. The man was making his way from table to table, talking to different groups around the tavern. Finally, he got close enough that Osric caught snippets of his questions.

“Have you ... unusual discovery ...?”

When the villagers shook their heads no, he moved on to the next table, and then the next. Each time, the man was met with confused responses or casual dismissals. As the hooded stranger stood up and moved toward the next table, his hood fell slightly back, revealing a face marked by an impressive scar trailing down one cheek. A face unfamiliar to Osric. The stranger’s demeanor seemed urgent, frantic even.

Osric knew he couldn’t stay here. The man was getting closer, and would be on him, asking him next. Osric wasn’t a strong liar; it just wasn’t a skill he’d ever had. If the man asked him questions about the ring, Osric didn’t know if he could make him believe he didn’t have it.

As Lily came over and set his drink down, Osric set a copper piece on the table and stood up, leaving his drink untouched.

“Don’t you want this?” she asked, a confused look on her face.

Osric looked at the man, worried her question would draw attention to him, but the man was still several tables away and didn’t seem to be paying attention.

“Uhh, no. I just realized I forgot something. I’ll be right back,” Osric said, and turned to hurry out of the tavern.

His first steps took him toward home, toward the blacksmith shop, then he thought better of it. The man might ask who the fellow who ran out was. They all knew Osric, knew where he slept. Finding him would be simple. He thought about Elder Miriam, but he couldn’t bring this kind of danger to her or Talia.

He settled on a side road that would take him out of town toward the hut where Fergus lived. Fergus was little more than a laborer, hired to do this or that simple job, which was fine for Fergus, who was equally simple. He was also as large as a house and Osric’s friend. If anyone could protect him, it was Fergus.

He’d just turned the corner when a figure stepped out from the shadows, blocking his path. It was the hooded stranger from the tavern, his scar seemingly more pronounced in the dim light, his eyes fixed on Osric with serious intent.

“What do you want?” Osric asked, his voice cracking slightly from nerves as he took a small step back, putting some room between him and the stranger.

“I’m looking for something ... unique,” he said, his voice low and menacing. “Something recently found in this area. You wouldn’t happen to know anything about that, would you?”

Osric could feel the weight of the ring against his chest.

“N... No. I haven’t seen anything. Have you asked in the tavern?” Osric said, gesturing vaguely back toward the tavern.

“You’re not a very good liar, lad,” he said with a cold, almost menacing chuckle. “Now, you can give me what I want, or I can kill you and take it afterward.”

To make his point, the man reached down and gripped the hilt of his sword, sliding it an inch out of its scabbard, allowing the steel to reflect the moonlight and the light from the flickering torches near the much too-far-away tavern.

Osric lunged forward. His movements, fueled by adrenaline, were more instinct than skill. He grabbed the man’s arms, pinning them to his sides, preventing him from drawing his weapon.

The stranger growled in surprise and anger, wrestling to break free of Osric’s grip as they stumbled back against the wall of a nearby hut. Osric grit his teeth, holding firm despite the man’s furious struggles. Terrified, not knowing what to do, but knowing if the man got loose he would kill him, Osric reared his head back and slammed it brutally into the man’s face.

There was a sickening crunch as the man’s nose broke, blood streaming down his face. He cried out in pain, sagging in Osric’s grip. Seizing the moment, Osric released the man and stepped back, unsure what to do next. The man staggered, then steadied himself, his face contorted in fury. Blood dripping from his mangled nose, he reached again for his sword.

Osric had lost. He knew he was a dead man. Unthinking, he reached up and grabbed the ring through his shirt, regret filling him for all the things he hadn’t done. As the man drew his sword free, the ring began to glow, an intense crimson light emanating from beneath Osric’s tunic. Suddenly, a swirling tongue of magical energy lashed out, engulfing the stranger. He had only a moment for his eyes to go wide in shock before his entire body disintegrated into ash.

He stood there, stunned, staring at the pile of ash and the man’s fallen sword as the glowing light dimmed and then vanished. Hands shaking, Osric reached down, grabbed the sword, and fled.

He ran through the dark streets, his breath coming in panicked gasps, clutching the ring beneath his tunic. He had killed a man. The stranger had threatened him, reached for his blade with clear lethal intent, but still... Osric had taken a life. Was it self-defense when he used the ring’s power? He didn’t even understand what had happened, only that intense light had erupted and engulfed the man.

He couldn’t think. Elder Miriam would know what to do. She always had answers.

Osric stumbled to a halt outside her door, chest heaving. He raised a shaking hand to pound on the wood.

“Osric, I’m sorry, but Talia is away on an errand. She doesn’t have …,” she said, and then stopped, taking in his panicked state. “Child, what’s happened?”

His words tumbled out in a jumbled rush, “A man … he attacked … wanted the ring … there was a light and … and he turned to ash …”

“Slow down, slow down,” she soothed, guiding him into the cottage and easing him into a seat. “Start from the beginning.”

“A man … he attacked me,” Osric said, nearing the verge of panic. “He said he was looking for something unique, an artifact, and he knew I had it. I tried to lie, tell him I didn’t, but he knew. He drew his sword and attacked me. We struggled, and I touched the ring and it glowed. It … I don’t know … it turned him into ash. Just burned him away in the blink of an eye. Right there.”

“What you describe, it’s a kind of magic I’ve only ever read about. This is powerful magic. Powerful. And you say the man knew you had it?”

“Yes. I don’t know how, but he knew.”

“This is dangerous, Osric. If the ring can do what you say, then it is far more dangerous than I thought. Not just to others, but to you as well.”

“I know,” Osric all but shouted. “What do I do? Do I get rid of it? Throw it away?”

“No, that would be a mistake. If it has truly bonded to you, and someone else finds it, someone who knows how to work its secrets, or even is just talented in the arts of magic, they could use it to find you or even potentially harm you. No, it’s much too dangerous to get rid of.”

“Then what am I to do?” Osric practically begged.

“I don’t know, but things are moving much too fast. Over the last several days, I’ve heard about unfamiliar faces in town. Strangers. If they are like the man you met, then you are in great danger if you remain here. You must leave Eldham, at least for now. Hide in the forest. Hopefully, in time, the strangers will lose interest.”

“But... this is my home.”

Elder Miriam placed a gnarled hand on his shoulder. “I know, child. And it pains me to send you away, but it’s for your own safety. Your life is at risk. I can pass the word; have our friends tell anyone who asks that you traveled the road north. These are strangers to our forest, and they don’t know the woods like we do. Our forest is large, and it’s easy for a person to get lost in them, but you’ve spent many hours over the years in them, collecting stone for Master Ironhand. You know them as well as most of us. You should be able to go deep into the forest and hide from them. I will give you some food. Stay there for two weeks, and then come back carefully. Find either myself or Master Ironhand. I will let him know what’s happening, and we will keep an eye out for the strangers. If they’ve left, we will let you know it’s safe to return.”

Elder Miriam rose stiffly, shuffling to a shelf lined with leather-bound books and curious artifacts. She retrieved a small pouch and returned to press it into Osric’s hands. Inside was enough food for a few days’ travel, as well as a skin of water. The reality of his situation sank in. He had to leave Eldham, the only home he’d ever known.

Osric, clutching the bundle, looked around the cottage. It was small, and even someone with her status had little, at least not enough to be giving it away to a scared young man.

“Thank you. You’ve been very kind to me. I know I’m putting you in danger, and I’m sorry.”

She waved the words away as if they were an annoyance and said, “Nonsense. I have looked over this village since before you were born and watched you grow from a small child. You are as much my responsibility as you were your parents; may the fates watch over their spirits.”

Stepping closer to him, she placed both hands on his shoulders, and her voice turned more serious. “Be vigilant, Osric. Trust your instincts and stay hidden. I will send word if I learn anything.”

“I will. Thank you again.”

With a final, lingering look at the safety of the elder’s cottage, Osric stepped out into the cool night air. He wrapped the cloak around the sword to further hide it and hurried through the darkened streets, his head swiveling constantly. As he made his way to the forest’s edge, the darkness seemed to envelop him, which he hoped was a good thing. With one last look back at his village, his home, Osric stepped into the underbrush.