Victim of Fate Read Online Free PDF Page A

pay?" Tristam reminded him.
    Karthor sighed. "Yes, they've offered gold
for help, but they don't have much."
    "Beats the promise of nothing, so long as we
don't lose any horses or equipment this time." Tristam turned and
pointed his fingers at the two youngest members of the Blades. "And
nobody's to be dying either!"
    "I'm good with that," Namitus said. Alto
grinned and stood up. Helping people plagued by monsters was fast
becoming his specialty.
     
     
     
     

Chapter 4
     
    "You've taken to the magic remarkably well,"
the wizard said to Rosalyn from where she stood in her magical
cage. Her cell was shaped like a birdcage, the bars made of golden
motes of magic. "So well that you've become resistant to it. My
dear sweet Rosalyn, what shall I do with you?"
    Rosalyn stood still. She could sit or lay
down, but that wouldn't do her any good. He'd punish her, and
punishment from the wizard was something she'd learned to avoid.
"Whatever you wish," she whispered.
    His eyes narrowed. He snapped his fingers and
triggered the magical tattoos he'd crafted into her skin. Rosalyn
clenched her jaw as the arcane artwork writhed in her flesh. It
burned and stole her breath. She'd lost track of time but she knew
that many weeks had passed and only now was she growing strong
enough to keep from dropping to her knees. Forcing her breath
through her constricted throat, she wheezed out, "Whatever you
wish, Master Therion."
    He twitched his wrist and the pain stopped.
Rosalyn had to catch herself to keep from falling. "Much better,"
he praised her. "You're getting stronger and more willful. That's
ironic. I broke you quickly, yet your willpower increases. Just
goes to show you needed to have your foolish pride freed up to
allow you to use it in other ways. I wonder..."
    Rosalyn stood still while Therion turned and
strode away into another room. Once she was sure he was gone, she
allowed herself to relax. She looked down at the lines of ink that
were dormant now. They looked no more harmful than mud or paint
that depicted fanciful vines that wound around her torso. Therion
had painted the magical symbols on her using ink that smelled foul
and burned. All the while he chanted words that made a strange
sense to her, even though she couldn’t understand them. They lulled
her into complacency and stilled her skin even though her body
tried to cringe beneath the agony.
    The end result was artwork that screamed of a
scandal. To paint such things upon her flesh, an artist would have
painted them directly upon her breasts, stomach, and even farther
below. Not that her current situation, being imprisoned naked and
ogled constantly by the wizard, was any less scandalous. She now
itched day and night as the hair that he'd used his magic to burn
away grew back. She hated Therion, but she feared him, too. She
wondered if the day would ever come that her hatred grew greater
than her fear.
    "Admiring my artwork?"
    Rosalyn jerked her head up. He was grinning
as he stared at her. "I was more than a little impressed myself.
I've never been much of an artist. You inspired me."
    He made a gesture and a full-length mirror
floated out from the other room. It came to rest next to him and
just outside her cage. She gasped when the mirror shimmered and
instead of showing her own reflection, it depicted a man wearing a
tabard over a suit of chain mail walking into a building. The sign
next to the door showed a sword and axe crossed in front of a
blazing sun.
    "The pathetic people of Fairhaven have sent
for help. Is this man, perhaps, your savior?"
    Rosalyn gasped as the man turned to open the
door. She saw a holy symbol of Leander hanging from his neck.
"Master, why do you torture me?" Rosalyn whimpered.
    "It pleases me," Therion said with a chuckle.
His laughter died as he watched her study the man entering the
building. Her eyes lit up as she saw him greet four others. He
turned, following her gaze to the young man who looked out of
place. He chuckled again and then