Victim of Fate by Jason Halstead

the soggy ground. If the stream had erupted
in poisonous bubbles, he wondered if the marsh he'd found himself
in would do the same thing. Alto sucked in a deep breath and held
it until colors danced in his vision. He repeated the process,
hoping against hope it would keep him safe from the fog.
    Alto paused after several minutes of trudging
through the swamp. He panted a few moments and then stared into the
darkness. Leaning to the left and the right, he confirmed his hunch
and grinned. He saw lights. He wondered if it was the torches of
his friends or someone's house he might rest and recover in.
    With a final breath, he made ready to head
out when something splashed in the marsh behind him. Alto spun,
sword held ready, and peered into the darkness. He saw a ghostly
white image materialize from the shadows, starting with what looked
like a pointed spear.
     
    * * * *
     
    Rosalyn was detached. The adventurers neared
the wasp nest, making it far further than they had any right to.
The magic of the mirror allowed her to see through the dark,
showing how doomed they were soon to be by the wasps. She turned
her thoughts away, wondering instead what she needed to do to
convince her captor that she was ready to be his plaything. At
least until she could escape and return to her family. The wizard's
mirror had shown her they were alive.
    Without explanation, the adventurers turned
and fled from the nest. Rosalyn perked up, surprised by the turn of
events. All but one of them ran as though their lives depended on
it, for surely they did. The one who lagged behind still fled but
he seemed confused. He glanced about and slipped on the banks of
the river. At one point, the young warrior even dropped his shield.
Rosalyn bit her lip; he was the one she'd hanged her hopes on. Now
something was wrong with him.
    Her tooth split her lip open when she saw
shapes emerge from the trees that looked to have come from a
nightmare. Animals with mismatched parts converged on the
adventurers, driving the warrior farther from the rest. He was
surely doomed this time.
    The warrior looked up in time to take the
swipe of a bear on his armored shoulder instead of the side of his
head. He was sent sliding back into the river but at least he was
alive a few minutes longer. He rose up and attacked, moving with a
speed and strength she hadn't seen before. The aberration that
attacked him soon fell to the side. The warrior moved on, calling
out to his friends through the mass of unnatural creatures.
    Rosalyn frowned. Why had the mirror focused
on the warrior and not the rest of his troop? She could see through
the battle that they were fighting and retreating, but she couldn't
make out any details. One of them was even casting spells. She
wondered what Therion thought of that. Was this wandering wizard a
threat to him?
    The warrior made his way up the bank of the
stream and away from the river, only to be attacked again by
another aberration. He was knocked off his feet, pinned against a
tree this time, but the beast that assaulted him was also stunned
by the assault. He used the precious seconds well and threw himself
at the hybrid animal, cleaving its deer head in two on his way
past. He kept going, lurching deeper into the forest and picking
his path at random. He kept glancing back but none of the creatures
gave chase.
    His breathing slowed and he seemed to settle
down. As he came to his senses, he studied the forest and took
breaks, appearing to try to determine his direction. Rosalyn began
to suspect he was a dullard until she noted how carefully he was
studying the ground and the trees. He was trying to figure
something out. She sucked on her lip and wondered what it was that
intrigued the man so. He moved on, picking his path with care as
the ground began to soften under him.
    Rosalyn grimaced. She could see the puddles
and pitfalls that lay ahead of him but she could tell from the way
he walked that he could not. He stopped and retraced his steps