The Labyrinth of Destiny (17 page)

Adesina surmised that this Shimat
was quite young. The Shimat’s form was without fault, but there was something
lacking in the way she fought. Adesina felt as though she was sparring with an
automaton.

The young L’avan queen used a
thread of
vyala
to create an illusion of herself and then stepped to the
side. The Shimat was suddenly faced with two of the same opponent and seemed
confused as to how to respond.

Adesina took advantage of the
slight hesitation and flicked her blade forward in a precise strike. Falcon cut
deep into the muscle of the Shimat’s shoulder, causing her to cry out in pain.

The wound did not completely
disable the Shimat, but she was slowed. True to her Shimat training, the woman
switched her short sword to the other hand and rushed at Adesina again,
ignoring the projected illusion.

Adesina let the illusion disappear
as she prepared to defend herself. This war with Cha-sak would be long, and she
didn’t want to drain her energy by using too much of her
vyala
too
often.

Adesina knew that the bulk of her
strength would have to be reserved for her confrontation with Cha-sak. He would
not give up this world without a fight, and Adesina knew that she would be the
one to face him.

Even so, she could not stand back
and let others battle until that day came. Adesina
wanted
to fight the
Shimat. She wanted to take part in ridding the world of that dark and twisted
organization.

Should that weaken her for her
fight with Cha-sak…

Well, she would deal with that
later.

For now, she brought Falcon to bear
and met her opponent with all of the strength and training she had spent her
life accumulating.

L’iam hated riding away from the
battle.

He had used every reasonable
argument he could conceive—and several that were unreasonable—to try and
convince Adesina against leading the battle herself. When that had failed, he
had tried to convince himself that her decision was the right one.

That had failed as well.

He did what he had promised to do,
even though it felt like a grave mistake. He resisted the urge to rush to his
wife’s side, and he accompanied Hestia back to the heavily fortified camp.

L’iam said little during the long
ride, and Hestia didn’t seem inclined to speak either. Both of their thoughts
were with loved ones on the battlefield.

They were not challenged as they
rode toward the gate of the camp. The L’avan guarding the walls included those
who could use their
vyala
to sense the spirit and intentions of others,
and so L’iam and Hestia were recognized without needing to speak.

The physical gate rumbled closed
behind them, and the L’avan guards in charge of creating a magical barrier to
protect the camp sealed the hole through which L’iam and Hestia had been
allowed to enter.

The lithe, thin figure of the
grey-skinned Laithur met them near the gate of the camp. He was almost as tall
as L’iam sitting on horseback, and his glittering black eyes narrowed in
distaste.

“I have been sent to be of
assistance to you,” stated Ruon in a voice that was sibilant without being a
full hiss.

L’iam bowed at the waist humbly. “I
am grateful for your willingness, Immortal One.”

Ruon eyed the L’avan king
suspiciously, as if wondering if L’iam was being sincere or sarcastic. “Lady
Sitara has positioned herself where she can watch the whole of the battle, and
she will relay pertinent information to me. I will keep your maps updated on
the positions of the two opposing forces.”

Hestia tilted her head to the side.
“How are you able to do that?” she asked, curious.

“My mind is not so limited as those
of mortals,” Ruon snapped irritably. He calmed his emotions and went on with
more tolerance. “My race has enhanced mental abilities and we can become
attuned to the minds of others—with some effort, of course, and the cooperation
of the other party. Lady Sitara and I have taken the necessary steps to take
advantage of this ability, and we will use it to aid your efforts.”

L’iam knew that Adesina had a hard
time getting along with Ruon, but he did not have the same sort of difficulty.
Unlike his wife, L’iam had been raised with knowledge of the Immortals and a
deep awe for their very existence. If an Immortal was a little impatient with
lesser beings, what did it matter? It was still a very great honor to be in the
presence of one.

L’iam bowed a second time. “I thank
you most humbly, Immortal One. Your contribution is invaluable.”

A hint of a smile crossed Ruon’s
flat face, and the remnants of his bad mood seemed to disappear. “I can also
give some advice on strategy, if you wish. I am not unfamiliar with battle,
after all. I was an important leader during the Great Wars.” Ruon paused for a
moment before adding, “Although, not on the same side as your ancestors.”

L’iam knew that the Laithur were
considered to be demons—fallen creatures of Light. However, he also understood
the implications of them pledging their support to Adesina and her cause.

“Any advice you can offer would be
most welcome,” L’iam said with sincerity.

“You were alive during the Great
Wars?” asked Hestia.

She had not had the opportunity to
spend much time with any of the Immortals, and she knew little about their
history.

Ruon glanced at her in surprise.
“Of course. Do humans truly know so little of their own past?”

Hestia’s cheeks flushed red and she
looked down at her hands.

Ruon seemed to take pity on her,
and he explained in a more gentle tone. “Eons ago, the Ancients banded together
for The Great Creation. This world was created first, with all of its plants
and waters and stones. Then the one hundred races of Immortals were born. We
were created as servants for the Ancients, and this world was to be our home.
Every race of Immortals has a patron deity to which they are tied. For example,
the Serraf and the Rashad serve the Creator, and the Laithur serve the Seer.”

Hestia nodded. “What about humans?”

“Humans were created later, along
with the animals of this world,” Ruon said dismissively. “The mortals were made
to be servants to the Immortals.”

L’iam frowned. “I was taught
something different than that, Immortal One.”

“Oh?”

L’iam went on, undeterred by Ruon’s
sneer. “I was taught that the Creator made humans as a final gift to this
world. They were meant to be helpers and companions to the Immortals, and
stewards of this realm.”

Ruon’s expression was incredulous.
“Where did such teachings arise?”

“From our Serraf ancestors,”
answered L’iam softly.

That gave the Laithur pause.

“Well,” Ruon said after a moment of
silence, “I would be less trusting of teachings that have been handed down
through generations than direct knowledge. I suppose the Serraf would have a
better understanding of the intentions of the Creator, but I would ask Lady
Sitara instead of relying on L’avan teachings.”

His tone made it clear that he
thought it very unlikely that Sitara would support any claim of humanity’s
importance.

“Thank you, Immortal One,” said
L’iam with respect. “I will speak to her as soon as it is convenient.”

Ruon waved his slender hand, as if
giving L’iam leave to waste his time as he chose.

They arrived at the command tent,
and L’iam and Hestia dismounted their horses. A young groom received the reins
and led the animals away. K’eb was waiting at the entrance of the tent and
welcomed them with a smile.

“Your military advisors are waiting
for you, Your Majesty.”

L’iam nodded and walked into the
tent.

When L’iam’s father had been alive,
there were seven military advisors that he trusted in all things. Me’shan, as
Chief Protector General, was in charge of the L’avan military as a whole,
second only in rank to the king. Two of the other advisors had been the most
experienced Protector Generals, and the remaining four were retired Protector
Generals. They had served King L’unn well, and L’iam had grown up listening to
their wisdom.

Of those seven advisors, only three
remained alive. The two active Protector Generals had been killed during the
attack on Pevothem six years earlier, and two of the retired Protector Generals
had died of illness and old age.

Me’shan was near the battlefield,
standing at the head of the reserve army and watching the flow of the battle as
his daughter led the fight. Me’shan’s younger brother, Ri’sel, was waiting in
the command tent, ready to replace his older brother on the battlefield when he
grew weary. Two other advisors, Z’eki and Me’da, stood with Ri’sel at the table
in the center of the command tent.

Z’eki was a man with silver hair
and beard, and a face well-lined with age. His eyes belied his withered form,
crackling with energy and enthusiasm. He had been the Chief Protector General
before Me’shan had taken over that position.

Me’da was the only woman living to
have achieved the rank of Protector General. She had dedicated her life to
serving as a soldier, and when she retired she was immediately invited to be a
royal advisor. She also had silver hair, as a descendant of Ed’mon, but her
eyes were more calm and measured than Z’eki’s. She constantly had a calculating
expression on her face, as if she were planning a strategy for everything that
came her way.

They both bowed to L’iam when he
entered the tent and murmured the customary, “Your Majesty.”

L’iam acknowledged them with
respect and walked over to the table filled with maps. He suppressed a sigh as
he looked at the piles of papers.

What he would give to be on the
battlefield, fighting beside his beloved wife…

Such thoughts were useless. He was
needed there, in the command tent, making the plans that would—hopefully—lead
his wife and his soldiers to victory.

“Very well,” said L’iam, taking a
deep breath. “I need updated maps on where we stand.”

Ruon moved forward to adjust the
tokens that served to represent the different military groups.

L’iam glanced from Hestia to his
advisors. “Let us get to work.”

***

Me’shan watched to flow of battle
with a strange mixture of horror and pride. The soldiers of the L’avan and
Seharan army were fighting well, especially considering that most of them had
never seen battle before that day.

Even so, the sight of so much
bloodshed was sickening.

Me’shan had been a soldier all of
his adult life. He had studied everything there was to know about war and
strategy. He had been the best swordsman in Pevothem in his youth. He had seen
plenty of conflict on a small scale—fights between groups of Seharans and so
forth. However, this was the first time he had seen war.

The last battle that the L’avan
people had faced happened when Me’shan was far to the south. He had been
kidnapped by the Shimat, and so the L’avan had been forced to confront their
enemies without the leadership of their Chief Protector General.

It wasn’t that Me’shan thought he
could have changed the course of that battle six years previous, but he
couldn’t help but wonder if his knowledge and skills could have saved some of
the lives that had been lost.

He shook away such thoughts. It did
no good to dwell on the past. Besides, if he had not been kidnapped, his lost
daughter never would have found her way home.

Me’shan looked down the hill and
across the field where the two opposing forces clashed. Even at this distance
Adesina was easy to see. The gleam of her armor made her stand out among the
masses of leather and chain mail.

The breastplate served as a symbol
for the L’avan. It brought to mind their forefathers and all that had been done
to obtain peace after the Great Wars. It raised morale to see their queen
wearing the armor. Me’shan just wished that it didn’t make her so much of a
target for their enemies.

Me’shan watched Adesina fight, and
she was constantly in the center of a large knot of conflict. Shimat assassins
and mercenaries alike recognized her as an important leader and sought to take
her life. L’avan and Seharan soldiers alike rallied to fight at her side.

Me’shan was so proud of his
beautiful daughter. She had overcome so much hardship, and she had not grown
bitter as so many would have in her place. She had grown into a woman of
strength and compassion, and she was a true leader in every sense of the word.

E’rian would have been so happy to
see what their daughter had become. She had always said that Ma’eve was meant
for great things.

A frown creased Me’shan’s brow.
Even the wildest dreaming of two hopeful parents could not have anticipated
what the future had held in store. E’rian had said that their daughter was
destined for greatness, but they could not have imagined that Adesina would
become the queen of the L’avan and the Threshold Child.

It could not be easy to be at the
center of such a prophecy. There were so many expectations, and yet so much
ambiguity as to
what
was expected.

Adesina had told him about the full
prophecy and about what had happened during her journey to Zonne. More
importantly, she had told him what had happened to her once she reached the
Threshold.

A Serraf.

Adesina had become a Serraf.

The very idea was baffling. Me’shan
could hardly believe it, even now. He had always hoped to step into his role as
her father—to give her guidance when she needed it. Now it felt like that would
be impossible. What advice could he possibly give to a Serraf? She also had the
benefit of guidance from those like Ravi, Lady Sitara, Lady Riel, and Lord
Ruon. Me’shan knew he was not as wise nor as powerful as any of them.

He pressed his lips together as a
resolution came to his mind.

He may not be able to provide his
daughter with guidance, but he could certainly give her his support—for that
was a father’s duty as well.

Me’shan’s thoughts focused more
sharply on the battle before him.

The flow was shifting, leaving the
eastern soldiers more exposed. Mercenary archers were moving into place to try
another volley on the distracted L’avan.

Me’shan called his aide to his side
to issue some orders.

“Enemy archers are moving into
place. Our Orange soldiers need to be at the ready to deflect those arrows.”

The aide rushed off to deliver the
message.

It was difficult for Me’shan to sit
back and watch others fight, but at moments like this he was glad. He could see
the greater picture of the battle and help those who were giving their best on
the field.

He could protect his daughter from
unseen enemy attacks.

In the distance, arrows were
loosed.

Me’shan shouted the command for
counter-attack.