by Callie Kanno
Then, following some unexplained instinct, she turned her sight downward to the sandy ground.
There!
He seemed to have fallen into some sort of sinkhole.
No, it was more than that. Maizah could see the outline of his form struggling violently with another shape. The phantom was not as clear as the aura of Than’os—only bearing traces of the life light—but she could see that it was some sort of creature that had built its nest in the sand.
She could see that Than’os was struggling to free himself from the beast’s clutches.
Maizah was paralyzed by the situation.
She was the only one who could lend aid to the L’avan soldier. The others were too far away, and there was no guarantee that she could get their attention in time to save their comrade.
She had not been given any instructions. She had no orders to obey.
To act without orders was to invite a whipping, or even death.
There were erratic flares in Than’os’s aura. He was trying to use his magic to fight, but he did not appear to be winning.
What should she do?
A good slave would stay out of the way. It would be degrading to a Master to receive help from such a source. Should the Master die, another Master would come to collect the belongings—including the slave.
Than’os was not a Master, though. And he did not see Maizah as a slave. He saw her as an equal.
What would an equal do in this situation?
She climbed down from her saddle and hurried over to where Than’os had strapped his sword to his saddlebags. Then Maizah rushed over to the faint indent in the sand that outlined the creature’s nest.
The Tracker took a deep breath and jumped down the sinkhole.
Maizah aimed the blade as she fell, attempting to wound the part of the beast that held tight to the L’avan.
She heard a terrible screech as she hit the ground, and Than’os was dropped next to her. Maizah looked up and saw a monster the size of a horse staring down at them. It almost looked like an ant, but with a gaping maw—now bleeding from the sword stroke—and too many limbs.
Maizah knew that she was no warrior, but Than’os appeared to be injured and in no condition to fight. She gripped the sword with both hands and swung it back and forth while lunging at the creature.
The monster was not accustomed to fighting its food, and it shied away from the glinting weapon, retreating deeper into its underground nest.
As soon as the beast appeared to be gone, Maizah ran back to Than’os and lifted him into a sitting position.
His leg was bleeding and broken, and there were several punctures along his abdomen from the pincer of the monster. He seemed to be lucid, though, and he squeezed her hand in relief.
“Thank you, Maizah. You saved my life!”
A feeling of warmth passed over her and settled into her chest. She stared at Than’os in wonder and it was as if something was expanding deep within her soul.
Yes, she thought to herself, I did.
Chapter Thirty-two: Vyuhava
Adesina looked over the sleeping members of her party, and she was glad that they were once again all together. There were dangers in the desert that they hadn’t been prepared to meet, and they were safer as a group.
She directed her eyes to Than’os and a chill passed over her heart.
At the moment he was bandaged and resting comfortably. Mar’sal would heal him fully in the morning. How close had they come to losing him?
If it hadn’t been for Maizah…
A gentle hand touched her arm, and she turned to see Kendan standing beside her.
“You should get some sleep, Adesina. I have had more than my fair share of rest, and I have been assigned this watch.”
She gave a distracted nod. “Yes, I know.”
“Do you not trust me to stay awake?” he asked with a teasing smile.
The young queen looked him squarely in the eyes. “I trust you, Kendan.”
His smile faded. “You do?”
“Yes.”
There was a flicker of emotion that crossed his face, but he quickly covered it with a neutral expression. “Thank you, Adesina. That truly means a lot to me.”
Kendan reached out and brushed her arm with his fingertips, and then he walked away without looking back.
Adesina felt sad as she watched him leave. She caught a glimpse of the lives they could have led, if they had made different choices.
If she had stayed a loyal member of the Shimat organization, he would have continued to train her as she acclimatized to her responsibilities, and he probably would have supervised her first handful of missions. They would have continued to work together closely, and their emotional bond would have strengthened over time. Then, perhaps, they would have found a way to balance a discreet personal relationship with their duties as Shimat.
If Kendan had joined the L’avan when Adesina was first discovered to be a traitor to the Shimat, he would have won Adesina’s heart completely. It would have been a difficult life—always on the run from Shimat retribution—but they would have had each other.
Those alternate lives were lost—among the other countless victims of the Shimat organization.
She didn’t hear a sound, but she sensed that Ravi was approaching. He had needed to hunt, and Adesina had sworn not to do anything other than prepare for sleep.
“Are you feeling refreshed, old friend?”
Ravi’s deep voice rumbled with satisfaction. “Yes, Ma’eve. I can go for quite some time without sustenance, but not indefinitely. My body was in great need of the nourishment.”
“What did you find to eat in this wasteland?” she asked, suddenly curious.
“Much life can be found, even in a desert,” was his only reply.
The corners of her mouth twitched with amusement at his evasive answer, and she walked to their small section of the camp. Adesina wrapped herself up tightly against the chill of the night air, and she closed her eyes with a sigh.
“You sense it coming as well,” she said softly to her guardian.
“Yes, I can sense the Dream.”
“This one seems…larger.”
Adesina couldn’t think of a better word to describe the feeling that was coming over her. In her mind there was a looming presence—the shadow of something momentous to come.
Ravi was aware of it as well. “I have been Dreaming my entire life, and I have only felt this once before.”
She opened her eyes and looked at the Rashad. “When was that?”
“Just before I had the Dream that altered the course of my entire life. I suspect that a pivotal decision is in your near future, and this Dream holds the information you need to make that choice. We call such Dreams vyuhava in the ancient tongue.”
Adesina’s heart began to race at his words. The weight of what he was saying pressed on her chest and restricted her breathing.
“What should I do?”
His answer was simple. “Dream. Watch closely, and remember when the time comes to make your decision.”
She could hardly relax enough to cross over into the Dream. In an effort to distract her mind from her internal distress, she asked Ravi one more question.
“What did you see in your vyuhava?”
His voice was quiet and poignant. “I saw that you had been born.”
***
Within the Dream, Sitara stood near the peak of a lone mountain. The sky was a sickly green-grey, and it was difficult to tell if it was day or night. The air was thick with smoke and the stench of death. The Serraf tried to breathe as shallowly as possible.
She looked out at the land that surrounded where she was standing. It, too, had a deathly pallor. It had once been green and rich with life, but six days of horrifying battle had stripped the earth of all its natural vyala. All that remained were skeletons of what used to be.
The council had known that there would have to be some fighting, but they had not anticipated anything on
this scale. The demons had seemingly endless reserves, and they were cautious in deploying them. It was only in the last day that their numbers had stopped replenishing.
“They are finally all on the battlefield, Riel,” said Sitara to her Rashad companion.
“Yes,” responded Riel in her unexpectedly delicate and feminine voice, “now we can begin.”
“Where is Bren?” asked the Serraf leader to one of the younger angelic women who stood at a respectful distance.
The blonde Serraf gestured to the very top of the mountain. “She is preparing for her role.”
Sitara gave a solemn nod. It was likely that Bren and the eleven other sisters on the mountain top would not survive the task that they had been given. The Serraf had been fortunate in losing very few sisters during the seemingly endless years of war. Their numbers had never been great, and the death of even one Serraf was a weighty matter. To lose twelve at once…
The Serraf leader knew that it still did not compare to the sacrifice of the other races. The Gaiana were not the only ones to fight to the last death in this war. More than a dozen magical races were now extinct. It was hardly comforting to know that the forces of light had destroyed nearly that many races of demons throughout the years.
She looked once more over the massive battlefield. The armies tore at each other like feral beasts. Sitara was too far away to hear the cries of those fighting, but she could feel the awful din in her heart.
As terrible as the violence seemed now, Sitara knew that it was about to get infinitely worse.
“Tell the sisters to prepare for the interior circle,” ordered Sitara, “and inform Bren and the exterior circle of sisters that we are about to begin.”
The blonde Serraf gave a humble bow and hurried away. Sitara could not tear her gaze away from the valley of death.
Was this what the Creator intended when the world was brought into being?
“You must not allow doubt to enter your heart,” reprimanded Riel gently. “Our minds are finite, and we cannot see the greater plan.”
The Rashad was right, of course, but the shadow remained. Sitara forced herself to turn her back on the battlefield.
“Come. We must not delay.”
She walked down a faint path that wove through the rocks and down to the tree line. The natural life of this mountain had been mostly untouched by the battle, but Sitara knew it would not survive the opening of the Threshold. The peak, just like the rest of the land, would die and turn to dust.
The Serraf and the Rashad made their way to a cave that was obscured in a fold of the mountain. The crevice widened to reveal an elaborate interior. The walls of the cave held dozens of carved scenes depicting the creation of the world. In the center stood a raised platform made of white marble, which was etched with intricate designs and runes.
Eleven Serraf stood on the platform, waiting for their leader to join them.
Sitara didn’t waste time in issuing orders. “Begin building defenses. We must delay the demons from approaching.”
“Why?” asked a voice from the edge of the room.
It was Toraun.
“Is not our desire to draw them here?”
Sitara barely spared breath to answer him. “Yes, but they will be suspicious if we do not defend this mountain. We must make it just hard enough to convince them of the need to attack.”
The council leader raised no more objections, but fell silent to allow the Serraf to work.
Adesina watched closely as the Dream progressed. She could see the threads being woven in a tapestry of magic, and she was amazed by the level of skill before her.
The Serraf all split into pairs and began lacing their vyala together, along with the power of their Rashad companions. Adesina could not keep track of what was happening in detail, but she could sense that six magical barriers were being placed at different levels of the mountain.
The air quivered as the spells took hold, and the silence that followed was heavy.
The twenty-four Serraf and Rashad formed a circle around the marble platform and bowed their heads in concentration.
“Bren, my child,” called Sitara to the empty space in the center of the circle, “are you ready?”
A shimmering figure took form, and Adesina could recognize the shape of another Serraf.
“Yes, dear sister,” the figure replied in a voice that sounded strangely distant. “I am ready for all that must be.”
There was a slight hitch in Sitara’s throat as she gave the final order. “Send the signal.”
***
High atop the mountain, Bren lowered her curly head in obedient submission. The wind toyed with her dark hair, but she paid it no mind.
“It is time, my sisters,” she said to those with her. “Let us begin.”
The twelve Serraf raised their hands simultaneously above their heads and sent of a blinding burst of light. The signal could be seen from anywhere on the battlefield, but only the armies of light knew what it meant.
The Serraf then began to knit their vyala together to form what was essentially embellished flashes of colors and sounds. It certainly looked impressive, but it served no real purpose.
Bren allowed her sisters to take over, and turned her focus to a greater matter. Her body was needed to make their number twelve—the expected number of any magical circle—but her vyala was to serve a different purpose.
She knelt on the conduit that would allow her to channel her vyala into the center of the circle within the mountain cave below, and she concentrated every fiber of her being into the task.
It was true that she had volunteered for this honor. She had pled for it. Yet, here at the end, she couldn’t help but feel a trace of sadness for what was to come.
***
Adesina could sense what was happening on the peak above the cave. She frowned in confusion for several moments before she began to understand.
They are acting as bait.
Ravi nodded in agreement. Yes. The Serraf above are meant to draw the fire of any attacks, while the real ritual takes place here in this cave.
“They will die,” whispered Adesina. “How can she let them die?”
“Sitara is allowing them to do their part in protecting the world,” Ravi said firmly, but sadly. “It is likely they were chosen out of numerous volunteers.”
The young queen knew he was right. Every Serraf would gladly give her life to protect the world she loved so dear.
Even so, Adesina wept for every life sacrificed.
***
L’avan watched the battle with hungry eyes. He longed to take a part in the fighting, but no mortal had been granted that privilege. Only the Great Immortal Ones were allowed to fight in this particular campaign.
He, along with a small handful of other carefully selected humans, had been told that they could observe from afar—although, he could not imagine why.
L’avan sat on the back of a flying Qetza, soaring high above Zonne. The Qetza, for another unknown reason, were also being kept away from the fray.
“Look,” he shouted, pointing in the distance.
There was a brilliant surge of light from atop a lone mountain. L’avan could not see the source, but he recognized it as magic.
“Yesssss,” responded the Qetza, Sesa. “Now the battle ssssshall begin.”
L’avan’s expression was incredulous. He had never before seen such a ferocious and bloody conflict, and it had been going on for seven days now. “Are you saying that this past week has been nothing but a precursor to the real combat?”
“Yessss.”
“Thousands of lives have been lost,” L’avan sputtered. “Hundreds of thousands. How can that be possible?”
“The purposssse of thissss war isss not to kill demonssssss, young human. Thisss battle will decide the fate of ussss all.”
A chill ran down L’avan’s spine. “What do you mean?”
Sesa didn’t reply.
A series of lights and colors began to
swirl around the peak of the mountain, and L’avan could hear the wrathful shrieks of the demons below. There was a surge of the dark masses, and the armies of light slowly began to give way.
“What is happening, Sesa?”
The Qetza seemed hesitant to answer. “The Sssssserraf have begun the ritual to open a Thresssshold.”
The Thresholds were locations that humans only heard about in myths.
“The Gateway to Heaven?”
The flying serpent shook his head. “No, a portal to another world.”
The weathered soldier was baffled. “But…why?”
“I cannot ssssay at thisssss time.”
L’avan felt a twinge of resentment. “I have been a faithful servant of the Great Immortal Ones for over forty years. Have I not earned the trust of the Council?”
“Your ssservice doesssss you honor,” assured Sesa. “Watch, young human. You will ssssee the greater plan sssssoon enough.”
Far below, L’avan could see that the front lines of the armies of light were beginning to break.
“They cannot hold against such an attack for long,” he commented, deeply concerned. “The demons will force their way through.”
“Yesss.”
“Can you not help them?” the soldier asked in desperation.
“No.”
“The Serraf will fail if the demons break through. How can you stand by and watch?”
“With great difficulty,” she responded gravely.
L’avan felt a surge of guilt at his hasty words. He had seen much conflict during his life. He had been fighting this war since he was a lad, and now his head was full grey. Yet, sometimes he forgot that the Immortal Ones had been fighting even longer. Their sacrifice on behalf of humankind—and all other mortals—could not be measured.
“Forgive me,” he said humbly.
It was difficult to read the expression on the Qetza’s serpentine face, but it seemed to take on a less somber light.
“There is nothing to forgive, faithful ally. It is not easy for any of us to wait for our chance to be useful.”