The Labyrinth of Destiny

by Callie Kanno

  Breyen just needed to be patient and to serve Cha-sak well enough to allay any suspicions. He needed to be beyond reproach.

  He fixed a confident expression on his face and walked into the tent of the captains, prepared to lead them onward toward war.

  Chapter Seventeen: Fallen Queen

  Adesina hugged her brother fiercely, trying to keep her emotions under control. “Please be careful, E’nes. The Shimat will have assassins everywhere.”

  E’nes nodded, but didn’t say anything. She had said all of this before, several times. He had teased her about it, but he didn’t seem to feel like joking at the moment. He let go of his sister and turned to his pregnant wife and two small children.

  Wren’na could not stop the tears from flowing down her weary face. She smiled bravely at her husband, but that was all she could manage. The children looked up at their father with grave concern on their faces, uncertain how to react.

  Adesina turned away from them as they said their goodbyes. It was too private—too emotional—for her to interrupt.

  Instead, she turned to face Mar’sal, who was standing with Ravi near the horses. Mar’sal had done the tasks that had been assigned to him as quickly as possible, and then he had pleaded to be allowed to join E’nes on his mission. He argued that E’nes would need someone to watch his back and that two emissaries were more effective than one.

  Adesina hadn’t needed much convincing, nor had L’iam.

  The danger of this mission weighed heavily on Adesina’s mind. Her brother might never return, and the responsibility of that loss would fall on her.

  Mar’sal tried to give a carefree smile to his friend and queen, but it fell rather flat. “Do not worry, Adesina. We will return, and with reinforcements. We shall make a proper nuisance of ourselves until Charan has no choice but to send help. We will not leave the city until we know help will follow us.”

  Adesina chuckled. “Do what you can, but just be safe. I could not face your family if something happened.”

  “I volunteered, remember? Very forcefully,” reminded Mar’sal. He went on in a more solemn tone. “Besides, we are all going to make sacrifices in the near future.”

  Adesina nodded slowly. “Yes, I suppose we are.”

  E’nes finished saying his goodbyes and walked over to his horse. “Let us go,” he said in a husky voice.

  The two men mounted and rode away from the camp, turning back to wave as they went.

  Wren’na put her arms around her crying children and gently led them away. Adesina also turned away, but she headed toward the military training grounds. There was work to be done, no matter how she was feeling.

  Ravi sighed quietly, but said nothing. He didn’t really have to speak. Adesina shared in his emotions, and they both felt weary from making difficult decisions and sacrifices.

  They turned their collective thoughts to the task at hand.

  The inexperienced L’avan were training hard, and they were making good progress. Adesina felt optimistic about how well they were doing. Unfortunately, the training refugees were another matter.

  More and more people arrived at the camp every single day, and they were all asked to volunteer for the defending army. Few were eager to join a fight they had been running from, but Adesina had instructed the Entrance Committee to be firm. The L’avan could not be the only ones giving up their lives to defend Sehar.

  The result was that the military trainees had grown in numbers, but also in discontent.

  Adesina and Ravi arrived in the training area and made their way over to where the refugees were practicing. Adesina hated separating the L’avan from the Seharans, but they were on completely different levels of skill.

  Than’os stood on the sidelines, watching the exercises with a critical eye. Faryl, as usual, was not far away. Ri’sel could be seen with the next group over, instructing some men with pikes.

  “How are the new recruits doing?” asked Adesina.

  Than’os shook his head in dissatisfaction. “It would be going much better if they were not so…resistant.”

  A fight broke out between two ragged men, and Than’os marched over to put an end to it.

  “Gentlemen, please,” he said in a strict voice. “We do not have time for such foolishness.”

  “He took mah sword,” complained one man.

  “T’ain’t a real sword, yah idiot. Why does it matter?” retorted the other man.

  “We be gettin’ real swords soon enough, soon as the smithies catch up on thar work,” said the first man in a scathing tone. “You gon’ steal that sword, too?”

  “It don’ matter none,” insisted the second man. “They all the same.”

  “I like that one best,” hollered the first man.

  “Stop this bickering,” commanded Than’os.

  Both men looked at him with barely contained resentment. It was clear from their expressions that they felt he was interfering where he didn’t belong.

  Adesina didn’t wait to see how the conflict was resolved. She gestured to Ravi and the two of them continued walking through the training area.

  Signs of discord were everywhere, and Adesina found that to be worrisome. They needed to be a united force against the Shimat, otherwise they would be destroyed.

  A class on hand-to-hand combat was being taught on the far end of the field. Adesina and Ravi made their way over so they could observe. A young L’avan soldier was speaking to a group of Seharans, instructing them on defensive moves.

  Look at their faces, Ma’eve.

  Adesina did as her companion suggested.

  The Seharans were listening to what the L’avan soldier had to say, but they all bore expressions of distrust in their eyes. It was as if they questioned the motives of the soldier in teaching them those techniques.

  We need to unite this army or we will fail.

  Ravi nodded in agreement.

  A sudden idea came to Adesina and she turned to leave the training area. Ravi followed her, but said nothing. He had to have known what she was thinking, but he ventured no opinion on the matter.

  They hurried back through the camp and over to where the Northern Tribes had circled their wagons. Adesina’s step slowed as she gazed over the various cooking fires. The morning meals were being concluded, and there were several familiar faces cleaning up. The young queen headed toward the one she needed.

  Hestia was mixing medicinal herbs together when Adesina and Ravi approached. She smiled amiably and made room for them to join her by the fire.

  “Good morning, Adesina. Good morning, Ravi. Have you had breakfast?”

  Adesina waved a hand. “Please do not trouble yourself on our account.”

  “It is no trouble,” Hestia replied honestly.

  “I was hoping you might help me in a different way,” stated Adesina.

  The middle-aged woman looked amused. “I am not sure what you could need from me, but I am always glad to help a friend.”

  Adesina took a deep breath, not quite certain how to begin.

  “There is a lot of discord among the refugees,” said Adesina. “They are resistant to L’avan leadership, and there is difficulty organizing them.”

  Hestia nodded slowly and gazed into the flames. “Yes,” she mused, “I can see how that might happen.”

  “They feel that the L’avan are outsiders,” continued Adesina. “They need a leader that they know to be Seharan—one they acknowledge has the right to take such a role.”

  Hestia made an agreeing sound, but said nothing else.

  Adesina studied the older woman’s face for several moments before speaking again. “As a child I was taught the history of this land. I learned of the fall of the monarchy and what that has meant for the nation since. There was bitterness and unrest for a long time, then there was remorse for what had been lost, finally there was resignation and acceptance. Seharans learned to move on without a government—not because they wanted to, but because there was no other choice.”

&
nbsp; Hestia’s expression became stony and unreadable. She listened to what Adesina was saying, but she didn’t respond.

  “Rasim, the last king of Sehar, was a foolish man. He created a secret group of assassins to do his bidding and then slowly lost control of them. His lust for power resulted in his death and the deaths of his family.”

  “How do you know that?” asked Hestia in an uncharacteristically harsh voice.

  Adesina’s smile was sad. “Because I was raised in that same organization of assassins. They hide their origins and purpose from their students, just as they hide their very existence from the world. But I learned the truth, and I broke free.”

  Hestia’s eyes returned to the campfire. “I did not know that about you. One hears rumors that you were not raised by the L’avan, but every tale of your birth varies.”

  Adesina chuckled softly. “I do not doubt that.” She paused for a moment and then continued. “When the monarchy was overthrown the members of the nobility were exiled. They were all driven north, away from the capital city. Resentment of the nobility ran deep in the Seharan subjects, who were starving and downtrodden. No one would take them in, and they had no choice but to keep wandering.”

  “I know the history as well,” Hestia said stiffly. “You do not need to recount it.”

  “Yes, you would know it,” agreed Ravi, “because the wandering nobles became known as the Northern Tribes.”

  Hestia drew her knees up and hugged them to her chest. “My people do not like to speak of our past.”

  Adesina went on with determination. “You once told me that tribal leadership was passed through family lines.”

  “So?” Hestia asked in carefully neutral tone.

  “King Rasim had a younger sister who married a wealthy duke and was exiled with the rest of the nobles. With the royal family murdered, that sister’s family would have been the next rulers.” Adesina took a slow breath. “The duke’s family name was Ojuri. If you are the leader of the Ojuri tribe, then you are the hereditary queen of Sehar.”

  Hestia sighed in resignation. “What you say may be true, but it does not matter. The Seharans have grown up with a distrust and animosity for the Northern Tribes. They would never allow a tribal member to take control.”

  Adesina shook her head. “You might be surprised how war changes people. If we can prove your claim is legitimate—which any scholar could do—the refugees may accept you as their leader. In their eyes it would be better than a L’avan taking control.”

  Hestia’s voice was heavy. “I do not wish to be queen, Adesina. I simply wish to protect my family.”

  “I understand,” Adesina said sincerely. “I also had no wish to be a queen. So much responsibility weighs down on those who bear it. Yet we cannot turn away when there is so much at stake.”

  There was a moment of silence as Hestia considered Adesina’s words. Then she asked, “What would you need me to do? I am not trained to be a military leader. The majority of my duties as a tribal leader deal with organizing meals and setting up camp.”

  “I saw the books you have in your wagon,” said Adesina. “You have some knowledge of battle strategies.”

  Hestia laughed. “Those books were written before the fall of King Rasim. I doubt they will help us much in our fight with the demon.”

  Adesina shrugged. “You might be surprised. Some aspects of war change very little.”

  “I am not a soldier,” insisted Hestia.

  “I am not asking you to lead the army by yourself,” Adesina said with a smile. “I am asking you to step in as the formal leader of the Seharan so they feel they are represented by one of their own. You would counsel with the L’avan leaders and help us to come to decisions regarding the army.”

  Hestia fingered the piles of herbs in front of her, frowning as she thought. “I suppose I could do that, but what you are asking has long-term consequences for me and my family. We cannot claim the throne of Sehar and then say we changed our minds when this is over.”

  “I know,” said Adesina softly.

  Ravi’s deep voice broke in gently. “The time has come for you to honor your family responsibility. Your ancestors hoped this day would come, and now it has.”

  Hestia sighed. “I guess we cannot choose the family to which we are born, but we can still do our best to rise to each situation.”

  Ravi gave a feline smile. “Well said.”

  Hestia’s expression was rather wry. “It is likely I will spend much of my future giving speeches. I might as well grow accustomed to it.”

  Adesina reached over and gave her hand a squeeze. “You will do well. I could not have chosen a better queen.”

  Hestia’s expression lightened as a thought crossed her mind. “It seems to me that I cannot make my claim until I have a scholar or two to verify my right to do so.”

  “As luck would have it,” said Ravi, suppressing a chuckle, “a group of academics from the city of Tanar arrived last night. I am almost certain there is an historian or two among them.”

  Hestia got to her feet and shook the grass from her skirt with more vigor than was necessary. “Very well,” she grumbled. “Let us get this unpleasant business over with.”

  Chapter Eighteen: Royal Claim

  The academics from Tanar were being settled in by some of the former High City citizens. Gainor’s promise of helping out had been honored enthusiastically by many. The High City refugees knew what it was like to be thrown out of comfortable homes and to try and get by with no real survival skills. They helped every newcomer to feel less lost and lonely, and they gave a lot of helpful advice.

  Adesina led the way from the camp of the Ojuri. Hestia followed somewhat reluctantly.

  The L’avan queen looked around at the faces of those who were more accustomed to reading books about travel than actually travelling. They were dirty and weary, having fled across more than half of the nation. They all wore heavy robes that varied in color, and peculiar hats that were small and conical. The oldest scholar seemed to be the one in charge, and Adesina addressed herself to the aged woman.

  “Excuse me, please. Are there any among you well versed in Seharan history?”

  The old scholar gave a wan smile. “My child, we all are. Which aspect of history are you seeking?”

  “The genealogical lines of the royal family, and the history of the Northern Tribes.”

  The white haired woman nodded thoughtfully. “For that, you will want to talk to the Hite clan of scholars. They study such things.”

  She pointed to a group of five scholars wearing emerald colored robes. They were sitting next to a fire, gratefully warming their hands and feet. A High City woman handed each of them some bread and a bowl of hot soup.

  Ravi was the first to approach them. “Pardon our interruption of your meal, but we are told you are the Hite clan of scholars.”

  The two women and three men stared at the Rashad in amazement.

  “Fascinating,” exclaimed one of the men. “A talking cat of enormous size.”

  “Most unusual,” agreed another. “Could it be some sort of trick? Ventriloquism, perhaps?”

  “We must call over the Jos clan of scholars,” said one of the women. “They would be delighted to study this creature.”

  Adesina felt Ravi’s annoyance through their Joining, and she suppressed a smile. “Please allow me to introduce myself. I am Adesina of the L’avan, and this is my guardian and companion, Ravi. He is a member of the Rashad race, and he is as intelligent as any human.”

  The scholars appeared even more startled.

  “Forgive us,” apologized one of the women, “but we believed such races to be myths. We meant no offense, Master Ravi.”

  “Join us,” encouraged the first man to have spoken. He had a dark complexion and a full beard that covered half of his face, but his eyes were a shocking shade of blue. “I am Greyr, senior member of the Hite clan of scholars.”

  The other two men introduced themselves as Iayn and Zamual,
and the two women were named Karan and Deela.

  Hestia introduced herself last, and she was instantly the center of attention.

  “You are a member of the Northern Tribes?” repeated Deela in excitement. “How delightful. You know, our clan studies the origins of the Northern Tribes.”

  “Among other things,” inserted Zamual.

  “We have never actually spoken to a tribal member,” admitted Greyr. “We have always wanted to, though.”

  “How many tribes are there?” asked Karan. “Do the tribes ever intermarry or join together to form new tribes?”

  “Only eleven tribes remain,” answered Hestia carefully. “There used to be dozens, but many disappeared over time. Some died out, others dwindled to small numbers and chose to join other tribes for protection. There is some intermarrying, but it is not common.”

  The scholars took in this new information with hungry expressions on their faces.

  “Which tribes remain?”

  “Do you keep family records to track family lines?”

  “Do you have any written history, or only stories passed down through families?”

  Adesina held up her hands to ask for quiet. “Please, I know you have questions, but we actually came here to request a favor.”

  Greyr tilted his head to the side. “What would you ask of us?”

  “Hestia is the leader of the Ojuri tribe,” began Adesina with a glance at her friend, “and she has decided to claim her right to the throne of Sehar.”

  A stunned silence followed.

  “That is no small thing,” said Greyr soberly. “The Seharan monarchy has long been dead. There are many who would oppose its resurrection.”

  “We understand that it will not be easy,” responded Adesina.

  “Yet you will try anyway,” concluded Karan.

  Adesina and Hestia both nodded.

  “To even begin you must prove that your claim is legitimate,” stated Iayn. “Which, I assume, is why you have come to us.”

  They nodded again.

  The scholars exchanged glances, and a smile stole over each face.