The Labyrinth of Destiny

by Callie Kanno

  When they reached the end of the path that E’nes had mapped out in his mind, they stopped again. E’nes switched his vyala back to dark green and scouted out the next section before they moved on.

  Adesina had tried to teach him how to use two lines of vyala at the same time, but the effort had only given E’nes a pounding headache. Perhaps he could learn to do it in time, but for now he had to pause and shift his power for each individual objective.

  It took time and a great amount of energy—neither of which E’nes had in abundance. He began to sweat from the strain of what he was doing.

  He had never spent so much time studying his surroundings, and he found that it wasn’t just his vision that was enhanced. He could feel the minute details in the rocks where he rested his hands while he scouted ahead. The charred scent of the previously burned area filled his nostrils as if the fire had only just happened. The smell mixed with the rich scent of minerals and the sharp ocean breeze until E’nes’s head began to ache from his saturated senses.

  It seemed like years—eons—before the two L’avan soldiers moved into the safety of the shrubbery on the opposite side of the barricade. The ground became more firm, and the path was more predictable.

  E’nes slumped to the ground, his mind and body spent from the ordeal. Mar’sal lifted his friend into the saddle of his horse and tied the reins to his own saddle.

  “You have done well this night,” murmured Mar’sal to the barely conscious E’nes. “Your sister would be proud. Rest now and let me take the lead.”

  E’nes managed to nod as Mar’sal used a length of rope to tie him to his saddle. “We must remember to tell Adesina about Jahan Lirit,” E’nes said in a voice that barely contained his exhaustion. “We would not have made it through if not for him.”

  Mar’sal finished securing E’nes and moved to mount his own horse. “We will tell her. Now, please, rest yourself.”

  E’nes gave a brief smile and closed his eyes. Once they were a safe distance from the barricade they would stop for the night. Then, in the morning they would ride on to Charan, the Gateway City—the only source of hope for reinforcements in the fight against Cha-sak.

  Chapter Twenty-Six: Charan

  E’nes couldn’t help but stare.

  He had been in cities before, but nothing in Sehar or Pevothem could compare to the sheer size of Charan.

  The city was built at the narrowest point of the stretch of land bridging Sehar and Etan. The northern walls were built into the mountain range and the southern walls touched the ocean. It was impossible to go from the one nation to the other by land without going through the Gateway City.

  Charan was officially a city of Etan, and the eastern walls lined the nation’s border. It had first been built as a military base to keep enemies out of the newly formed country, but the settlement had swelled over the centuries to become a vast metropolis.

  The eastern wall had three large gates, but two of them appeared to be barred shut. There were several guards standing at the open gate, looking bored and restless. One of them spotted E’nes and Mar’sal as they approached and nudged the one who looked to be the leader.

  The man wore the same uniform as the others, but he had a short shoulder cape that set him apart from the others. He had a thin moustache—as did the other soldiers—and dark hair that was swept up in a mass of braids and coils that looked more elaborate than any L’avan woman’s. His expression was continually disdainful, but a flicker of surprise passed it as he saw the new arrivals.

  “Well, well! It has been quite a while since anyone has come to this city from Sehar. How did you get past the barricade?”

  The soldier spoke in the common tongue, but his accent was strangely staccato, making it difficult to understand him at first.

  E’nes hurried to answer as soon as he worked out what the soldier had said. “We snuck past at night, sir. We have urgent business with the leader of this great city.”

  The guard looked vastly amused. “Is that so? Is Lord Governor Wakichonze expecting you?”

  E’nes and Mar’sal exchanged glances.

  “No,” the former answered slowly, “we are not expected.”

  The soldier roared with laughter. “Then what makes you think that he will see you?”

  “We have very urgent business,” repeated E’nes.

  The guard’s features became exaggerated with pity. He clearly didn’t think much of these peasants from Sehar. “The Lord Governor is a very busy man. Even citizens of Etan must make an appointment months in advance to see him. I doubt he will have time to see a couple of foreigners.”

  E’nes was aghast. They didn’t have months to wait around and hope that the Lord Governor would agree to meet with them. They needed help immediately or the Shimat would wear down the L’avan and Seharan forces to nothing.

  “May we enter the city?” asked Mar’sal with determination.

  All of the guards laughed in derision. The leader shrugged, “You can if you wish, but you are wasting your time.”

  “Thank you for your advice,” said Mar’sal, unfailingly polite. “Where can we find the Lord Governor?”

  The soldier waved vaguely toward the city. “All main roads lead to the Manor. It is at the center of Charan. All city officials live and work there, so you can go there to make the appointment. Ask for the Lord Secretary, and he will help you.”

  The two L’avan thanked the soldier again and then rode into the city. E’nes immediately found himself staring once more. It was not only that the city covered a large area—all of the buildings were so tall.

  The eastern section of the city seemed to house the local military. The barracks were four stories high, looming over the two travelers as they rode past. They were soon in more residential areas, but even those buildings were at least three stories tall. Most of them appeared as though the upper levels had been added over time. It seemed as though people were crowded everywhere, and Charan had no other option but to start growing upward.

  People stared at the two L’avan in open curiosity as they rode down the street. All of the men—regardless of whether they were dressed in finery or rags—had thin moustaches and long hair that was pinned up elaborately. They all wore short pants that ballooned around the thighs, thick stockings and slipper-like shoes, and loose shirts that were overlaid with colorful vests. It appeared that the wealthier a man was, the more embroidery and precious stones were sewn onto the clothing.

  The women made the men’s appearance seem conservative. Each woman’s hair was also pinned up, but the elaborate styles also contained adornments like giant feathers and strings of pearls. Their faces were painted white with bright red spots on the cheeks and lips. Their dresses were a similar style to those worn in Sehar, but they wore colorful petticoats underneath and pinned up one side of their skirts. As with the men, the women displayed their wealth with embroidery and jewels on the fabric.

  The closer E’nes and Mar’sal got to the center of Charan, the more richly adorned the clothing became. There were also fewer people traveling on foot. Most of the people filling the inner streets were being carried on palanquins.

  E’nes wasn’t certain exactly how long they had been riding through the streets of the Gateway City, but it seemed to take much longer than it should have. He was beginning to worry that they had somehow lost their way when the looming buildings on either side of the street fell away to reveal an enormous open circle with a structure in the center.

  It was clearly the Manor that the soldier had told them about, but it was unlike anything E’nes could have expected.

  It wasn’t a single building, but several that were all interconnected by walkways. Each building was exquisite and unique, displaying the great wealth of the city. Some were made of fine marble. Some of the buildings were decorated with statues made of gold, others with bejeweled fountains. Some had sweeping gardens filled with plants E’nes had never seen before.

  “Where do you suppose we are meant to g
o?” asked Mar’sal in clear confusion.

  E’nes shook his head, bewildered. To be told simply to go to the Manor was about as helpful as being told to go to the mountains without knowing which specific mountain to climb.

  The two L’avan soldiers dismounted their horses and walked toward one of the paths that circled the complex. They slowed to a stop, looking around for some sort of sign to indicate where they should go.

  A young woman slowed to a stop and studied them intently. She had vivid red hair that was set off by a large golden sunburst pinned to the back of her head. Her face was painted white and had the popular red spots on the cheeks and the red lips. The paint made it hard to see her features properly. Even so, she seemed rather pretty and very much self-confident. Her dress was made of golden damask, and the bodice was crowded with topaz and pearls.

  She simpered at them, smiling. “Are you…gentlemen…lost?”

  E’nes gave his most polished bow and Mar’sal did the same.

  “Yes, m’lady. We were told to go to the Manor, but we were not given more specific instructions.”

  The young woman tittered and batted her eyelashes. “How amusing! Well, it is fortunate for you that I was on my morning walk. If I had been going somewhere specific, my slaves would have run past you with my palanquin on their shoulders. I doubt anyone else would be kind enough to stop and help you. I am noted for my kindness and my benevolence.”

  E’nes was almost at a loss for words. He stammered a reply: “Yes, m’lady, I can see that.”

  The young woman giggled again, eyeing the two L’avan flirtatiously. “I have never seen men such as you. Perhaps you would like to become my personal servants.”

  She did not make it sound like a request, and that made E’nes feel distinctly uneasy.

  Mar’sal responded politely, “Thank you for your offer, m’lady, but we are not free to accept it. We serve another.”

  The young woman formed her red-painted lips into a pout. “I doubt your current master or mistress could be as generous as me. My father holds great power in Charan, and he gives me whatever I desire.”

  “We serve the king of the L’avan,” explained E’nes.

  The young woman’s eyes widened in surprise. “A king? There are not many monarchies left in existence. You must have traveled far to come to our lovely city. Where is L’avan? I have never heard of that country.”

  Mar’sal hid a smile. “It is not a country, m’lady, it is a race of people. We hail from a land called Pevothem, in the northern section of Sehar.”

  Her blue eyes narrowed in doubt. “Sehar has no government. It is a land of savages.”

  Mar’sal did not argue with her, but his polite expression became strained. “Well, we are not part of Sehar. Our land is separate, to the north of the country. Our people have been there since before the rule of the first king of Sehar.”

  The young woman’s expression cleared and her interest returned. “Fascinating. It must be a small nation, and Sehar was once quite powerful. How have you maintained your independence for so long?”

  E’nes and Mar’sal exchanged glances. They had previously discussed how much information they should give about the L’avan. In years past the L’avan had remained hidden from the world, but Adesina and L’iam firmly believed it was time to join the rest of the nations—openly and honestly.

  “We have mostly kept to ourselves in the past,” began E’nes. “Also…we are a race of magic-users.”

  The young woman laughed freely. “Oh, you are so amusing!”

  E’nes smiled as well. “Would you like me to show you?”

  “Please, do,” answered the young woman, her face full of disbelief.

  She was holding a golden fan, and E’nes gestured to it. “May I borrow that?”

  She handed it over sportingly. “No stealing it, now,” she warned in a teasing voice. “It is my favorite fan.”

  E’nes smiled. “I will be careful with it,” he assured her.

  He called forth his vyala and his vision glowed orange. He used the force of his power to cause the fan to hover in the air above their heads, then moved it in a wandering pattern to show that it was not attached to any strings.

  The young woman’s eyes were wide with awe as the fan settled back into her hands. “How did you do that?”

  “Magic,” was E’nes’s simple reply.

  “What else can you do?” she asked eagerly.

  “It depends on the person. Each L’avan has one or two gifts, and they all vary,” explained Mar’sal.

  “You must meet my father immediately,” insisted the young woman.

  “Who is your father?” inquired E’nes.

  She looked at them as if they were daft. “Do you not know who I am?”

  The two L’avan soldiers slowly shook their heads.

  The young woman looked slightly offended. “I am Umarina, the daughter of Lord Governor Wakichonze.”

  E’nes started to introduce himself, but Umarina cut off his words with an impatient wave of her hand.

  “I shall overlook your ignorance, since you are foreigners. I am known for my forgiving heart, you know. Still, I must take you to see my father at once. Place me on one of your horses and take me to the Manor.”

  Mar’sal looked just as baffled as E’nes felt.

  “I beg your pardon?”

  Umarina gave a condescending smile. “It is not proper for me to walk if I have something specific to do. I only walk when I take my daily exercise.”

  “Do you expect to ride one of our horses all the way to your father’s chambers?” asked Mar’sal.

  Umarina tittered in her simpering way. “Of course not, you simple man. Once we reach the entrance I can summon my slaves and my palanquin.”

  E’nes found that the easiest way to avoid replying with something sarcastic—something he would later regret—was to turn his attention to getting the young woman onto his horse. She refused to climb into the saddle, instead expecting him to simply place her there.

  In a burst of impatience, E’nes used his vyala to hoist her onto the horse’s back—and not very gently.

  Umarina couldn’t contain a startled yelp as an unseen force took hold of her and lurched her into the saddle. She looked thoroughly embarrassed at her outburst and busied about straightening her golden skirt.

  When they started walking she pointed to the building at the center of the massive structure. It had the most humble appearance of the buildings—if humble could be used to describe any of them. It was made of pale grey granite and its tall wooden doors were elaborately carved, depicting scenes that E’nes guessed were important to Etan’s history.

  The guards at the doors immediately recognized Umarina and hurried to allow her entrance. Two footmen rushed up to the horses and lifted Umarina from the saddle, setting her gently on the ground. Then, as if they had been anticipating her arrival, her slaves arrived to lift her onto her palanquin.

  “Take care of these horses,” she commanded carelessly, gesturing to the guards.

  The guards bowed and took the reins from the hands of E’nes and Mar’sal. The L’avan soldiers followed the palanquin as it started to move, uncertain what else they could do.

  Umarina waved a hand at one of the footmen. “Announce my imminent arrival to the Lord Governor. I have brought him a magnificent gift.”

  E’nes looked at Mar’sal and saw his own worried expression reflected back at him. This was sounding more and more like an unpleasant and potentially dangerous situation.

  Chapter Twenty-Seven: Demands

  Any simplicity in the exterior of the main Manor building was heavily compensated for in the interior. Rich carpets covered every inch of the floors and the walls were filled with tapestries. Crystal chandeliers hung from the ceilings and ornate furniture filled any space that could be spared. Every flat surface contained some sort of—statuettes, vases, paintings.

  As E’nes followed the palanquin through the halls, his senses became overw
helmed with the glitter of his surroundings. He found he could not properly appreciate the beauty of the individual objects when they were crowded together in such a manner.

  The corridors meandered upward without any stairs. It was difficult for E’nes to tell how far they had ascended, but eventually they reached the top level. A pair of doors covered in gold stood twice the height of a full-grown man, and they were guarded by half a dozen soldiers.

  Umarina’s slaves set down the palanquin and lifted her out of it. She carefully straightened her hair and her skirt, and she examined her painted face in a mirror that was provided for her. When she was satisfied that she looked as she should, she gave a stately nod to the guards and they opened the doors for her.

  E’nes and Mar’sal were not instructed to do otherwise, so they followed her as she swept into the room beyond.

  The roof was a glass dome, allowing sunlight to stream into the room. The room itself was filled with crystal and gold, so that E’nes was momentarily blinded by all the reflected light.

  A corpulent man with a sparse red moustache sat on a golden throne on a raised dais. He was dressed in a golden damask to match his daughter’s dress, but his clothing was covered with rubies rather than topaz and pearls. His elaborate hair was clearly a wig.

  The man was surrounded by fawning sycophants, all seated on embroidered pillows that had been pulled as close to the throne as was possible without touching the occupant.

  Umarina minced forward, looking immensely proud of herself and basking in the murmured praises of the obsequious onlookers. She came to the foot of the dais and gave a flourish with her hands.

  “Noble father, great Lord Governor of this beautiful city, I have come to present you with a gift to mark my great esteem for your magnanimous and wise person.”