CHILD OF DESTINY (The Rising Saga Book 1)

by M. K. Adams

  “Wow,” Lyvanne whispered to herself as she imagined what the taverns back in Astreya’s Upper level must have been like on the inside if one so far out into the countryside could be like this.

  The room itself was busy. People darted left and right everywhere she looked. Some wore aprons and were evidently part of the staff; they were busy either directing the new comers to rooms up a small staircase which was nestled away in the far corner by the bar, or in the case of the injured leading them through a doorway on the other side of the bar. Then there were the unsuspecting patrons. A travelling merchant who was perched on a stool at the bar, a quartet of well-dressed men occupied one of the booths and a lone Hemeti bard identified by the small string instrument tied around his back sat alone on one of the long wooden tables. All of them stared wide-eyed as two dozen strangers walked through the doors, most of whom looked worse for wear.

  “Let’s get out of their way,” Turiel said quietly to the pair as they watched the chaos unfurl, before leading them towards the stairs and up onto the highest floor of the building where one of the younger waiting staff showed them to one of the rooms. Inside, there were two small single beds, a small wooden chair in the corner, and a basic set of wooden draws with a dusty mirror on top.

  “Guess I’m sleeping on the floor then” Turiel said sarcastically as he dumped what few belongings he had to one side of the room and made his way over to a small window on the far side.

  Lyavnne joined him after taking ownership of the bed closest to the window. The view was unspectacular, the rolling hills of the distant countryside obscured by the wooden construction below which formed the stables. Regardless, Lyvanne was as close to happy as she believed it possible to feel after what had occurred the night before. But a question was tugging at the back of her mind and had been since they had departed earlier that day. How long could this last? How long could they last during this fight against the king?

  Chapter 37

  That night The Cat and Dog buzzed with life. Whether they were drinking away their sorrow or celebrating their survival, the remaining members of The Spring spent what money they had well and drank into the early hours of the morning. Lyvanne had sat by their side the entire night, sipping on goblets of water and eventually even a small amount of Turiel’s ale once he had become drunk enough to share it. It was refreshing to watch her friends unwind for the first time since they had arrived at camp. Greyson had drank until the tears had subsided and then late into the night he drew up a seat beside the Hemeti bard who had been staying at the tavern already and together they sang songs in remembrance of the fallen friends that had been lost.

  Kwah had been noticeably quiet throughout the night. Whilst he had remained downstairs for as long as anyone else, he had remained sober and stood by the bar talking to a short woman with curled red hair whom Lyvanne took to be the current owner of the establishment. She noticed that a long dagger hung by Kwah’s waist, and it made her wonder how many others in the room had one eye on their drink and another on the door. She had no doubt that many of them would be on edge for a number of days, maybe even weeks. As the bard kept reminding them through song, defeating a company of the king’s soldiers in armed rebellion upon soil of The Rive was a first in a long time, and once word reached back to the king he would no doubt come back for a second attempt at quelling the upstarts.

  Turiel was the first to retreat back to their room. Claiming that the ale had made his eyes heavy after nearly fifteen minutes of his head continually bobbing against his chest. During which time Oblib, who had proved more than capable of holding his alcohol, had finished off the warlock’s drink. After that, the slow trickle of people taking their leave of the communal area downstairs began to increase and tired legs began to clatter up the wooden stairs. Eventually, the only ones left were Jocelyn, Lyvanne, Greyson, the bard stranger, Kwah and the owner. The Hemeti bard, now lacking an audience to play to and to earn money from, said his goodnights and made his way to his own room at the tavern. Lacking a partner to play with and the memories of his brother slowly creeping back to the forefront Greyson also departed.

  “Congrats, little one… you beat them all,” Jocelyn slurred as she thrust an empty goblet into Lyvanne’s hands.

  She hadn’t really done anything of the sort, Lyvanne thought as she pushed away the goblet. She hadn’t been drinking like the others and she hadn’t exerted herself in combat like they had, but she decided to let Drunk Jocelyn continue to compliment her.

  “We should call you the Heroine… of the Cat and Dog,” Drunk Jocelyn continued as she swung her rather full goblet of ale into the air. Lyvanne cringed. Her actions deserved no more praise than anyone else who had fought on the battlefield, but if this helped Jocelyn to cope then so be it.

  “To the Hero of the Cat and Dog,” Kwah echoed as he slowly walked over to the booth that the pair were occupying. Lyvanne could tell that Kwah’s eyes were growing weary and she couldn’t blame him, quite frankly given the events of the night before she was surprised anyone had stayed awake as long as they had. “Come now you two, time to get some rest.”

  Lyvanne half expected Drunk Jocelyn to argue the matter and to order another drink, but logic took hold and the Hemeti dragged herself to her feet and ushered Lyvanne out of the booth ahead of her.

  The wooden floorboards groaned and creaked as they carefully made their way up the stairs. The pair made it back to their room without causing too much disturbance, and once inside Lyvanne made sure that Jocelyn was safely in bed before tucking herself in for the night. Turiel shifted on the floor when they came in, but his loud snoring gave away that he was still enjoying a deep sleep. Lyvanne lay in bed and looked towards the window where feint rays of moonlight were beaming down into the room as night slowly gave way to the first signs of sunlight beyond the horizon. Her dreams were plagued with memories of the attack on the woods. She saw the old Hemeti whose body had died on her old hut at camp, the bodies of the ling’s soldiers killed at Turiel’s command and the warlock who she had let live. Her dreams went back even further. The fires of the camp suddenly became the fires she had seen in her mind as she fought to keep Melruin at bay, and before that the fires that had engulfed the house of an innocent family in Astreya as she watched on from a crowded courtyard.

  What felt like seconds passed and the room became filled with sunlight. Lyvanne rolled over onto her side to avoid the bright glare pouring in through the window. Her eyes still heavy and drawn from the late night before.

  Turiel was still fast asleep on the floor, a thin blanket draped over him and a makeshift mattress of a worn spare quilt below. Jocelyn, however, was nowhere to be seen. Voices were ringing from the floors below, and deducing that Jocelyn was probably downstairs she crept out of bed, trying her best not to wake up Turiel. Quietly she threw on some spare clothes, which she seemed to be gathering as a collection thanks to various generous members of The Spring, and exited the room.

  As she passed along the corridors and down the main staircase the inaudible voices quickly turned into the hustle and bustle of cutlery clattering against plates and the general chatter that often accompanied morning meals. Sure enough, as she reached the bottom floor Lyvanne was hit by the smell of bacon, potatoes and ale, the latter of which made her feel slightly sick after the events of the night. Most of the tavern’s occupants were awake and busy eating around the various tables that occupied the main communal area. So many in fact that Lyvanne questioned exactly how long she had been asleep for and whether she should go back upstairs to wake up Turiel. Deciding against it she stepped down into the room and set off in search of Jocelyn, whom she found nestled away in a corner booth with Kwah.

  “Morning,” Lyvanne said cheerfully as she took a seat beside him. She felt guilty for faking her happiness, the pain of losing their friends still weighed heavily on her shoulders. Everywhere she looked she was reminded of those who hadn’t made it to the village. But if her being appearing happy might in some way rub off
on the others then it was worth a try.

  “Morning,” Kwah responded with a forced toothy smile, whilst Jocelyn merely grunted her response.

  Lyvanne chuckled as she studied her friend, one hand on her forehead, another around a small goblet of water and a still full plate of food in front of her.

  “Are you going to eat that?” Lyvanne asked, nudging her hand towards the plate. Jocelyn shook her head and Lyvanne eagerly snatched the plate away. She still didn’t have any money of her own, so since their arrival at the tavern she had been relying on others to pay her way for her, a reliance she wasn’t overly fond of. She hadn’t asked where they all got their money from, but she’d taken an educated guess early on during her time with The Spring that there had been a fair few convoys of the king’s gold that had gone missing along the North Road over the past few years.

  “How do they have enough food to feed everyone?” Lyvanne asked curiously as she noted how many people in the room were eating, and how skinny the children outside had seemed.

  “This village does better than most,” Kwah agreed. “There are a few reasons why. Firstly, the village lies near the North Road, which runs between Astreya and Avagarde, making it a well-travelled location. Secondly, our presence in the nearby countryside has meant that trips here by tax collectors have become few and far between. Lastly, when we come here to resupply people like Jocelyn here often end up spending a lot of money which means that the owner, Rosey, has enough money to stock up when traders come through. These days prices are so high that even a gold coin won’t buy you too much from wandering traders, so she’s had to spend her money wisely over the years.”

  Sure enough Kwah nodded in the direction of the redhead who stood behind the bar.

  “Is she one of us?” Lyvanne asked, hoping her point was implicit enough.

  Kwah considered his answer carefully as he gulped down a large swig of water. “She’s sympathetic. There are many people who we’ve grown close to over the years. Some who would even call themselves friends, but openly associating with us can be dangerous. Many choose just to help in small ways when they can, such as letting us stay at their tavern. The king might not know us by name yet, but there are occasionally local law enforcers who do, and having an open association with us can attract unwanted attention.”

  Lyvanne thought back to the merchant Trystan who had helped them escape Astreya onboard the Colossal and wondered whether he was in the same situation. It was the first time that she really began to understand the politics of it all, the manoeuvring around the king’s grasp and the friends which had to be made if they were ever going to be successful. The game they were playing was much larger than she had ever anticipated it could be, and it was far more complex than Turiel had ever explained.

  Jocelyn sat in silence for the rest of breakfast as she nursed her hangover, and it was a long time before Turiel eventually forced himself out of bed and downstairs to socialise.

  “Would you like your dagger back?” Lyvanne asked Kwah as the four sat waiting for Turiel’s food to arrive from the kitchen. They were some of the last people downstairs. Some had gone back to their rooms whilst others had gone to either help the villagers with work as a sign of good will, or had travelled back to the campsite in the woods to make sure nothing had been left behind.

  “No thank you, Lyvanne,” Kwah replied. “I fear that if you’re going to be as stubborn as you were the night of the battle then you’re going to need something by your side to keep you safe.”

  Lyvanne smiled. It wasn’t just the gift that pleased her, but the acceptance that she was in this for the long haul and that she wasn’t going to be treated any differently to the others now. If they were putting themselves in danger then she planned on being right there by their sides when they did.

  The rider arrived a few hours later. It was Ronnoc, and he had a small rolled up piece of parchment in his hand.

  “I found this at the campsite attached to the foot of a carrier pigeon,” the Hemeti said as he walked through the double doors of the tavern and straight over to Kwah, handing him the parchment.

  “Thank you, Ronnoc,” Kwah replied as he took the parchment from the Hemeti’s hand and studied it. “Was there anything else worth bringing back?”

  Ronnoc took a step back. Lyvanne was still sure she recognised him from somewhere but had long since given up trying to figure out from where. “Nothing else. We cleared out pretty well before we left.”

  Kwah nodded, a gesture that Ronnoc echoed before taking his leave. Kwah placed the parchment on the table and Lyvanne immediately recognised the seal that had been used. It belonged to Sinjin. All eyes around the table turned to Jocelyn, who quickly snatched up the parchment and undid the wrappings.

  “It’s a letter,” she said as she unravelled the message and began to read.

  The parchment was passed around the table, and by the time it reached Lyvanne, she knew that something important had happened.

  “We need to discuss this in private,” Kwah said as he, Turiel, and Jocelyn all rose in unison, leaving the booth and forcing Lyvanne to play catch up as they walked towards a small door to the left of the bar. “Rosey, don’t let anyone in until we return,” Kwah asked as the four of them proceeded into the other, smaller communal area. Once on the other side of the door Lyvanne paused to read the letter in her hands.

  Dear Jocelyn,

  I have said many prayers for you over the past few weeks, and I will say many more in the weeks to come. The searches in the city have been stopped. Whilst that has made life here somewhat easier, I fear that it is because the king knows where you and Lyvanne are. Please do write back now that things appear to be clear and let me know that you are all safe.

  Whilst the searches may have stopped I believe that the king has seriously underestimated their lasting impact. The citizens of the lower level are living in a constant state of unrest. Fights between citizens in the lower level and the City Watch are breaking out most nights and more than a little blood has been shed on both sides. I am keeping my head down for now, but it is hard to sit by whilst people we know are dying.

  The news grows worse I am afraid. There has been significant movement among the king’s army over the past few weeks and it has since come to my attention that an invasion fleet from Tyberia has landed on the Northern shores of The Rive. No one appears to know how it has happened, but the king acted immediately and a retaliation force has been sent to hold them and even attempt to drive them back into the sea. I have not heard if the king’s armies in Tyberia have been mobilised to return to The Rive in its protection. I have been contacted by more than a few of our friends who want to use this as an opportunity to take Astreya, as it now largely lies empty of soldiers, but I believe those assumptions to be mistaken and if we strike now we may risk showing our hand too early.

  For now, I am delaying any further action within the city until we have heard from the other branches, but I don’t know how long I can keep angry mobs at bay on my own.

  Please reply as soon as you can.

  Look after one another. Stay safe. May Iridu shine upon you all.

  I love you,

  Sinjin

  Chapter 38

  “We tell the others tonight,” Kwah said as the four finally settled down after an hour of discussion and deliberation over what The Spring needed to do next.

  It won’t matter when you tell them, Lyvanne thought as she watched the others slowly leave the room. They won’t agree on anything either.

  “Everyone’s here,” Ronnoc said as he reported back to Kwah who was stood by the bar of the tavern, looking out at the remaining men and women of The Spring who occupied the various booths and tables before him.

  Rosey had been kind enough to close her doors to any further custom for the night and for want of a better name the tavern had become a temporary headquarters for this particular branch of The Spring. Kwah and Turiel had both offered their sincere thanks to Rosey, who despite her appreciation
of what these people had done for her village, was none too pleased about being so openly associated with them. But she was kind and Kwah had easily won her over with some of his Islander charm.

  “As I’m sure some of you are aware, we’ve received news from Astreya,” Kwah began, his voice booming throughout the small hall. As he relayed the news brought from Sinjin’s letter, Lyvanne watched the eyes of those in attendance. She watched as their emotions rode the same journey that hers had: relief that the searches and torture had been stopped replaced quickly with… a surprising range of emotion in response to news of fighting on the streets. Some of those gathered seemed actively concerned by the news, but others appeared almost proud. Greyson even tried to break out into a rallying song in support of his “brothers and sisters” in Astreya before Kwah calmed him down. Then those emotions all turned into dread as Kwah finished reading the letter and relayed the news of the invasion fleet from Tyberia arriving in the north. There were audible gasps among the crowd, and Lyvanne noticed Rosey raise a quivering hand up to her mouth. But for the most part faces turned pale, and the room silent.

  News of an invasion came as a double-edged sword. On the one hand it provided an opportunity the likes of which The Spring were probably never going to have again. The king would be wholly occupied elsewhere as he sought to protect his own lands from the ravages of war, rather than continuing the bloodshed on far off lands. His gaze would be turned North, and if the various branches of The Spring worked together, then there would surely be victories to claim in the South. On the other hand, an invasion of The Rive was unprecedented and it not only threw any plans into disarray and confusion, but it meant that they now had enemies on multiple fronts.

  “The armies of Tyberia won’t differentiate between the king’s soldiers and an armed group of insurgents if they stood in their way,” Lyvanne recalled Turiel’s warning. “They’re savages! They fight like animals and without mercy. Having the likes of them on The Rive could bring serious trouble if the king isn’t able to push them back into the sea quickly.”