by Callie Kanno
E’nes and Mar’sal had stayed near the door, uncertain what was expected of them. At this second reference to the “gift” for the Lord Governor, E’nes shifted from foot to foot uneasily.
Wakichonze looked at his daughter with an expression of boredom. “What is this gift that you have brought me?”
E’nes was surprised by the sound of the man’s voice. It was strangely high and effeminate.
Umarina assumed a stance like a performer about to reveal the highlight of a show. Her voice rang out with the clear assumption that she was astounding every hearer. “I have brought you…magic-users!”
A stunned silence followed.
After several moments, Lord Governor Wakichonze began to giggle in an absurd fashion. Several of the sycophants followed suit.
“Magic-users?” he questioned his daughter. “Surely you jest. I am known for my wonderful sense of humor, but this is too much.”
Umarina looked as though she would be flushed with humiliation, if her face weren’t painted white. She turned and pointed to E’nes. “You,” she snapped, “show my illustrious father your gifts.”
E’nes felt his own face growing warm with anger. “I have a name,” he said in a firm voice.
The young woman stared at him. “I commanded you to show my father your gifts.”
E’nes was unmoved by her words. “I am not your slave, m’lady, nor am I anyone’s property. I am a free man, and I will not consider your request until you have acknowledged my name.”
Mar’sal looked even more nervous at E’nes’s words, and E’nes didn’t blame him. They were in Charan to ask for help, and they were not off to a good start. Even so, E’nes refused to be treated like some sort of show dog.
Wakichonze finally deigned to speak to them directly. “Who are you, stranger? What has brought you to my presence?”
“I am E’nes, son of Me’shan, of the L’avan people. I am a Royal Protector to the king of the L’avan, and I am a Captain Protector in the L’avan army. This is Mar’sal, son of La’tif, and he is also a Captain Protector in the L’avan army.”
“I have never heard of the L’avan people,” responded Wakichonze lazily. “What lands do you possess?”
“We are from Pevothem. It is a nation on the northern lands of Sehar.”
“Sehar has no-”
E’nes cut him off. “We are not a part of Sehar. Our nation has been independent since just after the Great Wars.”
The governor was clearly unaccustomed to being interrupted. He looked almost lost. After a moment he cleared his throat noisily and assumed an arrogant expression. “Well, Enes of the Lavan,” he said, leaving out the proper breaks in the words with an air of defiance, “are you what my daughter says you are? Or have you deceived her so that you could be brought to my presence without the appropriate protocol being followed first?”
“We are magic-users,” acknowledged E’nes calmly.
There were several titters as the sycophants surrounding Lord Governor Wakichonze reflected his dubious expression.
“What magical powers do your people possess?” the Governor demanded.
“That varies, depending on the L’avan,” explained Mar’sal patiently. “For example, I am able to heal others, but E’nes is not.”
The room almost exploded in a rush of excited whispers. Lord Governor Wakichonze stared at them with wide eyes and Umarina looked very smug.
“Is my gift not a great one, illustrious father?” she asked in a voice that dripped with affected sweetness.
“If his words are true,” answered Wakichonze after a slow pause, “then you shall be honored above all daughters.”
The corpulent ruler of Charan struggled to get to his feet. He beckoned the L’avan forward with an imperious gesture.
“I suffer from a painful illness,” Wakichonze announced with a hint of pride, “although not many would know it. I am known for my strength and my reluctance to complain.”
Many heads nodded in vigorous agreement.
“If you are, indeed, magic-users,” Wakichonze continued, challenge gleaming in his eyes, “then you must heal me.”
Mar’sal’s expression showed the same reluctance that E’nes felt. This was not why they had come to Charan. They did not wish to become some sort of sideshow attraction. They had only hoped to get the attention of the Governor so they could skip all of the bureaucracy.
Well, they certainly had his attention now.
“Should I do it?” Mar’sal asked quietly, speaking in the language of the L’avan.
“I do not know that it can be avoided now,” responded E’nes in the same tongue.
“I am not trained as a Healer. What if his illness is too much for me to overcome?”
E’nes was worried about that very thing. “If that is the case, then I suppose it would be best to simply say so. Do what you can, Mar’sal. Perhaps by doing so we can gain the goodwill we need to convince them to send help to our armies.”
Mar’sal turned back to the waiting Governor and bowed gracefully. “I shall do my best, Lord Governor.”
Mar’sal approached the dais and Wakichonze waved a hand, giving permission to ascend. E’nes could not see what Mar’sal was doing with his vyala—since it was a different kind than E’nes possessed—but he could see his friend’s eyes glowing yellow with power.
E’nes could also see that the Governor looked distinctly uncomfortable. He guessed that Wakichonze could also see Mar’sal’s glowing eyes, and it seemed as though he was trying not to squirm under the scrutiny of the L’avan’s powerful gaze.
“Lord Governor,” said Mar’sal after several moments, keeping his voice low enough that E’nes could barely hear, “I am afraid there is little I can do. Even if I heal you, the pain will return in a matter of weeks.”
“What do you mean?” asked Wakichonze with wide eyes.
“The problem lies with your…size,” Mar’sal explained reluctantly. “Your body is suffering from its own weight, and the diet that you maintain only makes it worse.”
The Governor’s face flushed red with anger. “How…how dare you,” he sputtered.
“Like I said,” Mar’sal went on, “I could heal you of the pain, but it will return unless you change your habits.”
“Do what you say you can, you charlatan,” commanded Wakichonze, his voice loud with rage, “or I shall have you executed for your lies!”
Mar’sal sighed and then went to work. His face was fixed with concentration and beads of sweat began to form on his brow.
E’nes watched him closely, wishing that he had the ability to lend some of his own energy to his friend.
E’nes could understand Mar’sal’s reluctance to heal the Lord Governor. L’avan Healers would often enforce a change of habits if that was the cause of an illness, saying that it was a waste of vyala to heal someone if they were not committed to staying healthy. Wakichonze clearly had no intention of changing his lifestyle, so healing him would do nothing in the long run.
Still, Mar’sal had no option but to try.
E’nes just hoped it would be enough to convince Wakichonze to send his city soldiers to the aid of the L’avan.
After a handful of tense minutes, Mar’sal stepped back with a gasp. He was pale from his efforts and he had to sit down on the steps of the dais. Even so, he looked surprised and pleased with himself.
“It is done, Lord Governor,” he said faintly.
Wakichonze was grinning without restraint. “Yes, I can tell! How young I feel. So much energy and life! I cannot remember the last time I felt so good.”
The occupants of the room burst into spontaneous applause.
When the noise died down, Mar’sal addressed Wakichonze in a soft voice. “Please remember, m’lord, it will not last more than a few weeks. Your body will return to its former state unless you change your habits.”
Wakichonze waved his words of warning aside. “Not last, you say? Well, I shall just have to keep you close so you can heal
me again.”
E’nes felt a spike of alarm at the Governor’s words. “We cannot stay here in Charan, Lord Governor. We have come with a purpose, and we must leave when it is done.”
“Why have you come to my city?” asked Wakichonze.
E’nes took a deep breath. He had hoped to lead to his request more gently, but there was nothing he could do about that now. “We come to beg for your aid, Lord Governor Wakichonze. Sehar and Pevothem—the homeland of the L’avan—are under attack from a dangerous group called the Scepter of Cha-sak. The goal of the Scepter is nothing short of world domination. They threaten to destroy us, and we need ally soldiers to help us win the fight.”
Wakichonze seemed to be in an expansive mood due to his healing, and he looked at E’nes with amusement. “I have heard reports of this Scepter of Cha-sak. They are nothing more than a group of thugs.”
Mar’sal frowned. “They are more than that, Lord Governor. They have amassed an army of more than ten thousand mercenaries. Surely that is cause for concern, even for this great city.”
Wakichonze raised an eyebrow. “Ten thousand? Well, I will admit that is larger than I anticipated. However, mercenaries are notoriously unreliable, and I have even greater numbers at my command here in Charan.”
“Will you send soldiers to our aid, m’lord?” Mar’sal asked eagerly.
Wakichonze laughed loudly, and his fawning followers joined him. After a moment he waved them to silence. “Of course not. I will not risk my soldiers by getting involved in some tribal matter.”
E’nes felt sharp disappointment pressing down like a weight on his chest. “It is more than that, Lord Governor. This is a global threat.”
The Governor’s smile was patronizing. “I doubt that, young man. I am certain that it seems that way, but I assure you that the Scepter of Cha-sak will be stopped before too long.”
“Your confidence in our armies is inspiring,” E’nes said wryly, “but what if we cannot stop them?”
Wakichonze sat back down on his golden throne with a careless gesture of his hand. “If you are correct about their aspirations, then I am certain they will be stopped by the armies of the next nation they invade.”
“You will not take action unless the Scepter of Cha-sak moves against Etan?” Mar’sal asked, incredulous.
The leader of Charan shrugged. “It is not my concern, otherwise.”
“Not your concern?” sputtered Mar’sal.
“You would sit by and watch the population of Sehar be slaughtered?” E’nes’s voice was quiet but powerful.
Some of the sycophants looked uncomfortable and avoided the gaze of the L’avan, but Wakichonze appeared to be more bored than anything else.
“Sehar means very little in the greater picture. It has not been an important nation for a very long time. What does it matter if a group of ruffians wants to set up a new government?”
“You are not listening to what we are saying,” said E’nes, trying to keep the anger out of his voice. “The Scepter of Cha-sak will not stop until they have bathed the world in blood.”
Wakichonze’s face was haughty. “And you are not listening to what I am saying. You may think that your little skirmishes are important, but they are not. Your two armies will fight, one will win, and everything will go on as it always has. Should the Scepter of Cha-sak be foolish enough to move against Charan, my city’s soldiers will easily finish them.”
“Etan is Sehar’s ally,” Mar’sal burst out passionately. “If you do not stand with us now, I can promise you that we will not stand with you in the future.”
The Lord Governor chuckled. “A lion does not need a mouse for an ally.”
E’nes began to argue again, but Wakichonze cut him off impatiently. “I am weary of this conversation. My soldiers will take you to be fitted for your new uniforms now.”
Mar’sal and E’nes exchanged mystified glances.
“What do you mean?” Mar’sal asked cautiously.
Wakichonze appeared to be surprised by the question. “My daughter has given you to me, and I accept her gift. You are now my property.”
E’nes felt his anger flare, and he balled his hands into fists. “We are no one’s property, Lord Governor. We are free men, and we serve the king of the L’avan.”
“I am not worried about the king of some foreign tribe,” Wakichonze replied, and then turned away to attend to other matters. For him, the conversation was over.
Four soldiers moved away from the door and stood behind the two L’avan. One of them gestured for E’nes to exit the room, but the L’avan stood his ground.
“You will not help us?” E’nes asked for a final time.
Wakichonze looked annoyed. “I have given you my answer and dismissed you. Perhaps I should have the etiquette master give you instructions on the proper behavior of lower servants.”
The soldiers took hold of the arms of each L’avan, preparing to remove them from the room forcibly.
E’nes called forth his vyala in desperation. He could not allow them to take him prisoner. Adesina was relying on him.
Wren’na was waiting for him.
His anger and frustration lent power to his vyala, making it flare up in anticipation. His vision burned orange, and he hurled a wave of vyala forward to surround the golden throne of the Lord Governor.
The throne began to shake and moan.
Wakichonze yelped in alarm and jumped up much faster than seemed possible with his vast bulk. The Governor watched in horror as his seat of power was crushed and mangled by an unseen force.
It took almost all of E’nes’s energy, but he made sure to keep his expression and voice strong. “You will let us leave this city. We do not belong to you or to any man. I am brother to Queen Adesina of the L’avan—a woman you shall learn to revere in the years to come. If you try to hold us, we will fight with our very lives. If you kill us, Queen Adesina will descend upon you with a vengeance that will level this great city. We came to you in friendship, asking for your help. You have refused our friendship and our request, and we shall not forget that quickly. Our dealings are done.”
Wakichonze remained speechless. He stared at them with fear in his eyes and then nodded to his soldiers to let them go.
E’nes and Mar’sal turned and walked out of the glittering room, passing through the wake of shocked silence.
E’nes’s heart was heavy with disappointment. He had been sent to gain allies for the fight against Cha-sak, but instead he had made an enemy. Unless he was mistaken in the character of Wakichonze, the Lord Governor of Charan would not forgive the L’avan people for the actions E’nes had taken.
Neither L’avan spoke until they were free from the confining walls of the Manor. When they reached the open air, they gathered their horses and rode back the way they came.
“What do we do now?” asked Mar’sal miserably as they approached the gate of the city.
E’nes sighed, feeling as miserable as his friend sounded. “We will go back to Sehar and join the fight.”
Chapter Twenty-Eight: Hawk’s Return
Adesina had never experienced such weariness. Her body was numb from exhaustion, and her mind was not much better off.
“Ma’eve, are you listening?”
Ravi’s deep voice woke her from her daze. She sat up straighter and looked around the tent. L’iam, Hestia, and Sitara were looking at her in concern, and Ruon’s lips were pressed together in disapproval.
Adesina cleared her throat. “I am sorry. I am having trouble focusing right now.”
L’iam’s eyes were full of understanding. “Why not go take an hour and meditate? You are tired.”
She shook her head. “We are all tired. There is much to do still, and you know you cannot spare me for an hour right now.”
L’iam did not argue with her, but the expression on his face spoke volumes. Sitara made a gently entreating gesture with her hands. “At the very least go outside and get a breath of fresh air. It will help to sharpe
n your mind.”
Adesina was going to protest, but she decided against it. It would take less time to step out of the tent and come back than it would take to argue that she didn’t have time.
She smiled at her friends and nodded, climbing slowly to her feet and walking out with feigned energy.
The battle with the Shimat advance force had been going almost non-stop for two weeks now. The number of soldiers in the L’avan and Seharan armies remained surprisingly high. Many were wounded, but few had died. The Shimat commanders did not appear to be trying anything clever in their battle tactics. Their only goal seemed to be wearing their opponents down.
And it was working.
Everyone was exhausted, for there was little time to sleep. L’iam had ordered shifts in the fighting, but even then there was hardly any chance for the soldiers to eat and rest. It was even harder on the commanders, for they saw to the needs of the soldiers before their own. Adesina had been running herself ragged trying to ease the burdens that weighed on L’iam and Me’shan. After all, she was the one who technically didn’t need to sleep.
The cool night air was invigorating to Adesina as she stepped out of the command tent. She breathed it in deeply, glad for a break from the endless planning.
Earlier that afternoon the Shimat army had pulled back without any explanation. They had retreated to their camp, and there they waited. L’iam had sent spies to watch them, but the L’avan and Seharans had taken the opportunity to fall back as well. Now every soldier was taking advantage of this rare time to sleep or eat or make repairs to weapons and armor.
The camp seemed strangely subdued, and Adesina looked over it with sorrow weighing heavily on her heart. Before this conflict was over, many of these fine men and women would lose their lives.
Adesina’s reverie was interrupted by Ruon. The tall, lithe figure of the Laithur came to stand by her.
“You are pushing yourself too hard,” he said critically and without preamble.
She gave him a slightly exasperated glance. “I am doing everything I can to make sure we succeed. Do you suggest that I do otherwise?”
