by Callie Kanno
“How…is that possible?” he gasped.
Faryl walked toward him, her anger growing cold with a sense of vengeance. “My mother was L’avan. Her blood runs through my veins.”
That was all the explanation she gave him.
She brought several strands of dark red vyala together, mixing them as she would a poultice. Her arms made the motions in the air because she had not yet learned how to wield vyala without doing so.
Breyen jumped to his feet, still moving with a catlike grace in spite of his years. He moved to get out of her line of sight, but Faryl had already released the bolt of power. The two trees nearest to him bended and warped, almost knocking him off his feet again. He did a quick back flip to get out the path of danger.
“Hardly a killing blow,” Breyen commented in a voice of reprimand. “Did your years among the Shimat teach you nothing?”
“I was never a Shimat,” spat Faryl. “I was a slave.”
“And yet the blood of a Shimat runs through you just as surely as the blood of the L’avan,” Breyen reminded her. “You seem eager enough to claim the blood of your mother.”
Faryl released another burst of vyala, and the ground heaved upward once more. “I am just as eager to disown the blood of my father.”
Breyen dodged the flying rocks and clods of dirt. He brushed off his clothing with an expression of disdain. “Your lack of commitment is tiresome. If you wish to kill me, then do it.”
“Death is too good for you,” retorted Faryl. “Perhaps I should leave you for Cha-sak to find.”
The nearby trees twisted around Breyen, forming a wooden cage. The Shimat leapt through a gap in the trunks before they closed. For the first time in the encounter, Breyen looked frightened. His face paled at the mention of Cha-sak’s name.
“Do the L’avan not tout mercy?” asked Breyen in a voice filled with forced calm. “It would be better for all if you simply let me leave. In the service of Cha-sak I will only be a threat to your people.”
Faryl gave a harsh laugh. “Oh, I do not think Cha-sak would return a deserter to his service. Also, as you pointed out, I am not a full L’avan.”
Breyen grew even paler and his eyes darted as they searched for an opening to escape through. “You would not…”
“You have underestimated me before,” Faryl said. “I do not think you should make assumptions.”
She fed a thick thread of vyala into a nearby tree, causing it to explode outward. The splintered wood flew through the air, cutting Breyen’s skin in dozens of places and embedding a large chunk in his side.
Breyen didn’t cry out, but his eyes narrowed in pain as he pulled the bloodied piece of wood. He pressed a hand over the wound.
“You may be right,” he conceded, “but there is something of equal importance that you must remember.”
A chill of apprehension crept up Faryl’s spine. “What is that?”
Breyen smiled coldly. “You do not know me either.”
His left hand whipped out from behind his back, sending a knife hurling toward Than’os.
Faryl cried out in alarm, and she automatically send a wave of vyala to try and knock it off course. Instead of the blade striking Than’os in the heart—as it would have if Faryl hadn’t interfered—it buried itself in his stomach.
She felt her connection to Than’os’s vyala slip away, and her heart raced at what that implied. She hurried to Than’os, knowing that Breyen would escape. Knowing that she could do nothing to stop him.
The man she loved was lying on the ground, his face a ghostly hue. The man she hated most was free.
She dropped to her knees beside Than’os, reaching into the pouches tied to her waist and pulling out her collection of herbs and essences.
“Than’os,” she called gently, “can you hear me?”
He opened his eyes with a slightly dazed expression. “Did Breyen get away?”
Faryl bit her lip and nodded, trying to hold back the tears that were forming. She didn’t trust herself to speak without her frustration and regret choking her words.
Than’os frowned. “We must go after him…” he trailed off.
Faryl shook her head. “Do not worry about it, dearest. It does not matter.”
“It does,” insisted Than’os. He started to rise and then cried out in pain, falling back to the ground.
“Do not move,” Faryl commanded sharply. Her instincts as a healer asserted themselves, and she found herself forcing all other thoughts and emotions aside. “You will not be able to do anything if you die today.”
“We will find him,” promised Than’os, but he didn’t try to move anymore.
Faryl began mixing herbs furiously, muttering angrily to herself. She very carefully removed the knife and pressed one hand down on his stomach to try and slow the bleeding. With her other hand, she applied a heavy layer of the poultice to one of the bandages in her pouch and then placed it over the wound. Then she wrapped the whole thing tightly, whispering a prayer as she did so.
“We need to get you back to the camp,” she said to Than’os, keeping her tone level. “The Healers will be able to help you more than I can.”
Than’os didn’t answer or indicate that he had even heard her.
Faryl lovingly brushed some stray hairs from his forehead and said, “Wait here, my love. I will get help and return.”
Her heart wrenched at the thought of leaving Than’os wounded and alone, but she knew it was the only way to save him. She stumbled to her feet and ran as quickly as she could toward the battle. Faryl had to find someone to help her carry Than’os to safety.
His life depended on it.
Chapter Thirty-One: The Sight
L’iam was staring at one of the maps on the table in the command tent when a Rashad messenger rushed in. It was Rissa, Ravi’s younger sister. She had been running back and forth between the camp and the battlefield almost nonstop since dawn, and she was clearly out of breath.
“King L’iam,” she gasped, “I have a message from the western flank.”
He gave her his full attention. “What is it?”
“Than’os has fallen and is being taken to the Healers. His men are without a leader, and they are beginning to fall back. Queen Adesina has said she will rally them, but she cannot stay. She is needed with the cavalry.”
Than’os was one of L’iam’s oldest friends, and the L’avan king’s first question was instinctual. “How badly is he wounded?”
“Initial reports are mixed, but one of the Healers on the battlefield says he is receiving help quickly enough that he should make a full recovery.”
With that information to comfort his mind, L’iam turned and frowned as he studied the map.
“Those Shimat are targeting all of our leaders,” said Me’da. “They are trying to destroy the chain of command.”
Z’eki shook his head. “I do not know that we have anybody to spare that we can send over there. Queen Adesina is correct; she is needed with the cavalry.”
“I could go,” offered Ri’sel.
Z’eki shook his head again. “No, young man, you are needed to relieve Me’shan when the time comes.”
Hestia was standing at the far end of the tent, not far from where Ruon and Sitara were recovering from their long struggle with Cha-sak. The Ojuri leader leaned forward and rested her hands on the table.
Her voice was soft, but determined. “Send Leander.”
L’iam looked at her in surprise. “Your son is not a soldier, Hestia. I do not think he would feel comfortable in a leadership position.”
She raised her chin in proud defiance. “He knows as much about leadership as I do. He only lacks experience, which he would certainly gain.”
“That he would,” agreed Z’eki. “We have already agreed that it is important for the Seharans to see their new leaders in action. This would be a good opportunity for the crown prince to gain the trust and respect of his people.”
L’iam studied Hestia’s carefully comp
osed face. “The western flank is a dangerous place right now. He would not be safe.”
“He is not safe where he is now,” she responded.
As one of the few Seharans that owned a riding horse—one that could be trusted in the chaos of battle—Leander had been placed in the cavalry. No battle was ever safe for any soldier, but he was safer than most with Adesina at the lead.
Finally, L’iam nodded. Although he hated to add to Hestia’s worries, she was right. Leander did seem like the best option to lead that group of young recruits.
“Rissa, return to the cavalry and tell Leander that he is to relieve Queen Adesina and replace Than’os as leader. Then tell Adesina that she is to lead the cavalry down to this area where K’eb is fighting.” He pointed at the map. “She is to strike at the Shimat and allow the infantry to pull back.”
Rissa nodded her golden head and disappeared from the tent. The Rashad had the ability to teleport to any location that was clearly in their sight, which made travel faster and easier for them. It was also what made them ideal messengers. They could jump from point to point—while running, if necessary—and deliver vital information in a fraction of the time it would take a traditional messenger.
L’iam felt the weight of his heart pulling on his chest. He turned back to the maps on the table and did his best to focus, but his thoughts were with his wife.
He had been furious when he had awoken and found her already gone. He had almost ridden down to the battlefield and forcibly brought her back with him. She had no right to make such a decision without him, not only because he was the king but also because he was her husband. They were supposed to make those choices together, as a team.
L’iam wasn’t angry anymore. He was hurt, though, and he was very worried. The entire tone of the battle had changed since the arrival of the main Shimat forces. They were no longer simply trying to wear down the L’avan and Seharans. They were fighting with the intent to kill.
L’iam was startled when Ruon suddenly got to his feet.
The head of the Laithur brushed the top of the tent, and he kept his long neck slightly bent to avoid the lanterns hanging above them. Ruon gestured urgently to Sitara and walked out of the tent, and the Serraf followed without question.
Their sudden departure caused L’iam to worry even more. They had spent the morning protecting their forces from the attacks of Cha-sak, which would have been devastating without Immortal aid. The magical bombardment from the demon had eventually slowed and stopped, giving Ruon and Sitara a chance to rest themselves.
For them to leave so suddenly meant that something was about to happen. Something dire enough for Ruon to make haste.
L’iam said a silent prayer for all those who fought for the Light. They needed divine help now more than ever.
“Your Majesty?” prodded Me’da in a gentle voice.
He gave a brisk nod and returned to the task at hand. “Right,” he answered. “Savir, I need updated information on where the armies stand.”
***
Adesina received her orders, and she followed them reluctantly.
Leander was a good soldier, especially considering his limited training, but he had never been placed in a position like that before. Their front lines were weakening, and they needed strong leaders in order to recover. The Ojuri heir—now Crown Prince of Sehar—did not have the experience that Adesina would have hoped for in Than’os’s replacement.
The new recruits could hardly be called soldiers at all. They had been taught how to fight, but they were timid. Before she had arrived, they had all but fallen apart in the chaos of battle. They were little more than boys, and the stark violence of war was something they had never encountered before. She had brought them back together and had urged them forward, riding at their head.
The recruits needed a strong presence to rally behind. They needed to be shown how to be the soldiers they needed to become.
Leander, his dark face scarred from the cruelty of some unkind villager in his childhood, had silently and expressionlessly taken control of the young recruits and allowed Adesina to return to the cavalry.
She had seen him speak a few words to them, but she had not heard what he said. Adesina trusted L’iam’s judgment, but she was still concerned for those young men. She would have worried even if Than’os was still leading them. The recruits were heading toward some dark and trying days.
Adesina urged Torith into a gallop, meeting up with the rest of the cavalry. They were currently being led by Hestia’s son-in-law, Finlay, who was surprisingly talented as both a horseman and a swordsman. He had been an easy choice as her second-in-command, and she had not doubted his capability when she had decided to leave in order to rescue Than’os’s soldiers. Ravi and his Rashad were also fighting close by, which gave the cavalry added support.
The soldiers gave a cheer at her approach. Most of them were L’avan themselves, but even the Seharans joined in the salute. Through her Joining, she could sense Ravi’s relief that she was returning.
Adesina raised her Blood Sword and let it flare with power. It might have been a careless use of her energy, but it boosted the morale of those who followed her.
Adesina and the cavalry thundered down the field, churning up ground that was soaked with blood. The air was thick with the scent of death, and it turned her stomach to witness such gross disregard for life.
L’iam was sending her to cover the retreat of K’eb and his soldiers, and she wasted no time in leading the cavalry in the direction they needed to go. K’eb, like many other soldiers who were wounded or disabled, had insisted that he was still able to fight. L’iam was not in a position to turn away any experienced soldier that offered to join the army, and so K’eb had been given heavy armor and a weapon he could wield with one arm.
K’eb’s force was much farther south than the rest of the army, and they were being cut off by the enemy. If that were to happen, they would be surrounded and slaughtered. As she drew closer, Adesina saw that K’eb and his soldiers were struggling to hold their position. She quickly pinpointed the spot that she needed to attack in order to enable the weary fighters to withdraw safely. Torith charged forward, and Adesina brought down her sword with a yell. She did not need to look to know that the rest of the cavalry was right behind her, fighting with all their might.
The Rashad used their unique ability to transport themselves behind the enemy forces in the blink of an eye, acting as a flanking force to the cavalry. The two-sided attack made it possible for K’eb’s men to regroup and retreat to a stronger position.
As with the rest of the mercenaries, this squadron was led by a Shimat warrior on horseback. The Shimat rode toward Adesina with the drive of a killer.
It was difficult to determine the gender of the Shimat, but Adesina guessed that it was a woman. The Shimat’s Blood Weapon was in the form of two short swords, which were both drawn. The Shimat appeared to be using her knees to guide the movements of her horse, leaving her hands free to do the fighting.
The clash of steel rang through the air as the two warriors met. The Shimat was incredibly fast, sweeping her short swords in perfect—and deadly—harmony. At first, it was all Adesina could do to defend herself against the whirlwind of attacks. Then, as she adjusted to the pace of the fight, Adesina grew more confident.
The Shimat woman was fast, but she was also predictable. She used the same series of attacks over and over again, trying to drive Adesina back and break through her defense.
Adesina’s lips curled into a grim smile, and she urged Torith forward so she could exploit the move she knew was coming next.
The Shimat’s eyes narrowed in what might have been a grin—it was difficult to tell with most of her face covered by the scarf and hood of her uniform—and she suddenly changed movements and broke her pattern. Instead of bringing her second sword swinging sideways, she lunged forward and stabbed Adesina through the gap in her armor under the arm.
Adesina’s vyala prevented it from b
eing a fatal wound, but it still split the skin and bled a great deal. The young queen swore as she knocked the enemy blade away and moved Torith back a few steps.
The Shimat’s eyes were smug, and that made Adesina even angrier than before. She knew better than to fall for such a trick. She had used it herself on her opponents. What was wrong with her?
Adesina didn’t have time for introspection. The Shimat was moving forward to attack again.
The wound in Adesina’s side made movement painful, but she gritted her teeth and tried to ignore it. She switched Falcon to the other hand and continued fighting with equal skill, since—as all Shi—she had learned to be ambidextrous.
The Shimat looked rather surprised by Adesina’s resilience, and it was the L’avan queen’s turn to smile. It seemed that this Shimat didn’t recognize Adesina for who she was and hadn’t expected a difficult kill.
Adesina took a deep breath and let herself become immersed in the flow of the fight. It was a trick she had learned as a Shi—one rarely used anymore. It was a technique that turned off all of her emotions and inhibitions. It made her into a more efficient warrior, but it also turned her into a ruthless killer. She did not like losing the softer part of herself that she had worked so hard to cultivate, but she knew she needed to win this fight.
Hold on to me, Ma’eve.
Ravi’s voice broke through her mind in a wave of warmth and encouragement.
Hold on to me, and I will keep that part of you safe.
She visualized handing him the tender parts of her heart for safekeeping. Knowing that Ravi would guard them and that she could take them back at any time gave her great comfort.
With her mind refocused, Adesina raised her sword once more.
She channeled all of her vyala into the blade, causing it to seethe and swirl with light. Torith stepped forward instinctively, and Adesina’s sword whipped toward her enemy with unbelievable speed and precision.
