CHILD OF DESTINY (The Rising Saga Book 1)

by M. K. Adams

  “You really did have a vision, didn’t you?”

  “Oh child…” Abella sounded distraught.

  Abella had been right, the king had people who could see the visions of others. The king knew about what she’d seen.

  “He’ll never stop looking,” Lyvanne croaked as she held back a flood of tears.

  She had wanted to craft her own path; she’d wanted to get them all out of this god forsaken basement and now her chance had been taken away from her by the very being she used to pray to every night.

  “I have to leave.”

  Abella moved over to her side and grabbed her wrist. “Not yet.”

  “Where will you go?” Lira asked from the stairs. She hid it better than Lyvanne but she, too, was on the verge of tears.

  “I have to hand myself -”

  Abella waved a finger in the air.

  “No child, you will do no such thing.”

  Lyvanne looked up to her in confusion. “Why? I won’t let them hurt you!”

  “The Angel has granted you a great gift child,” Her voice sounded sincere, almost pleased. Lyvanne looked on at her elder, confused as to how she didn’t seem angry at their situation. “You’ve seen a better future for yourself, and I don’t doubt it’s a better future for us all. You’re right, there’s only so long that we can protect you here, but there will be others out there who can do so. You may have to travel outside of the city, but somewhere out there you will find safety. The Angel has shown you that. You’re fortunate child, and I mean this without offence, but more than half the young girls in Astreya look as you do. The king will have a hard time finding you. You need to use that to your advantage.”

  Lyvanne had never heard Abella speak like this, especially not in the last few years. All she could do in reply was smile.

  “Don’t leave us Lyv!” Oh said as he ran over to her bed and threw his arms around her. He was irritating the wound on her arm, but she didn’t mind.

  “I’m sorry, Oh. I’ve got to.” she returned the hug as well as her one good arm would allow as the boy started softly crying.

  Lyvanne looked across at Lira who had sat down on the stairs. She too had tears on her face. The two shared a knowing look; Lira would be in charge now, it was down to her to look after the others. They had all known that this day would come eventually; she was growing up too fast. Not only that, but she hadn’t been the first to come and she wouldn’t be the last to leave. This basement was a safe place for people like them, and leaving was Lyvanne’s last way of making sure that stayed true.

  “Stay the rest of the day,” Abella insisted with more determination in her voice. “The king’s men are dumb, they won’t come searching in this ruin, but you can’t be seen just wandering the streets anymore either. Wait until it’s dark, then head for the city’s lower level, I can’t advise you on where to go once you’re there, child, but I have faith you’ll find your way.”

  The hours came and went slowly. Every time they heard passing footsteps or a nearby bell of one of the king’s criers, they tensed. Fortunately, as Abella had predicted, none searched the ruins. As the sun went down in the sky Abella applied a final dressing to Lyvanne’s arm, it hurt a lot, but she was grateful. The old lady was trying to ensure that this child, who she had no true responsibility to look after, was sent off into the world with the best chance possible. That was more than most in the Upper Level would do if they found her. They let her keep her small sack that she would often use to bring them food, filling it with what they could spare; Oh even snuck in one of his toy soldiers.

  “Are you sure you’ll be okay out there?” Lira asked as the four stood at the base of the stairs.

  “Yes, don’t worry I’ll be fine,” Lyvanne lied. Abella knew that might not be the case, but she thought better than to interject the way she usually would.

  Lyvanne wanted nothing more than to leave without saying goodbye, to sneak out whilst they slept like she would if she was just going out to find them food, as if she would be back that afternoon to see their smiling faces. But that wasn’t going to be the case this time. She wouldn’t be coming back, not unless she had a way of getting them out of there for good.

  “Lira come here,” Lyvanne said, pulling her friend upstairs into the hollowed core of the house above.

  “What is it?” Lira asked.

  Once she was sure that Oh hadn’t followed, Lyvanne held out her hand, in her palm a small pouch that clinked as she passed it over to her friend. Lira’s mouth fell agape as she slowly loosed the string that kept the pouch closed.

  “What is -

  “It’s mine. It’s not much,” Lyvanne interrupted, trying to explain the sudden stash of money she had passed on to Lira. “But it will help you all if things get tough. Use it carefully though, you can make something of your lives if you keep saving.”

  It hurt Lyvanne to give up the money in this way. She felt as though she was giving up on a dream before it had had chance to blossom, but she cared about her friends and if this was the best way she could continue protecting them after she was gone then so be it.

  Later that day after saying her goodbyes, Lyvanne set off up the stairs and out into the big world, alone for what felt like the first time in a lifetime. Abella had gifted Lyvanne with a travelling cloak she had stashed away in one of the few small drawers that had been brought down into the basement. Unlike the cloaks that Lyvanne had seen the rich wearing every day on the busy streets of the city, this one had no pigmented colour; it was a basic mix of brown and dark greens. Better not to draw attention with outward wealth Abella had argued when Oh had told her to give Lyvanne one of the cloaks with pretty colours. The cloak was now tied around her neck with a small pin; her arm had been washed and freshly bandaged and her clothes were in as good condition as she would ever get them. She was ready.

  For the first few minutes, she barely made any distance. Too scared to move quickly, too unsure to walk with purpose. Unsurprisingly, the king’s soldiers were still out searching, but there weren’t as many as she expected. Every few streets or so she found herself changing direction just to avoid any confrontations, but aside from that she felt fairly certain that she could avoid contact. All the nobles and socialites were either tucked away safely in bed, or they were off galivanting among the wealthiest venues in the Upper level, far from where she was now. The streets were, mostly, her own. That was until she arrived within viewing distance of the Lion Gate. The gate which acted as partition between the Upper and lower levels of Astreya was swarmed with guards, more than she had seen before in one place.

  Lyvanne said a little curse before manoeuvring into a position that gave her better scope for viewing the street ahead. Climbing up to the roof of a small blacksmith’s, one of a few which lined the street she was on, she spied at least two-dozen guards around the gate. Some were stationed on the walkways of the wall, longbows in hand. Lyvanne knew that if she tried to run through the gate and past the guards that they’d be able to pierce her heart before she made it one hundred strides into the lower level. The king’s soldiers were renowned throughout the Rive for their archery skills and it wasn’t a story she wanted to test in person.

  Most of the guards were City Watch, wearing the usual thick steel plated armour. A handful wore a more mobile gambeson. They would be the easiest targets to try and get past, she knew, but the king’s soldiers who made up the rest of the group had her worried. Lyvanne made her decision; she was going to find another way into the lower level. Perhaps if she followed the Anya upstream she would be able to find an unprotected grate or similar which she could use to slip through, she thought.

  Momentarily forgetting about her injured arm, Lyvanne placed her full weight down onto her right side as she began to climb down from the roof. The arm buckled with pain, and she fell to the floor below, crashing hard into a stack of crates she had used to climb up in the first place. Two of the guards closest to her looked up the street and in her direction. She didn’t have tim
e to think about what to do next as they saw her lying there at the side of the street.

  “Oi, girl!” One of them called out as he placed a hand on the hilt of his sheathed sword.

  She didn’t wait for the pleasantries to be said, for the pretence that they meant no harm. Instead, she darted in the direction she had just come from and the guards gave chase. Some of them at least; she didn’t dare to turn back to see exactly how many.

  Her footsteps rang out from the cobbled streets as she bounded as fast as her feet would carry her. Every so often she would see the rich and indignant peer out from windows or doorways, inquisitive as to what all the commotion was about. She needed to be quick, before one of them tried to be a local hero and stop her for before the guards could.

  She took a sharp turn to her right and down a narrow street, dimly lit except for the entrance to one of the rowdier taverns in the Upper level. Even the rich, noble, and proud had worries that they had to drink away. Outside the entrance, as she had hoped, was a gaggle of drunkards, swinging from side to side in fine gowns and garments, arguing and singing as they drank the night away. They perfectly clogged up the entire width of the alley, so using her size and speed she barged through their legs, causing little to no commotion. The guards weren’t so lucky. They had to shout and forcefully move the patrons to create a clear path through. She looked down at her arm as she ran; it stung from where she had forced through the crowd, but the bandages were holding up well and there was no sign that she had done any further damage to it. She hoped that the wound wasn’t as bad as she had first thought; otherwise she wouldn’t last long on her own. Her mission had been relatively successful; she’d put some distance between herself and the guards who had been quietly gaining on her for the past for few minutes.

  “Get back here!” she heard as the first of those giving chase broke through the crowd. The clatter of steel echoing in her ears as the guard pulled free his sword, causing a phantom pain to crawl up her arm.

  She was running out of options and fast. The river had been her first choice, but it was on the other side of the Upper level, and at this rate she would never make it, let alone find a way through to the lower level before she was caught. Hiding wasn’t an option; they were too hot on her heels. She had one final chance she realised as she turned a corner onto a wide street large enough for carriages and at the far end saw a sharp dip in the ground. The sewers.

  Her legs picked up speed; they were tiring fast but that wasn’t going to stop them from getting to safety. More shouts sounded from the guards as they realised what her aim was. They weren’t going to stop her now. She reached the dip to the side of the street and sure enough it lead down towards the sewers.

  There was no time left to second guess her decision and she darted down the tunnel, only just large enough for her to fit in. To say it stunk, as her feet splashed down onto the currently shallow stream of sewage would have been the greatest understatement in the Rive for a century. Lyvanne couldn’t help but retch, only just holding back the sensation to vomit.

  “Come on,” she told herself as she held a quivering hand up to her mouth. “Nothing you haven’t seen before.”

  Pulling her hood across to her mouth, she began to forge ahead, further into the dark depths. The guards shouted down after her, but not even for a second did they appear as though they considered following after some street urchin who probably wasn’t even the person the king was after. For now she was safe, but whether or not she would be able to pass through the wall and into the lower level from down under the ground was another matter.

  Lyvanne felt like she was scrambling around in the dark for an eternity. She stuck mostly to the walls, where the flow of sewage was least troublesome She had no doubt that by now she was as foul smelling as the tunnels themselves. So much for clean clothes, she joked. The first light-hearted thought she’d had since leaving Abella’s.

  Time passed slowly down in the sewers. Lyvanne didn’t know how long it had been when she finally found a tunnel system that provided with her with enough light to pass through relatively easy. The sun that gleamed in through small grates in the ceilings indicated that the morning was dawning on the streets above and soon the searches would begin again in earnest for the young girl who had seen the downfall of the king. She heard the king’s criers, she saw the passing shadows of soldiers, but never once did Lyvanne leave the sewer. She hadn’t thought it possible to live a harder life than the one she had known before, but now she found herself sharing accommodation with the city’s rat population and human waste. It was far from ideal, but at the very least she was safe from those who hunted for her.

  On an idle hour her mind drifted to the mines below the city. She wondered how much closer she could get to them if she took the right turns in the sewer systems. It was an answer that she didn’t really want to find out, but she’d lived most of her life underground and found a certain irony in the fact that once again that’s where she found herself, always one step closer to the mines than the average person.

  Days came and went. Lyvanne began to catch rats when her stomach started to growl at her for sustenance. She knew it wouldn’t be enough in the long term, and the search for the tunnel which would take her into the lower level became all the more pressing. Her arm had held up nicely considering; she daren’t take off the wrapping in the sewers, but with every passing day it hurt less and less.

  The tunnel roofs were littered with grates that led to the surface, providing her with just enough light to get by. She wasn’t alone below ground, everywhere she went she was greeted by rats scurrying along the floor. At first she had tried all she could to avoid them, but once it became clear that food would be hard to come by she turned her attention to the vermin. They weren’t scared of her like she had expected, and at times they even crawled up to her in curiosity. She cried for hours the first time she had to kill one, but her stomach hadn’t stopped growling for hours and she couldn’t see any other options.

  After days of continually wandering through almost identical dark, putrid and twisting corridors of the underground maze Lyvanne finally took a turn that granted her some much needed relief. Passing an entrance much like the one she had used to first climb down into the sewers Lyvanne used the opportunity to survey where exactly in the city she’d wound up. An immediate sense of both relief and confusion washed over her. The buildings here were much smaller than she was used to, many with decaying walls and chipped doors. They were bunched together in a manner that indicated severe overpopulation, and some were no bigger than the stone extension she had used to escape the Accord. She’d never been here before, but the contrast to what she was used to seeing from Astreya was so strong that she immediately knew that at some point the underground sewers had passed her into the lower level.

  Chapter 6

  The situation in the lower level of Astreya was worse than she had hoped for. The crowds were so vast, the people so poor and bland in appearance that it would be easy for her to get lost and make her way towards the city’s exit. But to counter the crowds the number of city watch and king’s soldiers patrolling the streets were double, maybe even triple the number that Lyvanne had seen and heard in the Upper level.

  It didn’t pose too much of a mystery. Everyone knew that the people fortunate enough to live in the Upper level were treated differently by the king. So once he had been told about this young girl’s vision, he would have automatically assumed that any resistance to his reign would likely come from the commoners. He wasn’t entirely wrong, Lyvanne mused, but equally that wasn’t a life that she wanted for herself. The pull to hand herself over and to explain that she wasn’t going to revolt, had slipped further away with every hour that she’d been forced to spend in the sewers. She had little choice but to hide, and when the opportunity next presented itself, to run.

  She dared not venture out of the safety of the sewers, choosing for the time being to stay safe and underground. At times, she called herself a coward for
it, trying to convince herself that for her own good she needed to leave. But she had never been to the lower level before, not that she could remember anyway, and she was just as likely to end up back at the Lion Gate as she was the exit to the city. So over the next few days, Lyvanne ventured out into the lower level of the city, only ever at night and only when she was sure there was no one around to see her leave, which was rare. She scavenged through waste buckets, searching for any kind of food. It was a harder job than she’d had back in the Upper level, the poorer people of the city were evidently less likely to waste food, let alone throw it out. Yet, she managed to find enough to keep her going day by day.

  Over time she began to regain strength that she’d lost wasting away in the sewers. The morsels of food were like feasting on a king’s banquet compared to the skinny rats she’d had to feed on prior. As the nights passed by, she began to venture further away from the sewer’s entrance, familiarising herself with the surrounding areas so that one day, when she felt confident enough, she could make her escape.

  In the area immediately surrounding the sewer entrance, there was no fewer than three taverns, all of them more crowded and less hygienic than those she’d passed by in the Upper level. It made for good cover from guards if she needed it, but it also meant that she had lots of eyes on her if she chose to travel via those routes at night. It wouldn’t necessarily be an issue, but she didn’t like the feeling it gave her that her options for escape were almost immediately restricted the moment she stepped out of hiding. If she caught the attention of one wrong person outside the taverns then it might be game over.

  Two more nights she told herself as she crept down a street packed to the brim with market stalls, a tavern, and small shanty houses that appeared strung together with some haste. Two more nights of exploring and familiarising herself with the nearby streets and she would make her grand escape from Astreya. Her theory was that if she never set herself a target then she would grow comfortable, she’d become the creepy urban legend that parents scare their children with. The rat killer who lives in the sewers.