CHILD OF DESTINY (The Rising Saga Book 1)

by M. K. Adams

  “Any idea what we’re doing here?” Lord Bullard asked as he made his way around the table towards his usual seat. It amazed Merrick how the man could wear chainmail armour and carry around his famed long sword at all times. At times these meetings would go on for hours and he became uncomfortable even when wearing the city’s finest robes, let alone dressed ready for combat.

  “Afraid not.”

  “It’s never a good sign when you of all people don’t know something,” Lord Bullard chirped. Merrick was known for his network of spies who worked throughout the various cities of The Rive; his similar network of assassins was less widely known. Only a few days prior, he had needed to silence someone who he believed to be sending information out of the king’s castle and into the streets of Astreya. He had taken great pleasure in doing so. The little bird had been chirping secrets for far too long and it was about due time his troubles came home to roost.

  The other members of the Royal Council trickled in slowly but surely after that. Firstly, there was Lady Eastbridge, the king’s Treasurer and direct point of contact for the nobles of The Rive. Merrick always thought her to be the most intimidating member of the Council, and yet stunningly beautiful at the same time. Her late husband had been the old Treasuer, but he was bad at the job and she was good. So when a terrible accident befell him, she was ushered into the role as quickly as one could snap their fingers. Merrick admired that quality about her.

  Secondly, came Lord Pencival. Where Lord Bullard took charge of the king’s army, Lord Pencival was head of the Royal Navy. The two often greatly differed on their approach to matters of war, and their endless bickering was the subject of many jokes among the other members of the Council. Unfortunately the king’s lust to expand his ever growing empire gave Merrick great cause to believe that the two would have matters to argue over for many years to come.

  The final member of the Royal Council to arrive, other than the king, was Lady Avina. If Lady Eastbridge was beautiful, then Lady Avina was nothing short of the Goddess of Creation herself. Her role was that of Ambassador to Foreign states. She entered the antechamber wearing a golden gown that was cut short around her thighs, something that would be deemed inappropriate if it wasn’t for her high standing. She was also the youngest member of the Council, being no more than twenty-eight years of age. An honour that highly infuriated Merrick, who himself was only a few years older. Merrick found himself staring as she glided into the antechamber, her hazel hair falling gracefully below her shoulders. Idle chatter filled the room as the Council awaited their liege. To Merrick’s right sat Lord Bullard, to his left Lady Eastbridge. As usual, all of Merrick’s conversation was very much focussed to his right. A few minutes later the king stormed into the room, flanked by a man whom Merrick didn’t recognise. The king appeared tired, as was usual these days.

  Is your anxiety still keeping you awake at night? Merrick wondered to himself as he recalled the rumours of how the king grew more paranoid by the day. The king’s hair, cut short to the scalp, had greyed significantly over the past two years. His eyes that still shone an unusual bright blue for someone from the Northern parts of The Rive - a result of his mother being from the far reaches of the South - now had a never vanishing ache behind them.

  “My Liege,” The council spoke in harmony as they stood to welcome their monarch.

  The king waved a sleeved hand and everyone took his or her seat once again. The king was clothed in silk robes of green and silver with a golden belt adorning his waist, from which hung his ceremonial rapier.

  “I have news which you should all know,” The king spoke, his voice raspy and deep with age. “This is Melruin,” he said, signalling to the tall and weathered looking man who stood behind him. The man’s face, the only evidence of skin visible with his arms being hidden away behind long sleeved military robes, was covered with scars.

  Merrick had heard the name before; this man was one of the king’s secretive warlocks. Fantasy and children’s stories, Merrick thought.

  “Melruin has at last been successful in discovering the location of the traitorous child who has been plaguing my mind for far too long,” The king carried on.

  Merrick couldn’t show it outwards, but he was eternally grateful for the news. He was far from the kind of person who would believe in eternal deities, who lived in the sky, but his king was and it was his moods to which he had to cater. The trouble surrounding this young girl who had supposedly seen the downfall of the king’s reign had been a serious thorn in Merrick’s side. It was highly embarrassing that his network of spies couldn’t find one child, let alone when they had the backing of the city watch and the king’s soldiers. The issue surrounding the child had been distracting the king from real issues for too long now and it was about time it stopped, a sentiment that he was sure the rest of the Royal Council echoed.

  “Lord Bullard,” The king turned his attention towards the Commander who sat to attention in his chair “I wish for you to send word to whomever you please that a platoon of our men are to go in search of her. Melruin will provide you with the necessary location. We are currently unsure as to how many people are with her but she isn’t alone. Regardless, your orders are to kill everyone you find alongside the child. I don’t want any connections to her to be left once you’re through”

  The king turned towards Lady Avina “My Lady, I wish you to send a message to every country under our rule.”

  “What message would that be my Liege?” Lady Avina replied, her voice like silk.

  “I grow tired of hearing murmurs of opposition to my rule. If these issues cannot be stemmed at their core, if I continue to hear of foreign populaces taking up arms, then I shall be forced to deal with the matters in a manner more suiting to the crime,” Merrick recalled the desolate ruin of civilisation which the king left in his wake on the Crag Islands after they chosen independence over subservience. “I don’t know where this girl came from originally, but I don’t want any more like her.”

  Lady Avina bowed her head, “Of course, my Liege. I will ask for a greater security presence where resistance is most common. With your command we can root out opposition like the plague it is,” Merrick couldn’t see but he doubted that Lady Avina’s eyes conveyed the same agreement that her mouth had. The king had been pretty vague in his instructions to Lady Avina, and knowing her the way he did Merrick knew that it was likely something she would take advantage of. For all his military prowess the king had little skill in diplomacy, and much of The Rive’s success Merrick had to begrudgingly admit was a result of Lady Avina’s hard work behind closed doors.

  “Lastly,” The king said, turning towards Merrick. “Lord Stonecross, I wish for you to use your network of rumours and whispers. Discover if this child was acting alone, or if there is a greater threat out there which we need to be aware of. I don’t want to have to find out about terrorist groups via the deeds of my warlocks again. Do you understand?”

  “Entirely my Liege,” Merrick also bowed, and internally he sighed. This would mean more time devoted towards the study of who this girl was and whom she might have known. It was a waste of time he believed and one of those orders that he simply wished he could ignore. She was a nobody, and this entire scenario with the vision had been a nonsense and unwelcome distraction. But, like most who found themselves in the presence of the king, their ability to remain there was dependent upon compliance.

  “That’s it then, back to your work,” The king ordered as he rose from his chair.

  With that the Royal Council adjourned. Lord Bullard and Melruin stayed behind to discuss coordinates. Merrick assumed the two already knew one another, if this truly were a warlock from the front lines of the wars. Something to discuss with Lord Bullard in more detail, he noted. And so Merrick set back off into the corridors of the Palace, with the aim of finding out as much about this little urchin as he could. If he had anything to do with it she wouldn’t stay a mystery for much longer.

  • • •

&
nbsp; With his robes billowing behind him Melruin strode through the marble archway that separated the king’s castle from the adjacent Warlock’s Tower.

  “Send for Kyvna,” Melruin commanded a nearby apprentice.

  “Yes, my Lord,” The apprentice replied as he rose from a reading bench and strode off in the direction of library.

  Whilst the castle was filled with all manner of servants, the Warlocks were more particular about who they allowed into their presence. They had adopted apprentices, young men and women who wished to study the ways of magic, but did not possess the gift themselves.

  Climbing the multitude of stairs that formed the tower had once been tiring to Melruin, back when he had first joined the ranks of warlocks working for the king, but not anymore. The years of working his way through the ranks, with each passing achievement he was gifted a chamber higher and higher within the tower. Now his legs were iron, and his gift was death.

  “My Lord,” Kyvna said with the decorum expected of the king’s warlocks. The warlock was fresh faced, a new recruit who was eager to please. “You summoned me?”

  Melruin looked up from his reading material. “I did.”

  The girl will be a good test for him, Melruin thought as he studied the novice. “Our King has identified his next target, a group of insurgents located in the countryside to the South. Lord Bullard is in charge of their elimination, but he is prone to… underestimating.”

  Melruin watched the facial movements of his junior. He sought out weaknesses or doubt. There were none. He’s confident, Melruin mused. “I am charging you with being my presence on the battlefield.”

  Kyvna appeared pleased, his face grew noticeably brighter and he held his chin in the air. “Is there a particular target, my Lord?”

  Melruin nodded. “A young girl.” Again Melruin watched for a reaction, to question the legitimacy of sending a warlock after a girl, but to Kyvna’s credit there was none. “The king sees her as a particular threat. She holds no magical ability that we know of, but she’s strong nonetheless. A fire is growing within her, either a warlock is training her, or she’s exceedingly smart. Either way that fire needs to be snuffed out.”

  “Anything else?”

  “Don’t let the girl distract you from the insurgents. None are to survive. Do all that you must to wipe them from The Rive. We have enough to worry about without a rebellion from within.”

  “If that is your command, my Lord, then I will see it done. The girl will die, and those who fight by her side will fall with her.”

  Chapter 21

  “What’s wrong?” Turiel asked as he rushed over to her side. “I felt the spell dissipate. Where did you go?”

  There was genuine concern etched on his face, but Lyvanne knew it wouldn’t last. She had to tell him what she had done; she had to warn him about what was going to happen.

  “Talk to me, Lyvanne. What happened? he continued.

  The way in which Turiel had hastened over to Lyvanne’s side had drawn the eyes of others in the camp, and more and more heads were turning in their direction.

  “Not out here,” she replied, her eyes surveying the prying faces.

  “Come on then” Turiel said as he wiped the tear from her eye and escorted her back to their hut.

  “I’m sorry,” she said as they entered the hut, her eyes no longer filled with tears, ready for the accusations to start flying.

  “What have you done?”

  Lyvanne recounted the story of what had happened. How she had felt helpless, how she couldn’t bear the pressure of all those people in Astreya and other far off cities suffering because of her. Of how she had thought through every possible action and that the route she had chosen was the only one which might actually work.

  “Fool!” Turiel shouted as Lyvanne revealed that she had let in the king’s warlock, that they now knew where she was. “You don’t know how much you’ve ruined.”

  “I’m sorry, Turiel, but it was the only way. You can’t force me to stand by and watch as my people are killed.”

  “Our people! Our people ,Lyvanne, and yes I can, because it would have kept you safe.”

  “I’m not more important than them! That’s what you don’t understand -

  “No, you’re the one who doesn’t understand. You might not want to believe it, but the Angel of Destiny doesn’t lie. She doesn’t show futures which don’t have a chance of coming true, and between you and I we’ve seen the downfall of the king and how it needs to happen.”

  “No, we’ve seen how it might happen. You can do this without me ,Turiel. You’re strong enough to do this without me.”

  “It’s not all about strength,” he replied, his voice now calming, almost defeated. “It’s about giving people hope. I’ve seen the way people are when you let down your guard around them. They can’t help but like you, they cling to you despite your age. You’re what our movement needs. You’re what I lacked.”

  “What do you mean you lacked?”

  Turiel tossed his hands in the air like the answer didn’t matter.

  “Turiel, tell me,” Lyvanne pressed.

  He relented. “I travelled across The Rive searching for allies. Sure, I found some, but I didn’t have whatever it is that you possess. I didn’t have that natural ability to make people follow, to make people like me or listen to what I have to say.”

  “Then try harder. Would Rachel Goldheart have given up?”

  Turiel raised an eyebrow. “You didn’t even know who she was until last night.”

  “Yeah, well the sentiment still counts. You’ve laid all your hopes on my shoulders because of what you saw in a vision, but you’ve not actually put into action anything or anyone who could take my place if something happened to me. Or what if I choose to leave? What would you do then?”

  “That’s because none of this would be here without you. If I hadn’t seen you in my vision then I doubt Sinjin, Jocelyn, and I would have ever started The Spring. We never would have reached out to others like us, but we had faith in what I’d seen. We had faith that one day we’d find you and you would lead us to some kind of victory, no matter how small.”

  The words echoed through her brain. She’d never thought of it that way. Was she really that important? Was there a way she could help? Would these people have ended up fighting side by side if Turiel had never seen her in a vision?

  “I’m sorry, Turiel, but I’d made up my mind and I don’t regret what I did. I will leave the camp as soon as Jocelyn has returned so that I can say my goodbyes -

  Turiel waved a hand in her face. “Don’t be stupid… you don’t need to leave, little one.”

  “But the king will co -

  “I don’t care what the king will and won’t do. I haven’t put myself in harm’s way for this long to just let you wander off on your own with the ling’s soldiers following your every step.”

  “The others though, they didn’t ask for this.”

  Turiel smiled briefly, the first since she’d told him what she had done. “Yes they did, nut just leave the others to me. Come on, I don’t imagine we want to be wasting any more time.”

  The world was colder than usual outside the hut, like all the warmth had been sapped from the air in a winter storm. Most of the eyes in the camp were drawn in their direction,n and Lyvanne knew that one way or another her future would be sealed that night. Either they accepted what she had done and they allowed her to stay, or she had to leave.

  Turiel approached Kwah and Shri’ook first, drawing them off to the side of the camp. Lyvanne was still by his side, something she soon regretted when Turiel told them what had happened.

  “She did what?!” Shri’ook shouted behind gritted teeth.

  “Breathe, Shri’ook. She is only a child, and she didn’t know what she was -

  “I did know what I was doing,” Lyvanne interrupted, much to the surprise of the others stood around her. “Turiel has explained why I did it, don’t presume that because I’m younger than you all th
at I’m not aware of how my actions impact others. I have become very aware of that over the past few months”

  Her strength caught the others off guard, but to Lyvanne’s pleasure all three of them smiled back at her.

  “You show courage then, child” Shri’ook said, “but unfortunately you may have brought the enemy down on our heads -

  “What was that?!” Drystal’s voice interrupted the conversation. Seeing the commotion he and Tublik had made their way over with some haste. “Did I just hear that the little rat has led the enemy to us?”

  The word both shocked and stung Lyvanne.

  “What did you call her?” Turiel said, making his way over to Drystal, his hands balled up into fists and his chest puffed out.

  “You heard me,” Drystal replied, squaring up to Turiel, egging him on to do something in front of the whole camp.

  “This is a matter for everybody,” Kwah intervened, putting his body between the two more hotheaded members of the Council. “Start behaving with the responsibility we have been given and stand with me.”

  Tempers calmed if only momentarily as everyone made their way over to where the rest of the camp waited patiently, gossiping among themselves as they watched their leaders squabble over her actions. Lyvanne’s eyes flicking back and forth between the waiting crowd and Turiel, whose gaze rarely left Drystal. Lyvanne could still feel the heat emanating between them both, like their tempers were ready to flare at a moment’s notice.

  “Friends, it appears as though we have a great dilemma,” Shri’ook said, standing elegantly over a fireplace as he looked out at everyone who had been gathered. In the crowds, Lyvanne could make out her own friends. Oblib, Greyson and Davidson, but still no Jocelyn. “Turiel, I leave to you to explain in detail.”

  Turiel did as he was asked. There were audible gasps from the crowd as he explained the more worrying aspects of Lyvanne’s story. With every sentence he told, Lyvanne quivered as more and more eyes began piercing her mind from the crowd. Things did not look good. Turiel was trying to explain away her misgivings, but was fighting a losing battle.