CHILD OF DESTINY (The Rising Saga Book 1)

by M. K. Adams

  The last to visit that day was Oblib; he came later on into the evening after he had finished cooking that evening’s meal. Lyvanne was pleasantly surprised to see the large man wade his way into the hut, and even more pleased once she saw the bowl of steaming hot broth he was carrying with him. Unable to contain her grin, she gobbled up the food before he even had time to say his goodbyes. As he stood at the door a smile crossed his face and reaching into the pocket of his apron he pulled out and offered her an extra piece of bread he had stashed away.

  Lyvanne spent the rest of that night in the medic hut, just to be on the safe side. She didn’t mind too much, Jocelyn and Turiel probably needed the time alone, and after how her last appearance in front of a crowd had gone she wasn’t too eager to be seen around camp any time soon. Unfortunately that wasn’t to be long lived.

  Tyler visited her early in the morning. The swelling on her cheek had gone down somewhat, meaning her speech was no longer impeded. To finish the job Tyler gave her a wet piece of cloth and told her to hold it against the swelling whilst he went to fetch Turiel. The warlock arrived with her breakfast in hand and sat by her side on the edge of her bed, neither saying anything. Lyvanne had noticed the day before that Turiel had seemed quieter than usual when he and Jocelyn came to visit. She didn’t know why; he wasn’t to blame for what happened to her.

  “Come on,” he said as she finished her food and placed the empty bowl on the floor nearby. “Time we got you out of this hut.”

  Turiel took her by the hand and guided her outside. Even through the trees and canopy above their heads the sun was still bright enough that she had to cover her eyes, the bright light sending another twang of pain down her body.

  “Don’t worry, that’ll go away in a day or two,” Turiel said as he saw her shy away from the sun’s rays.

  She had assumed that they were going back to their own hut, but was surprised when Turiel began to lead her towards the Annex where she could see Tublik, Kwah, Shri’ook and Jocelyn waiting for them. The men and women they passed along the way all in some way acknowledged her, most by the polite nod of their head but some came up to her, stopping the pair in their tracks and themselves apologising for what happened to her.

  “Why does everyone keep apologising?” Lyvanne asked Turiel as they made their way through the camp.

  “Because we all blame ourselves. It’s easy to forget for us all sometimes, but you’re still a child. We shouldn’t have let Drystal attack you the way he did, we should have been there to stop it,” he replied moments before waving his greetings to the others waiting for them in the Annex.

  Kwah was the first to walk over to her as they entered the Annex and pulled the loose wall down behind them. “How are you Lyvanne?” He asked, his voice calm and soothing. She had grown to quite like him.

  “Better. Thank you, Kwah.”

  Shri’ook moved over to her side, thanking Turiel for bringing her over as he did. Soon after followed Tublik, both of whom offered their sympathies for what had happened and their apologies for letting it happen in the first place. Lyvanne was certain it was the first time she had heard Tublik speak more than one or two words in a row.

  “I hear from Tyler that you are recovering quite well?” Shri’ook asked.

  Lyvanne nearly gave him a thumbs up out of habit, but quickly stopped herself. “Pretty well I think.”

  “Good. Unfortunately the time for rest has come and gone, we are all aware of the situation we find ourselves in and we have much to discuss.”

  Knots formed in her stomach. Couldn’t she just have a few days without having “much to discuss” she asked herself as she watched the glances being shared between the others.

  “Turiel, I start with you first,” Shri’ook continued, turning his attention to the pale faced founder of The Spring. “Without you none of us would be here. Many of us would still be struggling to make our way back at our homes with the king’s noose always around our necks. For that, you hold the thanks and respect of everyone in our camp and of even more people across The Rive.”

  Turiel bowed his head. “Thank you, Shri’ook.”

  “Do not thank me,” Shri’ook replied as he waved away the gesture. “It is a respect and gratitude that you have earned, perhaps more so than you know, so do not say your thanks for it. With that being said, we here are not ones to make decisions that could put our people’s lives at risk without their say on the matter. Which brings me back to you, Lyvanne.”

  Jocelyn moved a step closer to her and put her arm around her shoulder.

  “I know what you did and I know why you did it. In fact, in some ways I even commend you for your actions. But what you have done means that sooner rather than later the king’s men will find us here.”

  Lyvanne nearly interrupted. She wanted to tell him that she could leave and draw them away, but something held her back. Unlike before, the more she thought about that route of action, the more she realised that she didn’t want to leave.

  “What to do about that will, no matter the response, require the thoughts of everyone in this camp,” Shri’ook continued. “Fortunately for us all, Tublik, Kwah and I saw that all opinions on the matter were gathered last night.”

  Surprise dawned on the faces of Jocelyn and Turiel. It appeared as though they had been left out of these discussions.

  “Don’t worry, I’ll go with you if I need to,” Jocelyn whispered in her ear.

  “Do not fret, Jocelyn. The decision was fairly unanimous. Besides one or two of our people, who will come round with time, we have all agreed that you are welcome to stay with us and together we shall overcome any obstacles that the king places in our path.”

  A torrent of relief coursed through Lyvanne’s body. Her head turned giddy, unsure of whether it was a result of the knock she had taken the day before or a result of pure joy. It wasn’t until the words had been said that she realised exactly how much she wanted to stay. The relief was shared. Jocelyn knelt down beside her and wrapped her arms around her, whilst Turiel went around the Annex shaking the hand of all three men stood before them.

  “Thank you,” Turiel replied with sincerity.

  “You’re welcome,” Shri’ook said with a smile on his face, this time feeling it right to accept the thanks rather than cast it aside. “However, this is all dependent on whether the lady will have us?”

  All eyes turned back towards Lyvanne. This is it, she thought, her decision had to be made now. Was a life of part of The Spring really what she wanted? Was the young girl who wanted to start a quiet life of her own beyond the walls of Astreya really gone? In the end it turned out the decision was an easy one to make.

  “I want to stay here. I want to help.”

  • • •

  Shortly after the meeting, Shri’ook grabbed Turiel by the arm and took him aside to one of the quieter corners of the camp. The two had a fond respect for one another. They had known each other for a number of years by this point and Turiel considered the older man a crucial cog in the establishment of what had been the early days of The Spring.

  “Turiel, listen,” Shri’ook said. “We have done all of this for the girl. I need you to understand that.”

  “What do you mean?” Turiel asked, matching the hushed tone that the Islander had adopted.

  “Many of us are aware of your vision, the vision of a woman leading an army into battle against the king, but that is not why she stays, she stays because she is liked among our people and because we do not want to cast her off into the world alone.”

  Turiel understood. It was famously difficult to make people believe in the visions granted to others by the Angels of Destiny. He wasn’t going to assume he would be one of the lucky ones.

  “She will be a part of The Spring. We will teach her our ways, but I do not want you to put undue pressure on the girl,” Shri’ook continued. “She is not a war leader.”

  “Not yet,” Turiel replied with a knowing smile.

  Chapter 24

&nb
sp; “What made you want to stay?” Jocelyn asked as she and Lyvanne walked through the woods, collecting firewood for camp.

  The rest of the day before had been spent celebrating the fact that Lyvanne was sticking around. More than once did people reassure her by saying that this was the life they chose and that danger was part of the package. Greyson and Davidson even wrote her a song. It wasn’t the best that Lyvanne had ever heard, but it was a nice gesture nevertheless.

  Jocelyn, Turiel and Lyvanne hadn’t spent too much time talking about the ins and outs of the past few weeks over the course of the day. Instead, they had opted to simply enjoy their time together— the first chance they’d had to do so in quite a while. But today was different, today all the questions came flooding out.

  “I don’t know. If I’m honest, I didn’t think I would until the chance to leave really started to open up,” Lyvanne replied, struggling to keep hold of the large pile of tinder which had accumulated in her arms.

  Turiel had told Jocelyn about everything that had happened whilst she had been gone. About the warlock invading her mind, their training out in the countryside, the letter from Sinjin - which had made Jocelyn cry when she read it - and how Lyvanne had felt responsible and drawn the king’s gaze away from Astreya. But no one had yet told Lyvanne why Jocelyn had left in the first place.

  “Why did you leave? Turiel told me it was something to do with strategy.”

  Jocelyn looked rueful, like she didn’t want reminding of what it had been that caused her to leave for so long.

  “Yeah, strategy,” she replied. “Unfortunately, part of being an insurgent means that fighting is going to come part and parcel with the job. We try and minimise that where we can, and I know for a fact that it’s especially the case if there’s a civilian population involved. But eventually if we’re going to oust the king then one day we’re going to have to make a march on one of the cities.”

  The cogs in Lyvanne’s brain started turning. “Someone wanted to attack Avagarde?”

  Jocelyn seemed surprised. “How’d you know that?”

  “Turiel said that’s where you’d be, that it’s where you go when you need to blow off steam. He said that you love it there. The way he described it… it did sound beautiful.”

  Jocelyn smiled. “Yes, you’re pretty much right. It wasn’t an attack though. Our numbers across The Rive are growing, but we’re still not ready for an attack on a city. A large town, maybe?”

  The joke didn’t land, but Lyvanne didn’t blame her for trying to lighten the conversation.

  “No. The idea was put forward from one of the other branches that we could instead suffocate Avagarde, cut off the trade routes, harry the smaller armies as they try to put an end to it all. If the plan was… if the plan is successful, then the king would be forced to call out his real troops. Our scouts would be able to see where they came from, count how many there are and what routes they used to travel. We would disband before they reached us.”

  “To what end?”

  “We’d have more information than we did before, and when you’re playing a game as dangerous as the one we’re in, information can be more valuable than numbers.”

  “So why did you disagree?”

  “Because of what it would mean for Avagarde. Other cities like Astreya, Yidid and Elvabane are too big to try and suffocate, especially with our numbers. But Avagarde is perfect, it’s a relatively small city located in the dip of a valley. We’d be in perfect position to cut it off from the rest of The Rive, but I don’t think the city would survive, at least not enough to carry on as it is now. The king isn’t the type to divert extra resources towards one of the lesser cities if he could avoid it through a show of strength.”

  Lyvanne tried to understand, to wrap her head around what the plan would mean for both sides of the conflict and for those caught between. “So the people there would suffer?”

  Jocelyn nodded. “The nature within its walls would wither and die first as the people looked for ways to cook their foods and feed their fires… then the weak and vulnerable would begin to pass on.”

  Lyvanne wanted to throw up, this wasn’t how she had imagined The Spring waging war. Then again, she’d never really thought about the intricacies of warfare before now. She decided not to press the matter any further. It was obvious from the sorrowful look on her face that Jocelyn truly did love this city, and of all the places across The Rive that Lyvanne had dreamt of exploring, Avagarde was all of a sudden at the top of her list.

  “Do you think they’ll still go ahead with the plan?” she asked.

  “We’ll see, little one. I think someone might have placed a few bumps in the road whilst I was away,” Jocelyn replied playfully, nudging her friend in the arm with her elbow.

  Lyvanne tried to nudge her back, but tripped on the root of a tree and ended up sending her pile of wood flying through the air, much to Jocelyn’s amusement.

  “It’s not funny!” Lyvanne shouted through a laugh as she scrambled to pick up all the wood that had been dropped.

  Jocelyn promised that she wanted to help her, but couldn’t do so without dropping her own gatherings. The two laughed it off once Lyvanne had managed to gather up as much as she could, being lucky that it hadn’t rained that day and the floor was pretty dry meaning that what wood had hit the floor hadn’t been ruined.

  There was no doubting that gathering the firewood was considered a chore, but today she hadn’t minded. In fact, she’d enjoyed it. It had been too long since her and Jocelyn had been able to spend time together, and after all that had happened in the time that she had been gone, it was good to have another familiar and friendly face around.

  • • •

  Turiel found her along the edges of camp, a mallet in her hand and a pool of glistening sweat gathering across her forehead.

  “Making yourself useful I see,” he commented as he walked up behind her.

  His arrival caught the attention of the crowd Lyvanne was amongst.

  “The kid’s got a knack for building barricades it seems,” Greyson said as he put aside a large wooden stake that he had been sharpening the tip of.

  “This is my fault, least I can do is help us prepare,” Lyvanne replied as she finished hammering a smaller stake into the ground alongside a series of others.

  Turiel smiled. Lyvanne was starting to let her guard down around the others and it was good to see. No one would have blamed her for shying away after what had happened, but if anything it had only made her bolder.

  “Besides, here I get to listen to these two sing,” she continued, smiling gleefully at Greyson and his brother Davidson who was a few feet away checking the quality of the barricade.

  Turiel looked on at what they had built. It looked strong, he thought, hopefully strong enough. Shri’ook had ordered the construction of their defences as soon as they knew that the king was coming for them. The final touches wouldn’t be finished until the enemies were within sight, but the islander had been eager to get things started.

  “Mind if I borrow her for a while?” Turiel asked innocently.

  “By all means,” Davidson shouted over from the wooden construction. “But bring her back by nightfall, this barricade won’t build itself!”

  “I promise. Come on, little one.”

  “Where are we going?” Lyvanne asked as she wiped the sweat from her face.

  “You like to learn, don’t you? Well, I figured it was time to teach you something more… tangible, than magic,” Turiel replied, a smirk hidden from Lyvanne’s view as they walked side-by-side back into camp.

  Pulling down the loose wall of the Annex felt like shutting themselves away from the outside world. Inside, alone, it almost felt peaceful and calm like a lone oasis within a raging storm.

  “You sure I’m allowed to be in here?” Lyvanne asked as she looked around at the letters and maps stored throughout.

  “For the purpose of what I have to teach you, yes it’s fine, but don’t worry I asked the
others first,” Turiel replied as he watched her eyes flit back and forth from paper to paper. “Come here,” he continued. “This is what I wanted to show you.”

  Turiel waved a hand and signalled for her to join him in the centre of the room where he was stood around a large detailed map of The Rive. His eyes slowly gazed over every detail, it wasn’t as intricate as the maps that he had seen stored away in the king’s collection years ago, but for it was more than suited to their needs. “This is how we plan our moves, how we organise the various branches of The Spring.”

  Lyvanne wandered over, her eyes studying the map with every step. He admired that about her, her desire to know everything there was to know about the world they lived in. “And the wooden soldiers, they’re the king’s men?”

  Turiel nodded. “Or at least where we think they’re stationed,” he elaborated as he picked up a wooden swordsman and passed it across the table to Lyvanne. “The king has been pushing the boundaries of him empire for years now, and whilst that means that the majority of his forces are abroad it also means that specific information is more difficult to find. The king might be cruel, but he’s smart. He knows that if an enemy nation were to get their hands on documents detailing troop movements or stations then they’d have the upper hand.”

  Turiel turned his attention away from the map and towards a pile of parchment stacked on a small wooden stool to the rear of the room. All the while Lyvanne looked on in wonder, her attention utterly captured. “That parchment, pass it to me,” he urged.

  “This paper here,” he continued as he picked out a ragged piece of parchment from the pile as Lyvanne lifted it onto the map. “This is what I stole that night in the Accord. Here, read it.”

  Turiel watched as Lyvanne’s eyes began to light up with anticipation as he passed her the parchment. “Can you read it?” he asked.