The Labyrinth of Destiny (12 page)

Every time the Shimat army came to
a stop, a great black tent with blood red banners was erected at the furthest
edge of the camp. None of the mercenaries or volunteers ever came near the tent.
They knew that it housed the powerful being that acted as their patron and that
was enough for them. They had no desire to see the being for themselves.

Occasionally, one of the captains
of the Scepter of Cha-sak could be seen entering or exiting the tent. None of
these chosen soldiers looked particularly pleased by the honor..

Only two humans were known to be
regular occupants of the great black tent—Basha, the Honored Vessel, and
Breyen, her Right Hand.

The newest volunteers in the army
had never seen Basha with their own eyes, but their more experienced comrades
said that she used to give powerful speeches that told of their great purpose
and the glory that they would come to know.

Now it was whispered that Basha was
no more than a shell—that her soul had been devoured by Cha-sak himself.

Breyen, as the Right Hand, was
often seen riding at the head of the army. His was the face that the volunteers
associated with leadership. He was the one that issued orders to the Shimat
soldiers, who were all in charge of their own company of mercenaries and
volunteers.

Newcomers suggested that Breyen was
the only one in charge and that Basha and Cha-sak didn’t exist at all. This
belief never lasted long. These unlucky soldiers were told by their companions
to approach the black tent when Breyen was not around, but none came closer
than fifty feet. The aura of evil that surrounded the tent was more than enough
to convince the most stubborn skeptics.

Cha-sak could sense their fear, and
it amused him greatly. He knew everything that went on in the army he had
assembled. He heard their conversations and he visited their dreams. He often
walked among them, invisible to their eyes. He found the self-importance of
these pathetic life forms almost laughable. They scurried about their business
as if they were the sole weight that tipped the balance from failure to
success.

In reality, they were merely more
bodies to litter the battlefield.

Yes, Cha-sak had plans for glory
and conquest. There was no doubt in his mind that he would become the absolute
ruler of this world. He would take control, one nation at a time. It seemed
appropriate to begin with the home of the filthy half-breed offspring of the
Serraf.

There was more to his plan than
mere conquest, though.

Based off of what his mortal slaves
had told him, this land was filled with many thousands of humans. Other nations
had even more dense populations, resulting in a world of millions—perhaps
billions—of humans.

Though his face bore no other
features to give it expression, Cha-sak’s red eyes narrowed in disgust when he
thought of all those lives.

Such an immense infestation.

He could have simply visited all of
the world’s leaders and forced them to become his slaves. Humans were easy
enough to manipulate that they would have volunteered to do whatever he asked.
However, Cha-sak did not want to be lord of all humans. Or, rather, he did not
want millions upon millions of worthless slaves.

The solution?

He would take this world by force,
shedding as much blood as possible in order to thin out the population.

Cha-sak turned from where he stood
overlooking his camped army and walked back to the black tent. His honor guards
shuddered involuntarily as he went past them, even though they could not see
him.

Basha sat in a carved armchair in
the center of the tent, staring vacantly at a fixed point on the ground. Her
face was pale and wasted, and her breathing was shallow. She appeared to be on
the brink of death, but Cha-sak would not allow her to die. Not yet.

Basha was Cha-sak’s anchor to this
mortal world. Their blood contract had freed him from the prison of the
Threshold, and that same magic kept him safe from possible retribution. As long
as she lived, Cha-sak could not be forced to return to that realm.

That was the only purpose that
Basha served anymore. Cha-sak had already exacted everything else she had to
offer. He had used her position to assemble his army and to establish himself
as its leader. He had drained her of her life force and free will, using it to
strengthen himself.

Now he only had to wait for a more
worthy vessel to take Basha’s place. Then he would terminate the blood contract
he had with her and forge a new one with the slave of his choosing.

Cha-sak even had someone in mind.

Adesina.

The name rang through his mind.

Cha-sak had access to all of
Basha’s memories, and so he had seen Adesina’s childhood through her eyes.
Basha may have been blind to Adesina’s surprising potential, but Cha-sak
wasn’t. He saw things in the half-breed that should have been impossible for
any mortal, and he was duly impressed. She was as close to his equal as any
Immortal could have dreamed.

He wanted her.

He had seen…something…in her when
they had faced each other at the Threshold. A strange spark of Life that
couldn’t be explained, even to himself. Cha-sak had been intrigued by her when
they first met, but hadn’t had the time to think about that strange spark.
There had been more pressing matters to attend to.

In the time since then, however, he
had given it a great deal of thought. He had given
her
a great deal of
thought.

Not many mortals had possessed
enough inner strength to resist the temptation of a blood contract with a
demon. Cha-sak could only think of two other times he had been refused, and
both of those foolish mortals had been under the protection of a greater power.
As far as Cha-sak knew, the half-breed girl benefitted from no such protection,
which made her resistance all the more impressive.

Adesina.

His mind caressed her name, and he
greedily imagined all that he could accomplish with her as his slave.

The tent flap was pushed aside and
Breyen entered slowly.

He was the only human allowed to
enter the tent without express permission, but he always did so as if he
expected to meet his end. Fear roiled off of him like a powerful stench, but
his face was carefully controlled.

Cha-sak faced his general with a
trace of amusement. As if Breyen were
worthy
of being bound to Cha-sak,
Demon Lord of the Shimat. Basha had been given that honor out of desperation,
and it would only be given again to the perfect vessel—which was not Breyen.

“What is it?” Cha-sak rasped
harshly.

Breyen had been granted the ability
to see Cha-sak, even when others could not. He rarely made use of that gift,
though. He kept his eyes fixed on the ground. “I have overseen the setup of the
camp, and all is in order. We are less than a league away from a good-sized
village. We can buy supplies from them, if you wish.”

“Order a company of soldiers to
take what supplies we need and then burn down the village. Kill everyone found
there.”

Breyen hesitated, and Cha-sak could
sense his growing fear.

“Please, my master, would it not be
wiser to let this village stand?” Breyen almost choked on his own words. “We
have destroyed every settlement we have come across, and if we continue on this
pattern there will be no source for supplies we will need in the future.”

Cha-sak would have smiled if he had
a mouth. He doubted any of these soldiers would live long enough to worry about
something like supplies.

“We shall purge this world with
fire and blood, Breyen. Do not worry about such lowly cares. Our great army
shall move forward, taking what we need as we go. We will not be coming back
this way until we have swept the entire world and made it bow to our might.”

Cha-sak could sense that Breyen
still had doubts, but he kept them to himself.

“Yes, my master.”

There had been a time when Breyen
had been enthusiastic about this war. He had been hungry for power, and
intoxicated with the idea of having a demon on his side. He had once even
issued orders to Cha-sak, expecting them to be followed.

Cha-sak had quickly corrected him
of the belief that he was in charge of the situation. Cha-sak had used Basha to
teach Breyen a painful lesson about staying in his place, and it was a lesson
that Breyen had never forgotten.

There were times when Cha-sak found
Breyen’s cowed subservience to be grating. He had broken so easily, and the
demon found that disappointing.

Adesina would not be so pliant to
his will. It would take time and skill to break her. Cha-sak looked forward to
the challenge.

“Master?”

The demon stared coldly at Breyen,
his red eyes glinting. “Yes?”

“One of the captains suggested that
we begin mandatory recruitment in the villages we pass. We can collect all of
the young people within a certain age range and give them the option of joining
the army or being executed.”

Cha-sak almost chuckled in evil
delight. Humans could be so creative in their cruelty.

Cha-sak did not show any signs of
approval, though. He waved a hand dismissively. “As you wish.”

Breyen made his escape as quickly
as he could without seeming too eager. Cha-sak watched him go and felt pleased
with the progress of his plans. It might be simpler to kill the villagers right
away, but gaining more soldiers would make for a higher heap of bodies in the
end.

This land would be gorged on blood
before Cha-sak was finished, and the thought filled him with immeasurable
pleasure.

***

Breyen kept a measured pace as he
walked away from the black tent with its blood red banners. His heart raced
wildly, and in his mind was the knowledge that he had barely escaped incredible
danger with his life intact.

He always felt that way after
facing Cha-sak.

And to think that he had once
thought it possible to control a demon. Now, too late, he realized the fatal
flaw in such belief.

It hadn’t been that long ago that
he had devised his plan to wrest control of the Shimat organization from Signe
and name himself Sharifal. He had read the ancient texts that spoke of hidden
magic and powerful beings willing to align themselves with mortals. Breyen had
dreamed of the unimaginable power that was only just out of his reach.

First he had needed a pawn—someone
who was ambitious and easily manipulated.

Basha had been an easy choice. As
her former Shar, he knew her quite well. She was angry at always being second
best, and she was eager to prove her worth. She was devious and unscrupulous,
and intelligent enough to get the job done without being intelligent enough to
be dangerous.

Everything had been going perfectly
according to plan…

Then he made the mistake of sending
Basha to the Threshold alone.

He should have insisted on going
with her. Perhaps he could have negotiated better terms before releasing a
demon from its prison.

Breyen had been saved from being
turned into a lifeless husk like Basha, but he was just as much a slave to that
evil creature as she had been.

Now his only plan was to survive
long enough to make his escape. Cha-sak’s rise to ultimate power was
inevitable, but the world was a big place. Breyen hoped he could find some
small corner where he could live out his life without attracting the notice of
the demon.

Breyen’s thoughts turned to the
dark red pendant that lay hidden in a secret cave far to the west. It was a
talisman that he had stolen during the overthrow of power at the Shimat
fortress. It had been made with the blood of L’avan, and it shielded the wearer
and those nearby from magical detection. It had been used to capture the L’avan
king, and now Breyen hoped that it would help him to escape Cha-sak.

When the time came, Breyen would
make an excuse to leave the camp for a short while. He would travel to that
secret cave where he had money and supplies hidden, and he would do everything
in his power to disappear forever.

There was a nagging fear in his
mind that the pendant wouldn’t work to shield him from Cha-sak’s all-seeing
gaze, but there was no way to test the pendant before Breyen’s planned escape.
A test would alert Cha-sak to the pendant’s existence. All Breyen could do is
hope that his plan would succeed.

Breyen’s feet had led him back to
the tent of his captains, where the highest-ranking Shimat were awaiting
orders.

It wouldn’t be much longer now.

Breyen just needed to be patient
and to serve Cha-sak well enough to allay any suspicions. He needed to be
beyond reproach.

He fixed a confident expression on
his face and walked into the tent of the captains, prepared to lead them onward
toward war.

Adesina hugged her brother
fiercely, trying to keep her emotions under control. “Please be careful, E’nes.
The Shimat will have assassins everywhere.”

E’nes nodded, but didn’t say
anything. She had said all of this before, several times. He had teased her
about it, but he didn’t seem to feel like joking at the moment. He let go of
his sister and turned to his pregnant wife and two small children.

Wren’na could not stop the tears
from flowing down her weary face. She smiled bravely at her husband, but that
was all she could manage. The children looked up at their father with grave
concern on their faces, uncertain how to react.

Adesina turned away from them as
they said their goodbyes. It was too private—too emotional—for her to
interrupt.

Instead, she turned to face
Mar’sal, who was standing with Ravi near the horses. Mar’sal had done the tasks
that had been assigned to him as quickly as possible, and then he had pleaded
to be allowed to join E’nes on his mission. He argued that E’nes would need
someone to watch his back and that two emissaries were more effective than one.

Adesina hadn’t needed much
convincing, nor had L’iam.

The danger of this mission weighed
heavily on Adesina’s mind. Her brother might never return, and the
responsibility of that loss would fall on her.

Mar’sal tried to give a carefree
smile to his friend and queen, but it fell rather flat. “Do not worry, Adesina.
We will return, and with reinforcements. We shall make a proper nuisance of
ourselves until Charan has no choice but to send help. We will not leave the
city until we know help will follow us.”

Adesina chuckled. “Do what you can,
but just be safe. I could not face your family if something happened.”

“I volunteered, remember? Very
forcefully,” reminded Mar’sal. He went on in a more solemn tone. “Besides, we
are all going to make sacrifices in the near future.”

Adesina nodded slowly. “Yes, I
suppose we are.”

E’nes finished saying his goodbyes
and walked over to his horse. “Let us go,” he said in a husky voice.

The two men mounted and rode away
from the camp, turning back to wave as they went.

Wren’na put her arms around her
crying children and gently led them away. Adesina also turned away, but she
headed toward the military training grounds. There was work to be done, no
matter how she was feeling.

Ravi sighed quietly, but said
nothing. He didn’t really have to speak. Adesina shared in his emotions, and
they both felt weary from making difficult decisions and sacrifices.

They turned their collective
thoughts to the task at hand.

The inexperienced L’avan were
training hard, and they were making good progress. Adesina felt optimistic
about how well they were doing. Unfortunately, the training refugees were
another matter.

More and more people arrived at the
camp every single day, and they were all asked to volunteer for the defending
army. Few were eager to join a fight they had been running from, but Adesina
had instructed the Entrance Committee to be firm. The L’avan could not be the
only ones giving up their lives to defend Sehar.

The result was that the military
trainees had grown in numbers, but also in discontent.

Adesina and Ravi arrived in the
training area and made their way over to where the refugees were practicing.
Adesina hated separating the L’avan from the Seharans, but they were on
completely different levels of skill.

Than’os stood on the sidelines,
watching the exercises with a critical eye. Faryl, as usual, was not far away.
Ri’sel could be seen with the next group over, instructing some men with pikes.

“How are the new recruits doing?”
asked Adesina.

Than’os shook his head in
dissatisfaction. “It would be going much better if they were not so…resistant.”

A fight broke out between two
ragged men, and Than’os marched over to put an end to it.

“Gentlemen, please,” he said in a
strict voice. “We do not have time for such foolishness.”

“He took mah sword,” complained one
man.

“T’ain’t a real sword, yah idiot.
Why does it matter?” retorted the other man.

“We be gettin’ real swords soon
enough, soon as the smithies catch up on thar work,” said the first man in a
scathing tone. “You gon’ steal that sword, too?”

“It don’ matter none,” insisted the
second man. “They all the same.”

“I like that one best,” hollered
the first man.

“Stop this bickering,” commanded
Than’os.

Both men looked at him with barely
contained resentment. It was clear from their expressions that they felt he was
interfering where he didn’t belong.

Adesina didn’t wait to see how the
conflict was resolved. She gestured to Ravi and the two of them continued
walking through the training area.

Signs of discord were everywhere,
and Adesina found that to be worrisome. They needed to be a united force
against the Shimat, otherwise they would be destroyed.

A class on hand-to-hand combat was
being taught on the far end of the field. Adesina and Ravi made their way over
so they could observe. A young L’avan soldier was speaking to a group of
Seharans, instructing them on defensive moves.

Look at their faces, Ma’eve.

Adesina did as her companion
suggested.

The Seharans were listening to what
the L’avan soldier had to say, but they all bore expressions of distrust in
their eyes. It was as if they questioned the motives of the soldier in teaching
them those techniques.

We need to unite this army or we
will fail.

Ravi nodded in agreement.

A sudden idea came to Adesina and
she turned to leave the training area. Ravi followed her, but said nothing. He
had to have known what she was thinking, but he ventured no opinion on the
matter.

They hurried back through the camp
and over to where the Northern Tribes had circled their wagons. Adesina’s step
slowed as she gazed over the various cooking fires. The morning meals were
being concluded, and there were several familiar faces cleaning up. The young
queen headed toward the one she needed.

Hestia was mixing medicinal herbs
together when Adesina and Ravi approached. She smiled amiably and made room for
them to join her by the fire.

“Good morning, Adesina. Good
morning, Ravi. Have you had breakfast?”

Adesina waved a hand. “Please do
not trouble yourself on our account.”

“It is no trouble,” Hestia replied
honestly. 

“I was hoping you might help me in
a different way,” stated Adesina.

The middle-aged woman looked
amused. “I am not sure what you could need from me, but I am always glad to
help a friend.”

Adesina took a deep breath, not quite
certain how to begin.

 “There is a lot of discord among
the refugees,” said Adesina. “They are resistant to L’avan leadership, and
there is difficulty organizing them.”

Hestia nodded slowly and gazed into
the flames. “Yes,” she mused, “I can see how that might happen.”

“They feel that the L’avan are
outsiders,” continued Adesina. “They need a leader that they know to be
Seharan—one they acknowledge has the right to take such a role.”

Hestia made an agreeing sound, but
said nothing else.

Adesina studied the older woman’s
face for several moments before speaking again. “As a child I was taught the
history of this land. I learned of the fall of the monarchy and what that has
meant for the nation since. There was bitterness and unrest for a long time,
then there was remorse for what had been lost, finally there was resignation
and acceptance. Seharans learned to move on without a government—not because
they wanted to, but because there was no other choice.”

Hestia’s expression became stony
and unreadable. She listened to what Adesina was saying, but she didn’t
respond.

“Rasim, the last king of Sehar, was
a foolish man. He created a secret group of assassins to do his bidding and
then slowly lost control of them. His lust for power resulted in his death and
the deaths of his family.”

“How do you know that?” asked
Hestia in an uncharacteristically harsh voice.

Adesina’s smile was sad. “Because I
was raised in that same organization of assassins. They hide their origins and
purpose from their students, just as they hide their very existence from the
world. But I learned the truth, and I broke free.”

Hestia’s eyes returned to the
campfire. “I did not know that about you. One hears rumors that you were not
raised by the L’avan, but every tale of your birth varies.”

Adesina chuckled softly. “I do not
doubt that.” She paused for a moment and then continued. “When the monarchy was
overthrown the members of the nobility were exiled. They were all driven north,
away from the capital city. Resentment of the nobility ran deep in the Seharan
subjects, who were starving and downtrodden. No one would take them in, and
they had no choice but to keep wandering.”

“I know the history as well,”
Hestia said stiffly. “You do not need to recount it.”

“Yes, you would know it,” agreed Ravi,
“because the wandering nobles became known as the Northern Tribes.”

Hestia drew her knees up and hugged
them to her chest. “My people do not like to speak of our past.”

Adesina went on with determination.
“You once told me that tribal leadership was passed through family lines.”

“So?” Hestia asked in carefully
neutral tone.

“King Rasim had a younger sister
who married a wealthy duke and was exiled with the rest of the nobles. With the
royal family murdered, that sister’s family would have been the next rulers.”
Adesina took a slow breath. “The duke’s family name was Ojuri. If you are the
leader of the Ojuri tribe, then you are the hereditary queen of Sehar.”

Hestia sighed in resignation. “What
you say may be true, but it does not matter. The Seharans have grown up with a
distrust and animosity for the Northern Tribes. They would never allow a tribal
member to take control.”

Adesina shook her head. “You might
be surprised how war changes people. If we can prove your claim is
legitimate—which any scholar could do—the refugees may accept you as their
leader. In their eyes it would be better than a L’avan taking control.”

Hestia’s voice was heavy. “I do not
wish to be queen, Adesina. I simply wish to protect my family.”

“I understand,” Adesina said
sincerely. “I also had no wish to be a queen. So much responsibility weighs
down on those who bear it. Yet we cannot turn away when there is so much at
stake.”

There was a moment of silence as
Hestia considered Adesina’s words. Then she asked, “What would you need me to
do? I am not trained to be a military leader. The majority of my duties as a
tribal leader deal with organizing meals and setting up camp.”

“I saw the books you have in your
wagon,” said Adesina. “You have some knowledge of battle strategies.”

Hestia laughed. “Those books were
written before the fall of King Rasim. I doubt they will help us much in our
fight with the demon.”

Adesina shrugged. “You might be
surprised. Some aspects of war change very little.”

“I am not a soldier,” insisted
Hestia.

“I am not asking you to lead the
army by yourself,” Adesina said with a smile. “I am asking you to step in as
the formal leader of the Seharan so they feel they are represented by one of
their own. You would counsel with the L’avan leaders and help us to come to
decisions regarding the army.”

Hestia fingered the piles of herbs
in front of her, frowning as she thought. “I suppose I could do that, but what
you are asking has long-term consequences for me and my family. We cannot claim
the throne of Sehar and then say we changed our minds when this is over.”

“I know,” said Adesina softly.

Ravi’s deep voice broke in gently.
“The time has come for you to honor your family responsibility. Your ancestors
hoped this day would come, and now it has.”

Hestia sighed. “I guess we cannot
choose the family to which we are born, but we can still do our best to rise to
each situation.”

Ravi gave a feline smile. “Well
said.”

Hestia’s expression was rather wry.
“It is likely I will spend much of my future giving speeches. I might as well
grow accustomed to it.”

Adesina reached over and gave her
hand a squeeze. “You will do well. I could not have chosen a better queen.”

Hestia’s expression lightened as a
thought crossed her mind. “It seems to me that I cannot make my claim until I
have a scholar or two to verify my right to do so.”

“As luck would have it,” said Ravi,
suppressing a chuckle, “a group of academics from the city of Tanar arrived
last night. I am almost certain there is an historian or two among them.”

Hestia got to her feet and shook
the grass from her skirt with more vigor than was necessary. “Very well,” she
grumbled. “Let us get this unpleasant business over with.”