A Warrior's Path Read online

  With that, she disappeared, leaving Agucho to ponder her meaning. It did not take long for an understanding to come to him, but he sat for some time afterward in deep thought. Finally, he got up and ambled toward the cypress and began his return journey back to the Dark City.

  * * *

  A hot breeze blew from the west, bringing no comfort to the sweating backs of the soldiers of Niele'itio. It was noon, and even the high mount Thontur could not block the sun's scorching rays. As the men burned in the late summer sun, slaving over large foreign contraptions, they worried at the direction of the wind. It was not wholly uncommon for this season, but in general the air moving through Ionotu rolled off the cool peak of Thontur, keeping the summers mild. But when the air blew from the west, the hot, sticky air carrying moisture from the wetlands, it always made the weather interesting. Now it was simply hot and miserable. Later in the day, however, the clash of hot air from the west and the cold mountain air would throw the sky into upheaval. The wretched men of the Dark City's army would be left trembling in their leaky, drafty barracks, if the wind and hail even left any for them to cower in away from the lightning.

  Vethisir watched his men assemble the third catapult and noted their speed. Not only were they getting quicker with each assembly, but they also hurried because of the weather. He looked up and, though he saw not a cloud, he knew they would come. He almost felt sorry for the wretches. When the wind and the rain came, the general would be resting comfortably in his palace quarters. But Vethisir had not gotten where he was in life because of pity, so he let the feelings pass. These were soldiers. Miserable experiences like the one they would have tonight only made them tougher. With this thought, the general focused his attention on one man in particular.

  The light-haired, light-eyed foreigner was familiar with the design of the catapult. His lack of surprise at the announcement that the western technology was to be used in this mission of expansion seemed suspicious to Vethisir. Of course, he was a seer and had likely already known that the contraption would be introduced. The general kept a close eye on Laernus. Since the strange meeting with the shapeshifter, the seer's demeanor had completely changed. No more did he cower before the other soldiers and play their victim. Now he partook of the zealous sparring, actually learning how to use a sword in the process. He became intimately involved in the project to build the catapults, as he knew more about them than any man native to Ionotu. He seemed to grow stronger and more confident with each passing day now, and his fellow soldiers' attitudes shifted from disdain to fearful respect. It had not taken them long to learn that this seeing traveler knew magic, and he had learned to use it to his advantage quite well in a fight.

  Vethisir had noticed all of this and would have encouraged this kind of development in any other recruit, but with this one it just made him nervous. If it weren’t for the sudden absence of Agucho for reasons known only to Orbein, the general would never have allowed this situation. He watched the foreigner shout at the men in his strange accent and point to important sections of the catapult. He supervised the building of the siege weaponry with a sharp tongue and a harsh glare. He seemed completely dissatisfied with the whole process and made sure the entire army knew about it. When the men finished with the third engine, he called for them to test it.

  The general was happy to avert his attention for a little while and watch the catapult in action. He had seen the other two tested upon their completion, and the effect had not yet worn off. It was one of the most incredible sights he had ever witnessed. The men tightened the winch and pulled back the arm. Two soldiers lifted a heavy stone into the bucket and stepped back. Another man swung a heavy hammer and knocked out the slip hook. A perfectly-performed symphony of motion reflected in the eyes of every onlooker. The arm swung upward, and at the appropriate angle, the stone came hurtling out. The arm continued up to the vertical where it slammed against the crosspiece. All eyes were on the stone, though, as the crosspiece cracked and broke from the catapult's mobile base. Before the rock had finished its flight, the broken piece of the siege engine toppled to the side and nearly crushed one unfortunate soldier's skull.

  “You fools!” called out Laernus.

  The soldiers paid him little mind as they rushed to drag the dazed man away from the wreckage. Laernus stalked over to scold them some more. This irked Vethisir, and he went to intercept when he heard a much more important call.

  “General,” Orbein addressed him.

  Vethisir turned and saluted abruptly. “Your highness.”

  “Impressive machinery. Does it break every time?” the King asked derisively.

  “Of course not, highness, clearly there was some flaw in the construction of this particular machine.”

  “Clearly,” Orbein answered. “Is the seer in charge of this particular operation?” he asked, watching the foreigner circle the broken engine and yell at anyone who came near. He watched in much the same way Vethisir had done.

  The general shrugged. “Somewhat, sire. He does know the machinery better than any of us, and the men seem to prefer him to the shapeshifter.”

  The king nodded. “Your training seems to have grown him a spine.”

  Vethisir grimaced. “Actually, sire, I've been meaning to speak to you about that.”

  Orbein turned and looked at the general with a raised eyebrow. “Go on.”

  “Well, shortly after the seer joined our ranks he was visited by your, uh...the shapeshifter.”

  Orbein's other eyebrow joined the first. “Really?”

  “Yes, sire. They stole off to the woods by the road and came back several minutes later. Ever since then, the seer seems to be much more interested in his training,” Vethisir explained.

  “Why did you not tell me of this sooner?” the king asked.

  “Your forgiveness, sire, I was so busy with the new assignment, and you seemed so focused upon this. It seemed secondary.” Even for such a hot day, the general was sweating profusely. More than the weather was causing the beads on his forehead.

  Orbein grinned. “Vethisir.”

  “Yes, sire?”

  “Never overlook something so simple. Should you notice anything unusual, I want to hear about it immediately. I will not correct you again.” With that the king turned and marched off the field.

  Vethisir sighed heavily and shakily. He looked back to the catapult to see that there were men gathered around it removing the broken crosspiece. Laernus was not watching, though. Instead he stared at the king's back as he left, and then over to the general. The seer shot him an insincere smile and plodded over to him.

  “Sir, the men will be removing the crosspiece and replacing it with one that is properly reinforced,” Laernus explained.

  The general squinted at him suspiciously, then nodded. “Let them do it tomorrow,” he said. “Your day is over.” He pointed toward the mountains.

  Laernus looked over his shoulder and saw a dark thunderhead rolling quickly toward the field from several miles away. Thunder rumbled subtly at first, softly knocking at the sky to announce its presence, a mockingly gentle fanfare for what would become a tumultuous summer storm in less than an hour. The seer did not need to call to the men to pack up the catapults, they had already begun. It would take at least twenty minutes, and the rain would already be falling before they were done, but finish they would for fear of losing all their hard work to nature. Laernus stood and watched them scramble, and over his shoulder, Vethisir watched him. He could feel the general's eyes boring into him, but he ignored it. The seer knew that someday soon, he would be free. Free from the prying eyes. Free from the condescending glares. Free from the burden of taking orders from somebody else. Free.

  13. Perception

  Blackness. Occasionally the light would shimmer through the clouds and the canopy to play upon his closed eyelids, but for the most part he saw only blackness. Kiusu had described gleaming sheets of transcendence and sparkling streams of existence, but Urietsin saw none of these. Inste
ad, he saw black and sometimes red. He found it difficult to concentrate with his eyes closed. Although he meditated regularly, the Swift one found himself becoming frustrated at his inability to focus and see the things Kiusu saw. Part of it was this new method, but more than that, behind his eyes he could only see fresh blood dripping off the tusks of the gotori and the crumpled bodies of the men that had followed him up the mountain.

  “I see...” Urietsin spoke.

  “Yes?” Kiusu asked eagerly.

  “The back of my eyelid,” he responded dryly.

  Kiusu chuckled. “Patience, Swift One, it will take time. You must first release the firm grip that a proposed reality has upon your mind. Also, do not look with your eyes. That is why they are closed. Do not expect to 'see' these things as you would with those limited organs. You should simply feel existence, and your perception will give it a form that you can only describe as sight.”

  Urietsin sighed and opened his eyes. “How can I release the hold of this proposed reality when it is the only thing I know?”

  “By recognizing that the reality you have been taught to perceive is not completely true. It is merely an illusion to describe our interaction with existence to our physical senses,” Kiusu explained.

  “But is not existence merely another word for reality?” the young warrior asked.

  “Perhaps for some, but there is a difference between reality and existence. Reality is that which exists to us because we perceive it. Existence is everything that is regardless of our perception of it. Reality is encompassed by existence, but does not define it. Reality is defined by form and measurement. Existence cannot be defined because it has no specific form and cannot be measured. It is the cause and consequence within itself.”

  Urietsin looked a little confused.

  Kiusu nodded. “Think of your home. You are not there now, so you do not perceive it, but does it still exist?”

  “I certainly hope so,” the Swift One sighed, feeling a slight pang of homesickness.

  The older man grinned. “I'm sure it does. That is how existence is. Existence is contained within a vastness that we are incapable of perceiving in its entirety. We do, however, perceive parts of it. The other parts still exist, even when we are not there to perceive them. What we happen to be perceiving at any point in our existence is our reality. Understand?”

  “I think so,” was the reply.

  “Do not worry, Urietsi'in, you will understand more completely in time,” his master reassured. “One time all men understood this, but as they have grown away from nature and the true consciousness, it has slipped from their grasp. The last men to know the secrets fully were a group called the Safekeepers, who passed much of their knowledge to my master."

  The old man paused and stared distantly for a moment before blinking away the trance and urging his student, "Go on, close your eyes and try again.”

  Urietsin nodded and musingly watched the old man walk back toward the nearly completed dwelling. He closed his eyes and cleared his mind. His breath moved in and out slowly. He concentrated on that, letting it distract him from all other thoughts. In came fresh air, out went spent air. The Swift One focused on the sensation of air rushing in through his nostrils, down his windpipe, and filling his lungs. He paid equal attention to the opposite process of exhalation. He imagined the air as a liquid filled with swirling clouds of tiny particles so that he could see it moving in response to his breathing.

  As this imagery coalesced within his mind's eye, he realized that he was watching the air move inside him as though he were transparent. He clearly saw it flow into his lungs, and even change color, just before it was expelled. He also noticed the pattern of the air all around him. Time seemed to slow down or speed up. Whatever it did, time did not really seem to be a factor. Countless breaths were all he had to mark the time he watched the air dance around him.

  Within this meditative dream he saw the trees swaying in time to his breathing. He watched this in awe for several moments before it dawned on him that the trees were not swaying; they were breathing. As he breathed out they breathed in. He watched particles from his exhale disperse into the air and get slowly sucked up by the surrounding plant life. Urietsin began to feel like he was unable to breathe. He inhaled sharply and opened his eyes. He was startled by Kiusu standing before him, eyes closed.

  “What did you see?” the old man asked.

  “The air,” was the student's simple response.

  Kiusu nodded and opened his eyes. “Why did you stop?”

  Urietsin shook his head. “It may sound foolish, but I felt like the trees were taking my breath away.”

  “Taking it, but giving it back,” Kiusu explained. “You will find that existence is filled with many such relationships. Some simple, but most complex. The trees breathe our air, and we breathe theirs. We could not exist without one another.”

  The young warrior looked around at the many trees that surrounded them as he had several times before, but now he saw them with much respect and wonder. As his eyes played over the area, they came to rest on the hut, which was now completely finished. In the time that Urietsin had been meditating Kiusu had thatched the entire roof. “How long was I...?”

  Kiusu chuckled. “A few hours,” he replied. Indeed, the short shadows of noon had waxed to the full shadows of early evening. “Come, Swift One, let us eat,” the old man said, helping his young student up. Together they went into the hut where a simple dinner sat ready. Urietsin was again amazed at the abilities of his mentor. A thatched roof and freshly hunted meat in a few hours with no sign of fatigue. There was even a small bowl of rice for each of them. How Kiusu had managed to obtain rice on this mountain was beyond even his imagination.

  Urietsin bowed. “Greater is my debt, seishin,” he said in the tradition of his family, and of most of those in the empire. Seishin was a title that meant 'master of the household' and was often used by guests in one's home, but was also commonly spoken by students to their teachers. The entire phrase was most often uttered before a meal as a show of gratitude toward a gracious host.

  Kiusu bowed in return and replied, “Pay with a clean plate, gru'iohin,” as this was the proper response, referring to the recipient as 'humble guest'. The two then began to eat, and although the meal was simple, they savored it. Such was as it had been for the two men for the past few weeks and for Kiusu for the past two decades.

  Urietsin ate silently, but his mind was bustling with thought. Though he was excited about his meditation today, he felt a twinge of guilt. Three, maybe four, men would not be able to know the joys of new discoveries like this. They would not know the feeling of being homesick and the subsequent feeling of relieved satisfaction of their homecoming. Their families would never again know that latter same happiness. The Swift One had to admit that being here with Kiusu was fascinating, and he definitely wanted to learn more from the old man, but every thought that brought him closer to moving on from the tragedy of the brave men that had followed him on the mountain haunted the young warrior incessantly. He would not insult the memory of those honorable warriors by simply carrying on as though their losses were nothing. He would not carry on as though he could not have saved them from their terrible fate.

  * * *

  Tilon smiled as he watched the group of young elves dance. They practiced their song with serious effort, but as was always the case with young ones, their voices carried the lilting, carefree joy that went with childhood. The eldest of the group was his own son, strong and proud. He watched the boy lead the dance with purpose, placing each step flawlessly in time with their song. These children, the few of their realm, were the reason he was fiercely protective of his home. Out of the corner of his eye, Tilon saw his sister striding off purposefully with her bow and quiver slung over her shoulder. This, he knew, did not bode well.

  “Marui!” he called to her.

  The elven maiden turned and waited for Tilon to approach.

  “Where are you off to?”
he asked with concern.

  Marui gave a slight sigh as though she had hoped to avoid this encounter. “I am going to guide some of General Etrusin's men through the mountains,” she said honestly.

  Tilon let his expression speak his disapproval.

  “They are merely scouts, Tilon. I will help them find their way through to see if they might glean some useful information about the danger that is coming,” she explained.

  “Let me save you the trip, my sister. They are the danger,” he grimaced.

  Marui looked at him with the utmost disappointment. “I thought you had moved beyond this. When will you let the past go? You are clinging to things that happened in our parents' generation.”

  “It is in their nature,” Tilon shrugged. “They will betray us again.”

  “They did not betray us!” Marui shouted. “It was Teomin that did so, and that only after we prevented him from betraying his own people.”

  “Which is why we should not interfere now.”

  Marui looked at him with disgust. “How can you possibly be so sure? Etrusin's men are the first humans you have ever met, and they have been nothing but friendly to us.”

  “How can I be so sure?” Tilon repeated. “Do you forget what father taught us? 'Be wary,' he said, 'for those whom you trust can most easily take advantage.' Even as we speak more humans are trampling through the forest, more soldiers of their army. Should we just sit back and leave ourselves vulnerable? Should we assume there is no ill intent?”

  His sister sighed. “I remember well all that father taught us. I remember also that he told us humans have been the friends of elves since Felishan grew them from the earth.”

  Tilon had no response to this. He simply narrowed his eyes stubbornly at her.

  Marui shook her head. “Tilon,” she said softly, “let go of this. Hate is not natural for a Shionen. You do yourself, our father, and all of elvenkind a great dishonor to clutch at it so irrationally.”