A Warrior's Path Read online

  * * *

  Beyond the mountains and to the east lay the small reunified city of Kesitul. The river Usinte'ikio, the Living Water, snaked lazily down from the glaciers in the far north, doing for centuries what its name implied, providing life. The decayed remains of an ancient aqueduct sprouted from the terrain here and there and cut a broken line from east to west through the city. It was the only visible remnant of the more ancient capitol after which this one was modeled. Widely-spaced stone houses dotted the landscape and converged up the sides of a low hill crowned by a grand palace.

  The people of Kesitul knew very little about the history of their land beyond the great legends. Although accounts varied, every tribe agreed that Kesitul had once been the greatest empire in all the world and had riches beyond imagination. The people were fiercely proud and bound by tradition and had designed the palace in the style of their forefathers as told in legend. Their goal was to recapture the glory of the ancient days.

  Home to emperor Geilo the Beloved, the palace on the hill was the finest edifice in the east lands. The people worked for over a decade to erect what they considered to be the greatest architectural achievement of the age. It was a tribute to Geilo for his triumph in reuniting the tribes of this land against an ancient evil that sought to destroy them and ever since ruling with peaceful benevolence.

  Inside the Palace the empire’s culture was reflected clearly in the artistic expression that shone from every explorable surface. Almost everything in sight was either inlaid with gold or sparkled with precious stones. The high, arching ceiling with its detailed carvings was covered in gold leaf, as were the walls. It was the floor, however, that was most breathtaking of all. On the shiny surface a colorful mosaic played out idyllic scenes and fierce battles from legends in a sweeping radial symmetry. In one place an old master and his younger student stood ready for combat in ruby, emerald, amber, and onyx. Across from them, a wise and wicked dragon twisted through the sky in gold, jasper, jade, and aquamarine. In the centerpiece of the whole mosaic, the eyes of Minotros, God of Fate, gazed upon Emperor Geilo, who was sitting astride the legendary horse that had carried him through the struggle for his people's survival. Around them a vast canvas of other stories was carved out and fitted together to make up this spectacular surface, and its reflective sheen never strayed from perfection.

  The path leading up to the throne was flanked on either side by six rectangular spaces outlined in gold, on which knelt twelve of the emperor's most trusted councilors, mimicking tales from the days of the great Emperor Teomin. Each space was a different color, indicating its occupant's rank and position. The throne itself was solid gold inset with countless numbers of twinkling jewels. The back of the ruler's seat flared up and out in a shimmering fanfare that left onlookers breathless. Even the councilors, who knelt before the throne every morning, agreed that it was a sight to behold.

  Seated back in the imperial grandeur of his throne was the emperor. His thin face was adorned with elongated features and accentuated by a black moustache and goatee that stretched halfway down his chest. Though the hair on his face was dark, that which showed from under his headdress at the temples was peppered with age. His broadly-swept eyes were dark, deep, and filled with wisdom. Clad in dress no less impressive than the throne room, he and his palace truly seemed to fit the role of his title borrowed from the deep, half-forgotten histories of his people.

  Emperor Geilo surveyed his councilors. His look was firm but kind as his eyes moved from one to the next, acknowledging each one's presence before beginning the day's activities. It was a custom of his, out of respect for those men and women who helped him hold the empire together. Like the titles they carried, the advisors were selected as told in the only history known to Kesitul. Those legends that, like many tales that endure the ages, contained more truth than any could guess. But unlike their titles, their purpose was well understood by all, especially the emperor, who called upon their council daily. It was they, as much as he, who could be credited with the two-decade reign of peace.

  Finally, his gaze settled upon the last man on his left, the head of the empire's military. His traditional title was Uchilin, but the emperor often called him general. He was solidly built, but not overly large, and his dark eyes seemed to demand obedience, though his well-tanned face was soft and, at times, kindly. Today, however, his smooth features were animated with anticipation.

  “General Etrusin,” the emperor acknowledged.

  The Uchilin stepped out from his space to the center of the room and bowed. “Ushisorein,” he began, using the emperor's most honorable title. “It is my pleasure to report that over the past several weeks, the empire’s youth has answered your call to join our ranks in the imperial shiodu. There have been over five-hundred new recruits.”

  Five-hundred. It sounded like so few to the emperor. He hoped that Etrusin’s school could teach them all very well or that the school’s numbers would swell to much more in the near future. Then again, Geilo conceded to himself, there might not be any need for them at all.

  “Very good,” the emperor said, hiding his disappointment. “Continue spreading the word to the furthest reaches of the empire.”

  “Of course, highness,” Etrusin answered with another bow. He could not help but smile. It had been quite some time since the general had seen so many new volunteers in his army. His forces had dwindled over the past two decades, and even with the numbers he had managed to maintain, all he could do was train them. There did not seem to be much call for an army in this peaceful empire.

  But Geilo’s thoughts on this matter had been very different of late. The more he saw in his dreams and meditations, the more frustrated he became at the way the empire’s defenses had been allowed to stagnate. He did not, however, want to let on that he was worried. It would do his empire no good to start a panic. The emperor was pulled from his musings by the motion of the general stepping back toward his space.

  “Etrusin,” Geilo called, halting the man’s movement.

  The general returned to the center. “Yes, sire?”

  “I would like you to ready teams of scouts,” the emperor commanded. “Gather some of your most promising recruits. Send them to survey the surrounding lands. It is time we looked beyond the confines of the empire.”

  Etrusin’s expression was one of shock. When Geilo had told him to invite the empire’s youth to train with him, he had assumed the emperor was merely being kind. He had guessed that Geilo was trying to engage him in his role once more after years of inaction and the onset of middle-age threatened to mire his remaining years in tedium. It had never occurred to him that the emperor might have further plans.

  “As you wish, highness,” the general replied, unable to keep the surprise from his voice.

  “Send them westward, through the forest and beyond the mountains,” Geilo continued, knowing that Etrusin must have been reeling with every new instruction.

  Indeed, the general was stunned, though not because of the direction. It was obvious where they might explore. After all, the paths to the eastern ocean, the southern cliffs and the northern mountain range were all fairly well known. But the forest was said to be impassable and haunted. Not that Etrusin was frightened by spirits, but he knew of no one who ever made it more than a few minutes into the forest before either running away in fear or turning away in frustration at the impossibly thick brush that seemed to block every path. No, it was not where they would explore that had the general bemused, it was just that they were exploring at all.

  Etrusin bowed. “However I may serve you, Ushisorein,” he offered. When no other commands seemed forthcoming, the general stepped back into his space, noting the similarly surprised expressions of the other advisors.

  The day’s business continued, but Geilo was distracted for most of it. Many years had passed since the emperor had thought even beyond the borders of his own city. Once his people had joined together and begun to show that they were quite capable of sharing
these lands in peace, the emperor was happy to finally sit back and turn his attention to Kesitul as a united nation, rather than a collection of warring tribes.

  In some ways, though, those days of turmoil did not feel so long ago, and indeed, it was not in the reckoning of elders. While only twenty years had passed, the story seemed like some of the oldest legends. The empire had risen from the ashes of a great foe, the foe that brought about the reunification. Before this, many of the tribes had been enemies, fighting for control of the lands of their great empire of old. But the great evil, the Seilen Dragon Reisothin, had slinked through the countryside easily cutting down any resistance the tribes offered. The Abomination, as he came to be called, came on with his fiery breath and powerful magic, laying waste to entire families, entire clans. Divided, the pathetic creatures of Kesitul were no match for even a single Seilen.

  But then, there was hope. Geilo's tribe had been one of the few that had perfected the art of combat on horseback, and the future emperor was a master cavalryman among them. His tribe joined with another and taught them their advanced cavalry tactics. Under his leadership, they had largely escaped the dragon's wrath for weeks and brought the creature much frustration. They rode through the land, beseeching other tribes to join forces with them to be rid of Reisothin forever. Badly beaten, some tribes' numbers frightfully thinned, the people joined with Geilo, the mounted warrior, and his brave young lieutenant Etrusin, wise beyond his years. Together they rose up against Reisothin, and with the help of the mysterious Grand Master Iou-Liu and his talented student Kiusu, trapped him and defeated him. It was no small task, but Reisothin, powerful though he was, could not stand against the united people of Kesitul.

  Most of these memories played themselves out in the emperor’s mind, but the advisors did not seem to notice his daydreaming. They did not even notice when those daydreams became something more.

  There was a strange twinge deep within Geilo's chest. Sights and sounds that blurred just beyond his comprehension flashed in his mind's eye. He did manage to resolve a few glimpses, but none of them were pleasant. Old, wise, and terrible, Reisothin snaked through the sky and tore his people apart. There was something else, though. Something that was not a memory. Something that terrified him like the old stories they used to tell around the campfires when he was young. Whatever it was, it was not imagined, and in the fading image that remained he could see a massive army and blood on the hands of every soldier. They were all marching toward him.

  * * *

  As the sun sank below the white peaks of the Ikiu'iu Mountains to the west of Kesitul, a darkness swept like a cold wind across the plain of Ionotu. Positioned right on the western edge of the mountain chain, the plain supported Niele'itio, the Dark City. Harsh lines of smoke streamed from the soot-stained, broken chimneys on the western outskirts of the city. Toward the center, the disorganized jumble of ramshackle homes and run-down buildings gave way to plain, square, utilitarian edifices arranged in ordered lines. Near the eastern edge, a large stone castle stood beside a great temple. The temple’s twisting spires stretched skyward, leaving a foreboding shadow upon the western face of Mount Thontur, cast by the low setting sun. The sprawling group of black and gray buildings, and especially the temple, almost seemed to emanate the darkness that might have given the city its name.

  Deep within the walls of his drab castle, King Orbein conferred with his seer. The room was a dull gray and three dim candles threw a faint light around the room, casting long, flickering shadows upon the wall. The candlelight gleamed off Orbein's circlet, the only outward sign of his title. His simple military uniform, youthful round face and closely-cropped black hair did not immediately suggest his royal position.

  “What see you?” the king anxiously of his seer, who was gazing into a bowl filled with an inky black substance.

  “An army,” the other man said through a thick accent. “They march through the mountains, bringing with them fire!” he exclaimed.

  The seer Laernus was a man the likes of which the land of Ionotu had not seen in many, many generations. His graying blond hair and neatly trimmed goatee, which emphasized his angular features, stood out as obviously as his accent. Not only was he a foreigner, but a wizard as well. While the king and few others had acquired some limited ability in the magical arts after many years of laborious study, this stranger exhibited control over much more powerful magic. It was a very advanced arcane experiment that had left him stranded across the Gulf of Erulin almost twenty years ago. Since then, few ever saw him perform anything more powerful than divination, though this new laboratory that Orbein had granted him in the castle suggested he was still capable of much more.

  “An army,” the king repeated. “Is this my army?”

  Laernus glanced up from the bowl and eyed his king uneasily. “I cannot be certain, highness,” he said with a pause.

  King Orbein scowled at Laernus threateningly. “Then devise a way to become certain, seer.”

  Laernus looked back to the inky blackness, disguising a slight rolling of his eyes. “Divination can be a complicated magic, sire. While the immediate future is often quite clear, the further from the present I gaze, the more difficult it becomes. My visions go...” A heavy sigh from the king cut off his explanation.

  “Laernus,” Orbein started calmly, “spare me your excuses. Return to your bowl, and tell me what I wish to know. Do not force me to reassess your value to my court.”

  Suppressing a sigh of his own, Laernus looked back to his scrying bowl, but saw only the wavering reflections of candlelight. Really, it had been Orbein's interruptions more than anything that had dissipated the visions. The king seemed to be quite foolish to the mage lately, almost childish since his coronation six months ago. Laernus had begun to more deeply regret his dabbling in the spellcraft that brought him to this land, for he knew it would be a long time before he would discover a way back to his home, especially with Orbein's incessant distractions.

  He gave the king his best attempt at an apologetic smile. “Begging your most generous pardon, highness. The pool has gone black. You have seen many of these sessions end in similar ways. And what benefit would I reap from misleading you in this? Have I not proved my usefulness to you after all these years? Have I not helped to bring you this far? Have I not been rewarded greatly for this assistance to you? I understand the source of your frustration, but you must not let it blind you. It is fate that I cannot see all things. There is a reason that the gods do not wish you to know the outcome of all your endeavors.”

  “The gods...” the king snickered as his expression softened slightly. “Who needs their divine meddling? My army will once again serve me without question. I am the same man who led them as general to conquer these lands. I will lead them once more, this time as king, to conquer our ancient enemy.”

  Laernus stifled a smug grin at the king's verbal musings. He knew Orbein's crown carried with it new insecurities he had never had to deal with before. As a general, he had commanded the loyalty of his army with ease, but crowning himself king turned up more than a few eyebrows. The people of the city loved him, as his defeat of the surrounding lands gave them a sense of patriotism and had been good for business, infusing the local economy with new sources of revenue. To them it did not matter what he called himself. Orbein was a hero.

  But the king cared nothing for that riff-raff. It was the army that mattered most. Only they had the power to uphold his reign, and likewise to tear it down. Laernus could not help but stoke this fear.

  “But, how can you be so sure? What other enemies do you have to defeat? What else can you possibly do to quell their doubts?” he asked in a hushed tone.

  Orbein smiled in a way Laernus did not expect. “You are not the only one with visions of the future,” he said with some significance. “At night, in my sleep, I see an army as well. We march upon the ancient empire that sent us here and abandoned us. We rain fire down upon them from the skies!”

  Laernus could not
hide his surprise. “Indeed?” he asked. “That was generations upon generations ago. How can you be sure this empire still exists?”

  The king's smile broadened. “We will know soon enough. I have a plan in motion as we speak.”

  2. Divination

  In the throne room, the emperor was pensive. “I want you to keep an eye on these warriors Etrusin sends out,” he said slowly, considering each word that passed his lips.

  Ninei, the emperor's mediator, raised her eyebrow. “Forgive me, highness, but do you mean you wish me to go with them?” she asked curiously.

  Geilo nodded seriously. “Take some of your students to send with groups as they split up. We shall soon go places our people have not trod for generations, and we do not know who is out there. I need you to be there with them, to be the voice of the empire.”

  “Do you believe our services will be required?” the woman asked, intrigued even more by the emperor's request.

  “It is merely a precaution,” the emperor explained quickly.

  Ninei pondered the emperor's words for a moment before bringing her almond-shaped eyes to meet his. “I see,” she said as she bowed, though her brow furrowed as she did.

  “Is there something wrong, Giunin?” the emperor asked, using the traditional title for the court arbiter.

  “Nay, highness,” the dark haired woman bowed again. “It is but a pleasure to serve you.”

  Geilo nodded, “Very well. When he sends out his scouts, you will accompany them. Make sure they take no...unnecessary measures. You are dismissed,” he said briskly as he turned his attention to a scroll that sat in his lap.

  Once the great doors to the throne room were closed, Ninei hurried to her chambers. She knew something was odd was afoot. There was something hidden in the emperor’s request. She could tell that he was distracted. And what did he mean by 'unnecessary measures'? It was true that the empire was headed into the unknown, but she thought it unlikely that a scouting party would need a diplomat there with them.