A Warrior's Path Page 22
Tilon marched out of the forest in full Shionen battle regalia, followed by a huge contingent of soldiers. The elf did indeed look regal, with a tall but light headdress of entwined gold and silver that crested forward and accented his angular features. He wore a complete suit of intricately-detailed leaves, shaped out of some metal that glittered brightly from each perfectly reflective curve. All of the soldiers who looked on from the camp, even those who were seasoned warriors, could only gape at the spectacle that was Tilon Enshei. By the time they regained their wits enough to wonder if they should take up their weapons, they realized that the force that followed the awe-inspiring elf was made completely of humans. It did not take them long to understand that these young warriors, clad in armor so familiar to them, were new recruits from the empire.
Tilon turned and called out to the men, “Go! Join now your kinsmen, soldiers.”
The crowd that had come out of the forest dispersed quickly into the camp, and the low murmur of chatter quickly filled the air. Several officers attempted to approach Tilon for an explanation, but he merely brushed passed them straight toward the general's tent.
“Good afternoon, general,” the elf said as he walked in.
Etrusin eyed Tilon warily and noticed the look of surprise upon the bedecked Shionen's face.
The elf recovered quickly and continued, “I have led to you a mighty gift from your emperor. Eight hundred new men to train at your camp.”
The general's expression did not change. “Eight hundred?” he echoed in a hollow voice.
“Yes!” cried Tilon, who was already beginning to doubt again his sister's faith in the man.
“When did Tilon of the Shionen become concerned with how many men I will lead?” the general asked distantly.
Tilon looked down for a moment. “When I began to understand that those men would be helping to protect my land as well as their own, whether they knew it or not,” he admitted.
“Protect...” echoed Etrusin as his eyes trailed along his map.
“General,” prompted Tilon, trying to keep the disbelief from his voice, “what have you been doing here? You look terrible, and not at all like the man who marched here proudly with half an army behind him.”
Etrusin laughed hollowly. “Yes, half an army, to defend half an empire against,” he pointed to the map, “half an enemy? I started out so certain, but now that I am here. I cannot help but feel that we are ill prepared for whatever comes next.”
Tilon could feel something strange inside. It was sympathy, much to his surprise. He had sat and thought long and hard after Marui had spoken to him. He realized, as he reviewed his youth and the things their father had told them, that his ill will towards the humans was nothing more than fear. Fear had kept him from seeing that his father did not resent humans, rather he regretted having to fight them because of one foolish leader.
The elf knew that he had to rely on the descendants of Teomin's empire, as they had to rely on the elves. But, looking at the general as he stared at his map, he could hardly bring himself to rely on this particular man in his current condition. Something was definitely distracting the general from his priorities, and it was not natural. Tilon decided drastic action was needed.
Moments later, the general jumped out of his seat as a shockingly cool sensation washed over his body. He looked out from under his dripping hair to see Tilon standing there with an empty bucket. The coolness of the water was only momentary, however, as it was quickly replaced by the heat of rage. He glared dangerously at the elf.
“Go wash yourself,” Tilon suggested easily.
Etrusin seriously considered rushing the elf and pummeling him into the ground, but as the water ran down his body and pooled below him, it seemed to take with it some of the emotion that had been dragging him down. That emotion, he realized, was self-pity. He pushed his wet hair back and chuckled to himself, realizing how foolish he must have looked.
“I apologize,” the general said sincerely. “I don't know what came over me.”
“You are yourself again,” remarked the elf. “Go cleanse yourself of the thoughts that have clouded your mind these past days. I bring more than the reinforcements from your emperor. We have much to discuss,” he added.
It was almost an hour before Etrusin came back to his tent to speak with Tilon. He had spent considerable time rinsing off the dried sweat and dust, but the haze of the past few days as well. As he washed, he thought, and slowly he came to realize the strangeness of his attitude since his arrival at the camp. Several times he almost felt ashamed, but he quickly amended those thoughts as he recognized that they were not so dissimilar from what he had been feeling in the solitude of his tent.
After cleaning himself, the general went to the mess tent to get some much needed food. Once he was full, he walked about the camp, nodding to the soldiers as he passed. He knew they were all curious as to what he had been doing in his tent all this time. Actually, he wondered about that himself.
When he finally got back to his tent, Tilon was there waiting patiently for him. The sun was beginning to set, and the indirect light inside the tent revealed to Etrusin the true nature of the elf's armor. Out in the daylight, his mail shone brightly and made him stand out, but in the dim, early evening light inside the tent, or under the forest's canopy, he imagined, the elf simply disappeared. Each tiny, polished leaf so perfectly reflected the surroundings that, with the aid of a little Shionen magic, no doubt, it was the perfect camouflage. Had Tilon not turned to greet him, Etrusin probably would have missed him altogether.
The general bowed to the elf. “Good evening, my friend, and thank you,” he said.
Tilon simply nodded. He indicated the seat across from him. “For centuries before this day, millennia even, we have been neighbors,” the elf began. “We have lived next to one another, and this fact alone has fulfilled the definition of that word. But while our physical distance has not been great, we might as well have lived on opposite sides of the earth.
“Once, many years ago, my people and yours were great friends,” he continued, “but time changed the nature of that relationship. Time and many mistakes on the part of both our peoples made us neighbors only in the strictest sense. It has been many lifetimes of your race that we called one another friends. It is too far back for the short memory of your culture, but barely more than a generation has passed for my people. There are many still alive who have not forgotten.
“Now we wish to lay aside the mistakes of the past and leave them in those days far away. It is unfortunate that it has taken a dark turn of fate to open our eyes, but we will not deny the opportunity while it lies so clearly open to us!”
The elf stood up quickly as his voice sang with hope. This was the moment he would redeem himself. In a motion that at first seemed completely foreign to him, he bent down to one knee and looked up to the general, who wore a look of quizzical bemusement. “The Shionen wish to offer their swords and bows in service of defending our two countries, and their friendship for the peace that must follow. We have only seven hundred warriors who are ready to join you, but I assure you they are the finest.”
Etrusin stood and helped the elf back to his feet. He immediately bowed low. “Thank you again, my friend. They shall all be welcome,” he said respectfully.
The Shionen smiled sincerely and nodded again, feeling more comfortable. The two sat once more, facing one another. It was silent for many minutes thereafter, but comfortably so.
“Tell me,” Etrusin said finally, his curiosity having got the best of him.
“Yes?” asked the elf.
The general glanced once more at his map. “Of the times before. Of our ancestors,” was his reply.
A dark look crossed Tilon's face. “Not all of it is pleasant,” he explained.
“I believe you,” Etrusin reassured him.
The elf heaved a long sigh, wondering how to tell the story with his new perspective. “Very well,” he said.
* * *
Su-Ni had been too weary to even notice the scowls pointed in her direction, as her body fought the poison of the meilif-danar along with the help of Marui's antidote. So, she had engaged the only receptive member of the scouting party in a conversation that had led to this, a unique glimpse into her ancestors' past.
“There was a great, bustling city where your emperor's palace is now,” the elf continued, “and it spread out for many miles in every direction. So many humans, and a few elves, lived there, and magnificent buildings and towers reached for the sky. It was a place so rich and diverse that it would not be unusual to see a Kundur craftsman or a Hahfdi merchant wandering the streets with wares.”
“Wait,” interrupted O'eintsu with a mixture of wonderment and confusion upon his normally expressionless face. “Kundur? Hahfdi?”
Marui grinned at the young soldier, and though it was in amusement, it seemed wistful also. “Races that have not been seen in this land for far too long. Both are shorter than humans or elves in stature, but there the similarities end. The Kundur, also called dwarves, are hard and gruff, whereas the Hahfdis are soft and gentle. Do not be fooled by the dwarven demeanor, though, for their hearts are forged of gold. Kundur have great strength and mine for metal or stones, with which they craft some of the most beautiful and clever creations the world may ever know. The Hahfdis are glib and dexterous. Actually, they are akin to elves in many ways. Their voices are musical, and they are skilled at almost any task they undertake, however they do have a lifespan closer to that of a human than an elf. Kundur live to be quite a bit older, though again not quite as old as elves.
“Both of them,” she went on seeing that she already had the entire group enthralled, “would come with elves and men from lands far away to the glorious city of the east. It was the center of trade and culture for the entire continent. That is, until...the Cataclysm.”
Pei-Shi gasped and whispered, “'And half the earth fell into the sea...'” a quote from a story told to all the children of the empire.
“Not into the sea,” Marui corrected the warrioress, “just separated. It was an enormous mountain far to the north that vomited up ash and molten rock, so my grandmother told me when I was small. It covered much of the surrounding sky in blackness. The land all the way south to the shoreline cliffs became impassable. Thus were the eastlands, our home, severed from the rest of the continent. What has happened to the people beyond the great scar, I do not know. My father says they live still on the other side of the wetlands that sprung out of the destruction, but we have never heard or seen any sign of them in all these long years.
“I hope this is true,” the elf added thoughtfully, “because it would mean that both of our races have kin somewhere in the wide world. Someday, perhaps, we shall all once again see visitors from those faraway lands, and go there ourselves. I lament the relative shortness of your lives as humans. I know that if such days do come again, I might still be alive to know the joy of seeing our cousins. For your people, that joy may have to be for your descendants long after you have passed.”
Marui heard a choking sound and saw that Su-Ni's eyes were wide and filled with tears. The wise elf knew that the diplomat had keenly felt her mortality at this last statement, especially after her recent brush with death. She gave the young human a reassuring smile.
“It seems, however, that another joy may have come to you within your lifetime,” she said hopefully. “Though it may be difficult to see it, for it comes wrapped in bad tidings.”
“What do you mean?” asked Denlin leaning closer upon his staff.
The burly Reniu, who had thus far been standing nearby with his arms folded across his chest, pretending not to listen, stepped forward and chimed in. “She's meanin' the battle we're about ta fight.”
Denlin looked from Reniu to Marui with an even more quizzical expression.
“He is right, young warrior,” the elf explained. “It is no longer a secret to any who are here gathered that something is about to happen. We are about to be called upon to defend our lands from an unknown enemy, or perhaps one not so unknown.”
She could feel their intrigue rising with every word, and even if they did not physically move toward her, she felt as though they were all closer, so focused were they upon her story.
“After the cataclysm,” Marui continued with her story, “the eastlands had to become self sufficient. The people left here had to work together for their survival, and they did so with great success. Kesio'itio, the place you now call Kesitul, and Iono'itio, which I believe later became Iono'itul, grew to be the greatest cities the east had ever known. The Golden City and the Gleaming City were both well-named. Kesitul held the wealth of gold, provided by Iono'itul's miners, while the Gleaming City itself held the wealth of knowledge. Of the two valuables, gold is ever the one to inspire greed in men.
“Thus was Teomin, Determined One, first emperor of Kesitul, inspired. A lust for power over the city from whence came all his riches drove him to his destruction and ripped asunder friendships that had been forged for centuries. When Iono'itul denied his power, Teomin marched his army through our forest to conquer them.”
Marui gave a pensive pause before she went on. “Teomin reached too far for Iono'itul and did not take care of what lay in between. We could not allow him to claim sovereignty upon a place that would know no ruler.”
“You attacked them?” asked Pei-Shi with a look of astonishment.
Marui did not become defensive, she simply shook her head. “No. We had been friends of humans since well before living memory. We do not turn against our friends so quickly.”
It seemed to Su-Ni that the elf had uttered this last statement a little too sourly. At a glance, none of the others seemed to notice, so she listened on, figuring that she would find out the source soon enough.
“We did not attack Teomin's men,” Marui continued. “Instead we closed the path through the forest behind them as they made their way to the Gleaming City. My father tells me they went on to crush the city mercilessly, slaughtering innocent people in the streets, but when they turned back to their home, they found the way blocked. They never found a way back and eventually gave up and made Iono’itul their home.”
“What did Teomin think of this?” Komeris asked, an amused smile upon his face.
Marui did not share in his mirth. “He did indeed find out what we had done, eventually. So displeased was he that he marched a force out to challenge us, but still we would not fight him. It was not long before his patience was worn thin, and he ordered his men to take up torches and burn down our home.
“No man left the battlefield alive that day,” the elf said coldly, “not even Teomin.”
All of the humans gathered around Marui were deathly silent. They were barely drawing breath, so shocked were they at the outcome of this story. A few legends about why the ancient empire had dissolved circulated throughout Kesitul for centuries, but none of them included the intervention of the Shionen.
Not that any of the humans before Marui could blame her kin for defending their home. Every one of them here listening to her story silently agreed that it had been the only course, though this was a drastically different characterization of Teomin than they were used to. Once everyone was breathing normally, and no harsh judgment was forthcoming, the elf pressed on.
“But here we are today, hopefully allies again. Therein lies the joy I mentioned. If we are fortunate, this new danger will prove to be the fate that binds us in friendship once again. Together we may also learn the fate of your lost brethren. We may find the descendants of your ancestors who marched through the mountains. Perhaps we will find that they, as you, have forgotten the m
istake of Teomin and have become peaceful as of old.”
Reniu snorted, “More likely that's who were goin' ta fight.”
Marui grimaced. “I do fear that,” she admitted, “but perhaps not. Perhaps we three peoples will be united against a foe that threatens all of the eastlands.”
“I guess that is what we are going to find out,” said Su-Ni, a determined look on her albeit weary face.
All eyes were on her now. Even Marui cast a doubting glance in the diplomat's direction.
“We?” asked Komeris.
Su-Ni turned to look at him with a panicked expression. “Surely you cannot think of sending me back to the camp,” she pleaded.
“No. We cannot afford to tarry another day,” explained Komeris. “We have already lost a day from your adventures, and we will lose no more. You may either go back to camp yourself or continue on, but make no mistake. If you choose to continue, know that we will not slow for you to catch up.”
“You won't need to!” the young woman shouted indignantly. She stood up quickly and took up her blanket and headed for her pack.
“Let us continue right now,” she muttered along the way. “I will no longer be such a burden. I will ride beside you with no complaint. I will...”
All of them heard her voice trail off, but only Reniu noticed her swoon. He ran up behind her and caught her as she fell backward. She looked up at the big man with a ghostly pale visage and tears streamed down her temples.
“I don't wish to be a problem,” she said weakly. “I'm sorry...” Her voice trailed away again, and her eyes closed.
Reniu shook her gently. “Oh no you don't,” he said. “Wake up, girl.” But she did not. The strong soldier lifted her up and brought her to Marui.