A Warrior's Path Read online

  So, why was the emperor silent about his true reasons? She could not begin to guess, but she trusted in Geilo’s wisdom and knew of his gift of foresight. If the emperor wanted Etrusin’s men watched, she would be the one to do it. The Giunin knew it was only a matter of time before the truth was revealed.

  * * *

  Emperor Geilo stood and looked around his throne room. His gaze fell upon the two guards at the door. He stared at them for a long while, half expecting them to shift uneasily, but these men had been well trained by Etrusin. They would not budge until the emperor commanded. After a long silence, he did so.

  “You are both dismissed. Wait outside the door until I call for you again. No one is to enter unless it is at my bidding.” The emperor's quiet voice sounded almost menacing, but again the men did not blink. They simply bowed, turned around and left, closing the throne room doors behind them.

  The emperor looked to the scroll he had been holding since before Ninei had arrived. As a child his family had proudly announced that he possessed the gift of Ohe Ren Utsouri, Tomorrow’s Eye. The priests of his tribe taught him how to more effectively apply this gift for the good of his people. He had used this along with his expert horsemanship to great advantage against the wicked Reisothin, but since the beast's destruction, the eye had remained dormant. Now, it seemed, his abilities were calling to him once more.

  He stared hard at each of the words on the scroll, squinting and repeating each one. He had to memorize them all perfectly. He needed to perform this ritual meditation to confirm the fragments of disjointed time that played in his mind. If the disturbing visions that had been coming to him lately were true, then his empire was in grave danger.

  Geilo looked up from the scroll. He dropped the arcane writings onto the throne behind him and walked slowly to the center of the room. There, the wise ruler raised his arms and began to whisper a chant. Gradually, as the volume of his chants increased, the usually bright throne room dimmed. The emperor's chants came from his lips faster and louder as the room grew darker.

  Suddenly, the emperor's chant reached a climax, and complete darkness cloaked the room. Silence followed the absence of light for a few moments, after which a small pinpoint of shining blue pierced the darkness from the center of the room. The small light suddenly erupted to surround the emperor in a blue-glowing sphere. The surface of the bubble swirled and twisted around the leader, who seemed quite small within.

  The emperor closed his eyes and began to move his outstretched hands slowly. His body turned slowly in a strange, sluggish dance. Eventually, the turning and twisting of the emperor's body matched that of the bluish patterns on the bubble. Almost as if he sensed this fact, Geilo opened his eyes and kneeled. He had attuned himself to this otherworldly sphere. Now he could make out the twisted images that played out upon the shiny inside surface of the large glowing ball. He hoped he could glean some promising information this time. Something that suggested a better course for his empire.

  Deep within the subtle shades of every blue possible, the images began to take shape. The dark shadows and bright highlights coalesced into form and created a perfect scene. It was the line of the mountains against the sky. Almost-white blue clouds swept lazily across the darker azure skies. It was a peaceful scene, and for a moment, the emperor felt reassured.

  Then he saw them.

  A large, dark blotch on the ground far below began to stir. The emperor willed himself closer so that he might confirm his suspicion.

  Soldiers. A number the like of which he had not seen since the days of Reisothin was gathered there in a field at the foot of the mountains. Black lines of smoke reached skyward from the scorched earth that seemed to reveal itself at their every step. Burning embers floated down among their ranks as though the dark clouds above were drizzling fire, and indeed, every so often the clouds blinked with lightning, completing the illusion.

  The soldiers, whether dark by nature or simply smeared with soot, seemed inspired by the ominous thunderheads. Their mouths gaped wickedly with every flash, and their eyes glowed, either reflecting the show above or with their own evil light. They trudged grimly eastward, toward his home. These demon warriors with scarred and blackened faces marched for his empire!

  “No!” Geilo cried out at the advancing force. Suddenly the vision dissipated, as did the globe and the darkness. The emperor found himself kneeling in his throne room alone, the image of fiery, wicked eyes burned onto his retina.

  “There must be something that can be done,” he said aloud, pleadingly turning his eyes to the ceiling. “I will ask for your guidance, Minotros.”

  The emperor made his way back to his throne and sat down. He told himself that his people would not fall before this demonic force that he saw in his visions. He would perform the ritual of Commune. It would take some discussion with his high priest, Shiu-Hi, but considering the urgency of the situation, he was sure this was the only wise course. A powerful sense of foreboding loomed from the west in Geilo's mind. That direction, he guessed, because of the mountains. Those cold, foreboding peaks and a pair of burning red eyes remained fixed in his mind for the rest of the day.

  3. Precedence

  Reniu, one of the veteran soldiers of the imperial guard, was in a surly mood. Many said that his natural expression was a scowl, but today there was a definite emotion behind the downturned corners of his mouth. For the most part, Reniu's reputation for having a bad attitude was exaggerated, but he was certainly not possessed of the coolest of tempers. Etrusin's newest trainees and their obvious inexperience reflected in the huge soldier's squinted eyes, bringing that temper to a point near boiling.

  He sulked at all these children running around and swinging weapons that only grown warriors should be swinging. The sight of the whole lot of them irked him, and what irked him even more was the fact that he had been assigned to choose from the best of these poor excuses for warriors for the upcoming scouting mission. Most of them barely grew any hair on their chins! If they weren't even old enough to hold a shaving blade, how could they hold a sword, or even a staff? If that wasn't enough, almost a third of these trainees were little more than girls. These young women had little place among military ranks to his mind, even though on any other day he would openly concede that the best swordsman of the general's veterans was a woman.

  Reniu watched the boys and girls swing their staves and bamboo longswords pathetically at the straw dummies that lined the training field. He seethed furiously every time one of them missed. He had a mind to go out there and show these children the difference between a straw dummy and a real warrior. He flashed his decaying teeth in a wicked grin as the thought momentarily distracted his attention.

  His concentration returned suddenly as he saw a staff fly into the air and land on the ground several feet in front of him. The straw was placed and the camel's back broken. Reniu scanned the field for his victim and spotted the weaponless young man standing in front of his dummy with his fists raised. The angry soldier stomped off toward him.

  “Hey!” he called out as he approached. “What're you doin'?”

  The young man looked past his straw opponent to Reniu. He put his fists down and shrugged. “I am fighting my enemy,” he said.

  Reniu considered the young man. He was not very tall, but it seemed he packed a lot of muscle tone into the small frame. His koje, a small black jacket with white ties that lined the front, hung opened to reveal his well-shaped chest and rigid abdominals. He wore a tightly wrapped black sash for back support and light, loose-fitting black pants for ease of motion. The boy seemed ready to train, so Reniu decided to give him a quick lesson in what it feels like to be crushed by an enemy who fights back.

  “Yer supposed to use the stick,” the angry man sneered.

  The young man pushed his straight black hair away from his forehead. “Why use only one weapon when my body is a weapon made of many?” he asked, sincerely hoping the large man could come up with a good answer.

  The
imposing soldier answered with a laugh, “Then let’s see you wield yer weapon!” he bellowed as he rushed forward.

  The young warrior stepped up, fists leading as though he had expected the charge. His shoulders turned bringing his right fist back ever so slightly. Reniu snickered at the obvious preparation; he knew he would teach this one well. And hard. The larger man went in for a counter attack before the young soldier even moved his fist forward.

  Reniu had fallen for the ruse completely. The young warrior had purposely telegraphed the move, which he had no intention of making. Instead his foot came up from the ground and connected with the advancing man's kneecap. The experienced soldier howled, as much in frustration of his foolishness as in pain. He had underestimated this one; now it was time for the real lesson.

  “Yer gonna pay fer that, boy!” the big man roared, swinging his hammer-like fist.

  The young soldier merely ducked away from the heavy punch and shot his fist toward his attacker's gut. Reniu half doubled over, but recovered quickly. He may not have expected this young man to be this good, but he was a seasoned warrior himself. He knew the consequence of remaining vulnerable for too long.

  From across the field, General Etrusin’s trusted lieutenant, Komeris, saw the fight break out. He began to run toward the skirmish with the intention of breaking it up. He knew how temperamental Reniu was and expected that he would crush the young recruit where he stood. He stopped in his tracks when he saw the big man get hit once, then twice. The boy was good. Perhaps this might be worth watching.

  “What's going on?” demanded Etrusin, returning from his duties at the palace.

  Komeris turned to see his general stomping toward the fight, “Wait, sir!” he called after him.

  Etrusin stopped, but did not turn away from the fight. “What is it?” the general asked impatiently.

  Komeris nodded toward the commotion. “Watch him,” he said, indicating the young man.

  Trusting in his lieutenant's instincts, Etrusin watched the course of the battle, rather than running off to halt it immediately. He would let neither of the soldiers hurt each other too much.

  The larger man had backed away and was considering his opponent. The young fighter sprang on the balls of his feet and waved his hands in front of him, looking ready. Reniu stepped up quickly and threw a fast punch. It was easily defeated by the quick parry offered by the smaller man. But that had been Reniu's intention all along. Even as his fist was being pushed aside he whipped his foot up to snap at the boy's head.

  It seemed almost impossible to Reniu, but the young soldier reacted effortlessly to the move. As his first hand swung away the bulky veteran's fist, his next went up and grabbed at his attacker's ankle just as his foot came within an inch of his head. Before Reniu could free himself, the boy dropped to his haunches, twisted, and shot his first fist back around and straight into the large man's groin, letting out a high-pitched scream as he did so.

  Reniu merely made a choking sound and slowly tipped over as the younger man let go of his leg. The large soldier fell like timber. The boy stood back at the ready and stared at the man lying still on the ground as if daring him to rise. The whole field was quiet as the other soldiers looked on.

  “Who is that boy?” asked Etrusin, astounded that this young man had taken down Reniu, one of his larger men.

  Komeris shook his head. “I don't know,” he said, not fearing for the boy. The young warrior was not in any trouble. He had fought with skill and won against his superior, an action that earned warriors some distinction. He also knew that Reniu would leave the boy alone from now on. Reniu may have been quick tempered, but he wasn't stupid. Besides, it had been the surly warrior’s own fault for leaving himself so vulnerable.

  Etrusin looked to his lieutenant with sincere curiosity. “Well, then, let us go discover this young warrior's identity, shall we?” he said.

  The lieutenant nodded. “Indeed,” he replied.

  Etrusin jogged up to the scene and approached the crowd that had gathered around the fight. He noted Reniu’s wary expression as some of the other soldiers helped him up. The young man, on the other hand, seemed relaxed. His shoulders and arms were slack as he offered an apologetic bow to his fallen opponent, yet it also appeared as if he were ready to spring into action at a moment's notice. The boy looked over at Etrusin as he approached.

  “What's your name, boy?” Etrusin commanded.

  The young man bowed deeply to his superior and said, “Urietsi'in of Retso, sir.”

  “Urietsin,” the general said, using a more common pronunciation of the boy's name. “I know your father, though I have not seen in some years. Is he well?”

  “My father passed many winters ago from illness,” Urietsin replied with a hint of sadness.

  The Uchilin nodded solemnly. “He was a good man. I can see that he lives on in you. I am sure he would be proud.”

  The young man could not help but smile. “Many thanks,” he offered, taking several dipping bows indicating extreme deference.

  “Usetsin,” said Komeris, translating the old tongue of the boy's tribe. “You are well named, Swift One.”

  “Indeed,” agreed Etrusin, “and I believe we can find a way to make use of your speed. The emperor has commanded me to assemble a scouting party to explore the lands beyond our empire. I do not believe this party will be complete without your presence.”

  Urietsin bowed again, “Thank you, sir. You are most generous,” he said, once more unable to hide his beaming smile.

  The general nodded in acknowledgement. Not only was this boy a good fighter, he was also respectful. Etrusin had, indeed, known Urietsin's father. The patriarch of the main family of one of the larger tribes before the empire was founded, he was a skilled and honorable warrior. This boy had obviously inherited some of that instinctual essence. If only all the new soldiers showed as much promise as this one.

  * * *

  King Orbein smirked at the approach of the hooded figure. He took a step deeper into the shadows of the corridor within his dimly-lit palace. Unlike kings of legend, Orbein was not satisfied to sit on some glorious throne all day feeling pompous and venerated. Even after he had been promoted as an officer in the Dark City’s Citizens’ Army, he still frequently haunted the streets where he grew up, slipping from shadow to shadow, meeting with often mysterious and unsavory characters who would do his bidding. This hooded figure was such a character.

  The cloaked form floated deeper into the shadows of the enormous hall and stopped a few feet from the king. “I know you are near, human. Your scent permeates the air,” a crackling voice hissed beneath the low cowl.

  The king stepped from the darkness. “Is my stench so overpowering?” he asked.

  The figure turned to him and slowly reached up to pull the cowl from its head. From underneath emerged a terrible face. The creature, for it was surely not a human, eyed the king. The blotchy pink skin, oozing with a clear slick liquid, seemed as though it had been glued unnaturally to the creature's face. The long, pointed nose flared, and the creased skin twisted dubiously in a lewd sneer. “On the contrary,” the thing croaked, “you smell delicious.”

  King Orbein could not help but flinch at that comment. This creature was known as a Fiu-Het, a shape shifter. The ugly race of magical creatures was spoken of often in cautionary tales told to children in the Dark City. The stories warned of the dangers of wandering alone in the swamps, for the Fiu-Het thought of human flesh as a delicacy. These unnatural beasts were extremely clever and their shapeshifting abilities made them a formidable opponent or a powerful ally.

  “You are the king?” it asked skeptically.

  “Yes,” Orbein said uneasily

  The beast wasted no time. “Have you my payment?” it asked, flicking its large, sticky tongue over its lidless eyes to moisten them.

  The king looked down to the money pouch he held in his hands, more to take his eyes away from the horrible creature than to confirm the presence of the heavy ba
g.

  The beast followed his gaze. “Give it here,” it hissed wickedly.

  The king, who was not accustomed to being on the receiving end of intimidation and who was quickly adjusting to the creature's appearance, straightened. “A moment, beast,” he said to its obvious displeasure. “I must be sure of my investment. Prove you are worth this substantial payment.”

  The Fiu-Het twisted its face into a scowl, which made it impossibly uglier. Within seconds, however, the misshapen face of the beast morphed into that of a beautiful, dark-haired woman with light, exotic eyes. Pinched and wrinkled skin unraveled into a silky white complexion, and the hunched form melted into the supple figure of a female with many endowments. Even the shredded rags that covered the shape shifter as clothing became a sheer, iridescent wrap that left little to the imagination. “Gayossha, highness,” the woman said in a soft, melodic voice.

  “What?” the king asked absently, for he was more concerned with the curves of the shapely woman before him than the breathy words she had just uttered.

  “My name is Gayossha, human!” the creature screamed as it quickly assumed its original appearance. “If you dare to call me beast again, I shall begin with your feet so that you may witness the whole of my meal!”

  Suddenly the king's mind flooded with images of being eaten alive. He saw the creature's lips covered in his own blood and heard his bones crunch sickeningly between those horribly deformed teeth. He felt bile rising in his throat, but swallowed it down. He didn’t know where this uncontrollable wave of fear had come from, but he was determined to keep his composure before this disgusting creature.

  “Very well, Gayossha,” Orbein said, unable to keep the tremor from his voice completely, “You have proven your skill.” He tossed the pouch to the creature.

  Gayossha caught the moneybag easily and felt its considerable weight. “Good,” it croaked almost uninterestedly.