A Warrior's Path Read online

  The king briefly adopted a pensive look, then he turned to Vethisir. “General. As we discussed earlier,” he said as he turned and rode back toward the human end of the army. To everyone's surprise, he called for another camp to be set up.

  General Vethisir hopped down from his mount and walked it over to Laernus. “Take my horse,” he commanded, handing the reign to the seer.

  Laernus took the reign uncertainly, but did not otherwise respond.

  “You, you, come with me,” the general said, pointing to Agucho and the leader of the scout group.

  The two shapeshifters followed him uncertainly. Agucho shot Laernus a curious look and a shrug as he walked away with Vethisir in the wake of King Orbein. They walked most of the way to the human ranks when they were met by two of the general's soldiers. With very little conversation, Vethisir turned the group back around, and the five of them headed back to the front line. Agucho and the other shapeshifter whispered to one another in their own language until they reached the spot where the wizard still stood holding the horse's reign.

  “We are going to go out ahead,” the general explained to the perplexed seer and the small group that followed.

  “Oh,” Laernus answered dumbly as he began to hand the reign back to him.

  “No,” said Vethisir raising his hands. “You take care of my horse while we are away. We should return in four days time.”

  “Why not just send out the shapeshifters again as birds?” the seer asked.

  The general shook his head. “I must see this army for myself so that I may make the attack plan. Apparently they knew of our coming, which gives them an advantage. I plan to take that advantage away,” he said wickedly.

  “And you need him with you?” Laernus asked nodding toward Agucho. He was clearly unnerved by the turn of events.

  Vethisir bared his teeth with a grin. “If he was brave enough to take part in the little escapade that cost me three good soldiers, then surely this will be nothing for him.”

  “Let me go with you, then,” the wizard offered.

  “I think not,” was the general's simple response. With that he turned and walked off with the other four in tow, leaving Laernus and the army behind.

  Agucho was not sure what to make of this most recent turn of events. He plodded along warily behind General Vethisir and watched suspiciously as he asked the other Fiu-Het which direction to go. Though he believed that Vethisir had been bluffing that morning when he threatened him, this all seemed a little too convenient. He decided he would definitely keep his wits about him and flee at the first sign of danger. He had to make sure he was present when his people met with Orbein's enemy. He had to make sure to put his plan into effect before the Fiu-Het found themselves entrenched in a battle where they were caught between two sides that cared nothing for their well being.

  So, Agucho tried to prepare himself mentally for any possibility. In doing so he found himself concentrating so hard that he hardly noticed the passage of time. He realized that he was spending more time imagining what might happen rather than paying attention to what was actually happening. He tried to reign in his imagination, but he found himself wishing more and more that he had been more expressive to his people about how much he and Vethisir disliked one another. By the time he regained focus, the sun had long since set, and everyone had his weapon out and was creeping along carefully.

  The shapeshifter looked at the three humans, two of which were brandishing the typical heavy longsword of Ionotu's soldiers, including Vethisir. The third human hefted a large mace decorated with dully pointed metal studs. Agucho's kinsman wielded his traditional Fiu-Het dagger, almost sickle-like in its sweeping, curved blade. Seeing that dagger made him think of his own, and he drew it out silently. He wondered if he should try to get his kinsman's attention and somehow indicate his suspicion to him.

  No sooner had he taken out his dagger when, to his alarm, the human with the mace whipped his weapon across to land heavily against the side of the other Fiu-Het's head. The one who had led the flock of shapeshifting bird-scouts stumbled sideways, a thick knot already swelling on his temple. Without missing a step, the human advanced and swiped the poor creature again, hitting almost the same spot.

  “What is this?” Agucho exclaimed, finally finding his voice, though his surprise seemed out of place even to him.

  Vethisir stepped up to him and viciously swung his sword. It was quick thinking and a bit of luck that saved Agucho from a cut as he shifted and formed a hole in his body right around the blade as it passed through him. The general blinked disbelievingly as though he had just attacked a ghost. Agucho wasted no time in turning to run, as he had planned to do in just such a situation. Instead, he toppled to the ground as the mace-wielding soldier rushed at him from the side. He heard a tremendous clang as an intense pain exploded on the top of his head.

  Somehow Agucho managed to roll away and struggle to his feet. His ears rang, and black spots bubbled before his eyes. He tasted blood in his mouth and was certain he had bitten off his tongue. He tried to blink, to clear away the black spots at least, if not the pain. He heard Vethisir's voice say, “Leave him, he is mine.” Agucho was able to clear the spots just in time to see the general's blade sweeping toward his neck, then there was complete darkness.

  Vethisir watched gleefully as the shapeshifter's head fell back unnaturally, severed by his estimation. Nothing more than the thinnest strands of muscle and skin held that head to the body, but it was enough to sway the momentum of the Fiu-Het's descent as it fell on top of the dangling head. The general threw back his own head and laughed, and the other two men joined in.

  “That was easy,” the mace wielding soldier said jovially. “One would think you hardly needed us.”

  “Actually, I did,” Vethisir said soberly. Without another word, or even any effort, he stuck out his sword and slid it into the unsuspecting soldier's gut. “I am sorry,” the general offered lamely as he pulled the blade across and disemboweled the unfortunate man.

  “What is this?” the other soldier repeated Agucho's last sentiments.

  Vethisir turned to the other soldier, brandishing his bloody sword dangerously. “You see, it would seem a bit suspicious if only the shapeshifters were killed in an ambush,” he explained.

  “I see,” the soldier said uncertainly. He watched the general cautiously, not sure if he would be the next to meet his fate on that wet edge. When Vethisir did not make any move toward him, he added probingly, “Then will we head back to camp now, or should we wait a day? Or did you actually intend to scout out our enemy?”

  The general responded with a hollow laugh. “We are not going anywhere. It will be only one of us that returns to camp alive. If it is you, I hope you will return with the same story that I intend to.”

  “I will not fight you, sir,” the soldier said earnestly.

  Vethisir sneered. “Then spare me the effort of fighting and slay yourself upon my blade.”

  “Is there no other way?”

  The look in the soldier's eyes was clearly desperate. He frowned at the young man and held out his sword, shining with fresh blood, in a ready stance. He had gone this far; he would leave no one behind. This fight was happening whether either of them liked it or not.

  The soldier had other ideas. He bolted sideways and took off running at top speed, desperately trying to put as much distance between him and the general as he could. After sprinting several steps without hearing the general's pursuit, he felt a burst of confidence. He leaned forward and pumped his legs and ran like the wind, not daring to look back.

  Suddenly, a crippling pain tore through his right calf, and he misstepped and went flying to the ground. He slid face first into the hard, gravelly earth before he could even comprehend what was happening. His head was buzzing as he sat up and shook it to clear the daze. He looked down at his calf and saw something shiny and metallic sticking out of it as blood oozed out and ran down his leg. It was the end of a tiny throwing dagger, em
bedded quite deeply into the muscle. He looked up at the slowly approaching shape of the general, his wet sword glittering in the moonlight. It would be the last sight he ever saw.

  * * *

  “Someone approaches!” the call reverberated across the valley and over the quiet camp, causing it to stir like a great, slumbering beast. It had been only a day and a half that the small group of scouts had gone out, and they were not expected back for another three days at the earliest. The news of someone approaching so soon had everyone chatting curiously and straining their eyes toward the eastern opening of the pass in the hopes of glimpsing a moving figure.

  Laernus, who had been sitting nervously ever since the group faded from sight, hoped against hope that the sentry had been mistaken and that it was actually five someones approaching. Or, perhaps, four someones with a tragic tale of Vethisir's accidental demise. As he squinted at the horizon, however, he began to make out a solitary blob twitching in the distance. The pace of his heartbeat quickened as he imagined Agucho's uneven trudge in the rhythmic motion of that blob. He tried not to imagine that the shapeshifter was returning alone, fearing that the thought would rule out the possibility of it being true.

  After several minutes of eager staring, it became clear that the figure drawing near was too large to be the natural form of a Fiu-Het. Several hushed whispers suggested that it was a limping man. This caused the seer's heart to beat even harder, though now it was a return to nervousness rather than hopefulness. He had little doubt who the limping figure would be. He even sat down and stopped watching the approach.

  A few moments later, King Orbein trotted casually by him on his horse, though it was clear to the wizard that his proximity was intentional. He briefly looked up at the passing king and was rewarded with a malevolent grin. At that moment, he seriously thought of walking into the mountains to whatever fate he could find; anything had to be better than what was undoubtedly in store for him now. As he sat debating the merits of running away and trudging through the mountains for the rest of his life, he could hear the murmurs of the soldiers around him. They sounded awed and excited, but he could not make out what they were saying. Eventually, curiosity got the best of him and he stood and turned to see what the commotion was about.

  “Did you miss me?”

  Laernus jumped back, startled. Vethisir's face had been just inches from his as he turned around. The general looked terrible. His face was covered in dirt and streaked with blood. A thin red line went from one side of his neck almost to the other. He held his hand against his thigh where a trail of dry blood was caked down to his knee. He didn't waste much time intimidating the seer. He had stopped just long enough to deliver his rhetorical greeting, then he continued on with the king toward the back of the camp.

  Vethisir chuckled as he limped back with Orbein. Other than that chuckle, the two walked silently, though each step was punctuated by questions from human and shapeshifter alike about the companions who had gone with the general. None of the questions were too insistent yet, as those who asked could see that Vethisir needed to rest and, perhaps, to be bandaged a bit.

  Orbein, however, was insistent once they entered his tent. “What happened?” he demanded before the general even had a chance to sit.

  “They are all dead,” Vethisir replied quickly.

  “Were there complications?” the king asked.

  “No,” said the general.

  “Where are the rags?”

  Vethisir stared blankly at the king for a moment. “Oh,” he said suddenly, reaching back to something tucked into the back of his belt and producing two sets of tattered rags. “The shapeshifters' clothes.”

  “Excellent,” Orbein said, practically salivating over the cloth he had snatched from Vethisir's hand. “Now we also have Agucho's death to empassion his people to our cause.”

  “Indeed,” said the general, a wide grin spreading across his face.

  “We must also get the seer away from the Fiu-Het,” the king added. “Pull him back to your ranks. Tell your soldiers not to let him out of their sight.”

  “Yes, sire,” Vethisir said.

  Orbein tossed the shapeshifters' rags to the ground and pulled off the small gold ring he wore and dropped it among them. “Have these things burned,” he commanded.

  The general chuckled, seemingly to himself.

  “What are you laughing about?” the king asked.

  A wicked gleam sparkled in Vethisir's eyes, and it seemed to take away the bedraggled look that he had returned to the camp with. “Oh, it's just funny how things have worked out so far,” he said conspiratorially.

  Orbein gave him a sour look. “Well, it had better continue working. It won't if you sit in here guffawing triumphantly to yourself all day.”

  “Yes, sire,” Vethisir said with a solemn expression. Taking the hint, he stood and followed the king outside to face their armies.

  18. War

  Early afternoon cast virtually no shadow as the sun slowly crossed a cloudless sky on an unusually warm day in early winter. Two young soldiers sat against a huge, flat stone, on top of which lay a large pile of kindling that overlooked the valley pass through the Ikiu'iu Mountains. They ate their lunch at a leisurely pace, though they glanced around the stone periodically to see if anything unusual was happening below. Thus far, neither of them had seen any concrete sign of the enemy that their emperor and general had warned them about, but that did not mean that they doubted the approaching danger. Had Captain Komeris and his scouting party not met their enemy face to face on their journey through the pass, they might not have felt the imminent sense of peril. Still, they were not expecting to look into the valley and see an army marching through anytime soon.

  There was one other unnerving point to consider. Two other soldiers had been sent out by the general as scouts days ago and still had not returned. The camp passed many interesting theories around as to their whereabouts. The most popular explanation, that the enemy was closer than they thought, was the current topic of conversation between the two young warriors as they ate.

  Two birds fluttered down out of the sky and landed before the sentries.

  “Look,” said one of the warriors, a young woman. “They're probably starving. Why haven't they flown away for the season?”

  The young man who sat beside her shrugged. He tossed some of his rice cake toward them. When they did not immediately hop over and peck at the cake pieces, he shook his head. “Foolish birds,” he sighed. He jumped up and went to shoo the birds away.

  The woman watched in horror as one of the birds raised its wing, which transformed into a blotchy gray and pink arm that seemed far too large for the bird to support it. Between the fingers of this appendage was a sickle shaped dagger. The weapon glinted briefly as it was held aloft, then it cut through the air blindingly fast and embedded in the young man's forehead. He reached for it, but the moment he clutched the handle, he fell over with a twitch and did not move again.

  Shaking her head as though trying to wake from some terrible nightmare, the other soldier pressed herself against the rock and rose slowly, never taking her eyes from the strangely endowed creature. Her disbelief and confusion multiplied as the one-armed bird increased in size quickly, and its feathers and beaked sank into its skin and left behind an even more terrifying beast.

  Behind it, the other bird likewise morphed, and it brandished a curved dagger of its own. She froze and could only watch as the two things approached her. The pace of her breathing increased, and she could feel her heart trying to escape the confines of her chest. As they got within a few feet of her, she blinked and felt like she was in control of herself again. She reached for her sword and began to creep around the stone and back away.

  Suddenly her mind was awash with horrible images of these creatures pulling apart her mangled body. Bile rose in her throat, and she retched as the morbid imagery played out. She began to shiver and could feel all of her muscles tightening, but she continued to fight against
the terror.

  The poor woman, for all her training, and for all that Etrusin's shiodu had taught her, nothing could have prepared her for a foe like the Fiu-Het. They were like monsters out of the nightmares of a demented mind, worse than her own imaginings could conjure. Her body did not respond in time to her demands to leap out of the way as both of the shapeshifters leaned back, then shot forward with a whiplike ripple that seemed impossible. They were on her in an instant, twisting around her and thickening like constrictors. She tried to scream, but one of them had wrapped around her neck and was squeezing too tightly. She felt the pressure building in her extremities. Her temples pounded painfully. Her eyes bulged. The last thing she could comprehend before the darkness took over was the sickening crack of almost every bone in her body.

  After her tense body gave up the struggle, and they could feel her heart beating no more, the two Fiu-Het slithered off her. They shifted back to their natural state and surveyed the scene. Like all of the other spots they had been to along the pass, it was a simple station. A pile of dry wood was heaped upon a flat surface and guarded by two humans. The two shapeshifters chuckled at the efficiency of their work thus far.

  “Stupid, humans,” one of them gurgled in their native tongue.

  “Vengeance for Gayossha and Agucho,” hissed the other.

  At that they changed form once again and took flight in search of the next sentry post. The apparent readiness of their enemy would be disrupted here. When they emerged from the mountain pass, it would be the forces of the west that had the advantage. These two Fiu-Het would see to it.

  * * *

  The day was overcast and cold, a drastic change from the previous day. Etrusin's soldiers and many elves huddled together around fires as their breath misted in the air. Every so often several of them would look up as if expecting snowflakes to come fluttering down out of the sky at any moment. In between skyward glances, they conversed about the weather and agreed that yesterday was the last warm day they would see for the rest of the year. The humans compared weather knowledge with the elves, and together they tried to predict how cold the winter would be. At some campfires the question was raised of whether or not there would be any fighting before the cold season passed. There were skeptics among them, but none of them thought that a unified force to protect the eastlands was a bad thing.