A Warrior's Path Page 35

  Kiusu’s eyes were wide and the color had gone from his cheeks. Guilt had been nagging at him slightly for the shortcuts he had taken with his student, but the more he had seen Urietsin in action, the less he had let it affect him. He had thought the young man ready for the challenges brought on by the real world, but what the Swift One told him now revealed the truth. Kiusu had never stopped helping him. Even in their contests with one another, the master had subconsciously reached out and opened up his understanding and experience to his student. Actually, he hadn’t really been helping his student at all; he had been cheating him.

  There was only one solution. He had to tell Urietsin what he had done. He had to tell the Swift One everything. How and why he had hidden him from the search party, how he had guided the student's progress more closely than the young man may have thought. He wasn't sure how this could resolve the situation now, but he knew it had to be done. Urietsin had to know so that he could learn to do these things on his own and so that he wouldn’t be caught unawares in the middle of battle again.

  “Swift One...” the old man started resignedly. The sound of approaching footsteps interrupted his confession.

  The two men looked up at eight soldiers who stood frowning down at the both of them. “What is it?” Urietsin asked them with a start. “Is there another attack approaching?”

  All eight of the warriors just stood there and stared, as though not hearing or not comprehending Urietsin's queries. After a few silent moments, one of the soldiers grinned, and suddenly a curved dagger flashed into his hand. He lunged for Kiusu, and all of the others did the same.

  The aptly-named Swift One didn't even have to rise to spring into instinctual action. He rolled forward onto his back and swung his legs out into a sweeping circle that tripped two of the would-be assassins. He kicked himself up to his feet, dodged around the two fumbling attackers and kicked the dagger away from a third.

  Kiusu, a swift one himself, rolled backward from his sitting position onto his feet and into a handspring. The well-placed trajectory of his foot deterred a strike from an oncoming blade.

  It was on in full. All eight of the soldiers kept trying to focus their attention solely upon Kiusu, but Urietsin made that impossible. At least the Swift One’s fighting prowess was truly all his own. His quick sequences of wide ranging attacks abruptly taught them that they would need to divide their efforts. Within seconds, each of the two men found themselves surrounded by four attackers.

  All of Urietsin's opponents attacked at once, thinking that the young warrior could not possibly block them all. It was surely a surprise when he leapt into the air and spun full circle with one leg out and accurately maneuvered the move to kick aside two of the four curved daggers and dodging the others. Two of the enemies on opposite sides of the Swift One recovered first and came at him, one sweeping the blade low, the other stabbing high. With a preternatural sense of his enemies' proximity, Urietsin leaned back and swiped aside the high attack that came from behind while his counterbalancing foot pelted the low attack off course. Instantly he snapped his body in the opposite direction and sent the opponent behind him staggering away with a reverse kick while the one in front was presented with a fist to the face.

  The two attackers to the left and right saw their brief opening as he executed this impressively fast move and lunged at him. The Swift One, however, was hardly caught unawares, and as the other two fell away from him, he again leapt into the air and kicked left and right simultaneously. He brought his legs down slightly from his midair split to absorb the impact of landing, but went back into a full split once he was on the ground as he ducked the returning attacks to his front and back. He whipped his right leg around and rolled onto his shoulders as he allowed the momentum to bring his leg in a complete circle. He spun the other one after it and his legs windmilled out as the rest of his body pivoted on his shoulders and arms. Each of his opponents got hit at least once by this whirling fury and backed away, either of their own wisdom or from the force of Urietsin's brilliant acrobatics.

  Kiusu's defense was a bit more discordant than his younger counterpart's. He sprung first toward the one directly before him. His leap brought both of his feet level with his opponent's face. His left foot snapped forward, then his right as his leap kept him moving after the staggering attacker. He landed on the opposite side of the fallen foe and took off running as the other three pursued and the fourth wobbled to his feet.

  The old master seemed to be fleeing as he took several sprinting steps away from his enemies. Suddenly he jumped and stretched his feet forward. His landing looked completely off balance as he skidded forward and fell onto his behind, but the move was not as uncoordinated as it may have seemed at first. He continued to roll back and over his shoulders, flipped to his feet, sprung backward onto his hands, continued the rotation so that his legs could propel him into a twisting backflip that spun him in the direction of his pursuers.

  The reversal was so fast that none of them realized what Kiusu was doing until his flip landed him inches from the leading attacker. A fist backed by all the impetus of the old man's gymnastics flattened him, and Kiusu continued by, rolling between the other two, who could only watch with surprise as he whipped past before they realized that they should stop running. The roll took the old man to his feet, where he instantly brought his hands and leading knee up, then swung them down as he lifted himself into a spinning, jumping crescent kick that rammed into the staggering foe that he had originally attacked. He landed with a half twist to face the two he had passed with his roll and invited them over with a wave of his hand.

  One of Urietsin's opponents was rolling around on the ground moaning and holding his head. The other three, however, were still attacking the Swift One with inhuman zeal. They slashed at him with the gleaming edges of their daggers or stabbed with their dangerously sharp points. He kicked at the one behind him and snatched at the wrists of the other two. The skilled young warrior brought his right leg up so that his toes extended beyond his own height, then he bent it at the knee and heel kicked the elbow joint of his right opponent, which gave a resounding crack. The one on his right made the enemy's first successful attack on him with a swing of his fist into the young warrior's ribs. Without lowering his leg, Urietsin extended his foot again. He repaid the talented adversary with a toe kick to the face, after which he reversed direction again to heel kick the one on his right.

  The Swift One let go of his two foes as they stumbled backward, and not a moment too soon. The third was approaching from behind again. He was about to swivel around and issue a sidekick, when a whistling sound cut the air beside him and he felt something pass by his head. When he looked at the attacker behind him, there was an arrow protruding from his eye socket. Slowly the enemy's human form melted away to reveal the not completely unexpected countenance of a shapeshifter. Urietsin looked the other way to see the two that had been stumbling away from him; they were running at Kiusu. With the commotion that suddenly appeared at the edge of camp, the assassins knew that their time was up.

  All pretense was dropped as the six shapeshifters who were still capable of focusing on their target decided to redouble their efforts. They dropped their human forms as a few more Shionen arrows zipped past them, or through them. The shapeshifter on the ground behind Kiusu sprouted several whiplike tentacles that lashed around the old man. Similar appendages were emerging from the skin of the other five as they rushed toward their target with reckless abandon. With all of their attention now on Kiusu, they had to stop watching for the arrows that were arcing toward them. Those whose backs were exposed to the archers found them quickly riddled with feathery elven flights.

  Urietsin made for his master immediately, feeling for a small pouch at his waist. He pulled out his small crystalline feather and focused, desperately hoping that whatever had affected him on the battlefield today had passed. He closed his eyes for a moment and took a deep breath, but it was no use; he could not concentrate. The moment hi
s eyes were shut, his mind screamed at him that Kiusu was being crushed by the creeping tentacles. He cried out and ran at the group of strangling creatures with a flying kick.

  He crashed into the closest shapeshifter with his foot and fell to the ground. He could see that it had been affected and was trying to keep its balance, but its tentacles were still winding around the old man. Kiusu could barely be seen inside the cocoon of slimy, twisting limbs. Urietsin leapt to his feet and began to pound on the creature he had kicked. There was no grace or technique to these hits; he was simply pummeling the beast as hard as he could, in any way he could. Within a few seconds the shapeshifter was only still standing because its tentacles and Urietsin's fists held it up. Once the young warrior realized this, he stopped and went for the next one in line.

  He paused.

  A faint glow was radiating from the center of the mass of slick appendages. It grew brighter, and the tentacles seemed to expand for a moment. Urietsin could hear a snapping sound, and the few creatures that had not yet been hissing or gurgling in discomfort were doing so now. To his apprehensive relief he saw some of the tentacles unwrapping and falling to the ground as they dissolved away. Kiusu's face was, once again, revealed. His eyes were closed, but his jaw was firm. The light suddenly flashed to an almost blinding brightness, and the six shapeshifters flew back.

  Urietsin's master stood, fists clenched by his sides, a look of concentration etched on his face. He opened his eyes and stepped lightly toward the Swift One and gave a weak smile.

  “The reinforcements are here, seishin. I think it's time you rested,” the young warrior suggested, returning the old man's smile.

  “Urietsin,” Kiusu said with a strangely strained voice.

  A mysterious chill went up the Swift One's spine. “Yes, seishin?”

  “You have thus far proven yourself to be a skilled student, but I fear I have wronged you in my teachings,” the old man said, pausing to take a deep, shaking breath. “See your own reality, not mine.”

  Urietsin's eyes grew wide, but not because of Kiusu's words, rather he noticed the bit of blood trickling from the side of Kiusu's mouth. “Seishi-,” he began with an increasing feeling of panic, but the old man put up a hand to stop him. Kiusu's next words were almost a whisper. “Do not fear, Urietsin...death is but a new beginning.”

  “Kiusu...” was all the Swift One could manage.

  The old man bowed deeply, and Urietsin almost jumped back in horror at the five curving daggers that were embedded into his master's back. Kiusu did not rise from that bow. He toppled to the side and laid there, still.

  The Swift One clenched his jaw and returned the old man's bow, his tears dropping freely from his eyes and onto Kiusu's lifeless form. It was almost as if he could feel his master's spirit retreating. He wished very much that he could reach out and stop it, but he knew that he could not. So, he remained in that position, feeling that to come up from that bow would bring an end to this moment and finalize Kiusu's death. His mind denied with all its power by believing that if he held this last action toward his master, looking upon the old man who still wore an expression of focused determination, then he would never truly die.

  When the elven archers had edged all the way forward, and even after Etrusin, Komeris, Reniu and Pei-Shi broke through the thickening crowd of onlookers, Urietsin was still in that low bow. Torch and starlight still glinted through his tears. His young, strong form, bent in sincere and profound respect, so captured the attention of the gathered men and elves, that none of them noticed the dissipating corpses of the six shapeshifters or the urgent retreat of the other two as they slithered off in the shape of badly-injured serpents.

  * * *

  Urietsin opened his eyes. His heart raced with the possibility that it had all simply been a vision. After all, hadn’t he been meditating next to Kiusu on the mountain just moments ago? While it may have been a disturbing vision, it would have been better than it being reality. Then again, perhaps it had been a dream. He sat up and looked around. The blank hide walls of a tent stared back. He had just been asleep, hadn't he?

  Then it all came rushing back. How Kiusu's body had been carried to its place with the rest of the dead awaiting burial. How Komeris had practically had to drag him back to camp. How he had sat in this very tent and stared until he fell back in weariness and grief. The beating of his heart became a slow twisting of his insides until all of the emotion from last night had been wrung out of him. A feeling of emptiness overcame him.

  How could it be that Kiusu was dead? The memory of it made him shudder. In his mind's eye, he saw the old man's final bow, and it made him ill. Tears welled in his eyes. If only he had been faster in dispatching his enemies. He recalled with sickening clarity how he had actually been enjoying the fight until its final turn. He played over each moment in his head and revised it in ways that saved Kiusu's life. He could have done it. Why hadn't he?

  Light poured in as the tent flap was pulled aside. Komeris poked his head in. “Swift One,” he said lightly. “Come out. You should eat something.”

  “I am not very hungry,” Urietsin replied coolly, wiping his wet eyes.

  “You should eat anyway,” the captain insisted.

  The Swift One remained seated for several more minutes. Eventually, he decided to stand, but a noise from outside made him pause. They both listened as the call sounded out again. Komeris withdrew his head from the tent and looked out. He stuck his head back in with an expression of urgency.

  “Something approaches from the west,” he relayed, and though it seemed like something important enough to require his full attention, he still waited to see Urietsin's reaction.

  The young warrior's brow was creased, and he stared down with eyes wide. The expression quickly became a scowl, and he looked up at Komeris. Taking no notice of the captain's bemused expression, the Swift One pushed past him and bolted from the tent. He continued to run and forced his way through the rows of soldiers that had already lined up to prepare for whatever the day might bring. He emerged and ran a few steps away from the army of his kinsmen and neighbors. He stood alone ahead of the line of soldiers to watch the approach of something very large on the horizon. He imagined line upon line of armored shapeshifters coming to finish on the ground what they could not do by air. Rather than frighten him, the thought simply drove his fury higher. The minutes dragged on agonizingly as he waited to confirm his suspicion, as he waited for them to get closer.

  Though there was little doubt in Urietsin's mind as to the identity of the approaching figures, for it was many figures, they did not get close enough for him to get a good view. It looked like thousands of them to him, but they stood just beyond his ability to make out each one, and their forms blurred with their bustling motion. But this did not cause the Swift One to question his assumption that they were, indeed, his enemy. It was as if they were standing just outside his reach and taunting him. As he listened to the questioning murmurs of the soldiers behind him, he decided that he was going to take control of the situation.

  “We must attack them!” Urietsin demanded. When no response seemed forthcoming, he pushed his way back through the crowd and found the priests who stood watch over the horn of Reisothin. Upon seeing the relic, the Swift One knew he was right. He could not explain it, but a sudden sense of confidence was welling up beside his anger. It was as if Kiusu was somewhere nearby, whispering to him. It was not he who should take the blame for his master's death; shapeshifters wielded those daggers.

  One of the priests looked at him sadly. “Your master...he helped us to control the horn. We would be honored if you took his place today,” he said hopefully, bowing to the young warrior.

  The Swift One blinked and paused uncertainly, but then gave a grim nod and led the holy men and their powerful weapon to the front line. He stopped only briefly, taking in the horizon of moving shapes. They were his enemy. Even though he could not make them out clearly with his eyes, in his mind they sneered at him triumphant
ly, the killers of his master. He stepped forward.

  “Urietsin!” shouted general Etrusin with apprehension in his voice.

  The young warrior did not ignore him; that would have required effort. He simply could not hear the general. He walked on toward his foe. The priests, seemingly enchanted by his hypnotic focus, followed him. It was a slow, determined march at first, but it picked up speed with each step.

  General Etrusin knew he would not be able to stop the young warrior, but he was certainly not going to let him face the enemy alone. As Captain Komeris trotted up alongside him on his own horse, Etrusin nodded to him.

  “Forward!” the captain called out powerfully. As one, nearly six thousand humans and seven hundred elves moved westward.

  They caught up quickly with the Swift One and the priests, who were weighted by the horn. With these first steps the general felt an upwelling of relief. They were defenders of their lands. They were not seeking to destroy and conquer. Their foe had taken the initiative thus far, making them the aggressors. Any doubt he had ever had dissolved away with each second that brought them closer to their destiny. Then, for a moment, it came rushing back. His eyes widened.

  Spots of yellow, seeming tiny and faint at first in the daylight, shot up from the western horizon and quickly grew larger and more defined as they neared. Etrusin tried to call out, but it was too late. Several balls of flaming pitch slammed into the middle ranks, splattering the sticky, fiery substance everywhere. Cries went up as humans and elves were engulfed in flames, and others attempted to put out small fires that quickly spread as they tried to wipe away the viscous, scorching death.

  * * *

  “Excellent!” Orbein cried happily. “The volley could not have landed more perfectly. I commend you, Laernus.” He chuckled at this last statement.

  The seer glared darkly at the king, who was far too fascinated with the effect of the siege weaponry to notice. Laernus tilted his head uncomfortably, trying to relieve the irritation of the thick rope that bound his hands to his neck. The rope trailed to a lead that General Vethisir held tightly as insurance of the wizard's loyalty.