A Warrior's Path Read online

  Agucho considered the king dubiously. He had grown to respect the seer somewhat. He certainly wished for Laernus’s victory over Orbein, but he didn't think his life was worth the king's escape. He was about to voice this last sentiment when Laernus himself spared the shapeshifter the trouble.

  The seer sounded out an archaic word. Orbein flew back as a familiar yellow shield sprang up around Laernus. The ivy that bound the wizard disintegrated into nothing in the shield's area of antimagic. Orbein cursed in his prone condition.

  “Don't be too disappointed, highness,” the seer said, willing the shield away. “I don't think that deal would have gotten you very far.” He walked up to the king, who hopped up and backed away.

  But Orbein was disappointed. He wasn't sure how he was going to get out of this situation, but he did know he wanted this fight to be over. He was running out of useful combat spells, and though he was an excellent swordsman, he did not enjoy the challenge put forth by Laernus. The king's weapon was light and swift, which was usually quite advantageous against such a slower, heavier weapon as the seer carried. But Laernus blocked any strike Orbein threw at him. Magic had also been difficult because Laernus pressed him constantly. Aside from the first and last spell, the seer dodged everything with a preternatural sense that was exactly what it seemed to be.

  Laernus lunged at his nemesis, thrusting his longsword forward. Orbein managed to parry the heavy sword deftly. The king flicked his wrist and moved his sword away from the seer's, ending in a straight jab to the heart. Laernus's second sight showed him this, and he reversed the direction of his own blade. His parry clanged hard against Orbein's weapon, jarring the king's arm as each strike had been doing for the whole fight. Orbein retreated a step, drawing the seer with him, then he jumped forward, working his sword back and forth in a dizzying array of feints and lunges.

  Laernus had a bit of trouble keeping up. The king's future self twitched the blade one way, then his present self twitched it the other. Left, right, lunge, up, left, up, down, lunge...not unexpectedly, the seer lost track. Things resolved themselves quickly as a sharp pain tore through his shoulder. Orbein had finally scored a hit.

  The king felt the contact and tried to push the sword deeper, but Laernus whipped his own weapon across and dislodged it. The seer backed away cautiously, trying to cover the wound as he did. But now that they were finally even, Orbein was not ready to give up so easily. He matched every one of the seer's retreating steps, his sword extended outward in a flurry of slashing that whistled in the air.

  For Laernus, the stab in the shoulder had been an expensive wound. It was not deep, nor did it bleed profusely, but it had broken his hard-gotten concentration. Now, with the king advancing upon him, he could not get it back. He had learned to use the longsword by itself before he discovered how to meld magical skills with martial, but it was definitely the combination of the two that made him a formidable challenger. The one was not very effective without the other.

  Orbein shot toward him again, and only the seer's desperate instinct saved him. The king's sword rang off his own, but swooped around to find another opening. Laernus brought the longsword to meet it, but it was not there. The king's thin blade poked into the side of his chest opposite his first wound. The pain caused him to jump back and fall to the ground, pulling away from Orbein's sword just before it went deep enough to become fatal. The king stood over him in triumph. He raised his sword and brought it down as fast and hard as he could.

  But Laernus was not quite ready to die. He forced his sword over him with as much strength as he could muster and caught the tip of the king's weapon, throwing it off target. It stuck into the ground beside him, and he brought his longsword back around in an awkward circle. The force of the swing made his punctured chest tense in agony. He heard a loud pop from his shoulder, and he cried out painfully.

  Orbein fell away from the seer. A deep cut on the side of his left knee bled profusely. The king tried to stand back up, but the pain was unbearable. He reached over and pulled his sword out of the ground, eyeing the rising Laernus warily.

  It was difficult for the seer to get to his feet. He could not move his right arm without waves of pain. He sat up and grabbed the longsword beside him with his left hand and struggled to his feet. He saw Orbein kneeling there on his good knee, leaning now on his sword for support. Laernus stepped up to him, pointing his weapon unsteadily with his off hand.

  Agucho gasped loudly and unexpectedly.

  The two men looked over at the shapeshifter, then turned their heads to see what he was gaping at. In the sky over the battlefield behind them hovered a massive, twisting serpent of fire. It dipped and slinked through the air, and with a deafening roar, it flared brightly, sending great plumes up off its body. It was a terrifying sight.

  Laernus half doubled over as Orbein's sword slid into his belly. It was the only thing that could have pried his eyes away from a sight he had not seen in many, many years. It took every ounce of adrenaline-fueled strength he had left to do what he did next. In his last act of defiance toward the king, he swung his heavy weapon before falling to the floor, motionless.

  Orbein did not have time to react as the blade's momentum brought it to the bridge of his nose and across his eyes. It did not embed itself deeply into his skull, but it was deep enough. The king of Niele'itio crumbled, his body splayed over the legs of his killer.

  * * *

  The whole field froze in awe and terror as this enormous, flaming dragon slithered over their heads. If the apparition earlier had been a miniature ghost of Reisothin, this was surely the full-sized one. Veterans of the empire screamed at the manifestation of twenty years of nightmares, the reincarnation of their old enemy. Shionen wept at the malevolent power the dragon exuded with every fiery burst.

  It snaked across the sky over the field in great, sweeping undulations that rained heat upon the onlookers. Its very real horn pointed the way as it moved from east to west. Through the transparent flames of its head, the unscathed form of Urietsin could be seen. He stood firmly on the insubstantial inside surface of the dragon, holding the horn in place over his head. The glow in his eyes projected outward to the dragon's, giving them a chillingly intelligent light.

  Suddenly, it stopped.

  From where he hovered Urietsin could clearly see that even the shapeshifters had stopped fighting to watch him. A hint of a smile came across his lips. This was the moment that would end all this chaos. These wicked beasts had come to destroy the empire, costing the life of his master, his emperor, and many of his people.

  “They must all die,” the voice reassured him.

  Deep within him, something made Urietsin wonder if this was true. Within the swirling inferno of the dragon's head, a figure slowly began to appear. The Swift One's eyes widened as he recognized a wavering image of Kiusu.

  “You know what you should do, Etsin,” his master's soft voice said. Through the ripples of the mysterious image he could see the old man smiling. Behind him, the spirits of the three warriors that had fallen to the gotori nodded reassuringly.

  There was a deep rumble that extended for miles as the dragon roared angrily, but its fiery form still hung in the air, its flames lessened in intensity. Within its head the form of Kiusu suddenly melted. Instead of the three fallen warriors behind him, there was only a cackling Fiu-Het holding a curved dagger, dripping with fresh blood.

  “Wait not, Urietsin...the aggressor will fall,” the deep timbre of the original voice said to Urietsin, just as it had to Geilo months ago. The will of Reisothin, locked within his horn, had managed to bend events to his desire thus far. After twenty years of slumber, it had inspired the emperor with fears of an unknown enemy. It had preyed upon the weak souls of Kesitul. Most satisfyingly, it had sensed Geilo's desperation and pushed him along on this path toward war, meanwhile sending out waves of wicked inspiration that had been grasped by Orbein's sympathetic ambitions. The foolish emperor hadn't even suspected as it impersonated Minotros
, their god of fate. Geilo's death had been the revenge that the evil will had been plotting for two decades now. This war was the catalyst to execute those plans. Now, as it struggled to maintain control over this powerful young warrior, it was determined to continue exerting its influence. Now that Reisothin knew life again, he would not give it up so easily.

  The dragon flared anew and began to circle in the sky. The shapeshifters below began to scatter. Urietsin barely heard the quiet whisper that repeated his nickname, “Etsin...Etsin...Etsin...”

  “They must all die...” the voice of Reisothin urged one last time, drowning out the whisper.

  The Swift One screamed in defiance.

  The head of the ghostly Reisothin rose briefly, then turned straight down. It plummeted toward the center of the fleeing shapeshifters. The glowing, scaly body unwound from its coil as it followed the rest of itself down to the center of the empire’s enemies.

  The impact was followed by a blinding flash and a concussive boom that dropped everyone on the field. Even beyond the two armies, the sparse grass and dirt rippled away in the shockwave. Many of the shapeshifters found themselves lifted into a growing sphere of fire that vaporized them almost instantly. The rest of them were thrown violently in all directions and bounced sickeningly a few times along the ground as they landed. Many of Niele'itio's soldiers were severely wounded as they too flew away from the impact.

  Within seconds of the explosion, everything on the field was still, except for the column of smoke that extended high into the sky. The silence was complete. Nothing stirred for many minutes, either because it was unconscious, or because it was terrified that the worst was yet to come. But, after two days of war and chaos, peace had finally descended upon the battlefield of Ikiu'iu.

  19. Aftermath

  Though the weather was cool, smoke still curled up into the air from the scorched earth of the previous day, especially from within the huge crater left by the dragon's impact. Figures moved through the hazy area, their heads turning this way and that. They were searching for survivors.

  Tilon made his way over to Komeris. “Have you found anything?”

  The captain squinted through the fog at the elf. Both of their faces were covered with soot, and underneath the black they were slightly red. “Nothing. It is as if the blast turned them to smoke,” he said.

  Tilon nodded in agreement. It was the only logical conclusion, given that no living thing could be found within the crater. The massive explosion had leveled the area and injured many of the soldiers of Kesitul, though fortunately they were far enough away that no one was harmed fatally. Anyone or anything as close as they were now, however, seemed to have been destroyed utterly. There was no sign of the shapeshifters, and no sign of the Swift One or the horn he had carried with him in his descent. Yet still they looked, just in case.

  Tilon paused in his searching and regarded Komeris curiously. "What do you suppose will happen now?" he asked.

  Komeris shrugged. "It's difficult to say," he answered honestly, still peering at the ground through the smoky haze. "The general has already called for Ninei to come with some of the few soldiers left at camp. I would guess that once things have died down, there will be another mission through the mountains, this time to negotiate with this Dark City the enemy soldiers speak of. We can only hope that this was the bulk of their army."

  The elf nodded sympathetically. "And who is emperor now? Did Geilo have a child?"

  Komeris shook his head. "Emperor Geilo never took a wife. The empire was his one love. The general is the next most powerful man in the empire..." The captain trailed, only now realizing what he was saying and what it meant for his own destiny.

  Tilon merely walked beside him in thoughtful silence.

  “Over here!” a feminine voice suddenly called out.

  Searchers came running from all directions toward the call. On the far side of the field, Marui and Reniu stood over two humanoid figures lying prone in the blackened grass. A crowd was quickly gathering, and Tilon and Komeris pushed their way through.

  “What is it?” demanded the captain. “Have you found him?”

  “No, sir,” answered Reniu, his bare chest riddled with slashes and blackened with soot. “Neither of these're ours. One of them's dead.”

  Though the forms were covered in soot as well, it was clear that the two men were not of Kesitul. Oddly, from the position of the men and their weapons, they seemed to have been fighting one another.

  “I know one of them,” stated Pei-Shi, emerging from the crowd. “He gave me this.” She pointed to the mostly scarred injury on her shoulder.

  “He is one of the men who attacked you beyond the mountains?” asked Tilon.

  The blade master nodded.

  A spark of recognition registered on Marui's face as well.

  “What about the other?” Tilon asked.

  Pei-Shi shook her head uncertainly.

  “Nor do I know him,” confirmed Komeris. “His armor is very fine. Perhaps he was commander of the army.”

  “Come,” said Marui pointing to the man she and Pei-Shi had recognized, “this man is badly injured. Help me carry him back to camp.”

  No complaint was heard among them as they hoisted the human, possibly an enemy, and carried him back to be tended. At the camp the elves cleaned and bandaged him as the captain and his warriors reported to Etrusin. By nightfall, the unconscious man was resting on a bedroll beside soldiers who might have killed him the day before.

  Somewhere nearby, another young warrior stirred. Her injuries were not very serious, and she found little comfort in sleep. When she closed her eyes, painful images assaulted her. Though she knew her empire had won the day, to her there was no comfort to be had from that knowledge. She had trouble reconciling the cost with the outcome.

  Su-Ni sat up and sniffled. Her eyes felt puffy with weariness and dried tears. She looked around and saw O'eintsu sitting nearby. His eyes were closed, but she suspected he was not asleep. Next to him lay an unconscious Denlin, who she had managed to drag away from the fighting yesterday. She sighed in relief that at least those two had survived. She stretched morosely and stood.

  She knew that she would find no rest tonight. But she wished she could sleep. A dreamless sleep that did not remind her of the past few days. At one moment she felt foolish being specifically upset over the death of two warriors who she barely knew; in the next she was angry with herself for thinking she was foolish. And more than just those two warriors had died, should she not feel those losses as keenly?

  Confused and lonely, the once diplomat, now warrior, limped away from the rows of injured soldiers that lined this healing pavilion, one of many such structures all across the field. She did not walk far. Off to one side of the camp were long lines of linen-wrapped objects upon the ground. A few men and elves stood guard over them. These carefully covered parcels were the prepared corpses of soldiers, twenty-one hundred humans and three hundred elves, waiting to be delivered to their final resting place. The sight of them made Su-Ni shudder, but she hobbled closer just the same.

  “Halt,” called one of the guards, an elf. “This is no place for you. You should be resting.”

  'This is a place of rest,' she thought morbidly. Only those who rested here would never awake. “Kiusu,” she heard herself say. “Is he among these warriors?”

  The elf shook his head. “He will have his place of honor as an imperial guard beneath the monument that will overlook the rest of the tombs. He lies now by the emperor.”

  “Where are they?” Su-Ni asked. “May I see them?”

  The Shionen guard looked uncertain for a moment, then he smiled sympathetically. “Come,” he said.

  She followed him to a small tent and stepped inside. Within there were two tables. On one lay the shell of Geilo’s spirit, carefully wrapped in a shroud. The other table was empty.

  “Where is the body?” the elf asked rhetorically.

  Su-Ni's mind turned over sickeningly.
r />   “Someone put him out with the others,” he said with authority, though his expression was not so certain. “Come.”

  “Wait,” the young woman said. “Where are you going?”

  “I am going to find out who moved the body and where,” the elf replied.

  “What if you don't?” she asked a little too forcefully.

  Once again, the elf's expression was sympathetic. He came and put his arms on the woman's shoulders gently. “Come,” he repeated, “it really is best if you get some sleep.”

  Su-Ni realized he was right. No matter how much she wished otherwise, Kiusu and Urietsin were gone. With that thought, she suddenly felt too exhausted to stay awake. She could not keep from weeping, but she did let the elf walk her back to the pavilion. She made her way back to her bedroll and fell asleep almost instantly, happy to leave her harsh world behind for a while.

  Epilogue

  The sun glinted faintly off the polished pommel of the shortsword that stood embedded into the top of the small cairn. It was not a bright light, but the lone figure that stared at it squinted painfully. This was a proper resting place for the old man who had once called this mountainside his home. Next to the mound of stones, three humps in the ground marked the place where the old man himself had buried three brave warriors. The figure standing nearby, completely clad in black so that only his eyes peeked out, bowed long and low before the graves. The action hurt every part of his body, but the pain was secondary to his respect for the men who lay buried here, especially for the one under the cairn.

  The cold winter wind blew briefly, bringing a measure of relief to the always burning skin beneath the black shroud. The figure rose from his bow and relished the sensation of the cool breeze. A single flake of snow drifted down and landed upon his arm. He looked at the white flake. It reminded him of a down feather frozen in time. The heat emanating from beneath his black wrappings quickly melted the water crystal, but it was soon replaced by another.