Raven's Warrior (29 page)
The beautiful young woman was wise beyond her years. The emperor's own royal physicians had wilted before her knowledge and insight, and they had been reeducated in the traditions of this girl. The Son of Heaven looked forward to lavishly rewarding her.
He studied Mah Lin and had almost come to regret the monastic genocide he had ordered so many years ago. The duties of an emperor weigh heavy sometimes, but as he had watched this monk's deadly artistry with the cutting staff, he knew it had been a necessary one. He was pleased that this priest harbored no grudge.
As the Imperial robes of authority and power were secured, his outstretched arms began to grow weary and thoughts turned to the one in rags. The Son of Heaven liked neither his blackened tatters nor his lingering smell, but he too, had been instrumental in the plague's eradication. The disease that had come so close to finishing this present dynasty had been conquered, the march toward chaos, slowed. Only the wisest of rulers would have known to let him live. The emperor wondered what favors a beggar would ask to be bestowed.
Fully dressed, he was ready to deliver his speech of departure. It was a farewell to these strange guests, and perhaps the last oration of an aging emperor. He was indeed grateful, not just for the vanquishing of the pox, but for his involvement in it. He smiled inwardly; before they came he would never have been remembered as a great emperor, but because of them, he will, at the very least, be remembered as a good one.
As his outstretched limbs thankfully began to lower, his litter was prepared and waiting. With his High Minister respectfully in place behind the carriage, the emperor's journey to the Great Hall began.
In the months that followed that initial meeting within the palace court, he had watched the four concentrate on their task. Putting the scabs of disease in the nostrils of the healthy was more madness than he could fathom. It was witchcraft, and it stank of occult malevolence.
The commander took no joy from the stemming of the smallpox or the role that his men had in it. His young page led the forefront of its organized treatment, and for this open betrayal, the boy would be made to suffer. He had been advised to stop the beatings. He would comply, not because of respect, but because he had a much crueler punishment in store for him.
Time had slowed for the commander, now the passage of a single week seemed more the passage of an entire year. Waiting without acting had been difficult for this man who saw himself a man of action. Gradually, however, painful weeks had piled to months and the time of their departure drew closer. Finally, he had on this day received the summons to report to the palace. The day of their exodus and subsequent demise had arrived. He would endure the pitiful speech of a grateful ruler, and wait.
Over the passing of half a year he had not exacted direct revenge, yet he had not been idle. Back in his quarters, alone but for the severed head of the rebel, iniquity had continued to feast. He relied heavily on strong spirits to numb his raging pain, and within his mind built silken scaffolds of scheme and plot. These webs he tore down and constructed anew and grew in confidence at their refining. Now that the time had arrived, he felt himself ready to strike once more from the safety of distance and the hidden shadows of dark and solitary inspiration. He had tasted humiliating defeat upon the training field, and it was a flavor that he would be loath to experience again.
The page was shocked at the appearance of his overlord, who strode proudly toward the palace court for the assembly. He was in stride almost jubilant as if the cloak of hide and hair held no weight upon his shoulders. The wound on the forearm of his commander had healed well, and the boy still wished that it had been fatal. With this thought the lad realized he had been looking at his master's face and turned his gaze away fearing another beating. It did not come, however, for on this day the imperial might of military command was, in fact, elated.
It was known by all within the palace grounds that the four who had stemmed the sickness of the kingdom would be leaving very soon. This saddened the page greatly. They had brought about many changes within the empire and within him. He had been diligent in his lessons from his masters. Every night he struck as they struck and parried as they parried. The boy had even begun to plunge his fingers through sand and stones to make them strong and durable. He had taken Arkthar's dark advice to heart, and life was easier in the wait. One day he knew that he would get his chance.
Still, he was unnerved by the good mood of his tormentor, for this was an unusual development.
As the heavy steps of the man faded into the direction of the palace court, a boy's intuitive wisdom sounded that something sinister was now afoot.
Within seven full moons the deadly march of the great epidemic had been halted, and my time in palace opulence was, in the word of the beggar, “Enough.” I longed for my home on the ancient temple grounds and wanted only to get back to the life I had with Mah Lin and Selah. In truth, the sword had spoken to me from its place upon my back often and loudly. This was not a place of safety and not a place of peace. The harmony that had settled here was brought by us, and I was sure it would vanish with our leaving.
Selah was initially cold toward me after my night meeting with the page, but in the weeks that followed that icy demeanor warmed like the changing of the seasons. The page, too, was less friendly, he seemed afraid, as if it were me who had stirred his hidden thoughts. Only the monk and the beggar had cast no judgment. In time, however, things returned to their natural place, and our job here was almost complete, we had conquered an enemy that was smaller by far than the eye could see. It was my smallest foe but perhaps my greatest victory, and finally it was time to return from where we had come.
I was in good spirits when the summons from the emperor had arrived. Like all conquests this one also demanded all the pomp and ceremony that imperial protocol dictated, and a long-winded speech would be a small price to pay for freedom. It is true that freedom rules the heart of every slave, and soon I would be free once more to be love's captive, and ruled by the bonds of family.
We four gathered and assembled in front of the great throne and awaited the emperor's entrance. Even upon bended knee and with eyes cast down, my sword whispered to me the location of the commander within the large hall, and the heavy drifting smell of fetid bear hide confirmed it.
The murmurs of gratitude and admiration ceased as the emperor was carried in and took his place upon the Dragon Throne. He smiled graciously to our party and seemed in every way a divine ruler. He did not slow his words for me, but occasionally for my benefit he spoke them louder. Words turned to a drone as my mind and eyes chose to occupy themselves elsewhere. Indeed, his robe offered them a feast. It, too, was made by the worms, and although more ornate than my attire, I doubted that it was spun with love.
It was yellow in background and dazzling in execution. The bottom hem was lined with the overlapping waves of the sea, blue and white, water and foam. Across the chest of The Son of Heaven was emblazoned the five-clawed beast of dreams. It seemed to frolic amid clouds of drifting silk embroidery, this beast that brings the rains.
With a change in tone, I came back to the room in which we stood and made effort to follow the speech. It had moved on to farewells and eternal gratitude. It seemed this man had grown fond of our unique clan, and it seemed we would be missed but never forgotten.
The usually stoic priest was clearly proud of his daughter, and the beggar, still in blackened tatters, was unmoving beneath his shabby attire.
The accursed spoils of war that once hung behind the seat of power had long since gone, as had the heavy dread that had once filled the city. Indeed initially, the feel within this court seemed unusually warm and light.
My mind and ears now floated up and outside these red brick walls and towers. I could hear the laughter and joy of children once again running wild. Trade and commerce had begun to pulse, and the many open sores of plague had begun to heal. Life had now returned after the long winter of pestilence and annihilation. Spring had come once more.
Our horses were well looked after thanks mostly to the commander's awkward page, and in my mind I was already riding. They, too, would enjoy the work and the journey ahead. They were fit and fed and I looked forward to their company.
My mind soon returned to the large court, and again I could feel the disturbing presence of the cloaked commander far behind me and to my left. I knew his hatred had not tempered, and to me he seemed more mad dog than man. The speech from the throne was coming to an end, but had seemed almost as long as our entire stay.
Finally the emperor was finished, and now no longer speaking to all assembled, he looked to us and said, “Ask of me any favor and it will promptly be granted.”
Mah Lin spoke first, “I want for nothing, my lord.”
Selah was the next and she looked with love to her father and to me, “I want for nothing, my lord.” was all she said as she smiled shyly.
The emperor then turned to me, “speak warrior,” he urged.
“I, too, want for nothing, my lord.”
He nodded in silent understanding. Lastly he addressed the beggar. “You who have never had anything may ask any favor.”
The beggar removed his hood, and although old and frail, his powerful presence now controlled the heart of imperial power.
“I ask two favors, my lord.”
The emperor was pleased that at least for one of us he could be of service. “Speak them,” he implored.
The beggar did not hesitate, “I need a bag of fine silk to carry my treasure to its northern home.”
The emperor was amused by the thought of a beggar's treasure, and moved quickly to strip a fine bag from his high-standing minister, and slung it with ceremony across the black rags that half hid the skinny shoulders. The emperor had been expecting a far more opulent request.
The ruler bid him, “Ask again.”
The beggar now paused and looked around the whispering court. His black eyes returned and held the emperor in their fearless grip, as he drew forth from beneath his rags his brass begging bowl. He spun with the power and grace of an untamed animal and sent the large heavy bowl skittering loudly across the cold stone floor.
It came to rest in the darkest and farthest corner by the feet of the shocked Supreme Commander. As everyone stared in disbelief, the loud voice of the beggar echoed through the silence of the hall. To the emperor and for all to hear he implored, “Bring me the head of the northern rebel, it is time that he find rest.”
As the shocked and empty voice from the throne spoke the words, “It shall be done,” the unearthly cry of a human animal rose up from the shadows and resonated in the caverns of the beggar's bowl.
Within the hour we were ready, for like our horses we wanted to quickly leave. Selah's white mare nuzzled and snorted happily at the reunion. Her horse danced and played as the young page brought the other three. He had centered my saddle upon the blue square weaving, and on the back of my charger its quality and color came to life in the sunlight. All three noticed and nodded in appreciation. The page stroked our mounts farewell, and to us he whispered, “Be careful.”
By saying little he had said much, but it was really nothing we did not already feel. The beggar had his favors tucked beneath his rags. It was understood that he would return with us before traveling to the cold northern lands, where the rebel would find his final place of peace.
The complexion of the land over which we returned was much healthier, although many of its people now bore the lifelong scars. We moved smoothly by daylight compass and nighttime star. This was not a carefree journey, although it was not completely joyless either. We stopped briefly at the same inn, and Selah held her former patient and once more crooned the songs of her childhood.
The blade of Mah Lin's staff was now always unsheathed. We would move fast, stay vigilant, and deal with anything that may come our way. There was little doubt, however, that in some form it would come, and we would not be taken by surprise.
I have had this feeling many times before a fight. It is a burning of the senses that the instinct to survive ignites. Mah Lin was ever more a warrior priest, and as I watched the beggar I knew that despite his tattered exterior, he would not wilt in battle. I rode close to Selah, on the promise made to a loving father; even though she was far from helpless, I sought to always protect her.
We were nearing the end of our journey and approached the safety of our homeland. Silently I tracked the distant cloud of rising dust for more than an hour.
“What do you see, Arkthar,” Mah Lin asked.
“Light infantry, no horses, no heavy weapons, fifty perhaps sixty in number, moving fast, no way around, and we are too close to home not to give up our location,” was my terse report.
“What would you advise?”
“We must cut through them like steel through iron. We are lost without horses. Selah and the beggar must push ahead with all four and protect them. When safe she can shield us from a distance with arrow cover; we will break through and be past them. They will limp home, and we will ride.”
With curt nods from his daughter and the beggar, Mah Lin looked at me. “We agree.”
So it was upon this road that we met imperial troops but gave no signal of our concern. At two hundred yards their archers released first volley. We charged under and towards with the speed of demons. The beggar held four reigns, and Selah at the forefront released arrows with machine precision. Many fell well before we had reached them, and many more fell under the hooves of our mounts.
At full gallop Mah Lin and I dismounted as the four horses and two riders were past and safe. Selah sat backwards now, and with the beggar in control of the flight, she fired arrow after arrow, most biting deeply into their mark. For Mah Lin and me striking at a full sprint was second nature. These soldiers knew only how to stand and fight. It was as the carnage of the bamboo grove, but now men fell instead of wood.