A month after Kerberos joined their tribe, a massive group of Thearan warriors appeared in the distance. It was the largest tribe she’d ever seen; a full army. Thousands. Her tribe of perhaps three hundred was absolutely dwarfed by them. Her heart hammered, and every member of her tribe was out of their tents and staring along with her. There were two possible outcomes Aella could see: outright battle, or a merging of tribes. Either way, there would be death. Even the most tame merging of tribes demanded that the leaders battle to the death, with the winner taking control of the new tribe. The more likely scenario, however, was that one leader was trying to take control of a different tribe by force, which meant the entire tribes battled instead of just their leaders.
Over thousands of years, Thearan tribes segmented until there were none larger than Aella's, around three hundred warriors. The sight of such a massive army was terrifying. Whoever their leader was, they'd successfully taken control of many tribes. She hoped desperately that her leader, a woman named Iliana, would agree to a one-on-one battle instead of committing their whole tribe to battle. It would be suicide for them to fight such an army.
A handful of warriors from the massive tribe approached them, and Iliana strode forward to meet them with a similar number of her own warriors. They met within the camp itself, and Aella was close enough to overhear them.
"Greetings," one of the strangers said, "are you the leader of this tribe?" Iliana nodded and introduced herself.
"What is your purpose here?" she asked them.
"We are gathering the largest army Theara has ever seen, to serve Sithares and spread the Fire of God throughout all of Pandeia!" The warrior's voice rose as he spoke, and by the last word he was almost screaming. The wild-eyed fanaticism in the young warrior's face brought a fresh new wave of terror to Aella's heart. If the entire army was this devout, there would be no reasoning with them. She’d heard a few old legends about Sithares, none of which were comforting now that she was facing an army who fought in the Fire God's name.
"You would have us join you?" Iliana said. Aella's stomach lurched. Iliana had an unmistakably rebellious tone in her voice.
"Yes," replied the warrior, "Our leader will take your tribe, or we will destroy it. The choice is yours." Iliana was silent for a moment that seemed to stretch into an eternity. Finally she hung her head.
"I will fight this leader of yours. Where are they?"
"Here!" A voice boomed from a few metres behind Aella. She jumped, her heart throbbing painfully. She turned to see the owner of the voice was Kerberos.
He walked past her towards Iliana. He stopped in front of her, and members of her tribe encircled them to form the ring of combat.
"Draw your sword," he said, emotionless. "Your time has come to burn."
Zanela
Peace without weakness;
Strength without aggression;
Growth without forgetting;
I pledge my soul to the Shenza forever.
The three tenets and the oath of the Shenza. Every one of the peaceful warriors of the Shanaken forests lived by those words. Zanela recited them every day when she performed her Zuunshai. She wasn't allowed a sword yet, so she performed the blade dance without a blade as all Kuulshen did. That would change soon, if she was successful.
The Shenzai were designed around the three tenets. The first test addressed the first tenet; Peace without weakness. Despite being lethal warriors, the Shenza were a peaceful people. They didn't kill except for food and self protection. But their peaceful lifestyle didn't indicate weakness. Hunting, fishing, and the strength and agility required to climb and jump between trees every day kept the Shenza strong and fit. They never sought out battle; but were always ready to fight. And they tempered their peaceful nature with an unseen strength that baffled outsiders.
The first test required the Kuulshen to fight against an armed opponent without a blade of their own. They must end the fight without drawing blood. Zanela passed, fighting against a fellow Kuulshen named Shaiden. She dodged and weaved until Shaiden grew frustrated and lost control. Then she simply waited for him to make a mistake. She didn't have to wait long. He was the same age as her, and patience wasn't his strength. He stopped searching her movements, instead swinging the training blade wildly in front of him. She dove to the side, rolled to a crouch behind him and swept his feet off the ground.
He dropped the sword as he fell, and she jumped on him. They grappled, grunting and rolling around on the wide platform until Zanela finally gained the upper hand, securing his neck in a tight hold between her legs. She held his arm in her hands, twisted up in a painful lock, and demanded he yield. He smacked the platform with his hand, and she let him go.
The second tenet, strength without aggression, was about self discipline and control. The Shenza believed strength and power were worthless if they weren't under control. Unprovoked aggression, and violence outside of training and self-protection, were among the worst crimes in Shenza society. According to the Duulshen, aggression was the sign of a weak soul.
The second test required the Kuulshen take as much pain as they could before yielding. They were whipped and beaten mercilessly until they gave up. They were not bound or restrained in any way; they had to stand still on their own. A sand timer measured the minimum time the Kuulshen was required to withstand the pain; there was no maximum time, and greater scores were awarded to those who endured the longest. Greater scores were also awarded to the Kuulshen who made no sound. Zanela was silent the entire time, watching the timer with her fists clenched.
She stood naked in the centre of a wide platform, high in the canopy. The only people on the platform were her father, two Duulshen to judge, and the Shenza tasked with administering the test. Dakesh was elsewhere, called away to prepare for his Shadow Trials. She was happy for him of course, but she desperately wished for his reassuring presence now. She lasted through the minimum time, forcing herself into silence. When the timer ran out, she squeezed her eyes shut and lowered her head, bearing through the pain for as long as she could stand. Every second felt like an hour. The Shenza behind her lashed her back and legs, threw rocks, and shouted taunts at her constantly. The pain she expected; the teasing she hadn't. It was almost as hard to bear as the physical pain. Just as she felt she could take no more, she opened her eyes, ready to yield. She opened her mouth, about to scream for the pain to stop, when she locked eyes with her father. He watched dispassionately, staring at her as though assessing the work of a blacksmith or cook.
She maintained eye contact with him, reciting the tenets in her head. She focused on nothing else; the bored, red eyes of her father, and the sacred words of her people. Tears streamed down her face as the pain continued, but she repeated the words to herself over again. Peace without weakness strength without aggression growth without forgetting peace without weakness strength without aggression growth without forgetting. The words became a blur of thought as her body screamed. Her father dissolved into a meaningless shape against the bright blue of the sky as pain finally overcame her; the world faded into shadows and the last thing she felt as her consciousness slipped away was relief.
When she woke, her beaten, naked body was covered by a blanket. She stared up at the Duulshen, who informed her that she passed the test. Her father was already gone.
The third tenet, growth without forgetting, revolved around the Shenza belief in the circle of life. Growth and self-improvement were the purpose of Shenza life, and they believed that stillness bred weakness. The forest was always in motion; so the Shenza were also. At the same time, they believed that the past was useful and should never be forgotten. The third tenet reminded the Shenza to strive for greatness and keep moving forward, but to remember the lessons of the past.
The third test was by far the most difficult. Kuulshen were required to climb a special tree, the Zailak, as fast as they could. The climbing frame on the Zailak was altered, making it different to the frames on other trees in several ways. The limbs
of the frame were further apart and didn't curl around the trunk evenly, meaning the climber must pay careful attention to where they were going. Hidden all through the tree bark and the climbing frame were various traps and trick handholds. A fair way up the trunk was a painted target. Touching the target meant the traps would deactivate, and the test was passed.
As the Kuulshen climbed, the trap would glow a second before it was sprung, giving them a chance to avoid it. Once they passed the trap, it would be sprung again at their feet, forcing them to either remember the placement and type of trap, or fall and fail the test. When the climb began, traps were sprung almost constantly. The Kuulshen needed to keep an eye on the traps they were reaching for while simultaneously keeping track of the traps at their feet. Zanela was terrified. Each test was reset for each Kuulshen who attempted it; no Kuulshen were permitted to watch another's attempt. Other than the horrifying description Dakesh recounted after passing his test, Zanela had no idea what to expect until she started climbing.
One thing was very clear: Zailak was designed to be dangerous, and could definitely kill the Kuulshen who wasn't careful. She stared at the tree as intently as possible before starting her climb, trying to locate any traps. Nothing was out of place. Nowhere that she could see looked even remotely like a trap. Her body still ached from the beatings she received the day before; Kuulshen were only given a day’s rest between each test. Several wounds on her back and legs still bled openly, and her head pulsed painfully with each heartbeat. The Duulshen tipped the sand timer, and she raced forward.
As soon as her hands and feet were on the tree, three glowing circles appeared in different places just above her head. A second later, a spike shot out from the closest one, missing her head by barely an inch as she pulled herself up. The second trap was off to her side and she didn't see what it was. The third trap triggered; just as she got a hand hold right next to it, the glowing section of the climbing frame simply disappeared. A fourth and fifth glowing circle appeared above her as she kept climbing.
She narrowly avoided the spike at her feet as another jutted from the tree above her shoulder. One of the glowing circles did nothing once the glow faded; she avoided the spot completely. She had no desire to see what might happen if she touched it. Traps appeared endlessly as she climbed. Time was lost on her; there was no way of knowing how much time was left to reach the target. All she could do was climb.
Smoke and steam filled the dark room, filling Zanela's lungs and eyes. Sweat poured from her. The clanging of metal on metal rang through the room as heavy hammers smashed down on massive anvils. She was in the Shenzashed, the warrior's forge, along with a small group of other successful Kuulshen. The warriors were supervised by a few experienced blacksmiths, and a group of young Shenza children who were being taught how to work a forge.
All Shenza learned blacksmithing. It was one of many skills considered necessary for a warrior to possess. Zanela didn't enjoy being in the forge, but she'd made swords before. She knew enough to forge her own. Loud hissing screamed from the forge next to her as a warrior cooled their sword in a bucket of water. She felt the steam add to the room's heat. Zanela hated heat. She needed the cool breezes in the forest canopy; the crisp winds off the ocean in a fishing boat. She needed the blast of cold as she dove into one of the perfectly clear rivers in the mountains.
But the Shenzashed was the furthest from nice cool breezes and beautifully cold rivers as it was possible to get. The Shenza forging their blades were all naked from the waist up, and covered in a thick sheen of sweat. Everyone else in the room wore their usual tunics. Zanela didn't envy them.
Her blade was coming along nicely. Despite the awful heat and thick smoke, watching it take shape as she folded the metal onto itself and beat it flat again was incredibly satisfying. She was also fascinated by the forges; it was another piece of ancient Shenza magic she didn't understand. The stone structures were filled with a type of sand which could withstand temperatures hot enough to melt steel. Shenza blacksmiths stood nearby, touching a particular stone in different places to achieve different temperatures. The sand changed temperature instantly, and metal could be pushed into it and pulled out seconds later, glowing red and ready to be worked. As much as she hated being in the room, it was a great process to watch.
All swords in Shanaken were made from black Shenza steel and made in the same style. The only visual difference between a standard Shenza blade and a Kaizuun were the intricate runes carved into the metal and hilt. Even the training blades forged by Kuulshen learning the craft looked the same; except they were dulled so they couldn't cut.
Shenzuun, the standard Shenza swords, took months to create and finish. Zanela was almost finished the forging process, but after the blade was forged it needed to be sharpened, polished, and fitted with a hilt. Every stage of the process was sacred to the Shenza, and care had to be taken throughout to avoid ruining the blade. Shenza steel was incredibly lightweight, but still one of the strongest materials in all of Pandeia. Shenza swords were coveted by every other country, but no Shenzuun were ever sold or given to outsiders in Shanaken's history. Zanela was proud beyond words to be forging her own. Once she was finished, she would be Daishen; a true warrior.
Atillus
What is this?
Atillus gasped, blinking, and looked wildly around the room. The voice was weak, barely a whisper, but sounded close.
You, child!
He turned his head in every direction, heart hammering as he feared the worst from this new intruder.
I am no intruder, mortal! I am Sithares, God of Fire!
Atillus stopped dead, mouth open. His heart was still beating fast and loud. He closed his eyes tightly, trying to calm down. He was either going insane, or speaking with a God. After what he'd been through, he was entirely unsure which was the truth. But he knew either way that panicking wouldn’t help him. His heart slowed, and he focused on what was in the room, what he knew to be real.
You're not insane, child. You do well to calm yourself and think. You will go far, and achieve much, I am certain of it. And with my help you will be unstoppable.
"Why would you help me?" Atillus' voice sounded weak and small in the tiny room; almost as weak as the whispering voice of the God.
You helped me first, mortal. You freed me from the Shadows beyond this world. I have been greatly weakened, but if you will serve me, you can restore my power. The more power I gain, the more power I will gift to you.
Atillus nodded his head. He read as much in the fire bound book. He thought about all he could do with Fire Magic, how he could destroy the Megalos family and restore the crown to the Argyris family. He could rule himself, and with the power of fire at his disposal no one would be able to stop him. He longed for the crown; not for the power it would afford him, but because he knew he could rule fairly and well, and certainly better than any other member of his own family or the rival noble families of Omatus.
No.
Atillus almost didn't hear it, the voice was so quiet.
You cannot take the city yet. You must bide your time. You are intelligent, and strong for your age; but you are still a child. You must make yourself truly unstoppable before you can rule Omatus properly. You will have the city, I promise you that, as a reward for freeing me. But first, you must serve me.
Atillus thought about what Sithares was saying. It made sense, he knew it. He wouldn't be able to take the city as he was now; he would surely be killed. Besides, his performance as the idiot child whom everyone ignored had worked too well. He was barely an afterthought to the people of Omatus. He needed true power to take the crown for himself, power which he didn't have. For the moment. So, slowly, he knelt and bowed his head.
"I will serve you, Sithares."
Good. Now go, back to the castle. Act as if nothing is different. No one can know I have awoken. I have much planning to do.
Atillus rose, flooded with renewed ambition and purpose. He walked to the door, and found that
it opened willingly for him. Fear seized him at the threshold to the silent corridor he'd come through. He wasn't sure if he could stand another eternity in silence.
I'm different now, he thought, the shadows in there cannot touch me if I'm made of fire.
It was an odd thought, but somehow it gave him the courage to walk into the black silence once more.
The door shut behind him, silent. He didn't turn back. He kept walking, slowly, with his hand to the wall as he had before. But this time, after a few steps, he focused on the fire burning inside him. He pictured it like a beast, alive and hungry and ready to feast. He unleashed its power, and the corridor suddenly appeared before him. The sound of roaring flames rose like music in his ears. He screamed then, half laughing and half straining to burn as brightly as he could. He kept walking, and the blank stone wall where there should have been a door cracked and thundered. It opened before him, as if it was afraid of his power. He laughed again, and as he stepped through the doorway he let the fire go. The boom of the door exploding and the whoosh of flame disappearing happened simultaneously, merging and destroying the serene silence of the library.
Atillus was free. And so is Sithares, he thought. Should I be afraid? But he knew no matter what destruction the Fire God wrought on Pandeia, he would be protected. As long as it leaves me enough of a world to rule, it can burn as much as it likes. He smiled and walked towards his secret tunnel, the one that led to the corridors near the Royal Bedrooms. He wasn't sure how long he'd been gone for, and he was starved and exhausted. But he was excited.
I need to rest a while, he mused to himself, but then I will train harder than any living soul has ever trained.
Gods and Heroes- Rise of Fire Page 4