He stared back at the shining black sword in his hand with renewed awe.
It was slim, perfectly straight and with a wickedly sharp edge. The entire sword was covered in barely visible Shenza runes, even burned onto the wrapped hilt. The guard was a small circle perpendicular to the blade, and the hilt was long enough for two hands, though the blade wasn't more than a metre long. It was lightweight, as all Shenza steel was, and perfectly balanced. It felt perfect in his hands, and he knew it belonged to him now.
Others will not want you to have it.
Dakesh remembered why; A Kaizuun, a shadow blade, was linked forever to the warrior who forged it. It was why the Kaizeluun were required to forge their own blades when they passed their trials. Because of that sacred bond between warrior and sword, it was forbidden in Shenza culture to take another's blade.
There is no other course. To keep the blade, you must flee this land. Go west, to the great desert of Omas, where you will be free to pursue greatness.
An Ermoori soldier, covered in armour and brandishing a hand-held cannon, appeared to Dakesh's left. He saw the cannon rise and point at his chest a second before it happened, and ducked to the soldier's right side. Less than a second later, the Ermoori hand cannon exploded next to Dakesh's head, but he was outside the soldier's reach. His blade swept up, so fast it was barely visible, and sliced clean through his opponent's arm at the elbow, armour and all. The dismembered arm and weapon hit the sand with a thud. Dakesh's opponent turned towards him and pointed his now missing arm at Dakesh's face. He blinked and looked down, and it was only then he realised what Dakesh had done. His look of disbelieving horror filled Dakesh with a savage satisfaction as he swept his new blade through the man's face. It barely slowed as it cut through the soldier's skull and helmet, and as his enemy fell, Dakesh saw there was no blood on the blade itself.
Go now, while the battle is raging. No one will notice in this chaos.
Dakesh ran, cutting down Ermoori soldiers whenever they crossed his path, and crashed through the edge of the forest past the beach. Once hidden from the battle, he started heading west.
Atillus
Amphidas found three warriors to train Atillus. He introduced them one by one; Karak, a Tarsi assassin skilled in stealth; Shaila, a native of Shanaken who called herself a Shadow Walker; and the Thearan, Amares, known among the desert tribes as a fierce and fearsome opponent. All were unique and interesting to Atillus, but it was Amares who stole his attention immediately; the tall, well-muscled man was striking in a way he'd never experienced before. Amares had smooth dark skin, pure white hair and vibrant golden eyes. He wore very little above the waist, which showed off his impressive figure. At his waist was a skirt of black Lionscale with silver Thearan Steel plates sewn into it for protection against even the most dangerous weaponry. Over his left shoulder he wore a layered pauldron made of the same scale and metal plates. Several pouches were attached to the pauldron's strap which wrapped diagonally over his chest and under his right arm. Thearan Steel gauntlets covered his forearms, and simple leather boots his feet. He moved very little. When he did move, it was slow and deliberate, almost hypnotic. His golden eyes seemed to glow in the sunlight, and an intense intelligence lay behind them. When introduced, he stared directly into Atillus' eyes and slowly nodded. Atillus could think of no words to greet the man. He found his reaction to the Thearan deeply unsettling; normally his dumbfounded silence was an act.
Karak, the Tarsi, would have been the most notable member of Amphidas' recruits were it not for Amares' stunning beauty. Atillus had never seen a native of Tarsium in person. Karak was incredibly short, only standing waist height to Amares. He had mottled grey skin, huge silver eyes with vertical slits for pupils and disproportionately large hands with long, thin fingers. He wore a thick, heavy looking grey cloak with a massive hood. The cloak seemed to be far too large for the tiny man; it was folded in on itself numerous times and secured with several ribbon ties in various places. Underneath, his black tunic and trousers were impeccably clean and perfectly fitted to his small frame. His face, mostly due to his massive eyes, had a child-like look of innocence about it, and he blinked a lot as he looked around the sun-lit private courtyard where their training would take place. He had absolutely no hair, which made his almost comically innocent looking face resemble a newborn baby.
Shaila, the Shadow Walker, was dangerous looking, though in a different way than Amares, whose brute strength was immediately apparent by the rippling muscles on his mostly unarmoured torso. Shaila's intimidating nature emanated instead from her eyes and stance. Her eyes were a deep, unsettling shade of red. She stood as if she was ready to pounce at any second, tense yet somehow relaxed at the same time, her hand never far from her sword. She was tall, though not as tall as Amares. Her skin was pale, and she had long, pitch black hair. She wore a simple layered fabric tunic of dark grey and black, with a dark blue sash around her waist. She had an unnerving way of almost never blinking.
Atillus learned everything he could from all of them. He trained for hours every day, building the basics at first, then getting more and more advanced with each of his teachers. He quickly found that although the Shenza martial art called Zuunshai was beautiful and elegant, he much preferred the Thearan style, Pyrokratos. It was brutal and efficient, and he knew that once he was a man grown his size and strength would be better suited to the brute power of Pyrokratos. He also preferred spending time with Amares. The man was stunning, not just physically beautiful but an unbelievably talented fighter. Atillus wasn't entirely sure if his preference for the Thearan fighting style was purely a result of his infatuation, but he thought not. The movements felt more natural to him than those of Zuunshai, and he was learning Thearan techniques much faster. Amares almost never talked, but his Golden eyes were oddly expressive and his body conveyed his meaning almost effortlessly. Atillus learned a lot from the Thearan warrior.
The Tarsi, surprisingly, didn't have a fighting style at all, but their methods were amazing and useful to learn.
The Tarsi were masters of stealth. Not the simple, silent stealth of the Shadow Walkers from Shanaken, but a complex and mysterious method of becoming unseen that fascinated Atillus immensely. Karak, without speaking, turned from Atillus at the beginning of his first lesson and walked to the far side of the courtyard. He moved to a corner and started walking along the wall, behind the giant pillars set evenly along the walkway. He passed behind the first, and a completely different figure emerged from the other side. Twice as tall, and much wider, the figure turned to look at Atillus. Under the heavy cowl shone the golden eyes and chiselled jaw of Amares. He walked past the second pillar and this time Shaila emerged wearing the cloak. From the third pillar, it was Atillus himself who turned to look at him. He couldn't help but shudder as gooseflesh crawled up his arms and neck. The last pillar revealed something else entirely. As the figure emerged, Atillus assumed it would be Amphidas under the cowl, but this time when it looked at him, the hood contained nothing at all. The heavy cloak suddenly deflated, falling to the ground. A hand as strong as a vice clamped Atillus' arm.
He tried to swivel, ready to fight, but the grip was so strong it was all he could do to strain his neck to see behind him. Karak's massive, gentle eyes were staring up at him, passively watching as his grip loosened. Atillus couldn't believe his eyes.
"How did you get this side of the courtyard so fast?" He asked. The words seemed to tumble out of his mouth unbidden. Karak looked at him, blinking.
"I wasn't fast," he said. His voice was raspy but deep. "You were merely looking elsewhere, so I walked behind you." He gave the tiniest hint of a smile, his small mouth curling upwards slightly.
"I was not looking elsewhere, I watched you the entire time!"
Karak barked a short laugh that sounded like the croak of a toad. "You watched my cloak, child. Your mind told you I was in it, and even when your eyes told you otherwise, you chose to believe you were watching me."
Atill
us narrowed his eyes, trying to puzzle out how something like that could work. He walked over to the cloak, crumpled on the floor, and picked it up. There was nothing odd about it, other than its size compared Karak. He walked back to Karak with the cloak. Handing it back to its owner, he shook his head in puzzlement. He gave another croak of laughter, a small but genuine smile curling his thin lips up.
"The Tarsi have been using magic for thousands of years, even after Fire Magic died out and Shadow Magic grew weaker. Ours is a magic of subtlety and patience, not like the brute destruction of Fire Magic or the energetic intensity of Shadow Magic. We use it to protect ourselves and our way of life, not to conquer or destroy. If you are to learn what I can teach you, no one can know of this magic. It is the most guarded secret of our people."
Karak's constant blinking was almost enough to distract Atillus from his words, but he knew when to pay attention and the significance of the Tarsi's words wasn't lost on him.
"Of course. Just as no one can know of the training I am undertaking. We both agree to stay silent on the matter," he replied. Karak nodded his agreement. "But, if I may ask, why teach me at all, if this secret is so precious to your people?"
Karak's small smile disappeared. His blinking stopped, the sudden shift incredibly unnerving. His massive eyes seemed to see all of Atillus, and all the way through him. He felt exposed in a way he never had before. The Tarsi remained silent for a long time. Finally, he spoke:
"My reasons are my own, child. I am here to teach you magic, not discuss my life. Suffice it to say I need the money you offered enough to warrant disclosing some knowledge of Tarsi magic. But know that if you break our agreement and tell anyone any Tarsi secrets, you won't live more than a day beyond the moment you betray me."
Atillus believed every word. In any case, he had no interest in sharing the knowledge he would gain from the Tarsi.
"You have my word, Karak, no one else will learn what you teach me here." Each teacher he trained with sent the other teachers away for his lessons; every day he spent a few hours with one at a time. It meant keeping his training secret was actually quite easy.
Karak seemed satisfied with Atillus' word. He gave a short nod and suddenly returned to his constant blinking and subtle smiles. He launched into the theory of Tarsi magic with such fervor that Atillus barely kept up. He realised how much there was to learn. The mysteries of Tarsium were a whole world unto themselves, something completely different to the skills he was learning from the other teachers, and even different to the Fire Magic he was teaching himself. He wasn't sure he could wield this power as well as he could pick up most other skills and abilities, but if he could learn even a fraction of what Karak was teaching...
He smiled to himself; He was standing at a precipice, overlooking a whole new world, and he knew that world would belong to him.
Dakesh
Mottled sunlight pierced the dark green air of the forest. The sounds of insects, birds and predators mingled to create the ambient and peaceful sound Dakesh grew up hearing. He travelled along the forest floor, quickly and quietly; the forests of Shanaken were brutal and deadly, even to the Shenza. They were home to countless predators, large and small, and a massive range of venomous insects and plants. But it was more than that; the forest exuded a dangerous magic of its own, almost as if it were conscious. Many Shenza disappeared in the forests, never seen again.
Dakesh kept the Shadow Blade in his hand as he ran. Its magic increased his senses and awareness to an incredible degree; he could somehow see predators a hundred metres away, through the massive tree trunks. Their silhouette glowed clearly, regardless of the distance. He saw birds and insects too, their auras smaller but just as bright. A vibrantly red glow snaked out at his ankle as he ran. He recognised it as a Viper Vine, a type of carnivorous plant which detected movement and snatched small animals from the forest floor, curling its thick vines around the unfortunate prey's body and crushing it into a pulp to digest. People were far too large for them to actually consume; but they could easily destroy a limb or two beyond repair in a matter of seconds once they had a grip. He leapt over it without breaking stride.
His thoughts raced as fast as he did, clashing and speeding through his mind as he tried to focus on the dangers of the forest. He stole a Shadow Blade; as soon as the Duulshen discovered his treachery, he’d be marked as an outsider forever. He’d be shunned and hated by his own people.
You were already shunned. They dishonoured you by refusing to name you Kaizeluun. They do not respect your strength.
The words, still whispered, seemed to pierce through his scattered thoughts like shafts of sunlight through the dark forest air.
That title was earned, and they took it from you. So you took the blade from them. A fair trade.
He nodded grimly and ducked under a tree branch at the last second. Finally, he saw one of the climbing structures the Shenza placed around giant trees to help them move faster into the canopy, and out of danger. They were swirling metal ladders that snaked around the trunks of the trees, forged from magic so no heat was necessary and the trees weren't damaged. The Shenza only placed their structures around fully grown trees so as not to restrict their growth.
He leapt onto it at full speed, running a few steps up the trunk and climbing with his left hand while he sheathed the blade with his right. Immediately, his strength and energy disappeared, and the forest was suddenly much quieter. The countless bright auras surrounding him vanished, and the climb up the tree trunk became arduous. Finally, he reached the canopy, and stopped for a rest; the trees of Shanaken were not only as wide as buildings, but taller than any building in Pandeia.
The Shenza, over thousands of years, constructed endless walkways and passages between the great trees of the forest. It was possible to travel from the southern edge to the northern edge of Shanaken without touching the ground. Not only could they travel through the trees without being seen by predators on the forest floor, but they actually lived up there, within flowing metal structures built around the trees in the canopy itself.
The Shenza didn't live in one city. Among the great trees, scattered over their mysterious country, were five concentrated hubs where the Shenza settled for a little while at a time; places which contained everything they needed as a society. The hubs were collectively called Kashainuukza; the Moving City. Rumours of the Moving City were whispered through all of Pandeia; but all that was truly known outside of Shanaken was the name, and the Shenza earned a notorious and mysterious reputation as a result.
Dakesh stood and started running again, trying to get as far as he could as quickly as possible. The battle at the beach was chaotic, but he couldn't rule out the possibility that someone saw him take Kailen's blade. He needed to get as far from Shanaken as he could.
The forest became a different place for Dakesh after he fled the battle. Once so peaceful and familiar, it now felt dangerous. He felt the way an outsider must feel when venturing into the forest for the first time; Alone and vulnerable. The only time he felt better was while holding the Kaizuun. He couldn't hold it constantly. He had to sheath the blade to sleep and eat. Sleeping was difficult during his journey. The sounds of the forest at night were now hostile and terrifying. The first night, he barely slept at all. In his mind's eye, he kept seeing a figure appear from the darkness, wreathed in shadows, wielding a Kaizuun.
Opening his eyes didn't help; the shadowy figure appeared in the empty blackness between tree branches. He couldn't quite convince himself he was seeing things. When the sun rose he sat up, exhausted and miserable. The forest was a little less terrifying now he could see everything. But he knew his visions weren't based on paranoia alone. The Duulshen would send someone after him as soon as they discovered his treachery.
He thought about his family. His parents would be furious with him. The shame he would bring to them weighed heavily. He thought about Zanela, his sister. She was far younger than him, and looked up to him the way he looked up to Elana. She
would have to survive without him from now on. Even worse, she would be taught to hate him for his betrayal. For a moment, he entertained the thought she might leave Shanaken in search of him. They would reunite and live as outsiders together, protecting the people of Pandeia by hiring out their services as guards and mercenaries.
It was stupid, just a foolish fantasy, but it helped to imagine even one person might not hate him. He unsheathed the Kaizuun and read the ancient words engraved in the blade.
Deshuul nalduul ladza; Deshan, nalduul ladshuul;
Nuu'ishuul, nalduul naldi. Nakel lek nashuul kad ka Shenza duul.
The three tenets and the oath of the Shenza. The words every warrior of the forests lived by once they became Daishen:
Peace without weakness; Strength without aggression;
Growth without forgetting. I pledge my soul to the Shenza forever.
Tears sprang into his eyes. The hypocrisy of holding the Kaizuun while fleeing Shanaken as a criminal tore through him to his core. He almost turned back. If he returned to the Duulshen before they realised his intention, he could tell them he was bringing Kailen's blade to its rightful place.
Gods and Heroes- Rise of Fire Page 7