by Dante King
“You saw that?” I asked, surprised. “You must have walked quickly to get here before I did.”
The old man snorted. “Maybe I just knew the right way to walk. Took a straight line instead of a zigzag. You should try it some time.”
“I didn’t see anybody watching.” I walked toward him, eyes peeled for anybody else in the area. If he knew about the fight, maybe the orcs had told him. Maybe they were waiting now to ambush me.
“Always like this with the young.” The old man shook his head. “If you didn’t see it, it can’t have happened. But I was there, and I saw how skilled a fighter you are. Gothrog might have a brain full of pigswill, but he knows how to fight, and you humiliated him.” The old man looked up from his sweeping and gave me a gap-toothed grin. “It made me laugh.”
The shadow of the gateway was a welcome relief from the blazing sun. As I stood looking at the old man, a smell of spiced, roasting meat hit me, making my mouth water and my stomach gurgle. If I’d ever smelled anything so delicious, my body didn’t remember it.
“Are you the caretaker here?” I asked.
“Yes, I suppose I am,” he replied.
“And this is the Unwashed Temple?”
“How else do you think it got this dirty?”
I hesitated, not sure how to respond. I’d assumed that the title was symbolic, but the place really was filthy and run down. Its current state was nothing like the version of the temple I’d seen in my own world.
“Some guards said I would belong here.” I hoped that those who belonged might get fed.
“Hahaha!” The old man’s laughter echoed off the walls and the nearby trees. “Those guards played a joke on you. This place is forsaken. Condemned. No one belongs here.”
“Oh.” My shoulders sagged. So much for belonging, but perhaps there was still a way. “Is that your food I smell?”
“Unless the rats get to it.”
“What would I have to do to get some of it?”
The old man took a step back and looked me up and down.
“You must pass a test,” he said.
I’d been expecting chores or to trade him my hoody. But if a test was what he wanted, then I’d take it, whatever was needed to get some food.
“What sort of test?” I asked.
“Does it make a difference?”
“Not really.”
“Then, come.” He started walking across the courtyard and waved for me to follow.
We reached a set of steps at the front of the main building, just outside the chamber where, in my world’s version of the temple, I’d found the orb and Nydarth’s sword. The caretaker leaned his broom carefully against a pillar, then sat down on the top step, joints creaking as he bent. I sat beside him and looked out across the yard. Through the gates, I could see down the hillside to the city below, full of noise and bustle. Up here, all was calm and quiet, the only sounds the twitter of birds and the rustling of trees in the wind.
“Here.” The caretaker handed me a pebble. “Take that and close your eyes.”
I did as I was told, feeling the smooth shape of the pebble in the palm of my hand.
“I want you to focus on the pebble.” The caretaker’s voice became clearer, losing some of its throaty rattle. “Picture it not just as a single stone but as a part of all the stone that is in the world, a vast flow of the energy of the earth. Can you feel it?”
I thought about stones. About the ones in the roads I’d walked today, the ones making up the houses I’d passed, the vast slabs forming the city’s great bridge. It was easy enough to see how they all shared a common nature. As I thought of that, I imagined that something flowed through my fingers, like an energy connecting the pebble to the rest.
“Now, feel that energy flowing through you,” he continued. “Open up a pathway and let the energy pass along it.”
I imagined a trail running up my arm, the energy of the stones speeding through it and into my body.
Except that I wasn’t imagining it. I could really feel it coursing through me like an electric current. I gasped and opened my eyes. The stone fell from my hand, bounced down the steps, and clattered against each one in turn until it landed in the dirt.
“What was that?” I stared at the caretaker.
“That was proof that you are who I need you to be,” he said, “not some demon posing as the one I’m meant to meet here. Welcome to the world, young man.”
“To the world?” I narrowed my eyes. Did this old man know more about me than he was letting on?
“Yes. To the Seven Realms.” He stood and brushed specks of dirt from his grimy robes. “I’m hungry,” he announced. “Let’s go eat.”
I followed him along a porch that ran around the outside of the temple. As we walked, I tried to work out how best to get more information. Should I challenge him directly or wait to see what he had to say first? Would I get more from confrontation or cooperation?
We entered a simple wooden outbuilding and I forgot those concerns. A pair of chickens were roasting over the fire, with a pot of rice steaming beside them. On the table were plates, knives, and a chopping board. The smell of spiced meat filled the room and washed away every thought other than how hungry I was.
The caretaker took the long skewer from above the fire and slid each chicken onto a plate. With a large wooden spoon, he heaped mounds of rice onto the plates. Then, he sat down on a stool at the table and gestured for me to do the same.
“Eat up,” he said. “You’ve had a long journey, so I made plenty.”
I tore a leg from the chicken and bit into it. Delicious juices filled my mouth. I smiled as if I’d just won the jackpot.
For the next few minutes, we sat in companionable silence while eating chicken and rice with our bare hands. A black cat came in and leapt onto the table before being shooed off by the caretaker, who then fed it a slice of chicken in compensation. As the cat gobbled his prize, the old man finally spoke.
“What’s your name, traveler?” he asked.
“Ethan Murphy,” I said through a mouthful of meat. “And you?”
“My name is Tolin. I take care of this temple, among a few other roles. And I have to say; I’m very happy to see you here.”
“Don’t you get many visitors?” I asked.
Tolin laughed. “Not like you. I had feared that my service to the temple would prove fruitless, that no young man would come to undertake the training. But here you are.”
I looked up and grinned at the old man. I doubted I’d ever do any training with him—he seemed too much the ‘wax on, wax off’ type—but he could definitely make a scrumptious meal.
“Of course,” he said, “I never expected you to come from another world.”
“How do you know I’m from another world?” I set aside my food. I could have eaten more, but my hunger’s edge was gone, and now, I could face less urgent concerns.
“Your clothes, your energy, the way you talk.” Tolin laughed again. “Gothrog might look like he was sculpted from ugliness and horse shit, but at least he belongs around here. You? Not so much.”
The reminder of the orcs made the caretaker’s previous underhanded offer of training seem like something I might actually want. If I was going to be in this world for more than a little while, I’d need more than just my bare hands to defend myself. I probably wouldn’t find a talking sword that spewed flames, but one with a sharp blade would be sufficient. Even simply walking around with a weapon might deter any would-be attackers.
“You said something about training?” I asked Tolin.
“Yes, my boy,” he answered. “You must learn to walk the True Path.”
Now, it was my turn to laugh. I’d had a Buddhist girlfriend once who liked to talk about true paths, and I knew well enough that they weren’t for me.
“Thanks for the offer, but I’m not interested in religion,” I said.
“Really?”
Tolin threw a piece of chicken into the air above the table. As it rea
ched the top of its arc and began to fall, he flashed out a hand. The meat vanished, leaving only a brief black shape where it had been, like the after-effect of staring at a bright light. Soon, that too was gone.
I stared in amazement, and the cat hissed angrily from the floor.
“Hush, you.” Tolin handed it another piece of chicken.
“How?” My mouth hung open. “What? Why?”
“Does no one walk the True Path where you’re from?” Tolin looked at my expression of pure surprise.
“Hell, no.” I laughed. “But if it can do things like that, then I’m in.”
“I should hope so,” Tolin said. “Otherwise, I would have earned Master Softpaw’s wrath for nothing. Wouldn’t I, you crazy beast?”
He patted the top of the cat’s head and it twisted around, trying to bite his fingers.
“He loves me, really.” Tolin withdrew his hand. Then, the playfulness fell from his face and he stared at me in deadly earnest. “I must warn you though, before we start on your training. It took me decades of Augmentation to learn even this much of the True Path. Unfortunately, we don’t have decades. We will need to walk roads untrod for centuries if you’re to become your true self.”
“My true self?” I asked.
“Yes,” Tolin answered. “The Immortal Swordslinger. Wielder of Immense Blades. Grandmaster of the Elements.”
The old man leaned back and looked at me smugly. Judging by Tolin’s expression, he expected me to be impressed, bowed down with awe at what he’d said.
“What’s an Immortal?” I asked.
“Really, boy?” He sighed as if he was about to explain a difficult concept. “It’s someone who lives forever.”
I chuckled. “Right. I never would have guessed that. I’m wondering what other things an Immortal can do, other than not dying. How does someone even become an Immortal?”
Tolin huffed. “They listen to their mentors.”
“So, what’s an Immortal Swordslinger, then?” I asked.
“It is a position of the utmost seriousness and responsibility,” Tolin said.
“So an Immortal is effectively the race of a person, and the Swordslinger is their class?”
“I suppose you could phrase it that way.”
“You’re really not great at answering questions,” I said with a smile.
“Because you’re not ready for the answers.”
“That’s why I get training, right?”
He sighed, leaned forward, and patted Master Softpaw’s head again. This time, the cat moved in toward him, then leaped up onto his lap for more attention.
“You’re quite right,” Tolin said. “Though training in the Path is not like other arts. Your tutors will open doors for you, but you must discover the secrets that lie within for yourself. It is through binding together the strands of a thousand lives that a single great destiny is made.”
“So, it’s not just about me? I can live with that. I’d rather be Aragorn than Harry Potter anyway.”
“I don’t know what an Aragorn is,” Tolin said. “But rest assured, there will be very little pottery, even as you become hairier.”
He raised an eyebrow, looking at my short-cropped hair and clean-shaven chin, all the while stroking his own ragged beard.
“Honestly,” he said, “what sort of world do you come from, where a man is left to walk around like that, without the dignity of his own hair?”
“The sort of world where people don’t insult me while they’re trying to recruit me,” I said. “I could still walk away, leave you to find another Swordslinger.”
“No, you couldn’t.” Tolin snorted. “I see the look in your eyes. You’ve seen a part of the world that was hidden from you, and now, you can never look away. You will become the Swordslinger.”
“Old man, you make an offer that’s hard to refuse,” I said. “Tell me more about what this all means.”
“As the Swordslinger, you will not fight alone. You will gather a band of heroes around you, so that you can travel to the planes beyond this one.”
“You mean like traveling back to Earth?” I said, still eager to know how I might return to my old life. “To my own world.”
“No, not other worlds. Other planes of this one. You are in the Seven Realms now, lad.”
Well, at least I had a name for this place now.
“At the top lie the Heavens, where the celestial court rules. This is the plane of pure bliss, its inhabitants imbued with vast powers yet seldom using them, so content are they with their lot. There, people are so happy that they neglect the hard work toward enlightenment, eventually using up their karma and being reborn in a lower plane.
“Next is the plane of the demigods, who are less powerful than the denizens of Heaven. Here are reborn those who strive hard toward enlightenment but are held back by petty jealousy, struggle, or the harm they did to others. Alongside them live the demons, powerful and malevolent spirits. Both demons and demigods envy those in Heaven, and this jealousy can drive them to foul deeds.
“Then, there is the human plane, where we live. A realm based on passion, desire, doubt, and pride. It is neither the most pleasant nor the most awful plane to be reborn into, but it is the most advantageous. Here, there is enough suffering to motivate the quest for another way of being, but not so much suffering that it makes that work impossible. From here, one can attain enlightenment and escape the cycle of rebirth, or follow the path of virtue that leads to rebirth in another plane.”
“You’re saying I should be happy that my feet ache?” I said. “That’s a twisted sort of logic you’ve got there.”
“Do you want to learn, or do you want to make snide comments?” Tolin asked. “Because you can’t have both.”
“You manage it well enough.”
He glared but continued with his lecture.
“Below the human plane is the animal plane. Those who dwell in stupidity and prejudice find themselves reborn there, driven by their base instincts. It is where all the animals on earth live, a plane separate from but closely connected to our own. The two are so close that we and the animals can see each other, touch each other, almost talk with each other. Can’t we, Master Softpaw?”
He stroked the cat, who was now curled up in his lap, purring his way toward sleep.
“By living in these different planes, humans and animals experience the world very differently. To travel to their plane is to see this place through powerfully different eyes.
“Beneath the plane of animals is that of ghosts. Those who are driven by possessiveness or an excess of desire are reborn there. They become hungry ghosts, always craving food and water, never satisfied, no matter what they receive.
“And lastly, there is Hell.”
“Uh, that’s six realms,” I interrupted. “What’s the seventh?”
“We don’t talk about that one,” Tolin said, his tone indicating that he wouldn’t answer any more of it. “Now, where was I?”
“Hell,” I answered.
“Ah, yes. Hell.” He sighed before he began again. “Those who cultivate hatred and cruelty are reborn there, dragged into the depths by the weight of their bad karma. There, they suffer great torment for their wrongdoings. Only when that bad karma is used up can they be reborn into another plane, and so start the cycle again.”
“You said I would travel between these planes,” I said. “Do you expect me to keep dying and being reborn? Because I’d really like to avoid death as long as possible.”
Tolin shook his head. “For an Immortal, there are other ways, and you must study hard to learn them. The journey will take centuries, but as you master the elements, they will extend your lifespan, allowing you to complete your mission.”
“So, I’ll live forever?” I thought I’d heard some amazing stuff already, but this was on a whole other level.
“Nobody lives forever. If you’re not careful, you won’t even last days. This is a perilous undertaking, and there are many who would stop the
Swordslinger: those who profit from the world as it is, with all its flaws and corruption, those who don’t want to see it redeemed. They will go to any lengths to prevent the rise of the Swordslinger and the birth of a new age. But if you can survive the perils they throw at you, you will live far beyond the lifespan you were born to.”
I looked at him, this strange old man who was promising me so much. On the one hand was power and near-eternal life; on the other, hard work and danger.
But if I’d been afraid to face hard work and danger, I never would have joined Running Blade, never would have been sent to the Himalayas, never would have been here in the first place. Maybe some people would have walked away from it all, but for me, the danger added to the thrill.
Besides, I didn’t have a lot of friends in this new world. If I was going to survive here, never mind finding a way home, then I needed to work with whomever I could find.
“There’s no time like the present,” I said. “How do we start?”
Tolin lifted Master Softpaw from his lap, and the cat mewled in protest as he was deposited unceremoniously on the floor. The caretaker stood, grunted at some ache in his joints, and walked toward the door.
“First, we have to make you fit into this world,” he said. “You can stay at the temple for now, working as my assistant. I’ll have to find you some proper clothes, instead of those ugly things.”
I looked down at my clothes and shrugged. “You have something better in mind? They call these designer clothes back where I’m from.”
“All clothes are designed by someone. It’s just a shame that yours were designed by a sailmaker, not a tailor.”
“Touche,” I said with a wry grin.
I followed him out the door and onto the veranda running around the main temple. The boards squeaked beneath our feet, and Master Softpaw pounced at the sound before peering through the gaps in search of imagined mice.
For all I knew, there really were mice. The place was certainly run down enough for it.
“We’ll find you a weapon,” Tolin said. “You were lucky those orcs came at you barehanded—not everyone will be so considerate.”
We walked past the doors to the main chamber. I glanced inside, but it was too dark to see much.