Free of his grip and seeing her chance, Lena dashed for the wall and pulled down her sword just as the figure in black attacked again. She twirled away and drifted toward the center of the room. Her assailant followed.
Encouraged by the superior balance and deadly sharpness of her black blade, Lena went on the offensive. With a blinding combination of slashes and thrusts, she forced her attacker to give ground until his back was against the far wall. He drove his blade toward her chest. She side-stepped the razor-sharp weapon then went for the kill, aiming the tip of her sword at her enemy’s ribs just below his extended sword arm.
To her astonishment, the man lightly touched the flat of her blade with the index and middle fingers of his left hand, directing it past his exposed flank.
Anticipating a counterstrike, Lena spun away, but when she faced him once again she was surprised to see that he was standing a few paces back, his sword at his side.
“Who are you?” she demanded.
The figure raised his left hand behind his head and pulled off his hood to reveal the face of an older man of Central Asian descent.
“Hello Lena,” he said with a heavy accent.
It took Lena a moment to comprehend what she was seeing. Then her confusion was replaced with joy.
“Master Liu! What are you doing here?”
“Is that not obvious? I have come to test the skills of my greatest pupil,” he said with a sparkle in his eye. “I am pleased to see you have not slackened in the years since we last sparred.”
“Is that what we were doing just now? It didn’t feel like sparring.”
“Sparring emulates combat, just as firelight creates shadows of the true forms they represent. But the time for playing with shadows is past.”
“It has,” agreed Lena as she lowered her weapon.
Looking at Lena’s Sahiradin blade, Master Liu said, “I see you use the weapon of the enemy. They are quality swords, though they are stained by the evil of their forgers’ hearts.”
“They are made of a borelium alloy,” said Lena in an admiring tone as she raised the sword and slowly cut through the air in front of her. “Light and well balanced, they are superior to anything we can produce. Only the Northrunner’s swords can match them, but those contain alloys found in one of the Impact meteors that fell west of the Great Lakes. Very rare; only a few swords were made.”
“The Northrunners are talented smiths,” replied Liu. “They made fewer than twenty of the white blades. But other rare and mysterious gifts have fallen from the skies throughout Earth’s long history.”
He held out his right hand, palm upward. “May I see your weapon?”
Lena placed her sword in Liu’s extended hand. He swung the blade left and right then extended its tip toward the ceiling and studied its lines. Lowering it once more, he rolled it in his hand until he found its center, balancing it on his extended forefinger.
“It is well-made, light and sharp. But it lacks grace. It is a hard and brittle weapon conceived and forged by a hard and brittle species.”
Master Liu casually tossed the sword into the air. It slowly rotated when it reached its zenith then fell tip-first toward the floor. A sudden flash of silver split the air as Liu struck the alien weapon, shattering it into a thousand pieces.
Lena was stunned by Liu’s act, though she soon felt a wave of anger surge through her veins. Strewn all around her feet were shards of the sword that she had taken from a Sahiradin warrior who had nearly killed her just five years prior. She had put it to good use since then, dispatching not only numerous Sahiradin warriors, but deadly Karazan as well. Now it was gone, destroyed by a man she had once revered.
She looked at her former master, dark clouds of rage gathering in her eyes. A thousand memories flashed through her mind. A little girl swinging a wooden stick at a lithe, and much younger, Master Liu only to have the stick effortlessly smacked from her hand. She felt the sting of a dozen welts on her arms and legs, evidence of her having let her guard down. She saw a girl standing frozen, sword in hand, body aching as she slowly moved from one stance to another. Then she saw the image of a young woman with muscles like steel cords, confidently surging and twirling with blinding speed as she fended off multiple attackers, thrusting, kicking, and slashing her opponents with machine-like precision until they raised their empty hands in submission. The tangled emotions of those memories burst forth from her with volcanic force.
“What the hell did you just do?!” she screamed.
“I see you have done little to address your tendency toward rage,” said Master Liu calmly.
“Am I supposed to be happy that you destroyed the weapon I’ve used to send dozens of Sahiradin dogs and Karazan hags back to whatever hell they come from?” she growled. “It’s the finest sword I’ve ever held and I had plans to use it in the days to come.”
A light smile formed on Liu’s lips. “You cannot use the weapon of the enemy to defeat the enemy, not without sacrificing a piece of yourself.” Resting his own sword on his open palm, he stepped forward. Lena hesitated a moment then slowly wrapped her fingers around its pummel. She lifted it and closely studied its elegant lines, marveling at its balance and lightness.
“It can be yours,” said Master Liu.
Lena directed her eyes to the man from the Hell’s Teeth Mountains. His face had been tanned and toughened by years of exposure to the intense sun and flailing winds of his rugged home in Central Asia, yet his eyes had lost nothing of their vitality or shrewdness.
“What’s the catch?” she asked suspiciously.
“I have been watching your progress from afar, Lena. You have trained your Serk fighters well. They are fierce and loyal. You will no doubt wish to lead them in the fight to come. But their leader has not completed her training. Their Shi’ida is a skilled warrior but she is not yet a Master. Come with me and learn the final mysteries of The Way of the Blade. Become the person you were meant to be.”
Lena looked along the length of the sword. The metal contained no flaws, the edge showed no signs of having just come into violent contact with a Sahiradin blade.
She lifted her gaze to her former teacher and said regretfully, “There is no time, Master Liu. I’m joining the Earth Defense Force. And as for the Serks, they were never mine. They belong to the people of Isle Royal.” She paused for a few moments, considering the pros and cons of Master Liu’s offer. Then she said, “I’m honored, Master Liu, but the time for training is behind me.”
The old man’s eyes softened, revealing a mixture of understanding and disappointment. “Very well.”
Lena held out the sword for Master Liu to take, but he did not raise his hands to accept it.
“I will let you keep the sword if you can strike me with it.”
Lena narrowed her eyes. “This blade would cut you in two if I struck you.”
He merely smiled and extended a hand in challenge.
Still angry with Liu for destroying her weapon and confident in her ability to strike him, Lena nodded her head in agreement. She held the sword out and attempted to strike Liu’s left arm with the flat of the blade, but he leaned to the side and let it pass by. She attempted once more. Once again he evaded her. She quickly advanced, hoping to put her opponent on his heels, but he floated effortlessly backward, always remaining just barely out of her reach. She swung left and right, but each time he leaned, twirled, or glided away. Growing increasingly frustrated, Lena attempted to force him into a corner of the training room, but he ducked below her sword arm and slipped by her, driving his thumb between her ribs as he passed, triggering a severe muscle spasm that left her momentarily incapacitated.
She pressed her hand against her side to calm her twitching muscles and scowled at Liu, who now stood a few meters away with his hands at his sides.
Lena went on the offensive once again, but despite applying all her skills, she could never strike home. Her inability to touch Master Liu frustrated her. Her frustration grew to anger, her anger grew
to rage, and her rage closed her mind. She swung hard in a downward stroke, though this time not with the flat of her sword. Liu did not seek to dodge the onrushing blade’s edge. Instead, he shot his left hand forward and caught her wrist, then with his right, he turned her hand and pressed hard with his thumb, forcing her to loosen her grip.
The sword clattered to the floor.
Lena pulled her hands free from Liu and took a step back. Breathing heavily from her exertions, she placed her hands on her hips and looked at the sword lying on the floor at Liu’s feet. She wiped the sweat from her brow and looked up at her former trainer.
“This changes nothing, except now I don’t have a decent sword,” she said. “And I don’t have time for any more training, Master Liu. It could take years for me to become a Master, maybe a lifetime.”
“Maybe never,” said Master Liu. “The passage of time does not mark one’s progress. The two are unrelated. You have studied the Way of the Blade. You understand its techniques but you are still a stranger to its purpose. The eagle soars over mountain peaks and glories in its flight but has no comprehension of how or why it flies. In that way, it is no different from a stone or a tree; being without knowing. It simply is. Those learned in the Way can pierce the veil of the material world and glimpse the Void, the absence of ego, thought, and desire. They become an instrument of the cosmos and are thereby able to channel its power.”
“I don’t want to be one with the cosmos,” growled Lena. “I just want to kill Sahiradin warriors. I want to kill Kurak and Khadiem. I want to kill Harken.”
“Lena, my child. The forces arrayed against humanity are far too powerful and too numerous to defeat by killing them one by one. You will be a far more formidable threat to them if you come with me.”
“No, Master Liu. I cannot,” said Lena. “I have friends who are part of this fight, and they’ll soon be in harm’s way. Some already are. I can’t abandon them.”
Liu picked up his sword and looked at it for a moment.
“You feel as though you betrayed your father,” he said. “You think you failed him, and you don’t want to fail your friends. This is understandable, but it is also regrettable.”
He stepped closer to Lena.
“To master The Way one must abandon the pursuit of one’s desires and ambitions and walk the path of humility and acceptance. I know you, Lena. You have moments of transcendence, flashes of brilliance when you glimpse the Void and find the peace and balance necessary to channel its power. But you are mistaken in believing that you achieved that transcendent state through relentless focus and denial. Denial of pleasure and repose, denial of true fellowship, denial of love. The engine of your actions is a flawed and broken machine, Lena. It is not through denial that The Way becomes an open path toward your true purpose. It is opened through acceptance. Acceptance of everything as it unfolds around you like the opening of a flower’s petals to the morning light. Acceptance even of the fate of your father. It is your need to know the details of his imprisonment and death which has brought you to Liberty. You spend your days searching the archives of the prior regime’s secret police and your nights agonizing over past decisions for which you cannot forgive yourself.”
Lena was about to speak but Liu would not allow it. “Though ultimately liberating, walking the path of The Way can be terrifying in the beginning for it must be done unconditionally. The consequences, whatever they may be, must be accepted without rancor, fear, or judgment.”
Lena breathed in deeply and closed her eyes. When she opened them again, they were filled with tears. “It’s…it’s hard, Master Liu,” she stammered. “I want to be the person you describe, but to leave with you now would be asking others to exchange their lives for my enlightenment. I could never forgive myself if my friends die and I could have prevented it.”
Liu nodded his head. “As I said, understandable but regrettable.”
A few moments passed in silence as master and student looked into the eyes of the other, one calm is a forest pond, the other as troubled as a storm-driven sea. Then Liu raised the sword in his open palm and offered it to Lena.
“I see you are without a weapon. I offer you this one.”
Lena hesitated before gently lifting the sword from Liu’s hand.
“I thought you would only give it to me if I could strike you.”
Liu smiled. “I have had a change of heart, and the path you walk has many perils.” Looking at the weapon, he said, “Every sword of quality has a name which describes the spirit within. This one is called Vasaiya, Faith. May it serve you well.”
Lena searched for words befitting the significance of Liu’s generosity but found none.
“Thank you, Master,” she whispered.
Liu raised his right hand in front of his chest. He pointed his index and middle fingers upward and bowed his head. Lena reciprocated with a deeper bow. Then the Master of the Way walked passed her and disappeared into the shadows.
Chapter 11
Choose simplicity over complexity when guiding others. The greater the number of moving parts, the greater the chance for failure.
- Brevian Proverb.
“Ambassador Barka,” said Veiju Dhurlan. “Good of you to accept my offer of a private conversation.”
The leader of the Visk Syndicate was speaking to Chancellor Penawah’s leading advisor from his personal gunship as it raced toward a khâl that would send him to one of his syndicate’s many holdings where separate pieces of the Dhurlan war machine were being assembled. Disguised as innocuous industrial production facilities, hundreds of manufacturing plants throughout the Dhurlan commercial network had long been quietly making separate parts for ships, heavy guns, antiballistic shields, and many other tools of war. Stored as separate parts in warehouses across dozens of star systems, the components were now being retrieved and assembled at a blistering pace. Soon, the finished products would be sent to Iso Boht where Veiju’s loyal brother, Yeura, was busily creating thousands of Chacksu warriors identical to Korba 114.
“Veiju Dhurlan,” said Ambassador Barka. She folded her arms in front of her chest in the common Visk expression of sympathy. “Sincere condolences for the death of your brother, Cisca.”
A cynical chortle bubbled up from inside the syndicate leader’s chest. “Heh, heh, do not bother with your mimicry of our ways, Pendu Barka. There is no value in your false commiseration. It profits me not.”
Barka lowered her arms and cocked her head slightly sideways, though it was not a Visk habit she was displaying. It was actually one of the Humani gestures she had adopted to convey any one of many possible messages – confusion, coyness, astonishment, and so on. In this case, she used it to suggest a hint of intrigue. She smiled inwardly as Veiju fluttered his eyelids, a reflex common with that species reflecting confusion or frustration. Time to introduce new elements to the game.
“I find it strange that you should treat me so rudely given the fact that it was I who granted you this audience. Perhaps I will reconsider.”
More fluttering eyelids, but the Visk pressed on confidently.
“Hah! Choose your words wisely, Pendu Barka, ambassador of lies.” Veiju raised a long blue finger as if in thought then casually directed it toward the Brevian. “What is it the Grenn call you? Ah yes, ‘Thought Bender’. For a simple species incapable of building even the simplest of machines, they have no trouble seeing through you’re many disguises. They know, as do we all, that for the Brevians there are no firm principles, nothing solid to stand upon.”
The age-old accusation once again, thought Barka. It was all so predictable, so very tiresome. She would give the standard rebuttal and guide the Visk, now convinced of his superiority, to the purpose of the communication.
“We Brevians are adept at seeing all sides of a disagreement,” she said. “We are dispassionate in our assessments and offer rational advice to move all interested parties to the most desirable outcome. It is our greatest strength.”
“It is your
greatest folly!” snapped Veiju.
And now the conversation will turn to himself.
“Many heap abuse upon the Visk for our commercial rationalism, but it is a set of beliefs we can adhere to and use to organize our society. You Brevians lack beliefs. Your rationalism cripples you. It stunts your ability to engage in self-examination. That is why you have no principles and no culture to speak of.”
“I am finished bickering with you Veiju Dhurlan,” said Barka, her voice rising to indicate annoyance but betraying nothing of her true state of mind. “I had thought as the new leader of the Dhurlan Syndicate, you might have something of value to offer. I was mistaken. This audience is at an end.”
Barka leaned forward and was about to end the channel when Veiju began clicking his teeth with delight.
Ah, there it is, she thought. He’s really enjoying himself now. She froze and looked expectantly at the Visk. Now to pivot from indifferent to aggressive.
“You are obviously bursting with desire to inform me of something but first you wish to verbally abuse me,” she said. “But rather than wound me, you simply bore me. I have much to do. This is your last chance.”
“Oh, Pendu Barka, advisor to three chancellors, queen of spies, mistress of deceit, let me pour this potion of intrigue into your little Brevian ears. As you know, there is a rather large number of Sahiradin warships making their way toward Agurru. The enemy fleet arrived there through a khâl which Havoc deployed well outside the system after the debacle at Halduan. The hypergate then slowly made its way toward the star system until it was close enough for the Sahiradin to launch their attack.”
Barka was not surprised Veiju knew of the arrival of the Sahiradin fleet in the Lativian system. He was after all the leader of a powerful Visk syndicate. But she had to admit she was concerned with the speed at which the information had reached him and his detailed knowledge of how the Sahiradin had penetrated so deeply into Alliance-held space.
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