The Spirit of The Warrior: The Axton Empire book 1

by Ryan Copeland

  An hour or so later, the Rangers were tucked in for their evening meals, quiet conversations, and shared drink and smoke. The stars shone brightly down on them, and the moon illuminated everything around them. Despite the hazy moonlight that lit up the open pasture they were camped in, Michael still stumbled here and there. In all his young life, he had rarely been outdoors past dusk, and if he had there had always been a fire to light his path. But despite his own small confusion, he couldn’t help but notice that the rangers walked around freely as if the darkness didn’t matter.

  In frustration, he asked, “How can you men see in the darkness?”

  “What darkness?” Timothy replied from a nearby fire. “The moon above has lit up the world as if it were the sun.”

  “Even still, how is it I continue to stumble around like a baby, and you lot walk unhindered?” he asked, joining Timothy and Zachary by their fire.

  “We are given the gift of Sight when we become rangers,” answered Timothy digging into his mutton and mead.

  When Michael didn’t reply, he continued, “It lets us see in the dead of night as if it was mid-day, focus intently on the smallest detail, and see over greater distances for a short time.”

  “I’ve never heard of this before,” Michael admitted. In all his studies of magic and lore, he never came across anything described as the gift of Sight.

  Zachary chuckled, and after taking a sip of his mead said, “Very few people in all the history of our realm know about it. All I know is after you complete your training to be a ranger, you receive the blessing of Sight. And the blessing that has yet to leave any Ranger actively serving, retired, or dead who has received it.”

  “I beg your pardon, Master Rangers, but I don’t quite fully understand this Sight you speak of,” Michael continued, hoping to learn about this new form of magic. “Where does it come from? Who bestows it upon you? How exactly do you receive it?”

  “Come now, my young friend,” Timothy cut in. “There are some things we do not speak of to outsiders to our ranks, friends, or otherwise. So please, do not ask how we receive it and from whom. As to where it comes from, I can honestly say none of us know.”

  “None of you know?”

  “Aye, lad. None of us know. I’d reckon not even the High Sorcerer himself has any idea where our power comes from,” Timothy said, placing a large piece of tobacco into his cheek.

  Michael stared unblinking at the two Rangers. In all his years reading and studying magic, he had never heard of such a power or a ‘blessing’ as a form of magic. And if the High Sorcerer himself didn’t know, then this truly is a power beyond his understanding. Very few things concerning magic were unknown to the highest ranks of magical users in the empire. The very possibility that something remained unknown to even them was very troubling indeed. He had long held those of the upper echelons of his order in such high regard. He had often marveled at the levels of knowledge and power they possessed. Now, he was not as sure.

  He bid his new friends goodnight and decided to walk around their camp a bit to clear his head. He found it curious that the rangers slept in bedrolls instead of tents. When he had ventured out with his fellow Magi, each mage had their own tent and small fire within. He had to share a relatively small tent with a fellow apprentice, and the space inside it was barely large enough for one of them. But the rangers were a different breed of man altogether. They preferred being out under the stars and moonlight. After a few contemplative moments, he finally reasoned that it would be easier to rise and fight from a bedroll instead of running out of a tent.

  As he neared the edge of the camp, he could begin to make out the vague figure of Tiberius sitting alone on a small boulder looking out into the empty prairie. “Good evening, sir,” he said not wanting to startle the commander.

  “Good evening, young Mage,” he responded, not looking away from the open field.

  “What do you see out there?” Michael asked, taking a seat on the ground next to Tiberius.

  “I see Timothy and Zachary doing some extra duty for talking out of turn about our gift,” Tiberius responded.

  A wave of guilt crashed in on Michael. “Did you hear them say that to me? They didn’t mean anything by it, I’m sure.”

  “Our gift extends beyond simply seeing the physical world. It lets us see the unseen, and those of us who’ve possessed it longer are more sensitive to its true power,” Tiberius responded.

  “If you please, what is its true power?”

  “The Sight lets us discern everything about a person,” Tiberius said. “Their soul, their heart, their mind. All of these things are laid bare to us who have the mind to see them. And Timothy and Zachary, brave warriors that they are, have not possessed this blessing as long as I have to truly wield it.”

  “Please sir,” Michael pleaded, “don’t punish them for their minor transgression. I thought there were no secrets between rangers and their companions.”

  Tiberius remained impassive and continued to stare out into the night. “We have no secrets between us. But the secrets that bind us together are ones not shared by any except the Commander of the Order.” He turned and smiled at Michael. “And I see nothing out there. But nevertheless, I keep watch. It’s my duty to watch over my men.”

  He beckoned Michael to sit with him. “You’ve never been around men-of-arms before, have you?” he asked Michael.

  The mage shook his head. The closest he had come to seeing soldiers were the knights of his home kingdom riding in the field one summer day as he worked his family’s fields.

  “Soldiers who’ve spent any good amount of time together tend to form a bond that is indescribable to those who’ve never experienced it. Going into battle together makes us closer to one another than our families. And each of these men and women served in the Great War,” Tiberius said as he began smoking his well-worn pipe.

  Michael thought all this over. Timothy and Zachary had spoken out of turn to tell him about the Sight he decided, but he was glad they did. Learning about new magic was his passion, and this new insight was a small indulgence. Still, the mystery of how the Magi did not know about this power hung heavy on his mind.

  After a few minutes of silence, Tiberius turned his full attention to Michael and said, “Seeing as we will be in the capital tomorrow, I guess it’s time to let you in on what is going on.”

  He extinguished his pipe and started his tale of their ranging north. How they discovered the Narzeth graves and gave chase to their foes. How they finally found and fought the undead soldiers, and especially of the enchanted beggar turning to dust in front of him. Michael never interrupted his story. He took it all in and focused intently on the details of the beggar and the power that raised fifty dead soldiers from over five hundred years ago. Tiberius spared no detail in his recount, reasoning that when discussing magic with a Mage, no matter how inexperienced, any insight would prove useful.

  When Tiberius finished his story, Michael asked, “That is a fascinating tale, sir. But I do have a few immediate questions. How could an enchanted beggar journey to an unmarked burial site that happened to be so close to where we were camping? And, how could this enchanted beggar seemingly concoct a potion that resurrects the dead, and ultimately lead them to where we were sleeping?”

  The question lingered for a moment before Tiberius said, “I was hoping you could help me with some of that. To my knowledge, no potion in the world could mimic the power of necromancy.”

  Michael shook his head. “There isn’t. They can recreate ice and fire and healing, but necromancy takes a special kind of dark magic. Furthermore, an enchantment strong enough to compel a man to walk from the Imperial City to the northern part of Childers is remarkable itself. And enchanting doesn’t confer knowledge and direction on a person. It just compels them towards physical action.”

  “All I know is what I saw, my friend,” Tiberius offered.

  “I do not doubt the truth of your words,” Michael replied. “But what of him turn
ing to dust? Magic like that hasn’t been seen since the end of the war. And before that, who knows.”

  Tiberius was all too familiar with that. The memory of Vermillion Pass and the ending of the war would be a sight he would never forget. How the cries and screams of war were swiftly silenced. As all their enemies were turned to dust in front of their eyes. The very mention of it sent a chill up his spine. It would be something he would carry in his memory for the rest of his days. But as to why the enchanted beggar was turned to dust, he had a guess.

  “He had fulfilled his intended purpose. Turning to dust was a way for the true villain to conceal himself,” Tiberius said.

  “And then there is the greatest mystery in this whole affair,” Michael said with his head swimming. “How could a wizard have done any of this with magic disappearing or being unreachable or whatever is happening? The willpower and focus alone would kill him the way things are.”

  Tiberius swallowed hard and whispered, “Perhaps more so now than ever. I was there that day at Vermillion Pass, and the effort used in turning our enemies to dust killed Cycret.”

  Michael sat there for a moment, pondering what to say next, but the thoughts escaped him. He appreciated Tiberius’s confidence and trust, but the story left him feeling confused and angry. Confused at how any of this could happen, and mad that this evil had befallen him and his fellow Magi.

  “Best get some sleep. We leave at first light. We should reach the capital by late noon tomorrow. We’ll have to deliver all this information to people who may or may not believe us,” Tiberius said, standing and stretching.

  Michael followed suit his legs were shaking with the new anticipation. “Do you think the emperor will believe us?” he asked.

  “Our emperor was a ranger once, and still possesses the Sight. He will believe us, as will the High Sorcerer. Trust me,” Tiberius responded.

  He began to remove some rations from his cloak when he noticed the Mage frozen in place as if struck into stone. “Go get some sleep. You’ll need it.”

  Michael bowed and left Tiberius to continue his vigil uninterrupted and headed back to the rangers’ encampment, who were all sound asleep but still ready to attack if need be. The safest place in the world is right here, he thought. But somehow, I don’t think all these men together could protect me from tomorrow.

  Chapter 6

  The City

  They were on the road just before sunrise, determined to arrive in the capital before noon. Tiberius and Michael again rode at the group's head flanked by Trevin and the inseparable Timothy and Zachary. The pair of Rangers, always eager to learn about magic, asked the Mage question after question all morning. As youths, each had hoped to become an Imperial Battle-Mage despite neither having much aptitude for studying nor understanding things beyond the physical world.

  Timothy and Zachary each came from separate kingdoms on opposite sides of the empire. Despite their boyhood love of wizards and mages and elves and dwarves and dragon's tales, they remained wild boys who grew into wild men. They lived out their daydreams with their friends in their home's fields and woods, never seeking their studies. It was no surprise to either of their families when they joined the Imperial army. After their acceptance to the Imperial Rangers, both families felt such great pride that all thoughts of neglected studies and education were never spoken of again.

  They were held in utter awe listening to Michael recount the first time he summoned fire from nothing into his hand. Or the first time he ever saw a wizard talk to a wild animal and have it heed his command. Though Michael had only summoned a few embers and the wizard never spoke actual words to the beast, but just conveyed feeling and emotion, the two Rangers felt like children again listening to stories at the campfire.

  Michael, meanwhile, welcomed the distraction from what felt like an impending journey to the gallows. He was chilled to the core at the idea of facing the High Sorcerer and the emperor himself. Having to explain all that had happened and his conduct throughout was daunting to the young mage, but he trusted Tiberius. The Commander of the Rangers’ support would bring the respect and seriousness that his youth could not. Despite all that, he still remained pessimistic, as was his inherent nature.

  The countryside rolled on. The lush greenery and forests gave way to open crop fields and vast fruit orchards. The architecture even changed from the stone and wood structures of the north to large concrete buildings filled with merchants and dwellings of assorted people in the empire. A few larger buildings dotted the horizon with great smokestacks emitting vast clouds of steam and smoke. Though he had not seen any of this during his venture north, his reason and logic told him they were close to the Imperial Bridge. And the closer they approached the bridge, and the capital beyond meant he was now within striking distance of his fate.

  "Seven years a ranger," Zachary said in between bites of an apple, "and I'm still in awe of all this industry." He was a child of the Huffman Kingdom in the southeast part of the empire and had only dreamed of seeing the Imperial City. "My dad was a hunter, so my life was spent in the woods and streams. Never in a city."

  "My dad was a knight, so my childhood was spent serving as a squire to him and learning how to be a fighter," Timothy added. "But we did not have anything close to all this back home."

  Timothy's home away in the southeast corner of the empire was populated by vast rolling hills and mountains that seemed to stab the sky. The dense forests and running streams are what he knew, not the urban industrialization he saw around him. Seven years of ranging had opened his eyes to all there was to experience in the world. For that opportunity alone, he was forever grateful.

  "How about you, Master Mage? Where do you come from?" Zachary asked, putting a pinch of wet tobacco in his mouth. "Surely a brother of the Magi must come from more than just the humble plains and mountains?”

  Michael thought for a moment on how best to answer. No one had ever asked him where he came from. Not a single person he studied with at the Citadel, nor any of the mages and wizards he had ever served under. No one.

  "I'm from the Kingdom of White," he said, feeling somewhat uncomfortable. Timothy let out a raucous laugh.

  "HA! Then I suppose I should draw my sword on you! I'm from the Black Kingdom." The kingdoms of white and black were long to have held a rivalry based solely on the colored names they each carried and nothing to do with their monarch's quality. Though all people in the empire were very much aware of King White's sternness.

  Michael stared at the Ranger wide-eyed, unsure if he was playing a joke at his expense or genuinely meant to draw his sword in anger. But upon seeing the Mage's broad expression, he offered a quick pat on his shoulders. "I'm just joking with you, Mr. Deerborn. There are no petty kingdom rivalries in the Imperial military. All allegiances to our birth homes are broken once you become a true citizen of the empire."

  "Forgive my timidity, sir."

  "Think nothing of it. Whereabouts in the White Kingdom are you from?"

  "My family has lived in White Fyre for as long as we could remember."

  "Good fishing down in White Fyre. Lots of sea wenches too, if I remember correctly," Timothy added, fond memories of his time in the Imperial navy flashing in his mind.

  "I wouldn't know anything about that, Master Ranger. All of my time was concerned with tending the farm and fisheries with my father and brothers," Michael admitted.

  They rode on with Timothy and Zachary trading stories of past conquests and recommending all the best brothels in the city to Michael for his, "research" as they put it. But Michael still felt somewhat out of place in this manner of behavior. His young mind had never entertained thoughts of women, and the pleasures that he had heard were found in their company. His passion was books and study, magic, and the mysteries it held. Still, Michael hoped to one day see and experience all the wonders that other men had already known.

  Before long, the party had arrived at the shores of Kings Lake and had begun crossing one of the ten-mile lon
g bridges that connected the surrounding mainland to the Imperial City. The first Emperor Alexander Axton had decreed that all kingdoms of the Axton Empire would have a road and bridge built that connected their lands to the Imperial City. Those roads were guarded night and day by the Imperial army. That was their only jurisdiction outside of the Imperial City.

  The bridge was stone and concrete flecked with pebbles of all shapes and colors. The city itself had no gates or any visible tower to provide protection. The Axton Emperors believed that gates were a way to keep people out. Instead, they chose to welcome all citizens of their empire to their city without impeding their travel. The bridge's sides were adorned with the black, grey, and white flags of the Axtons. All manners of merchants, beggars, and holy men lined the edges of the bridge flaunting whatever they had for a few spare coins

  The sun was nearly overhead, and no cloud blocked the sky as they started on the final leg of their journey. Children from the city were already congregating at little boat launches to go swimming in the clear blue lake as was the custom to do all year long. The sounds of music and merriment reverberated from the city, bringing the grim Rangers much needed levity. To Michael, however, it might as well have been a funeral march.

  In the distance, they could see the great Unity Spire, the home of the Axton Emperors. Nearly two thousand feet tall and made of black steel and glass, the tower had taken the Dwarves and Magi many years to finish and was deemed the greatest wonder in the empire. It was the first and last thing any traveler coming to the city would ever see. Its thick construction and sheer majesty ensured that it and would continue to stand until the end of all things. Seeing the city and the Unity Tower roused in the Rangers the fire of patriotism and duty to their emperor and their undying pledge of protection of all the citizens of their country. Tiberius, however, was feeling very troubled to be back in the city again.