The Spirit of The Warrior: The Axton Empire book 1

by Ryan Copeland

  "And what of the outpost?" Tiberius pressed.

  "The legends say that they were escorted by Matthew Axton, then the commander of the rangers. Upon his return, he passed word that the dwarves had intended to build a new home for themselves beyond the mountains. And if the stories of their heartiness and skill are to be believed, then they surely succeeded."

  "And you think they would have left some information there concerning magic?"

  Damian nodded in agreement. "Aye. I do believe they would have, Ti. And for that reason, and that reason alone, I felt the risk of sending the Magi there was worth it."

  "As do I, my friend," the emperor cut in, ceasing his incessant pacing and turning to face his son. "But this time, the Magi will not go. You, my son, will take up the venture north starting tomorrow."

  Michael looked at the men, confused. Tiberius remained impassive, trying to hide his emotions from his father's Sight. His mind began to race, mentally checking what would need to happen to marshal his forces. He would have to reassemble his rangers first, and that would delay their journey back north.

  "You will not be taking your rangers, Ti," as if reading his son's mind. "A group that size will draw undue attention. Suppose people are actively trying to oppose our reaching that outpost. In that case, we'll have to rely on stealth to achieve our goals," the emperor finished. He knew his son's mind well enough; he needn't use his Sight on him. Tiberius's first thought would be of his rangers and how best to use them.

  "I am their commander, my place is with them," he said, anger and confusion flaring in his voice.

  "You have many capable leaders in your ranks. They can lead in your stead," the emperor responded, more authoritative than Michael had heard him speak to his son. "This mission to find the outpost is our chief concern, and I need my best warrior to lead it. And Damian, I respectfully request young Michael here to continue this journey with my son. He's proven quite capable for someone so young, and I feel that he has more of a part to play in what is to come."

  Damian nodded his approval. "You're the emperor, Sire. You can command whoever you want to do whatever bidding you require. But yes, I think we can spare young Michael. After all, he's been through, I feel that he's owed some answers. Besides, the further away from King White the better for us all."

  "Then it's settled. Michael, spend tonight in the Citadel. Collect whatever you need and report to the docks outside the mansion tomorrow morning."

  Damian downed his remaining ale, offered a low bow, and motioned for Michael to follow him out of the chamber. Michael stared at Tiberius for guidance. This was the first time they would be separated since that morning in the inn. But Tiberius nodded his approval for him to depart. Michael needed to sleep in the comfort of his own room and to prepare for the return journey to the north. Slowly, Michael stood and rendered his own bow before departing with the Sorcerer.

  "You had better sleep too, son. We have much to discuss tomorrow before your departure," the emperor said, rubbing sleep from his eyes. The long days were taking their toll on him, but he was resolved in his decision. "And I still have to deal with these bickering fools tonight, gods bless me."

  "You don't have to deal with any of them if you so wish. Like Damian said, you're the emperor."

  "If only it were that easy," his father replied melancholic. "But you know our ways. The ways of Alexander Axton."

  "All too well," he said with a smile. "I learned from the best teacher in the empire, after all."

  "Flattery and laughter were always your way of hiding your true thoughts. What troubles you?"

  "Father, I know you are burdened with all of these matters, and I know your decision to send me without my rangers with me is the right move. I just worry. With all that is going on, my men will need me if something happens while I'm away," Tiberius said, standing. "Magic disappearing doesn't just mean Michael and the rest of the Magi cannot summon fire to their hands or conjure rain during a drought. It's at the very core of our nation's defense. If our enemies were to learn of this, things could get terrible very quickly."

  "Let me handle the burden of keeping our country safe. The weight of these issues is the curse of being the Emperor, Ti. One day, you will be the ruler of this country, and the responsibility of leadership will fall to you. I pray to the gods of all the kingdoms that you make a far better ruler than I."

  "I never wanted to be emperor, you know this," Tiberius replied.

  "I know, son. Truth be told, neither did I. Neither did your grandfather or your great grandfather for that matter. But that is not a decision we can unmake. We carry our duties as rangers to protect the people of the empire. That duty extends to being emperor as well."

  Tiberius approached his father, placed a hand on his shoulder, and said, "I wish we had more time. There never seems to be enough time."

  But instead of more debating or arguing, the emperor grabbed his son and hugged him. The years of war and death melted off them both. The horrors and sights they had both witnessed in their long lives vanished, and, in the end, it was just a father hugging his son.

  After a minute of silence, the emperor broke their embrace and said, "I love you, Ti. I love you more than all the gold and power in the entire world. You are my greatest treasure, and when I'm dead and buried, I want you to only remember me as a good father."

  For the first time in a year, Tiberius cried at his father's words and hugged him tighter. He knew tomorrow would be another farewell and a journey into the unknown dangers. But tonight, he was just a scared little boy who wanted to feel his father's embrace one more time. Outside, the music and cheering flew higher into the sky. Fireworks in the distance exploded in streaking stars of many colors. The world around them spun on, while atop the Unity Spire, all time seemed to stop for their loving embrace.

  Chapter 9

  The Last Night

  Michael sat at a simple wooden table within his chambers inside the Citadel for hours. His mind raced, reflecting on all that had transpired in such a short amount of time. In the span of a few days, he had encountered undead soldiers, been stabbed, healed himself, journeyed to meet the emperor who turned out to be his companion’s father, and was now tasked with journeying back north. And, he would be traveling with the legendary ranger, and heir to the Axton Empire, Tiberius!

  He looked around his room, trying to decide what would be best to take on his journey. The whole room was made of grey stone with a simple wooden framed bed, bookcase, trunk, and desk. It was plainer than any other bedroom he had slept in but at the same time contained more knowledge and wonderment than there was in a lifetime. In this room, he had first read about the practice of magic instead of just hearing the tales. It was here he first brewed potions. It was here he had first conjured a flame to his hands, months ahead of his peers. It was here that he had finally felt at home.

  But looking around the room now, he felt like a child again. A child who had returned to their boyhood bedroom after years away from home. There were many fond memories and lessons learned here. But they were just that, memories. His life had been irrevocably changed in such a short amount of time, and a growing voice in his head assured him that more was in store for him yet.

  He paced his stone room, looking over his things, trying and failing to decide what to take with him on his journey. He had outgrown his old robes and cloaks. He had virtually memorized all of his books. He had no weapon to take.

  Should I buy a weapon? He thought. With what money? My parents wouldn’t send me any money. They wouldn’t even believe me if I told them I needed one in the first place. Besides, what would the Magi think of me taking a weapon!?

  Exasperated from all this thinking in circles, he collapsed on his bed, defeated and tired. He felt altogether unprepared for his trip when a sudden knock came to his door. But when he answered the door, he was greeted by a smiling and somewhat inebriated High Sorcerer. He stumbled into his meager room, accompanied, to Michael’s surprise, by one of the dragon kn
ights he had seen earlier.

  The knight was clad in deep green and grey armor adorned with reptilian scales, and a dragon-shaped helm pulled down over their face. Michael stared wide-eyed at the dragoon, who seemed to tower over him. They bore a mighty black and grey spear with intricate designs laid into its thick wooden shaft in their right hand. The grip of the spear appeared to be wrapped in some kind of red cloth.

  No, not red, Michael realized. It’s blood. Stained and caked blood.

  “Evening, Michael,” Damian said with a hiccup, “Don’t mind my companion here. The emperor has been having some of the dragoons shadow us as bodyguards. Glad to see you’re packed.” In truth, no bags were packed, and the room looked quite tidy.

  “Seeing as you’ll be off tomorrow morning and seeing as your journey with Ti is going to be somewhat of a secret, I thought I’d come visit you tonight to convey some parting advice.”

  As they entered his room, Michael stared at them dumbfounded before extending his hand to the dragoon and offering his introductions, “Michael Deerborn of the Magi. It’s a pleasure to meet one of the dragon knights of Narzeth.” But instead, the dragoon stared at him from behind their helm. Michael felt a bit embarrassed, afraid he might have said something to offend the dragoon.

  “Don’t take it personally, Michael. The dragoons do not take kindly to mention of their former captors,” he said with a hearty laugh. “Besides, it’s not their custom to shake hands with strangers. Only with their trusted companions and friends. But enough of that, more to the point of me calling on you during your packing.”

  Michael stared at the sorcerer, unsure of what advice was about to be laid on him. “Oh, yes, sir. Please, sir. Anything you can give me will be of great value.”

  The sorcerer sat down on the bed and removed a small flask from deep inside his robes while the dragon knight leaned against the nearby wall, spear in hand. “Well, I don’t think I have to tell you the seriousness of this mission. Magic is not only at the center of our order, but it is a part of the very fabric of our society and our countries defense.”

  He took a deep swig of his flask and continued, “It’s helped our country thrive during times of great strife whether in battle or in times of drought and famine. Since the birth of the empire, it has been our chief source of strength and salvation. All that to say, it is paramount that we discover what has happened to our ability to harness it. As I told you in the council room, this expedition to the dwarven outpost may yield nothing of value. But even the slightest chance that it could help us regain the use of magic is worth the trip alone.”

  “I just wish I had the wits and strength to better represent the order in this undertaking,” Michael replied. “I’m not a warrior like Master Tiberius or the dragoon here. Even as an apprentice, I’m barely versed in the usage of magic. But I promise at the very least, I will not bring shame or dishonor to the Magi.”

  Damian nodded in approval and stood to put his flask away. “I know you will do us proud. There is no ill will or malice in your heart. But as I said, I came to give you advice, so here it is.”

  His smile melted away in an instant, and his voice grew grim. In an instant, the jovial High Sorcerer was gone, and in his place was the famed Imperial Battle-Mage he had been in his youth. “Pay attention to everything you see and hear while on the road. Listen to Tiberius in his commands. He may be a ranger, but he is well versed in not just magic but in all manners of lore and history. A finer companion you will never have in this world. Carry an open mind in your investigations. The things you’ve read and learned here are the starting point of your journey, and new knowledge is always being discovered. You’ve read the writings of scholarly men, now’s your chance to add to those writings with what you learn.”

  Michael blushed at the praise his master bestowed on him, especially in front of the warrior who accompanied his master. It was one thing to show humility and embarrassment in front of his Magi brothers, but another to show it in front of warriors who could leap a hundred feet into the air. But at any rate, all apprehensions he had before his guest’s arrival were now forgotten. A renewed sense of purpose and excitement overtook him, and he bowed low before his master.

  “You do me a great honor with your words and trust, sir.”

  The sorcerer motioned for his bodyguard to get the door and began to exit the room when he quickly turned back to face the Mage. “Oh, I almost forgot. It’s dangerous out in the world, take this,” and from deep within his flowing robes, he produced the last thing Michael had ever thought he’d see in his own chambers. An ebony and ivory wand.

  Michael stared at the wand, dumbstruck! A wand! A real-life magical wand right here in his stone bedroom. He stammered, trying to summon the best words to use. “But sir, I’m just an apprentice. I haven’t earned this yet.”

  “Nonsense, boy! You faced fifty reanimated heathen soldiers and lived to tell about it. You healed yourself unaided and with great effort, and journeyed home to tell about it. You have more than earned this.”

  “But, isn’t it customary for one to make their own wand once they become a full mage?”

  “Yes, but we haven’t made new wands in over a year. So, I had to search all over Cycret’s chambers to find one.”

  “But…but,” Michael started. But he was cut off before any more words of protest could escape him.

  “But nothing! Apprentices have done far less to earn a wand and the right to be elevated to the rank of mage. Take it. And with it, I formally elevate you to Brother Mage. May the Father and Mother of Creation guide you and protect you in this life and in the next.”

  Slowly Michael reached out and gripped the wand. It was heavier than he imagined. The shaft was made of a wood Michael had never seen before and colored in midnight black. The grip was made of steel and stone woven together, with a curious symbol engraved on the bottom. Fresh tears began to form in his eyes.

  Damian placed his rough hand on Michael’s shoulder and said almost in a whisper, said, “Remember, wands are tools. Tools for greater understanding and tools for aid. When magic returns properly to our world, I hope you and this wand will accomplish great things in the coming years.” The High Sorcerer bowed low to the new Mage and closed the door behind him.

  Michael stared at the wand in utter awe, mesmerized by its beauty and craftsmanship. A broad smile broke his face.

  “Oh, and before I forget,” Damian announced, bursting through the door again. “My bodyguard will be accompanying you two on your journey.”

  Michael’s mouth fell open like a weight hitting the floor. “The dragoon? With us?” he stammered to the sorcerer’s hearty laughter.

  “Yes, the dragoon. But don’t worry, she and Tiberius are well acquainted and should get along splendidly.”

  “She?” Michael squeaked, his eyes threatening to burst from his head.

  As if right on cue, the dragoon removed their helmet, and a woman with long flowing black hair, deep olive tanned skin over sharp bone structure, and deep black eyes stood before him. He felt dumbstruck to see such a beautiful woman clad in armor standing before him.

  Damian burst into wild, raucous laughter at Michael’s expression. “Yes, she. This is Shayla Rider, First Knight of the Imperial Dragon Knights, and she will be your companion along with Tiberius.”

  Michael examined the knight again. It was true she was a beautiful, striking woman, but in her eyes, he saw a quiet fury. Above her brow, a few cuts that were probably at one point deep and life-threatening, and a small burn on her right ear. She had seen a fight or two in her day, he knew. But none of those imperfections detracted in the slightest from her beauty.

  “Well, I best be off. Do try and pack light, my boy,” he said, bowing low and leaving Michael at last.

  Michael stared at the closed door for a while, thinking over his newest companion, the beautiful and dangerous Shayla Rider, First Knight of the Dragon Knights. Whatever that meant, he wondered. Perhaps she is like Tiberius, and is the lead
er or commander or whatever of the dragoons? But how wise is it to trust a Narzethian on this trip? But in all this questioning, he suddenly became acutely aware of the weighted object he held in his hand, his very own magic wand.

  Michael stared at the black and white wand for a long time. Never in his life would he have ever imagined that he, the son of a poor fisherman from White Fyre, would ever receive the title of Mage. Let alone with his own beautiful wand. He pondered Damian’s words that he had searched through his predecessor’s chambers to find a wand to present him. Why Cycret would hide such a beautiful wand in his bed chambers was curious indeed. But Cycret had always been a little eccentric, even amongst the Magi.

  ***

  Tiberius strolled the bustling city night, taking in all the wonders it had to offer. He and his father talked for a while until he was summoned to continue his council with the ten. Not wanting to impose any more on his father’s duties, Tiberius snuck down the stairs behind the vast lift they had first arrived in. Not knowing what to do with himself until morning, he decided he would see the city and take it all in before his journey north with Michael.

  Now that he was out and among the people, he was desperate to hold on to this night for as long as possible. All the activities and music he had seen during his march to the spire continued despite the sun’s disappearance a few hours before. The war’s ending had transformed the whole empire from being on pins and needles with stress and anxiety into a complete state of harmony and prosperity.

  He stopped and leaned against a large lamp post as performers from the Black Kingdom began a traditional dance from their homeland. The small square they had assembled was surrounded by tall, wooden and steel inns and pubs. People were bursting out of the windows overhead to get a better view of the show below them. He looked between the dancers and the people around him, all dressed in different clothes reflecting the kingdoms they hailed from. This is what it’s all about, isn’t it, he thought as he watched the performers. The people of our empire. All from different kingdoms and from different cultures brought together by his family five centuries before. He smiled to himself, despite his own reservations at leaving his rangers.