“He must have been a very wise and respected warrior to accomplish that,” Shayla replied. To her people, the strength of one’s character and arms meant everything.
"They say he was one of the most cunning warriors in the world and one of the best commanders of soldiers. And his loyalty to the people was unmatched. He was Tiberius's ancestor, Alexander Axton, may his name never be forgotten," Michael said with reverence.
Shayla turned to see Tiberius upon his horse. In her mind, she pictured him as his ancestor had been. "That was his sword then?" she asked.
"Aye. He carried this sword himself when he first established the Rangers. After the founding of our empire, it was said to have been reforged by the dwarves as a parting gift when they left the capital," he replied.
"There were actual dwarves in the capital?" she asked, surprised.
"So they say. They were freed from Narzeth along with the Magi, just as you and your sisters. And as thanks for their liberation, they built the Imperial City and taught our smiths all they knew."
"This Alexander Axton sounds like a well-respected man. It is no wonder you and your father are the men you are."
"Why do you say that?" Michael asked.
"In the year that I have known them, I have known them both to be strong in body, spirit, and mind. They have a heart for peace, but a mind for war. They have respect for all people of this world, but fiercely guard their countrymen and the lands of their dominion. Most men upon the earth seek to gain only power and wish to dominate all those they see as lesser. The gods have truly blessed my sisters with mercy to be here and not there."
Michael thought about this while Shayla continued asking Tiberius about the history of the empire. The Axton Emperors had indeed led their realm through years of building and war. It was true they met their enemies with unforgiving wrath, and their submitted foes with unconditional mercy. It was hard for Michael to imagine any other way to live. He felt blessed to have been born in this way of life and at this time than any other.
They traveled on through the woods for many hours before stopping for the night. They settled into a small clearing alongside a small stream they had been following for some time. Tiberius had said this stream flowed from the Forgotten Mountains, and it was the surest way to know their direction in such dense and dark forestry.
"We will hold our path along this stream for another ten days. Before long, it will lead to the base of the mountains," Tiberius said. "From there, we will skirt the mountain's foot until we reach the Ice Steps far in the White Kingdom's northwest."
"Are we in White now, sir?" Michael asked.
"Aye," Tiberius responded, dismounting his horse to begin preparing their camp. "How does it feel to be home again?"
Michael thought about how he felt for some time before saying, "The White Kingdom hasn't been my home for many years, sir. Though, if I'm honest, it is somewhat strange to be back here."
After a blazing fire was lit, Michael prepared something a little substantial for them to eat with their relatively fresh deer meat. But even with the fire burning bright, Michael found it hard to see almost anything outside the ring of light. The shadows in this forest seemed to him to be somehow deeper and appeared as if no light could penetrate their darkness. It was almost as if the night was fighting against the invasion of light in its midst.
I must just be more tired than I thought, he reasoned. At least there is a nice breeze to cool us.
After they ate, Michael settled into his bedroll silently and observed his companions. Shayla leaning on a tree, her black and grey spear nestled between her folded arms. Ever the shepherd, Tiberius, sat off to the side of their camp, his pipe in mouth, and sword in hand for cleaning. The man always seemed alert to what was going on around them. As if he were somehow a part of the world and yet present at all times.
"Do you ever sleep, sir?" Michael asked. It was true enough that Tiberius hadn't appeared to sleep the night before. Or when he had been on the road days ago with all the rangers.
Tiberius and Shayla both chuckled at the Mage's question. "I only sleep soundly when I'm in my bed," Tiberius said. "Years of war and battle and command have helped me learn how to sleep lightly and still be aware of all around me. I'd imagine Shayla is much the same way."
"Indeed," she responded. "We dragoons don't sleep unless we are safely tucked into our beds behind high walls."
"And as for seeing in this darkness, our gift of Sight penetrates almost any patch of darkness. Though to be fair, it does seem darker than most nights," Tiberius finished.
"It does indeed, doesn't it?" Shayla chimed in, moving to stand next to Tiberius. "Perhaps some storm is brewing off in the distance."
"I don't think so, Shayla. The air around us is still and calm, and the forest smells are still as they were when we arrived."
"The forest smells?" Michael asked from his small pallet on the ground.
"Aye, the forest smells. If you spend enough time in the wilderness as I have, you come to see the oncoming storms not just from the clouds and winds, but also from the change in smell around you. Those of us with a mind for it can smell the rain and snow coming before they arrive."
"I suppose I should start becoming more aware of these things if I'm to be out in the wild much longer."
Tiberius laughed at the boy's words. "Indeed, you should. Before long, you will be a ranger yourself! Now, sleep, my friend."
Michael nodded and stretched out in his pallet, staring at the fire in their camp. Beyond the burning embers, his companions again stood facing out into the woods. Continually searching for some unseen threat. Whatever tense feelings he had been feeling upon their departure from the capital were dissolved. He turned over and let the wind's sound through the branches slowly rock him to a deep peacefulness.
The sound of the rustling leaves grew louder and louder throughout the night. He tossed and turned and tried to pull more cover to his face expecting a cold wind to rip through at any moment.
But the wind never came.
And the sound of rustling leaves only grew louder and louder.
"Michael, get behind me!" Tiberius bellowed, jarring the Mage awake.
Michael shot up and stared around, bewildered. "What's happening?"
"No questions, behind me, now!" Tiberius yelled again, sword in hand.
Michael bolted up and sprinted behind Tiberius. Shayla was at his side in an instant, her dragon head helm over her face, spear at her side, and legs bent. They both stood silent in the forest, eyes drawn to some unseen force moving in the night. Michael finally regained his senses and heard the loud rustling.
He looked around, frantic and scared, while Tiberius's face had changed from the happiness and joviality he had seen hours earlier to blankness and determination. Then all at once, the noise ceased, and the forest became as quiet as a graveyard. No sound could be heard in any direction, save for Michael's own rapid panting, which turned into a high-pitched wail as dark figures burst through the tree line in front of them.
At least seven of them, dressed all in white armor with swords drawn, rushed faster than a bolt of lightning towards the two warriors. Tiberius was taken aback for a moment at the sight of them. Not for the armor they wore, nor for the sudden violent attack. It was their eyes, burning fire bright against the darkness around them. His mind raced back to that night in the Childers Kingdom. To thoughts of a worn-out beggar, and his fiery hollow eyes.
Oh, no, Tiberius thought, refocusing his mind.
Without speaking, Shayla sprang forward with such swiftness the dirt underneath her was kicked up in great heaps. With a swipe of her spear, all seven of the enchanted attackers were pushed onto their backs. Tiberius sprinted to the left of their flank and sliced through two of them on the ground before they could regain their composure. Shayla turned to the right side and swiped broad again, this time with the blade end of her spear. Two of the attackers were sliced clean open, their insides falling out of their armor as they dropped d
ead to the ground.
Two more of the attackers charged the Ranger and Dragoon. One tried to swing his sword down on Tiberius with as much force as his limbs could handle, but he was no match for the veteran ranger. Tiberius easily parried his violent swing, ducked to the other side of his assailant, and sliced upwards. The steel of his father's sword cut through the white armor like butter, sending a light spray of red-hot blood to the ground.
Shayla jumped in the air over the head of her approaching foe. The momentum of his thrust against her sent him tumbling down. She landed behind him, and with a mighty thrust of her spear, skewered the man in the back of his neck. She gave a violent twist of her spear, breaking the bones in the attacker's neck with a loud crack.
It was over in less than a minute, and they were finally left face to face with their last attacker. They stood side by side, poised to meet his assault. But it never came. In his bright white armor, the enchanted soldier stood rooted against the pair, a blank expression on his face. The fire in his eyes burned low, but all of a sudden, grew brighter and brighter. A blood-curdling scream rang out over the woods, forcing the companions to fall to their knees and cover their ears. In an instant, the man's body was turned to dust.
Tiberius and Shayla, the two warriors who had long ago witnessed the power of magic at Vermillion Pass, looked on in horror as the man's armor and broadsword fell heavy to the ground as the last of his body evaporated. The screaming rang out over the woods for a moment before abruptly ending without an echo.
Tiberius was on his feet first, his eyes scanning the darkness for signs of another attack. Shayla leapt from her crouched position fifty feet into a grand pine tree to do the same. Michael, who had finally stopped his screaming, stood and made his way to Tiberius. But the Ranger held out a hand for the Mage to stop, his eyes never leaving the darkened woods in front of them.
"I see no one else, Ranger," Shayla called from atop the trees.
"Neither do I. But stay on the lookout while I pack our camp. We need to leave this place now."
Tiberius sheathed his sword and turned towards the camp. He began to pack various items left about, snuffed their campfire out, and readied the horses all in silence. Michael stood watching him, scared and confused at what had just happened. He tried to conjure some measure of understanding, but nothing came to him. Though short-lived, the battle was more intense and frightening than anything the young Mage had ever experienced. It was, after all, the first battle he had ever seen.
It’s nothing like the books, Michael thought. The screams and smells and blood…
"Mage!” Tiberius barked, drawing Michael out of his daze. “Get your bedroll packed and your horse saddled. We leave at once!"
"But, sir, what was—"
"Questions later! Bedroll and saddle. Now!"
Michael was in motion at Tiberius's orders. His meager bed was rolled and stowed in a few short minutes, his saddle placed upon his brown and white horse, and they were off. Tiberius gave out a high-pitched whistle, and a mighty thud sounded from behind them. Shayla had joined her companions, who rode hard along the stream as fast as the beasts that carried them could go. They rode on through the rest of the deep black night in silence, the two warriors continually scanning their surroundings, and the Mage lost in confusion.
The landscapes began to slowly change as they rode on. The thick, green forest slowly melted away into more open fields. The air had dropped several degrees, sending thick steam from their mouths. Despite the drastic change in temperature, neither of the three moved to warm themselves. Their combined fear and anger over the abrupt attack compelled them on unbothered.
It well after dawn before Tiberius called a halt to their relentless ride. The horses were panting hard in the brisk morning air, foam beginning to form in their mouths from dehydration. Even after their stop, Tiberius did not move from his saddle. He looked in every direction, extending his Sight as far as he could.
Dark clouds seemed to hover over them, yet the familiar smell of rain could not be found in the air. His uneasiness grew more and more with each passing second. The strangeness of the weather around them gave him a moment of paus, deciding if they should continue on throughout the day. He looked beyond them, seeking for any sign of threat to their desperate flight.
In the distance, he could see birds and beasts out freely in the woods. No tracks save the ones their horses had left could be seen in any direction. He took it all in, and after a few contemplative moments, decided to put his worries aside. For now, anyway. They had endured a hard ride from the woods and needed some respite.
After a moment of surveilling the landscapes, Tiberius removed himself from his horse and began to guide it to the edge of the stream they had been following. Michael followed suit, unsure of what to say, if anything at all. Shayla again bounded high into the only large tree around some one hundred yards from where they had stopped. After the horses were watered, Tiberius guided them without reins to a small stone off the stream in a patch of thick grass and deadwood. Michael followed his companion, frustration growing in his mind.
Michael disembarked from his horse and looked around at the clearing where they now found themselves. Though it was a few hours after daybreak, it still seemed to him that the dusk of night had followed them on into the morning. He looked around as best he could in the haze but could not decide if a storm were approaching them or not. He had thought to maybe make a new fire to fight against the encroaching dark but did not want to risk giving themselves away.
His head was still swimming after all that had transpired when he dared to break the silence. "What were those things?"
The Ranger removed his sword and began wiping frozen blood from its blade. "Those things were men, Michael. Enchanted just as the beggar was when I fought the undead."
The memories of their fiery eyes flashed across the young Mage's mind. He had read about the power of enchanting someone. But having seen it in person now, a shiver went up his spine. "What do you think it means?"
Tiberius pondered his question for a moment before responding. "I think our journey from the city has been revealed, Michael. I think there is indeed an unseen foe conspiring against our journey north. And I think you should some sleep if you can. We cannot linger here long."
"Where will we go? We can't possibly turn back."
"No, we cannot and will not turn back," Tiberius responded, casing his sword. "I will think about what to do next while you sleep."
Michael wondered how he could sleep after what had just happened but knew there was no point in arguing with the leader of their small party. He didn't even bother unpacking his bedroll or searching for a pack for food. He slumped against a wide rock, closed his eyes, and quieted the voices in his head. He trusted his companions with all his heart and knew they would not lead them to danger if they could avoid it. In a few minutes, his mind at ease, the Mage fell fast asleep.
The Ranger let out another whistle, followed at once by the thud of Shayla landing nearby. She strolled to where the two had stopped, removing her dragon-shaped helm to breathe in the fresh air.
"Nothing is following us," she reported. "But the clouds give me some pause."
"Me too, Shayla. But the boy and the beasts need some rest."
"Aye, that they do. I cannot imagine the shock the young one must have felt."
"How about the shock you and I must have felt?" Tiberius asked, looking deep into her deep brown eyes. "What would the commander of the dragoons take last night's folly to mean?" He had already drawn his conclusions but was curious to see what this stranger to their empire would have to say on the matter.
"I would say that we have an enemy on our heels. But not a normal enemy. From what you told me about your encounter with the undead Narzeth, and from what we saw last night, I would say our enemy is a magician of some kind."
Tiberius winced at the word "magician" but knew the dragon knight meant no offense. In the Axton Empire, a magician was a child's entertainer,
not a wielder of real magic. He decided to let it go, reminding himself to educate her some other time. For the moment, he concluded that she spoke true. A person who could wield magic was resisting their attempts to reach the outpost. The most troubling thought though, and one he did not share with Shayla, was that their unseen enemy could wield magic at all.
"Did Michael say anything about the men who attacked us?" Shayla asked, settling in next to Tiberius.
"You mean about their armor?"
Shayla nodded. "Is he not from this White Kingdom?"
"Aye, he is, Shayla. But, no. He didn't say anything about the men. Either he didn't notice, or he doesn't have the words in him yet to talk about it. And I will not be the one to talk about things unless he brings them up."
"Why is that?" the Dragoon asked, stretching out on the ground next to him.
"He is trying to find his way in the world. Best he comes to things in his own time untainted by our cynicism."
Shayla nodded in understanding. She closed her eyes and began slowly humming a strange and beautiful tune Tiberius vaguely recognized. It comforted him to hear her voice in such turbulent times. He lit his pipe and settled against the weather-worn stone, lost in his own thoughts. He needed a new approach to getting through the White Kingdom, and he needed the answer before Michael woke from his sleep. But the intensity of the past few days began to weigh on the veteran Ranger.
The clouds above began to grow darker, blotting out the morning sun. He felt his eyes becoming heavy, something he had not experienced in many years. He rested his head against the stone, a feeling of drowsiness overcoming him. All the worry and stress of the past few hours melted off of him. Peace and tranquility washed over him, and for the first time in days, he closed his eyes and fell fast asleep.
The Spirit of The Warrior: The Axton Empire book 1 Page 12