“But magic is…”
“Enough!” the Shaman boomed. “You see magic as a child. The King’s Son and Dragoon know magic as men and women. They know magic for what it truly is. More than that, they can see magic as it fits into the wider world. The woman, Shayla, is imbued with the power of Kazduhl! She has walked, unburnt, through pools of fire and death! She has conquered her fate and has charted one for herself. And the King’s Son?”
The dwarf held his hands high into the sky and proclaimed, “He is the son of Alexander Axton, may his name never be forgotten! He is the son of the man who freed us from bondage, and he is The Spirit of The Warrior come again!” he lowered his arms, stared hard into Michael’s midnight black eyes.
“Do not disregard them because their way is the way of war. You three are bound together by the will of the gods and spirits in the World Beyond. Heed their counsel!”
Once he finished, the dwarf shot past Michael with a renewed pace. Michael stared, dumbfounded and hurt at the dwarf’s words, before conceding he was indeed right. Perhaps I am too young and eager to see the world for what it truly is, he thought to himself. Maybe it’s time I start growing up.
Michael walked on in silence, contemplating the dwarf’s words and insights into his own mind. He felt ashamed to have used the emperor as a mask for his desire and even greater shame for disregarding his companions. Try as he might rationalize his attitude, he had to admit the dwarf was right. Their fates were intertwined now, and whatever path was to be followed would be followed by all three of them. His eagerness had often flown him from one thing to the next without ever staying put and fully absorbing and doing.
A few minutes later, he emerged from the woods on the edge of the village. Just on the edge of the tree line, Bruce stood waiting for the Mage to catch up. “We will meet again tomorrow in the glade. Come with an open mind and an open heart, and you will learn all you need to know for the days ahead.”
“Thank you, sir. I shall meet you just after daybreak. And, please forgive my words. In my youth and ignorance, I spoke of things I did not know.”
The dwarf let out a grunt of acknowledgment before heading off to rejoin his fellow dwarves. Michael watched him go in silence, and after a few moments of quiet contemplation, headed off to rejoin his companions at long last. He found them just outside the inn, deep in conversation with the mountain of a man he had seen the days before. Shayla was the first to notice him and rushed to greet him with a great hug. Michael smiled at her embrace, finally feeling reunited with his friends after a few days apart. Tiberius, however, remained alongside Tygahl, examining the Mage for any sign of harm or change. But after a few moments, he decided to join their reunion.
“Well met indeed, Michael!” Shayla exclaimed, breaking her embrace.
“I’m sorry for leaving you all as I did this morning,” Michael replied.
“And what answers did the Shaman give you in the deep woods?” Tiberius asked, himself wanting answers to the Shaman’s intentions.
“Well, I learned his name is Bruce, and I learned that after I awoke this morning, my body is now greatly adapted to the power of magic.”
Tiberius remained skeptical. “And how would ‘Bruce’ know such things?”
Michael went on for nearly an hour, explaining to his friends why he was affected so much when other magic users before him had not. When pressed to what he saw in his dreams, Michael relayed all that he could recall in as great detail as he was able to muster. At length, Tiberius smiled at his friends and clasped the Mage hard on his shoulder.
“Very strange indeed. I will have to think on what it is you saw. But enough of that. I thank the gods innumerable above that you are okay,” he said.
Michael returned the gesture. “Thank you, Master Ranger. But what have I missed in the world since falling into slumber?”
Tiberius brought Michael up to speed on the comings and goings from the village, especially emphasizing the red dove sent from King White to the emperor and the King’s occupation of Michael’s hometown. At these words, the young Mage grew quiet and sat down on a nearby wood and steel bench. Neither of his companions knew what words of comfort to offer him at the news.
After a few silent moments of deep rumination, Michael whispered, “Has there been any news from White Fyre?”
“None as of yet, I’m afraid. Any messages that might escape the city would surely be intercepted,” Tiberius answered grimly. “We are quite far away from everything happening. Any news will take a while to reach us here.
Michael grew silent and contemplative, thinking about the implications of the King’s intentions and remembering Bruce’s counsel in the woods. His mind raced from one thing to another, trying to sort out his own thoughts but finding it difficult to do so. At last, he decided to ask Tiberius the burning question that had been growing in his mind.
“What are we to do about our mission?”
Tiberius eyed his companions. The time had come to lay bare his decision to both of them, something he had secretly been dreading. Now that it was directly asked of him, renewed purpose filled him. “I have resolved to stay in this village until the detachment from the empire arrives. Depending on the news they bring, or renewed guidance from my father, we will either move on with our quest to the Ice Steps or not.”
Michael nodded at the Ranger’s words, knowing that what he had decided was indeed the only course of action. He turned to face the Dragoon now and asked. “What of you, Mistress Shayla? What do you feel is the way forward for our party?”
She sat on the bench next to the boy and placed her armored hand on his. Her deep black eyes met his, and a faint smile appeared on her olive tanned face. “I am staying as well, Michael. The empire freed my sisters and me from years of bondage and delivered us into this land. We are sworn knights to the service of the empire, and this treachery to our liberators must be avenged. The people of this village are kind and welcoming and need our protection lest they feel the full wrath of the King.”
Michael bowed his head in thought before realizing his mind had already been made up. He had just needed to hear the reassurance from his friends. “Mistress Knight, you speak true. And I shall go wherever you command me to go, sir. I too, wish to stay in this village for a time. Hastening off to the mountains, alone or otherwise, with all that is happening in the world would be most unwise. And if I am to learn more about magic and how to wield it better, then no other teacher than Bruce would do.”
Tiberius beamed at the young Mage and nodded at his judgment. Perhaps the wizened dwarf, who shared in the love and connection of magic with the young man, might provide a better mentor than an old soldier ever could. He motioned Tygahl to join them, eager for the village master to finally meet the true hero of the skirmish only days before.
After a few pleasantries were exchanged between the two, Tiberius turned to the Berserker and said, “Tygahl, our party has decided to stay here and help prepare your village from any further threat. However, it is beyond me to take charge of your domain, yet I feel we had best prepare ourselves for any future attack that might come to us.”
“My people are yours to command, Lord Tiberius. You need only ask, and it shall happen,” Tygahl replied.
Tiberius thanked him and began to lay out his idea for the defense of the people. Walls and barriers needed to be erected. All abled body villagers needed to be trained to take up arms. The rangers and Tygahl’s best hunters would start scouting out into the woods and hills at once. Food, water, and supplies needed to be rationed and stored if an extended siege was to come. He spoke plainly and to the point, his years of war breaking through his tired and worn face.
“Who will give instruction to my people?” Tygahl asked. “You can’t spare any of the rangers to abandon their watch, and the dwarf warriors, as fierce as they may be, do not all speak the common tongue.”
“Shayla and I will conduct their training,” Tiberius answered, accompanied by a nod of approval from the Dragoo
n at his side.
Tygahl, in turn, nodded at Tiberius’ counsel and thanked them for humility. “Truly, there would be no greater pair of teachers in the whole of the empire for villagers on the edge of the world,” he replied with a hearty laugh that rattled the young Mage's chest. The massive man departed from the three to begin relaying orders to his people at the inn. The companions stood silent for a while, looking around the village as it suddenly burst into motion.
“I guess we had better pitch in, hadn’t we?” Shayla asked after a few silent moments.
“Aye, I guess we should,” Tiberius responded. “Shayla, take a few people and begin seeking out means for fashioning spears. They will not be of the quality you and your sisters are used to but should serve the villagers well.”
Shayla nodded in approval and left to join Tygahl at the inn. Michael, unsure of what to do, turned to the veteran Ranger and asked, “What will you have me do, sir? I might be a Mage, but I grew up in the fields and streams of this kingdom. I know hard work just as well as anyone else.”
Tiberius smiled and grasped him again. “I have no doubt to the strength of your body, yet your power lies in your mind and your will. I need you to study and learn as much as you can from the dwarf. If we are to go into a battle, we will need you there with us.”
“I intend to do just that, sir. But what about when I am not training with Master Stonehelm?”
“Then you will pitch in where you can. But, for now, find some breakfast, then get to work.”
Michael smiled at Tiberius's judgment, and after a quick bow, headed to the inn himself. Tiberius stood there a while longer, observing the flurry of activity that was going on around him. Whether they knew it or not, these people were changing before his eyes. Their allegiance to their king was washing away minute by minute as they hurried to defend their home. He set off to join them in their endeavors, resolute in the belief that he was not commanding a small group of commoners to a task but joining in on the defense and prosperity of the village.
Chapter 20
The Last Night
The long, laborious days of rebuilding rolled on into weeks of continued training and preparation. All the while, Tiberius and his rangers kept watch for the detachment from the capital yet received no signs of the Imperial reinforcements. Each day was agonizing to the veteran Ranger. His desire for knowledge and news of the wide world gnawed on his spirit. His only respite had become his day to day instruction of the villagers in the manner of combat and strategy, even if the first few days had been rough.
Out of the two hundred able-bodied men from the village who had been delivered unto his and Shayla’s charge, barely ten of them had ever held a sword, and none in combat. Perhaps even fifty of the men had even seen professional soldiers at all in their lives. Tiberius persevered, laying out a plan for repelling any attack on them. But as their strategy for attaining victory against any possible incursion came to fruition, the need for archers arose. Fortunately, enough, the people of Rogers were hunters of the highest order, and after some minor convincing and training, their ranks swelled to almost three hundred defenders. Still not as many as Tiberius had hoped, but enough to make a stand if their wills held out. Despite their undermanned ranks, the completed defenses around the village would shield them from whatever manner of attack that would befall them.
The skill and speed at which the dwarves set to work constructing fortifications for the village was shocking to the people. Indeed, their craft lived up to the stories and legends that had been told about them. Within a few short days, lumber and other material had been gathered and shaped into tall, thick barriers. The ends of the tall posts were all sharpened to a precise point, with bundles of sticks fastened together by treated bark and limbs. High in the village's trees, small outlooks had been established for the Rangers and the more skilled archers from the town.
The morning lessons from the Shaman continued on. In the beginning, each day brought a new challenge that frustrated the eager young Mage. But each morning, he grew in determination and in skill. Before long, he had progressed from manipulating the frigid creek water to full-on conjuring and willing the elements to appear out of nothing. Once his insecurities had burned off and his innate aptitude took over, his use of magic astonished the ancient dwarf. In all his long years upon the earth, he had not seen someone so young be so gifted and skilled. By night, Michael continued to try and decipher the runes within the dwarven book. Every so often, he would ask Catherine or Bruce for help in reading the text. But after the first few cryptic smiles and knowing nods, he gave up.
Nearly six weeks had passed since the companions first arrived when any word from the outside world finally reached the village. Early in the frozen pre-dawn hours, a bird whiter than the whitest snow, arrived in their fortified encampment. Constance, ever watchful, had brought the letter attached to its tiny legs to Tiberius with all haste, finding her commander in deep discussion with Shayla over a hot cup of coffee.
He greeted her with trepidation though at the sight of the white bird. She placed the message in his gloved hand, rendered a quick bow, and returned to her outlook again. Tiberius inspected the parchment for a time before bidding Shayla retrieve Michael before his morning lessons with the dwarf were to start. The three companions deserved to read the message together after all they had endured. A few minutes later, Shayla and Michael reappeared with curious looks on their faces.
“A white bird bearing news” Michael said, sitting down beside Tiberius on the heavy wrought iron bench he occupied, “News from White Fyre, I’d imagine.”
Tiberius looked between his friends before unravelling the parchment. His eyes narrowed at the letter in his hands, “This is a letter from Arythag.”
“Who is Arythag?” the Dragoon asked her companions.
“Chief Marshal of the King’s army,” Michael replied glumly.
“And former Imperial Ranger,” Tiberius added in a whisper.
“Well, go on then,” Shayla pleaded. “Best get this over with.”
Tiberius hunched over and read aloud:
Commander Tiberius,
At the behest of His Majesty, Telos Amael White VI, I order you to abandon your illegal occupation of the Rogers Village. The King has declared independence from the traitorous and vile Axton Empire, and is set upon removing all remnants of the empire from our land at once.
His Majesty is merciful and will grant you and your Imperial followers safe passage through our lands to the border. He bids you return to the Imperial City and give this message to Emperor Axton: The Kingdom of White is free from the shackles of the unjust and vile laws of the empire.
If you, in your stubbornness and misguided sense of justice, choose to remain in the village we will take it as an act of war. We will arrive at the village before nightfall where we will expect your reply.
Arythag Samborn
Supreme General of His Majesty’s Military
P.S.
I implore you, commandeer and comrade, be reasonable and consider the consequences. This village, though of little importance, is still within our sovereign borders. Think of what your men will say if your stubbornness was to draw your country into war? Think of what the emperor would say? I await your reply.
A heavy silence fell between the three. They sat for many solemn moments under the clear morning sun, contemplating the dark times that were sure to fall. Off in the distance, they could hear the joyous sounds of children at play and the laughter from their parents watching close by. They could smell the slow-burning fires from the dwarven camp as they dug into their breakfast. Somewhere further beyond, small birds were chirping and flapping free in the cold air, unbothered by the troubles of the world they flew over.
This is what we are fighting for, Tiberius thought to himself. The King wishes to rule while we wish to maintain peace and happiness. What madness has consumed him to take such bold action?
He handed the letter to Shayla to reread it for herself and sat o
n the bench, lost in his thoughts. “What will we do, sir?” Michael asked after many quiet moments. “It sounds like ‘General Samborn’ already knows your mind.”
“Aye, he should,” Tiberius answered, still lost in thought. “He served alongside me and Trevin for many years before abandoning the empire. For many years we three were inseparable, and the fiercest of companions in battle.”
“Then that would explain why he was bid come to this, as he calls it ‘village of little importance.’ Who better to combat you than your own ranger?” Shayla said. “I know my mind sir, but you are our leader, and will follow your orders. So, what is your decision?”
“Gather everyone here,” Tiberius said firmly. “Michael, same with the dwarves. Then you will know my decision.”
At his words, they flew into motion, and within minutes Tygahl and the villagers assembled, followed closely by the dwarves. Tiberius stood for a minute, thinking on all that had transpired and what was left to do. His fists clenched, and he stood more erect and majestic than usual. The veil of the Ranger Commander he had cultivated so well was stripped away, and in its place was the image of authority and majesty, the image of one born to rule. The image of the ruler of the Axton Empire stood before them. The Spirit of The Warrior made flesh.
“I received a letter this morning, from General Samborn,” he began. “He has ordered that all Imperials within the White Kingdom are to leave immediately, else this village will be razed to the ground. King White has declared this land ‘free’ of the Axton Empire, and is intent on eradicating all remnants of it from the land.”
The Spirit of The Warrior: The Axton Empire book 1 Page 24