The Exercise Of Vital Powers

by Ian Gregoire

  “Suffice to say,” continued Ari, “you should believe everything you have ever been told about the Rogue. To this day no other Sanatsai has reached the heights or matched the power of the Rogue, not even me.”

  “Master, if that were true, how could you have single-handedly defeated the Rogue on the last day of The Great War?

  He began laughing wholeheartedly.

  Kayden didn’t think she had said anything even remotely funny, but clearly Master Ari felt differently.

  “Oh, my young friend,” sighed Ari once he had regained his composure. “As much as I might like to take all the credit for our victory that day, the truth is, it required many of us, Sanatsai and Jaymidari alike, working in unison to overcome the Rogue. And fortunately for us, it proved decisive. Once word spread across the battlefield that the Rogue had fallen it took the wind out of the sails of Josario’s forces and they quickly began to surrender. It seems he made the mistake of convincing his soldiers they could not be defeated as long as they were led into battle by the Rogue. That his men believed this to be true was a blessing in disguise for our side. By the time we defeated the Rogue we had lost so many people during the battle we would surely have lost anyway if Josario’s men hadn’t laid down their arms.”

  “So how did you do it, Master?” said Kayden, reaching for a jam tart. “The accounts of how the Rogue was killed are very vague. I would love to hear the whole story from you, from the beginning, starting with the evening before the battle, when the coalition encamped along the bank of the Kassani River and the leaders of the resistance pledged to help you realise your dream of establishing the Order.”

  “It’s a rather lengthy story,” Ari warned.

  “I’m not going anywhere, Master.”

  “Very well.” Ari poured himself some more mint tea then proceeded to narrate his story as Kayden listened with intent interest.

  It had taken over an hour, but finally Kenit and Fay reached the southern edge of Sharadi Forest. During the ride Kenit found it hard to countenance Fay’s assertion that the six-strong group of kidnappers must have journeyed to the Sharadi. They hadn’t picked up a trail, or any signs to confirm the validity of Fay’s conviction. Nonetheless, he refrained from giving voice to his misgivings. As far as he was concerned he was very much the junior party of this partnership, therefore had no real option other than to trust Fay’s judgement.

  A quarter of an hour after entering the forest it was proving slow going on horseback. The trees were densely packed together, so the pair couldn’t ride much faster than a trot. Kenit could see the sky in places through the thick canopy of branches and leaves overhead but it was darker than it should have been. Although there were still a couple of hours daylight left, ominous dark-grey rainclouds were rolling in from the north, blotting out the late evening sun entirely. Those clouds were also triggering Kenit’s anxiety. While it was bad enough that he and Fay were searching Sharadi Forest without backup, it now seemed as though they were in for a drenching sooner rather than later, too.

  Upon reaching the moss-covered remnants of a stone wall—the first sign they had encountered of the ancient ruins Sharadi Forest was known for—Fay brought her mount to a halt. Kenit did the same, but was caught by surprise when Fay gracefully dismounted her horse then looked up at him.

  “We’ll leave the horses here and continue on foot,” she announced.

  “Why?”

  “They make too much noise,” she replied. “I’d rather our quarry didn’t hear us approaching when we find them.”

  Kenit couldn’t argue with that logic so he too dismounted, though it did make him feel more vulnerable which he knew wasn’t logical. He was no safer from attack on horseback than on foot, although it was certainly the case he could flee more quickly on a horse if the need arose.

  After they tethered the horses to a couple of trees, Kenit was caught off guard again when Fay invoked Dashimkuzar, creating a thin, translucent aura that enveloped her, rather appropriately, like a second skin—the literal meaning of the word. The obvious inference to be drawn from the action was that Fay was anticipating trouble from this point onwards.

  “Until we locate our men, let’s err on the side of caution and maintain Dashimkuzar,” said Fay. “It is getting dark, and we might not spot an archer lurking in the trees until it’s too late.”

  “But we already know the men we’re after are wielders of Zarantar, so why worry about arrows?” He knew the ‘second skin’ was an impenetrable barrier that would protect them against conventional projectile weapons, as well as bladed weapons, but it would still leave them vulnerable to certain Zarantar attacks.

  Fay looked at him as though he were a simpleton. “An arrow or crossbow bolt will kill the unsuspecting Sanatsai just as well as a Zarantar strike.”

  She had a point there, Kenit admitted to himself—not that it negated his contention that Dashimkuzar would be effectively useless against adversaries who also wielded Zarantar. For one thing, the ‘second skin’ could only withstand one, maybe two direct hits from a strike unleashed by a wielder of Zarantar. For another, the level of concentration required to sustain the protective barrier around a constantly moving body, made it near impossible to maintain while engaged in actual combat. And as powerful as she might be, not even Fay would rely upon Dashimkuzar for defence if they should be drawn into a fight with the kidnappers in order to rescue the abducted boy.

  Nonetheless, until they did encounter their quarry—assuming they were present in Sharadi Forest—it was prudent to mitigate the risk of a silent, but deadly projectile let loose from the trees. Kenit invoked Dashimkuzar, forming the tell-tale translucent aura that would offer the necessary protection against such an occurrence, then followed Fay further into the forest.

  He couldn’t be certain just how long they had been walking when he first noticed the change in their surroundings, but they had reached an area of the forest that was much less dense and was increasingly littered with the dilapidated remains of a lost civilisation. What he could be reasonably certain of was they were now getting closer to finding what they were searching for. At least Fay seemed to think so. She ceased her invocation of Dashimkuzar and stopped in her tracks. Looking back over her shoulder at him, she pressed a finger to her lips before advancing forward once more, taking extra care to move as quietly as possible.

  Kenit let down his protective aura and followed Fay through the trees. It wasn’t long before he picked up the murmur of voices and the movement of bodies a short distance ahead. Fay brought them to a stop then crouched down at the foot of a tree. Kenit squatted down behind her, and peering over her shoulder he could see, beyond the line of trees a few yards ahead, the forest opened up into a vast clearing that was home to the ruins of what he believed must have been a temple complex. It was an educated guess. The present day people of the Nine Kingdoms held no religious beliefs so places of worship did not exist anywhere in the Nine Kingdoms, leaving Kenit with no frame of reference. But historians seemed to be in agreement that in the distant past the ancients had built temples to worship statues they had carved with their own hands; a notion Kenit found bizarre in the extreme.

  Surveying the scene, he spied men dressed in dark red uniforms with black trim, and hooded black cloaks. There was considerably more than six of them—a lot more. He doubted there were less than eighty of them in total. It was entirely possible there were as many as a hundred. Any hopes of rescuing Radmilio and Sedona’s son just evaporated.

  “It’s as I suspected,” said Fay barely above a whisper, seemingly to herself rather than to Kenit. “The Conclave.”

  “The Conclave?” queried Kenit. He had absolutely no idea what Fay was referring to.

  “It is something the Order does not like to acknowledge,” she began, “so you cannot repeat what I am about to tell you.”

  “Understood, Danai.”

  Kenit’s curiosity was well and truly piqued.

  “There is one particular detail of the early
history of the Order that has been censored at the insistence of the Council. You will find no mention of it in any records, and anyone who possesses knowledge of it will deny having any such knowledge if questioned about it.

  “At the end of the Great War, when the ruling families of the Nine Kingdoms agreed to pass into law the requirement that all present and future Sanatsai born within their realms must join the Order or have their Zarantar bound, there was some…dissent against the idea. While most of those Sanatsai who opposed the creation of the Order reluctantly assented in the end, there was a significant minority who became fanatically opposed to relinquishing their autonomy. They banded together to form the Conclave—a movement dedicated to eliminating the Order in its infancy. Subsequently, the first six months of the Order’s existence was spent putting down the rebellion. It was a…destructive period, but we succeeded in wiping out the renegade Sanatsai.”

  If Fay’s account was accurate, and the Conclave was destroyed seven decades ago, then it appeared someone had resurrected the group without the Order getting wind of it.

  “Danai Annis, if you’re right, how could anyone have reconstituted the group without us finding out about it?” asked Kenit. “And how were they able to recruit people? Thanks to our alliance with the Sisterhood we always know when a new Sanatsai manifests in the Nine Kingdoms, so it’s not feasible that these men gathered here are people who slipped through the cracks.”

  “I don’t have an answer,” admitted Fay. “But it’s possible this group is comprised of foreigners who’ve infiltrated the Nine Kingdoms from abroad. Sharadi Forest is a very good place to hide and remain undetected.”

  “Well, whether you’re right or not, we still need to withdraw. We’ll have to return to the seminary to report back to the Council, and to request the reinforcements I mentioned before we left Relona.”

  “No!” said Fay. “We stay until we can ascertain if the boy is being held here, somewhere.”

  “So what if he is? There’s nothing we can do to help him—not without reinforcements. It looks as though there’s at least a hundred of these renegade Sanatsai, and only the two of us. We should go now before we are discovered. We can return in greater numbers tomorrow.”

  “There’s no guarantee they will still be here tomorrow, besides—” Fay’s attention was drawn back to the ruins of the temple complex; there was some activity.

  Two Conclave personnel emerged from behind the remnants of a stone wall, escorting an adolescent boy. It was a safe assumption he was Tylo, the abducted boy Kenit and Fay had come to rescue. His hands were bound in front of him, while a gag was tied around his mouth. As the gathered throng of uniformed men and women looked on, the boy was slowly led towards an area of the complex that had once been the interior of a large building but was now completely exposed to the elements. The roof was gone entirely, while here and there the remnants of several ruined walls remained standing—all but one no taller than waist height. A raised stone platform prominently featured, upon which stood a weather-worn stone altar.

  Tylo was brought to the altar and made to stand beside it while his two escorts remained on either side of him, waiting—for someone or something.

  “Things are worse than I thought,” muttered Fay.

  “What do you mean?”

  “There is a Saharbashi present, or there will be soon.”

  Kenit’s heart skipped a beat, his breath caught in his throat. The mere mention of the word Saharbashi made him feel nauseous. “That…that doesn’t make any sense…does it?” he stammered. “Why would there be a Saharbashi among a group of Sanatsai, even if they are renegades?” He failed to keep the fear from his voice.

  “An alliance of convenience actually makes a lot of sense,” countered Fay. “Alone, a single Saharbashi could never hope to take on the Order—he would need to form a group. Yet the formation of a group of Saharbashi has never been possible because they simply cannot trust each other. But joining forces with a group of Sanatsai fanatically devoted to destroying the Order would be the perfect alternative. For all we know, this Saharbashi could very well be responsible for the revival of the Conclave in the first place.”

  Kenit couldn’t understand why Fay didn’t sound at all disturbed by what she was speculating; he found the whole idea terrifying, if it was true.

  “How can you even be sure there is a Saharbashi here?” he asked.

  “A blood letting is being prepared.” Fay didn’t take her eyes off the scene ahead of them. “The boy will be drained of some or all of his blood.”

  “I…I thought Saharbashi used blood from animals.”

  “Most do,” Fay affirmed. “But the more knowledgeable among them favour blood from people, especially when they have no fear of being caught.”

  Kenit had never heard this about the Saharbashi before, but Fay spoke so authoritatively he didn’t doubt the truthfulness of the claim.

  “A blood letting is usually conducted at nightfall,” continued Fay, “so I don’t expect our Saharbashi to make an appearance until then. We will await his arrival before we make our move to save the boy.”

  Was Danai Annis out of her mind? Kenit thought, in alarm. It was bad enough she was insisting on attempting a rescue of Tylo from a hundred or so hostile Sanatsai, but now she wanted to wait for a Saharbashi to join them before doing so. He knew only too well what a practitioner of Zarantar Najist was capable of, he had seen it first hand five months ago during the ill-fated mission in Anzarmenia. What Fay was suggesting was folly of the highest order.

  “Danai Annis,” he said quietly, “I don’t mean to speak out of turn, but the two of us attempting to rescue the boy from a hundred renegade Sanatsai is madness. And not to put too fine a point on it, attempting to do so only after their Saharbashi ally has arrived would be suicide. We’ve done everything we can, but now it’s time to leave, there’s nothing to be gained by throwing our lives away on a fool’s errand.”

  Fay slowly turned around to face Kenit; she did not look amused. “Your concern has been duly noted. But we’re going to rescue the boy, nonetheless.”

  Kenit started to inch away from Fay, readying to leave. “You’ll have to do it without me,” he hissed, voice rising, “I didn’t come here to die.”

  Grabbing Kenit by his tabard, Fay yanked him towards her—their faces inches apart. “Keep your voice down before you give us away.” The indignant look in her eyes made it clear she had finally lost patience with him. “Now listen to me very carefully. You can be as afraid as you want. I don’t care. But as for running away and leaving the boy to his fate? Not happening! We do not abandon our own…ever!” She released her grip on him. “In other words, we’re going to rescue Tylo or we will die trying, is that understood?”

  He was at a loss for words; Fay had him between a rock and a hard place. If he fled now, he was finished as a Sanatsai of the Order. He couldn’t return to Temis Rulan in the event of another prominent figure being killed in the line of duty because he had abdicated his responsibility. He felt shamed by Fay’s commitment to her calling, even if it meant her death. What choice did he have but to stay? Whether he liked it or not he was Fay’s backup.

  “Forgive me, Danai,” he said finally. “You’re right, we can’t abandon the boy. So what do we do now?”

  “Now we wait.” Fay turned back around to resume her observation of the Conclave gathering amid the ruins of the temple complex.

  Kayden had completely lost track of time while sitting, listening to Ari recount the final battle of the Great War. The manner of his narration was such that not only was she thoroughly engrossed, to the point where she couldn’t say how long she’d been listening for, she also needed to frequently remind herself she wasn’t hearing a fictional tale from a master storyteller. What she was being told was historical fact, events that had really taken place seven decades earlier. And now, finally, Master Ari had come to the part she most wanted to hear.

  “Though I, too, had heard all the stories of the
undefeatable Sanatsai leading Josario’s forces to victory after victory, ruthlessly terrorising those who opposed the Usurper King, nothing could have prepared me for the reality I bore witness to on the battlefield that day. The Rogue was a brutal and sadistic killer, and I believe this fuelled not only the certainty of victory in Josario’s men, but also their fear of defeat. As long as the Rogue lived there was no hope they would ever surrender.

  “We knew from the start it was imperative that Josario’s greatest weapon be removed from the battlefield if victory was to be achieved, hence the reason the resistance decided to throw all its eggs into one basket. Even though three other divisions had been mobilised to march against smaller Shintanese cities further north, we committed to engaging the division that had to pass through Lilac Valley before crossing the Kassani River to attack the capital. We knew this division would be led by the Rogue so that’s where all our resources were devoted–the fate of the Nine Kingdoms would be decided at Lilac Valley.

  “As the battle raged into its eighth hour many fighters had fallen, on both sides, but we were undeniably bearing the brunt of those losses, and we couldn’t afford to lose. Defeat that day would have meant relinquishing the unconquered third of Shintana to Josario. If that happened there would have been no stopping him then. With Shintana being both the largest and the most powerful of the Nine Kingdoms, its fall would have been swiftly followed by the conquests of Darmitana, Mirtana, Lirantana and Astana.

  “We were slowly being pushed back towards the river when I finally caught sight of the Rogue for the first time. A tall figure, clad head to toe in black, a hooded cloak billowing in the breeze, and a face inexplicably obscured by shadow, despite the bright light of day. At last we knew where to concentrate our attack. I remember it vividly, more than a dozen of us—both Sanatsai and Jaymidari—rallied together and surged forward with singularity of purpose…to kill the Rogue.”