Warriors of the Way-Pentalogy

by Orlando A. Sanchez

  “I am Mariko. You will come with me,” she said. “If Master Sylk sent you ahead and alone, he must have had his reasons.”

  We headed deeper into the forest. I noticed that the tree cover blocked the sunlight as we headed farther away from the clearing. After a few moments, my escort disengaged and blended into the surrounding trees. In the darkness, I sensed that they were close.

  “He isn’t big on sharing his reasons,” I said as I caught up to her.

  She smiled and her face transformed, revealing her beauty. “He never was,” she said. “You can tell Master Zanshi how you came to have the weapon you hold now.”

  How did she know? I’m doing my best to keep Shadowstrike hidden.

  “You cannot hide its presence for long,” she said. “A weapon of that level cannot be hidden.”

  “What do you mean?” I asked.

  “It is far too powerful for that,” she answered. “You are trying to stop a wave with one finger, and failing. You will have to learn to blend its power with your own. That will be the only way you can mask it.”

  “Is that even possible?” I asked.

  “If you do not learn this you will be tracked by every enemy you have,” she said. “I am certain that they are not few in number.”

  We came to several dwellings that seemed more a natural part of the forests than anything manmade.

  “Is this where you live?” I asked, taking in the homes. They were large and expansive. Rather than remove the trees to make space for the homes, the trees were actually part of the homes. It almost seemed organic. The largest structure sat in the center of several dwellings.

  “No, the Mikai do not dwell in fixed homes,” she said. “We learn to live from the land and our surroundings. It makes us very difficult to find or track.”

  “Who lives here, then?” I asked. I could see several Mikai enter and leave the homes, with the greatest traffic in the center dwelling.

  “Only the elders of each clan live in one place,” she answered. “They function as a clan resource. We revere and value our elders. For us, they are our greatest treasure and hold the knowledge necessary for our continued survival. They are the link to our past.”

  The center dwelling rose before us as we approached. I could see how it incorporated the nature around it to make it seem a natural part of the forest. If I had not been travelling with her, I would have missed it. It blended perfectly with its surroundings, rendering it invisible. Several Mikai greeted us as we entered the house. Mariko walked down a hallway and led me to a foyer. The room was spacious, with several chairs and lounging chairs placed around low tables.

  “Wait here,” she said and left the room. I sat on one of the loungers. My escorts spread out around the room, keeping me equidistant from each of them. The foyer was inviting and warm, designed to make visitors feel at ease. A large brown rug dominated the floor space. I could see glyphs glowing faintly in the rug, embedded in its design. I had never noticed glyphs glowing before. I looked around the room and saw more of them giving off a faint glow. They were on the doorframe and the ceiling. It was the same pattern repeated in every location. They were subtle elements, easily overlooked. How am I seeing this? It must be Shadowstrike. Moments later, Mariko returned with an older version of herself walking beside her.

  “This is Lady Ono,” she said, gesturing to the woman beside her. “And you will—”

  “Nonsense,” said the woman, cutting her off. “There are no titles in this house. I am certain this warrior understands the rules of courtesy and respect, yes?”

  I nodded. Lady Ono, though older, held an inner strength in her speech and manner. Her long, black hair reached her waist. I could see where Mariko’s beauty came from. Lady Ono was stunning. Underneath it all, though, I could sense that she was dangerous, like a coiled spring, as if she could strike at any moment. She sat next to me on the lounger and looked at me. It was unnerving, until she smiled and patted me on the knee.

  “You can see the glyphs, can’t you?” she asked.

  She smiled and patted my knee again. “They are there to ensure harmony when entering this house, among other things,” she said. “This is why you were brought here,” she said, gesturing around the foyer.

  “Yes, they seem to be everywhere in the room, even in the weave of the rug,” I answered, looking down at the floor.

  “You will have much to discuss with my husband, I think,” she said as she stood. “I will prepare the evening meal and you will join us as an honored guest.”

  “Mother, we still don’t know—” began Mariko.

  Lady Ono raised her hand, silencing her daughter. “It has been decided, Mariko. He will join us after he speaks with your father.”

  Mariko bowed. “Yes, Mother,” she said. I could tell she wasn’t thrilled with the idea of my staying.

  “Your father is in the back; please take Dante. It is Dante, isn’t it?” she asked.

  “Yes, yes it is,” I answered, taken by surprise. I never told her my name.

  “Mariko, please show Dante to the back so he can meet your father,” she said as she held me in her gaze. “After you speak with him, Dante, you will do something for me.”

  It wasn’t a question. She glided out of the room without waiting for my response.

  Mariko led me to the back of the house and into a large garden at the rear of the home. In the center of the garden was a large square of stone worn smooth by years of training. Inside the square, there was a training circle. The circle touched each side of the square. Eight lines radiated outward from the center of the circle in every direction. On either side of the square, there were racks of weapons. In the center of the circle was an old man holding a sword. He was standing perfectly still, with his eyes closed. On the other side of the circle was a small garden with another man hunched over it pulling out weeds and tilling the soil. The old man in the circle began to move through a series of techniques I vaguely recognized.

  “That is a dragon form,” I said. “It looks familiar but I have never seen this variation.”

  She nodded. “Very few people outside of the Mikai have seen this variation. This is a family form and only taught to those of our clan.”

  The sword gleamed in the light as he moved. He flowed through lunges and parries, crouching low one moment and springing up into the air the next. He landed with his legs crossed and then stepped into another low stance. I stood there, transfixed at the power and grace being demonstrated. His form was extraordinary, the sword an extension of his body and intention as he moved. Then I felt something. I turned to look at the gardener, who had his face covered with a large straw hat to shield himself from the sun. He was working the soil with his hands, turning it repeatedly.

  I looked back at the man in the center of the circle who had not stopped his practice. I couldn’t explain the sensation I was experiencing, except to say that I felt drawn to the gardener. Mariko stood beside me and kept looking at the man in the circle. I made my way over to the gardener, not knowing what I would say. I didn’t want to disrespect Mariko’s father, but I needed to speak with this man, except I had no idea what I was going to say. I could see Mariko had not moved from where she stood. I hunched down, feeling foolish, and looked at the gardener’s hands. They were powerful and callused. I couldn’t see his face around the brim of the hat that cast it in shadow.

  “Amazing sword work, isn’t it?” said the gardener. “He practices that form every day.”

  “It is,” I answered looking back at the man in the circle. Mariko was still standing where I had left her, but I knew she could sense where I was.

  “Why aren’t you looking at him?” I asked. “I mean, how do you know it’s amazing if you can’t see him?”

  The gardener remained silent for a few moments as he kept tilling with his hands. I must have offended him.

  “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to offend. It’s just that you can’t—”

  He began laughing. It was a small chuckle, an
d then it transformed into a full laugh. What the hell is so funny? I still couldn’t see his face, so I crouched down to get a better look at him. He slid back and turned the other way, keeping his face hidden. He did it so effortlessly that it took me off guard.

  “Why did you come over here?” asked the gardener. “Is dirt more interesting than the form he is executing? You plan on giving up the sword for the soil?”

  “No, I don’t. I can’t,” I answered.

  “Can’t or won’t?” asked the gardener. “Two very different things,” he said, holding up two fingers while still looking down at his work and turning over the soil.

  “Can’t and won’t,” I answered. “I have too many people counting on me.” Why am I explaining this to a gardener?

  I started to walk away. “I’m sorry if I bothered you.”

  “Because I taught him, that’s how I know it’s amazing,” he said.

  “Excuse me?” I said, turning around. “You taught who?”

  Mariko stepped over to my side. She handed the gardener a glass of water. He stood as he began to drink from the glass.

  “Thank you, daughter. Where is Sylk?”

  She looked at me, smiled and then turned to her father. “Dante arrived alone at the designated place,” she said. “He says Master Sylk was with him, but that he sent him first.”

  Master Zanshi looked me over, tilting his head to one side. He handed the glass to Mariko and removed his hat, wiping his forehead with his sleeve. Long gray hair fell down around his shoulders. He stood a little taller than I did and I could sense the chi emanating from him. I could feel myself being measured as he looked at me.

  “You just began the ritual?” he asked.

  I nodded. I had stopped being surprised at how they knew things.

  “It was interrupted and Sylk thought we should come to you,” I said.

  He scratched his stubble-covered chin. He walked over to the man in the circle, who was still practicing his forms.

  “Excellent work today, Chen. I will see you tomorrow,” said Zanshi.

  The old man in the center of the circle bowed and placed the sword back in a rack. Zanshi turned to me and motioned me to come over. He was still scratching his chin.

  “Interrupted, you say? Do you know by whom?” he asked.

  “I’m pretty sure it was Rael, the Harbinger. He works for Lucius,” I answered.

  “No, the Harbinger is powerful, but not powerful enough to stop this ritual,” he said. “No, it was someone or something else. Did you find a glyph? Did it look like this?”

  He traced an inverted Y with a horizontal line through the vertical.

  I nodded and he shook his head.

  “Mariko, call a meeting of the Mikai. I will summon the clan heads. We will need to gather them tonight,” he said.

  I could hear the concern in his voice. He stood quietly for a moment as if lost in thought.

  “What is it, Father?” she asked. “What does this glyph mean?”

  He kept looking at me as he answered her. “If I’m correct, it means the end of everything.”

  TWENTY

  WHEEL STEPPED INTO the circle and prepared himself. Traveling to the abandoned planes took an immense amount of energy and chi. Next to him sat two figures in blue robes. They would provide the energy required to create the portal. As they entered the circle, they removed their robes, revealing their exposed torsos. He sat in the center of the circle and began to trace glyphs. Red trails followed the symbols as he traced them in the air before him. Moments later the same glyphs appeared on the upper bodies of the two men beside him.

  He focused his chi and spoke. The words were ancient and full of power. The two men fell back and arched their backs. Wheel began to draw a different set of glyphs, his hands moving slowly and methodically. Each glyph was slower than the last. Beside him, the men screamed. He knew without looking that their chi was being ripped from their bodies. He traced the final glyph, an inverted Y with a horizontal line through the stem. The circle erupted in energy as the two men were consumed, leaving nothing behind except their clothing.

  Wheel stood and basked in the raw power around him. He stretched out his arms and inhaled. In front of him, a dark, swirling mass appeared. It was the portal to the forgotten planes. He took another moment to savor the energy around him before stepping in. He arrived in what appeared to be an ancient garden. A stone walkway snaked through the garden. Cherry trees with their blossoms in full bloom followed the curves of the walkway, creating a canopy of pinks and reds. In the distance, a still lake reflected the sky, a liquid mirror. Next to the lake stood an old man. He wore simple black robes and stood motionless, except for his bare feet, which grabbed at the grass beneath his toes. His long, gray hair, tied in a braid, hung down his back. He didn’t turn around as Wheel approached, keeping his gray eyes fixed on the lake. Wheel stopped several feet away and leaned against the cherry tree that stood between them.

  “You took a risk coming here alone,” said the old man.

  “A calculated one,” said Wheel. “Hello, old friend. I thought it was time we spoke, you and I.”

  Wheel stepped around the tree and looked at his reflection in the lake.

  “You betrayed me. We have nothing to discuss,” said the old man.

  “I disagree. You have something I need.”

  “Have you grown tired of living?” replied the old man. “If it is death you seek, I can give it to you. I am not without the means to end you, even here in this shadow form,” he said still looking at the lake.

  “You would not find me so easy to dispatch,” said Wheel. “The third focus will be in play soon. I only managed to delay the ritual. One of your progeny managed to obtain the sliver.”

  “Who? Who would dare?” said the old man. He grew pensive and then the realization hit him. “Sylk—he is the only one who could.”

  “Wrong. As usual, you let your emotions and arrogance get the best of you. That has always been your downfall,” answered Wheel. “Sylk is not the only one who can wield the focus. It is Dante, the former bearer of Maelstrom.”

  “Impossible! I seared him,” said the old man as he narrowed his eyes at Wheel. “You lie. He should barely be able to hold a conversation, much less the third focus.”

  “He has undone the searing and has begun the ritual,” said Wheel. “If left on his present course he will hold Shadowstrike.”

  The old man turned around. “That is no concern of mine,” he said. “If he undid the searing and began the ritual, I will face him soon enough and put him out of his misery.”

  “He will not be that easy to kill, especially if he binds with Shadowstrike,” said Wheel.

  “Is that fear I hear in your voice, Samadhi?” The old man fixed Wheel in his gaze. His gray eyes shone with latent energy.

  “Fear? No, what you hear in my voice is the finality of your end,” said Wheel as he released some of his chi. The old man smiled in response.

  “Is that your display of power?” asked Lucius. “You insult me. Why are you here? You waste my time.”

  “No, Lucius. You have no idea what I am capable of—my power eclipses even yours, now,” said Wheel. “But I didn’t come here to impress you. I know what you are planning. I know about the Harbinger and how you are trying to rejoin the lost planes to the hub. I can’t let you continue.”

  Lucius placed his hands behind his back as he looked down into the lake. He spoke without looking at Wheel, his words laced with anger and sadness.

  “Not a day passes without their lifeless eyes staring at me, blaming me, accusing me, for not protecting them from you and the others,” he said. “You may have power, but it will not be enough to stop me from killing you.”

  The air around the shadow of Lucius crackled with energy as he spoke. The water of the lake began rippling as energy came off Lucius and spilled around him.

  “You pathetic fool,” said Wheel. “You still cling to your long-dead family? You were weak and stupid
then and time has done nothing to remedy your condition.”

  Lucius’s eyes began to glow white, obscuring iris and pupil. Around him, small clumps of earth detached and began to float like lazy satellites. “Why are you here?” said Lucius quietly, each word a clipped staccato as he turned to face Wheel again.

  “I came to see what kind of threat you were,” said Wheel. “I have to say, I’m not seeing much of one. Oh, and one more thing. You have something I need—the first focus.”

  “Impossible. You do not possess my blood, you cannot wield it. The weapon is useless to you,” said Lucius.

  “I don’t need to wield it, Lucius,” answered Wheel. “I just need to make sure you can’t. I know how you desire to leave this place. I want you to stay in your precious garden, at least until I’m done.” Wheel materialized a sphere of charged energy in his hand. Lucius bladed his body as he focused his breath, centering himself.

  “You came to kill me?” said Lucius as he began to trace glyphs in the air. “You should have finished the job when you had the chance.”

  “Kill you? No, not kill you. If you recall, I did want to finish the job,” replied Wheel. “No, killing you would be too much work. I need you…contained. Plus, I’m not suicidal enough to go to your plane and face your full form, not yet.”

  “Contained?” said Lucius through gritted teeth. “You fucking bastard. You think this was a mercy. Cutting me off, leaving me here stranded, and then delivering the body parts of my family?”

  “I wanted you dead,” said Wheel. “The others feared you. I have to admit I did too, back then we all did. The First Karashihan. Oh how we revered you.”

  “I never asked for your reverence,” replied Lucius. “You were a group of naive sycophants. Easily manipulated and controlled.”