The Warriors Path

by Brian Thomas

  Sheywen again stood in front of the men. Alone in front of nearly three hundred armed men, dominating them all by the strength of his personality alone. Sheywen’s look and stance inviting any who wanted to attack him to do so. He stood watching them with his hands on hips and a mocking smile on his face. Eventually he nodded in satisfaction. “When I give a command, obey it and you will share in the rewards. Falter and you will die. Fear me more than an enemy. Remember these simple rules and you will not do wrong. My first command is that you kill these men over here.” Sheywen raised his arm to the group of about one hundred which had been weeded out or decided not to join him.

  As Sheywen’s arm gestured casually in their direction, his words at odds with the calm tone he used, the condemned men started to rise to their feet. Many protesting or moaning at the realisation of what was to come and fearfully looking for an escape. The newly armed men hesitated momentarily and Sheywen shouted angrily with a fierce glare, completely at odds with his previous calm. “Now!” at which they all jumped like startled rabbits to fulfil his command.

  Surrounded by the guard and outnumbered by those newly armed the doomed group of men either cowered or tried to run clear of the demonic mob that set about them. But there was no escape. The armed men surrounded them and savagely worked their way towards the centre, anxious not to be seen hanging back in case they were forced to join the slaughtered. They hacked and stabbed past the raised and pleading arms and in less than a few minutes the last of the wails and moans had been silenced, only the panting of the bloodied and wide-eyed men who had killed them making any sound. Those who remained standing were almost covered in as much blood as the men they had slain. All about them was a gory nightmare and the stench was almost overpowering. Sheywen looked the panting men over, checking all had participated in the bloody slaughter before satisfied, he nodded. “Good! Now bury them. When this has been done you will be shown to your new billets.”

  Mading watched Sheywen stroll back to the town looking straight ahead, not in the least concerned whether he had control over his new recruits. Mading looked at the bloody carnage spread in front of him and spat in the dust. Well, Sheywen was probably right. This lot were eating out of the palm of his hand and scared witless by him. Mading wondered about his own men and how the hell he was going to get them all away in one piece this time.

  Later that evening Mading was sharing a meal with Sheywen and the other members of the town council at Jierui’s house. Sheywen had just reported to them on the sweep, unfortunately resulting in the death of many of the men they had sought to remove but who had resisted. But also of the addition of a few others to his band, those who were intrinsically good men but had merely lacked the strong leadership and discipline soldiers needed.

  Some of the council were not happy at the idea of these men joining Sheywen. He merely brushed their concerns aside stating if any were to step out of line that he would deal with them and they would not cause further problems. What had surprised the council was the size of his band. Now almost twelve hundred men, two hundred with horse, and the fee he required to maintain and retain them. The council had started to protest at the cost and the need to engage such a large force, especially now the primary threat Sheywen had been engaged to deal with had been neutralised.

  Sheywen lost the congenial air he had until then adopted. Placing his chopsticks down carefully, his voice was cold as he addressed them. “It was your council which begged I come and solve your problem. I came at your invitation. What am I to do, leave half of my force behind because you do not think it necessary? I and my men are a valuable resource who risk our lives in your service and we have expenses which must be covered. If you no longer wish to engage our services I will happily release the men I have recruited here and leave as I came. There are many other towns and cities which will appreciate the proper value of Sheywen and his band.” So saying Sheywen began to rise, all hurt dignity.

  It took only seconds for the council to reject the prospect of the gangs which had persecuted them for so long remaining behind after Sheywen had left. The councillors’ imaginations easily pictured their bane’s revenge on the town which had sought to eject them, especially after many of them were killed in the process. Before Sheywen had fully risen to his feet they were begging him not to take offence at their naive questions and to stay. Sheywen made a show of being encouraged to remain, seeming only to do so reluctantly and despite his wounded pride. By the time he was seated once more Sheywen was again the congenial guest of earlier, including all of the council in his stories and not appearing the least bit intimidating.

  As Jierui watched Sheywen he began to worry at the cost of maintaining him and his men. Worse still, what would be the outcome when they had consumed all of the town’s wealth, the rapidly diminishing reserves they had managed to bring with them. In the meantime Sheywen ate as heartily as his men, enjoying the fruits of the town’s and surrounding peasantry’s labours.

  Jierui’s worries were interrupted by Sheywen. “What of the stockade shielding the town on the hill? You made no mention of this in the correspondence which brought me here. Are they part of your community and am I also to extend my protection to them?”

  Everyone’s attention was focused on Jierui and he felt a bitter resentment at those who had left to establish their own separate community. New Town as they had named it. An ever present reminder of their rejection and of his hurt pride. Jierui had seen the first stockade go up with surprise at how quickly they had organised and completed the project while simultaneously constructing substantial buildings within the stockade. Since then the perimeter of the stockade had been replaced twice to accommodate the rapidly growing population of New Town, each replacement a more substantial and effective barrier than the last. Jierui had also heard of the other ambitious projects embarked upon. Curious he had even wandered close enough to see some of these things he had heard so much of. Water had been rerouted from the river at the head of the valley to feed new terraces extending deep into the valley behind the stockade. There was a clear demarcation between the cultivated fields of the old town, which stretched down the valley, and those of New Town, which stretched back up the valley.

  When Jierui had first heard of the civil projects he had scoffed, thinking they would soon be abandoned as being far too ambitious. But as more refugees had arrived many, and often the best it seemed, elected to go to New Town which demanded their participation in the projects to be part of their community. The projects had been completed faster than he would have thought possible, with other new projects quickly following. The rapid growth and success of New Town, almost the same size as the old town now, galled Jierui.

  His frustration at their own community’s slow progress had long ago turned to a petulant anger when he dealt with the other members of the self-appointed council. Their own council just couldn’t seem to reach any consensus on what should be done, or how to achieve what they had actually been able to agree on. Their demonstrable lack of progress was a stark contrast to the progress of New Town, which in his own mind looked haughtily down on them. “No,” Jierui replied to Sheywen’s question. “They are nothing to us and we should not squander our resources on them. Now we have removed the biggest impediment to our development they will become an irrelevance.”

  Sheywen nodded sagely, wondering at the story behind the other town, so close and new since Jierui had written to him. “I see they have a stockade. Do they have any soldiers? Do they represent a threat to us here I should be aware of or deal with?”

  Jierui waved a hand dismissively. “I hear they play at being soldiers but they are just peasants with swords. Ignore them as you would a paper tiger and let them fend for themselves.”

  Sheywen nodded again for the benefit of the other council members and his temporary charade at following their instructions. However, he was already growing tired of the game and wondered how long it would be before he made clear who was really in command. In the meantime he would
have to find out more about the other town and if they represented any threat to him or his own plans. Someone up there with the foresight and influence to build a stockade might pose a threat at his back, which couldn’t be tolerated.

  Chapter 31

  Zun tried to empty his mind as he sparred with Shushan at the head of the training session but thoughts and plans buzzed around to distract him. The training area was busy with five hundred men practicing in pairs with replica swords. They practised for three hours a day six days a week and there were two other groups of the same size which also trained on the same basis. The group Zun practised with now was almost up to the standard of regular soldiers in many minor Houses, though less well equipped. Zun had also instigated training with spears and other weapons and he had been surprised at the enthusiasm of those participating who had taken up the training session.

  There were also the archers. Again three groups of five hundred who represented his core force of archers. There were many women in the archery groups as every member of the community considered able was obliged to train in arms. Most of the able women took up archery rather than sword practise and with lighter bows were no less a deadly force at close range than the men.

  Bulusi and his assistants were not able to produce bows quick enough and many weapons were stored in purpose built huts near the training ground and shared. It was a similar story with the swords and other weapons despite a number of smithies being established, they were not able to keep up with the demand as the numbers being trained continued to grow quickly from the influx of refugees. Nevertheless, Zun insisted on bringing all those he could to the training field and once established the training had become a routine part of life for New Town’s residents. It brought the community closer together emphasising the extent to which they relied upon each other, building on their confidence and pride as they could see for themselves the regular practise improving their skill.

  Those not committed to training worked on community projects such as extending the land available for cultivation. The established farmland was producing three crops a year but the steady increase in the town’s population from the refugees wishing to join them produced a constant pressure for more food and thus cultivated land. Other civil projects included producing arrows, swords, armour, building, and extending the community’s defences. Zun had already decided rather than extend the stockade again he would organise the construction of a wall across the width of the valley. A major project bound to be resisted by the town council and so it would have to wait awhile, but he refused to waste resource on another inadequate stockade they would be outgrowing almost as soon as they completed it. Resisting a formal position on the council Zun was anxious to get New Town in as strong a position as he could before leaving and so exerted his influence to ensure the military projects were a priority. Though everyone with the exception of Shushan called him Lord, Zun could not bring himself to accept the role refusing any formal responsibility but nevertheless continued to offer his counsel. More than anyone he realised how vulnerable they were and having started to help he could not bring himself to leave until they were able to adequately defend themselves.

  Distracted by his thoughts Zun almost missed a thrust to his ribs from Shushan’s replica sword, twisting he managed to avoid it, just. Belatedly regaining his concentration he saw Shushan’s face light up at the near miss, her features quickly changing to focused determination as she began a series of connected attacks. Zun mentally groaned for allowing his concentration to slip and give Shushan the incentive to turn the training session into a practise bout. Shushan was very quick and used her slight and wiry form to advantage, forcing the pace so a heavier opponent used more energy to keep up, making it a bout of attrition. Zun found the practise bouts with Shushan had become less of a teaching session and more of a practise session where he had to pay close attention.

  He had adopted an outward nonchalant indifference to Shushan’s improvement but he was inordinately proud of the skills she had acquired in such a short time. She had a natural grace, a sharp eye and lightning reactions making her a formidable opponent. If she continued to improve as quickly as she had already she would become a swordmaster of note. Zun almost broke into a smile at how his indifference to her improving ability frustrated her, compelling Shushan to push herself even harder during practise sessions.

  He again had to remind himself to concentrate, narrowly avoiding a side kick to his head as she spun away from his riposte. As Zun swept his own foot out seeking to catch her ankle, having to fend a blow from above as she skipped over it, he became aware that as usual the rest of the training session had come to a halt. He vaguely heard Astay, Shushan’s younger brother, call his opponent to rest so they could watch Zun and Shushan sparring. In no time Zun and Shushan were enclosed in an appreciative circle enjoying the bout and encouraging Shushan further.

  He knew Shushan was the most accomplished swordsman in their town after himself and the skill, fitness and agility they displayed between them was a spectacle. One of the reasons Zun allowed the public display was because those who practised so hard enjoyed seeing him being put under pressure by one of his pupils, by one of their own. It was a great incentive for them all to see how well Shushan could fence after such a short time, something they could all aspire too.

  But the main reason he allowed the practise to run on was the sheer pleasure he felt in sparring with her. The combination of his mind and body working in harmony, instinctively responding at a speed almost faster than the eye was able to follow. The release which came with the dance with death, even in practice, was intoxicating and Shushan seemed able to release the ecstasy more than any person he had ever sparred against.

  The pair of them were breathing more heavily now and he could tell Shushan was on the edge of allowing her frustration to take control. She would throw herself into a renewed frenzy, which would leave her frustrated and angry. Stepping back quickly he called out. “Hold!” Seeing the unmistakable bulk of Mengpo coming towards them he added. “Enough Shushan, I must speak with Mengpo.”

  Shushan looked over her heaving shoulders to see Mengpo approaching them, his broad smile visible even from this distance. Thinking that Zun had noticed the distant figure approach while in the middle of their bout which she thought had consumed all of his attention caused her shoulders to drop. Zun hid his inner smile behind a frown, saying sternly, “You need to school your features more closely. You give too much of your thoughts away to your opponent.” Zun was rewarded by a frown and an instant renewal of Shushan’s determination to repay him for the countless wraps and pokes he had given her with the practise sword.

  Turning to look at the circle of watching men who had stopped practising he shouted out. “Why have you stopped, are you all so proficient you do not need to practise?” They all took up their practise again with renewed vigour, many of the men masking smiles at the mock anger in his voice and their pleasure from seeing the display.

  Zun walked off the practise field to meet Mengpo, Shushan following him uninvited. Mengpo bowed as they met, looking disappointed. “I missed you having another practise session.”

  Shushan snapped back at him. “Then take more care, lest you miss the one where I return the bruises he has covered me with over the last two years.”

  Mengpo smiled from ear to ear, laughing out loud. “Please Mistress, wait until I am there. I would not wish to miss it.”

  Zun was well aware of Shushan’s popularity and knew they would all like to see such an event, if for no other reason than it was plain to see how much she desired and worked to best him. He wondered if she had discovered her new name yet, The Ice Maiden. It had quickly spread around their community, partly because of its incongruity with her fiery nature. “What of these strange soldiers, Mengpo?” he asked.

  Mengpo looked more serious. “Ah, yes. Mercenaries led by Lord Sheywen. A big man who is apparently an accomplished swordsman. He was invited by Jierui and the council to act as the t
own militia and force out those who have been plaguing the citizens. He arrived and forced the gangs out the same day.”

  Mengpo frowned in disapproval as he added, “His force is considerably larger now than when he first came. Those who did not die as a result of their ejection joined him and he now has just fewer than twelve hundred men, with about two hundred horses.”

  Zun placed a hand on Mengpo’s shoulder. “You have done well. It is well to know the wolf we expected has at last arrived amongst the sheep, even if the sheep might not realise it themselves yet.” Nodding sadly in agreement, Mengpo left the two of them with Zun frowning thoughtfully at the distant town.

  Recognising his concern for their community, Shushan asked. “What will he do?”

  Zun considered for a while before answering. “He will be as curious of us as we are of him. He will need to feel confident we pose no threat to him and we must persuade him he can have no influence over us here. It might be best if we seek him out before some incident provokes a test of strength which neither of us would want.” Coming to a decision Zun commanded, “Gather twenty men, the best we have. See they are armed well and have the best armour we can assemble. Have them meet me at the gate.” Shushan ran to gather the men and Zun walked across to one of the springs converted into a communal fountain. He washed his hands and face in the chill water before brushing his gown, tidying it as best he could. First impressions would be important and having done the best he could Zun collected the men and with Shushan in tow went to meet Sheywen.

  The men Shushan had gathered knew they were a display representing their community’s strength and that they were being carefully appraised as such by the curious citizens and Sheywen’s men as they entered the old town. They did a good job of marching in time and looking soldierly, remaining at attention outside the tavern Zun had selected and ready for any command. Zun entered the dim interior of the tavern. Shushan followed him to stand just inside the door, a link between Zun who sat at an empty table and the men waiting outside.