The Warriors Path

by Brian Thomas

  The bleeding slowed but he was instead dazzled by the sun emerging from behind a dark cloud, the bright light compounding the already thumping pain in his head. He let his injured head drop forward again and noticed the decapitated body of Sheywen. Ronan was uncertain whether he could believe his eyes, or if this were a dream. No, it was no dream, his body was too sore and hurt too much for it to be anything but real. Frowning, he confronted Li Chin with a disbelieving mixture of surprise and suspicion. “What happened, why did they leave?”

  Li Chin raised an eyebrow as he speculatively regarded Ronan’s dark expression. It was made more so by his battered face now partially covered in a mask of drying blood. “I decided it was time to implement your third plan, as the first two were obviously not going to work.”

  Ronan’s frown grew deeper as he dragged his sluggish mind back over recent events. “What third plan?” he growled ominously past his swollen lips.

  Li Chin climbed in to the rear of the wagon to find some willow bark for Ronan’s undoubted headache. He sighed in exasperation at the sight of his belongings, carelessly scattered as Ronan had thrown them in earlier. Beginning to sort through his precious herbs gathered and cared for over many hours and hundreds of leagues he continued distractedly. “You said your first plan was to win the duel. If they did not honour your success with the first plan and they continued with their aggressions, your second plan was to kill them all. Your third plan was for me to do a trick.”

  Li Chin clicked his tongue with an annoyed shake of his head as he retied scattered bunches of mandrake which had come loose from their rough handling. “I tricked them. Playing on their superstitions. But I needed time for the clouds to arrive for dramatic effect and to provide more impact. I knew if I revealed my tattoos they would recognise me as the fearsome possessed Temple priest featuring in ubiquitous posters. These posters denounce me for all kinds of outlandish acts. Posters appear in every town and village throughout the empire, variously proclaiming I am possessed by demons and that I have a blood lust which rampages unabated. It would seem that no one is either immune or safe from my despicable evil powers.”

  He shrugged at the simplicity of his deceit. “I waited for the clouds to reach us for effect and merely played on their superstitions, telling them I was indeed what they feared.” Li Chin began rummaging in the back of the wagon for the stopper for a tub of ground cayenne pepper, checking the various pots and packets of medicines remained firmly sealed as he began sorting and stacking them neatly.

  Ronan was still frowning as he dragged himself upright alongside the wagon, watching while Li Chin methodically sorted through his various items. “But who killed their leader, the one I was fighting?” Now that he was upright Ronan caught sight of the fallen bandit with an arrow protruding from his face and what appeared to be the man’s bow a short distance from his outstretched hand. “What happened to him?” he asked. Bemused, Ronan searched for another bow which could have been used against the fallen archer. He was perplexed at missing so much and being unable to fathom the outcome.

  Li Chin paused in his packing to look directly at Ronan. “To be an effective trick it must be convincing. Their leader, Sheywen, was lulled into a false sense of confidence. He erroneously focused on your defence of me and believed I was no threat. This enabled me to take him by surprise. Your plans, whilst inevitably doomed to fail, nevertheless provided the time we needed until the clouds arrived.” Li Chin glanced up at the sky, shrugging philosophically, “I was hoping for some lightning but it was not to be and fortunately was not necessary in the end.”

  At the mention of lightning Ronan squinted up to the blue sky and dazzling sun, the dark clouds having moved on. He was growing increasingly frustrated with the explanations which appeared so at odds with events. When Li Chin returned to his packing Ronan glanced at Sheywen’s headless corpse, challenging forcefully. “But you have no sword!”

  Li Chin answered distractedly without looking up while checking the contents of his herb bag strewn across the wagon floor where Ronan had thrown it in earlier. “I used the swordmaster’s own sword. It increased the impact I was seeking to make.”

  Fearing he was being made light of Ronan turned to the fallen bandit with the arrow in his eye. “What about him, you don’t have a bow?”

  Li Chin paused to look across at the fallen archer. “A mediocre archer at best, killed by his own arrow.” With a wry grin he added. “He told us what he thought and what he saw before firing his own bow. Obviously, neither his intellect nor his vision was as good as he thought.” Li Chin smiled, clearly amused by his own comment.

  Ronan caught sight of the tattoos on Li Chin’s forearms as he fussed with items in the wagon, certain the tattoos had not been there before. Surely he would have noticed them if they had been. They were vivid in colour and beautifully crafted, running the full length of Li Chin’s forearms. Still frowning Ronan grew angrier as he wondered how on earth a bowman could shoot himself in his own eye and whether Li Chin were adept with a sword but had nevertheless let Ronan fight for them both. Though he could barely believe the diminutive healer had such skill. The dawning realisation the priest might possibly have a superior skill to his own rankled. “Alright, you let me risk my life as a delaying tactic and it was only as I was about to be killed you decided to surprise the swordmaster. I can accept this, even if I don’t understand it. But how can an archer shoot himself in the eye?”

  Li Chin stopped his sorting with a frown at Ronan’s angry tone. “They were your plans, implemented in the order suggested by you and I did not say he shot himself. He fired his arrow at me and I threw it back,” Li Chin shrugged, “I was aiming for his throat. He must have leaned forward as I did so but it worked just as well, better in fact.”

  Ronan glared at Li Chin, angry at being made sport of after all he had done. “You mock me with your fairytales! Why can’t you simply tell me what happened?”

  Li Chin paused in his packing again to frown back at Ronan and, deliberately placing his hands in opposite sleeves, decided to abandon his search for the willow bark. “If you wish to know so much but will not believe me when I tell you, perhaps it would be better if you paid more attention so you could see what happened for yourself. Just because you do not know how something may be done, does not mean it may not be possible.”

  Shaking his head slightly, he added. “It is bad enough to be in the presence of ignorant prejudiced men without having to follow someone who refuses to accept explanations, while the evidence lies all about for them to see with their own eyes.” Li Chin added begrudgingly. “I believe it is my destiny to follow you. If you wish, I will teach you as we go. There will be much time and it would be an interesting experiment to see how much the barbarian mind is capable of learning.” Li Chin cheered a little at the pending challenge of this new experiment.

  Ronan on the other hand looked aghast at the prospect of the healer following him beyond their current predicament. “Now wait, I have all the men I need to follow me and have no need of another, especially one who sounds worse than a harpy.” Holding both hands up Ronan said sincerely. “There is no obligation here Healer, Priest, Guardian or whatever your correct title is. You saved my man and I defended you against the bandits. All obligations have been settled. Let us shake hands, then go our separate ways as friends. I already have all the sworn men I need and there is no need for you to become my follower.” Ronan smiled generously, hoping not to cause offence.

  Li Chin frowned down at Ronan with a look of mild incredulity. “I follow you because you are my Guide and I am no one’s man but my own. What on earth makes you believe I would swear fealty to a barbarian?” Li Chin’s frown deepened with concern. “Perhaps the experiment will be more challenging than I had first thought.”

  Ronan looked a little confused. “Oh,” and then embarrassed as he said, “Well that’s what it sounded like.”

  With both eyebrows raised, Li Chin added. “And I believe that it was I who saved you, ra
ther than you who saved me.”

  Angry again, Ronan retorted back. “I am no masochist and the last thing I want or need is for you to follow me all over the place. I am no one’s guide, tell me where you wish to go and I will tell you if I know where it is.” Reining back his anger and looking a little contrite, he thrust out his chin. “And I would have found a way if you had not jumped in uninvited. Why don’t you go back home, to your Temple or wherever it is you came from?”

  Li Chin studied Ronan intently as the man glared defiantly up at him from the ground beside the wagon. Yes, the man before him had all the pride and arrogance of a king and before fighting Sheywen he had demonstrated the courage and nobility which all kings should have but often lacked. Thinking back to his parting with Si Li at the Temple Li Chin remembered Seesfar’s words when Li Chin had asked, how will I know this man? Seesfar had replied, he will reveal himself by greeting you with a lie and by sending you in the wrong direction. Li Chin gave a smile at the memory, recognising the confirmation he had found his guide in Ronan’s words. Ronan was his Guide and Li Chin had found him, as the elders had said he would. “We know the truth of what happened here and it is enough. You are my Guide, the one I must follow to find what I seek. I know this, the same way I know you could be King in the lands you come from.”

  Ronan’s eyes suddenly hooded and he became cautious. “What do you mean?” Each held the other’s gaze steadily, before Ronan gave a rueful smile. “Alright; but at least tell me what it is you seek, perhaps my suffering could be short-lived if I can point you in the right direction.”

  Li Chin scowled down from the wagon. “Do not think the suffering will be one-sided and if I knew what it was I was seeking I wouldn’t have to waste my time trudging behind an ignorant barbarian, who doesn’t know to what or where he guides me!”

  The two of them were still glaring at each other when they heard more horsemen drawing closer. In a few minutes Markurd and a dozen of their caravan guards joined them, looking around at the fallen men curiously. Markurd watched the two of them as they finished their testy exchange and growled out suspiciously, “What happens here?”

  Li Chin gave a small bow to his ex-patient. “I am pleased to see you have recovered since our last meeting. Your pupil saw fit to defend me against unscrupulous bandits in return for the treatment I gave you. I am most gratified at your recovery and of course appreciative of his intervention.”

  Markurd flushed a satisfying red, mumbling something that might generously have been taken for thanks, causing Ronan to hide a smile. “Come, we must return to the caravan and we will be taking the Healer with us.”

  After they were underway Markurd sidled his horse over to Ronan. “One of those men had a Hansee arrow sticking out of him and another looked like a swordmaster. Did you fight him?”

  Ronan frowned at hearing his own questions to Li Chin now being repeated by Markurd. Thinking of his duel with Sheywen Ronan lost his dark mood and was simply pleased to still be alive. “Yes. Who else do you think gave me this bloody nose and marred my handsome good looks?”

  Markurd grunted, impressed despite his suspicions. “There were a lot of tracks and what about the man with the arrow in his face and the other two?”

  Unable to restrain a smile Ronan said cheerily. “We were confronted by a horde of bandits! A beautiful girl rode up and confronted the bandit band. She killed the two men in a dazzling display of sword-craft before half the bandits were persuaded to give up riches beyond their imaginations and to instead ride off with her to a battle, where there was small hope of surviving. I fought the bandit leader, who was a swordmaster, and the archer apparently was neither of sound mind or had good vision and ended up with his own arrow in his eye. Those who decided not to race off to their near certain deaths just rode off, abandoning the riches, too frightened by what they had seen to take them.”

  Markurd growled angrily. “Alright, have your fun now, but when I am fit I shall knock that simple smile off your ugly face in our first sparring session!” He kicked his horse to join the men he had brought with him, preferring their company while Ronan laughed happily at Markurd’s angry scowl.

  Chapter 45

  Shushan and Zun were the first to reach the ridge. They looked down on the dust chocked entrance to the gully where the horde of nomads was trying to break through the defenders’ lines. The rest of their men pulled up beside them, their mounts panting heavily and chafing at their bits. Zun had ridden hard to reach Bulusi and their caravan and hearing of Zanwen’s scouting mission he had only waited long enough to strip most of the guard from the caravan before tearing after him. They had ridden as quickly as they dared without blowing their mounts completely but once they had met with Bandu racing towards them they had ridden flat out to reach the battle before it was over.

  Seeing his commanders were all within earshot Zun called out his intentions. “Bulusi will command the archers. You are to remain out of the fight until you run out of arrows, then follow us in and make sure that you are in close formation when you do. Mading will take the left wing of a wedge, Shushan’s men the right and my men the centre. We want to punch them hard and force a way through to the defenders. Bulusi see if your archers can thin the ranks ahead of our wedge as we go. If we make good progress it will demoralise the rest. We attack on their right side and centre, leave their left flank as the Golden Road to life. If they take it, let them run. Concentrate on those still in the fight. Our target is the Guang front line. Our objective is to win the fight and survive, not kill them all.” He flashed a quick smile, “Though it would be good to kill as many as you can on the way so as to convince the others to leave. Now ride and sound the horns!”

  With a shout of encouragement Zun kicked his horse into a gallop towards the milling horde trying to break the thin line of remaining Guang soldiers. Shushan stuck close to Zun’s side to lead their tight packed wedge. They shared exhilarated grins as they raced towards the rear of the host, the sound of air rushing past them and the pounding of their horses’ hooves deafening all other sounds. Seventy feet from the rear of the nomad horde they were seen and those nearest to their charge desperately began turning their mounts and shouting a warning. At fifty feet Zun became aware of another-worldly wailing noise, almost causing him to lose his seat as he searched to see what it could be. Seeing Shushan laugh, he concentrated grimly on targeting their wedge at the weakest part of the horde ahead. Their two battle horns called out in deep bellows to accompany the shrieking wails he did not recognise. Just before they hit the outer edge Zun could see the nomads were equally nonplussed by the wailing and considerably more concerned by it, milling in confusion and indecision as they looked around for its source.

  When their wedge hit the horde it was like crashing into a wall of men and horseflesh, but the wall reluctantly crumpled under their combined weight and momentum. Zun and Shushan carved a route through the packed mass of mounted warriors, many of whom were wedged in too tightly to turn and face the new and unexpected threat from behind. Zun was vaguely aware of the hissing of arrows passing overhead into the packed mass ahead of them as he relentlessly kicked his horse forward. It was a desperate melee of cut and thrust, block and push while pressing ahead so as not to lose their momentum and become engulfed.

  They were upon new targets before the warriors knew they were under threat and the regular waves of arrows flying close overhead were thinning the route ahead of them, causing panic as the nomads tried to determine where the new threat came from. The noise was deafening and Zun a blade in each hand guided his horse with knees alone, constantly booting it forward into the press, conscious of the close presence of Shushan whose blades swung as quick as his own, protecting his right as he defended her left. Together they ploughed on oblivious of all else when, almost breaking through the horde, Zun saw the beleaguered Guang soldiers ahead abandon their shield wall to fall back.

  The manoeuvre caught the attacking warriors by surprise as the resistance from the shield wal
l melted away. The Guang soldiers seized the opportunity and raced towards two jiao or boxed litters, turning to establish a new ring around them to make their final stand. The nomads who had moments before been pushing against the shield wall staggered forward, quickly recovering to surge with a roar of triumph after them. But as the front ranks of the nomads who had been fighting the soldiers leapt forward a gap opened between those that pursued the fleeing soldiers and those aware of the attack at their rear, who now sought only the space to get away. The nomads not blindly pursuing the Guang soldiers quickly discovered the route of least resistance, The Golden Road to Life. They began whipping their mounts to clear the field. As the opposition melted away Zun and Shushan surged forward closely followed by their men, desperate to reach those still attacking the beleaguered soldiers before they were overrun.

  Shushan sliced the face of a nomad’s horse whose rider had tried to use it to bowl her over, causing it to rear up. It spilled its rider and suddenly she was through! The last of the warriors unaware of Zun’s force behind them raced to catch the reforming Guang soldiers. Shushan kicked her tired horse to follow them just catching sight of Zanwen crashing back into one of the boxed litters, to disappear through its side in a shower of splintered wood and a flurry of black silk curtains.