Path of The Calm (Saga of The Wolf Book 1)

by Kris Hiatt

  That reminded Treace of his father, and of his letter. His father had told him to do the right thing if for no other reason than it was the right thing to do. He knew he would have to find out the truth behind his father’s death sooner or later. He thought it might be sooner.

  “Will there be war?” Treace asked.

  “Most likely, but we’ll need many more men, and someone to train them.”

  “Precisely what I was thinking,” Treace said.

  “I was hoping you’d say that. If we are to stand a chance at winning should a war erupt, we’ll need able bodied men. I can’t think of a better person to teach them,” Liernin said.

  “I can,” Treace said, looking north.

  “Tabor does a fine job, but I think you can do better.”

  “I wasn’t speaking of Tabor,” Treace said.

  “The man that trained you?” Drevic asked.

  “Yes, though I fear Tabor won’t like that idea.”

  “Why do you say that?” Liernin asked.

  “First, tell me about all the men you have already recruited. Where are they?” Treace asked Liernin, glad to finally have it out in the open.

  “How do you know about them?”

  “Know about who?” Drevic asked.

  “So you are aware of it,” Treace stated.

  “Again, what are you talking about?” Drevic said.

  By the curtness in his voice, Treace could tell he was irrated.

  Liernin sighed and put his head in his hands and ran his fingers through his hair.

  “Tabor and I have been secretly building an army just in case the negotiations went sour,” Liernin confirmed. “Which they did.”

  “So we weren’t the only ones hiding something,” Treace dared to say.

  Although Liernin gave him a hard look, it faded quickly.

  “I accept that,” Liernin said.

  “We may turn out to be lucky that you did,” Drevic said.

  “If Drokier knows, then so does Shamir. I don’t see where that’s lucky,” Treace said.

  “That may turn out to be in our favor,” Liernin said. “Shamir may be less likely to move against us if he knows we have a sizeable force ready to defend.”

  “Very true,” Drevic said, nodding his head in apparent agreement.

  “Only if Drokier believes that force is formidable,” Treace pointed out, still not believing that Shamir knowing of any opposing force is a positive thing.

  “All the more reason to ensure we get them trained,” Liernin said.

  “Where are the men at?”

  “I’ve had men building a small garrison and training near the shore a few days ride north of here,” Liernin said.

  “I’m sure I can find it after I return with their trainer,” Treace said.

  “Who’s the man you have in mind?” Liernin asked.

  “You know him, or at least used to,” Treace said. “His name is Exodin.”

  “I haven’t heard that name in years,” Liernin said with distant eyes, as if he was actually looking into his memory. “But if it’s the same Exodin, then no, Tabor won’t like it in the least. But he’ll go along with it, it’s for the best.”

  “Drokier turned on you, are you sure Tabor won’t do the same?” Treace asked.

  “I’d stake my life on it.”

  “Fine. I’ll talk to Exodin. You talk to Tabor,” Treace said.

  “You get the easy part,” Liernin told him.

  “That’s why you’re the baron.”

  Liernin smiled, which was rare on anyone’s face these days, and walked away.

  “I still can’t believe what’s happened,” Drevic said after Liernin was gone.

  “Me either my friend, me either,” Treace told him.

  “If you’re training Liernin’s men, will you stay and help me rebuild the order?”

  “Yes, but not the way you think. If we are to stand side by side with Liernin’s men, we’ll need to be able to fight. Exodin and I will train them how to fight, you guide them through the Paths.”

  “Do you really think that’s the best choice?”

  “If we are to stand against Shamir and win the inevitable war, yes, I do. If our brothers are on the front lines of battle trying to heal Liernin’s men, they’ll be slaughtered without the ability to defend themselves.”

  “We don’t know for sure that there will be a war,” Drevic said. “Shamir could be happy with what he’s gained so far.”

  “True, but if we don’t prepare for one, we’re even more ignorant than we were when we entered that meeting room at the College.”

  Drevic didn’t say anything in return and Treace kept his mouth shut too, giving his friend time to think.

  “You still haven’t heard from Moff?” Drevic said some time later, breaking the silence.

  Treace had talked to Red and Sharrah last night, but neither had seen his friend, nor had they even heard of him being in town.

  “No,” Treace said, wishing Moff was here with him.

  “At least Heral’s with us,” Drevic said.

  That much was true. Many of the brothers stayed at the College, probably not knowing the full truth, or what was even going on, and less than two dozen had come with them to Haven. The rest of the brothers stayed with Brental. Treace thought his ranks would thin quickly as the brothers learned the truth of the hostile man.

  “When will you leave?” Drevic asked.

  “Not until after Nimbril’s put to ground,” Treace answered.

  “I would like to meet with you and Heral soon. We need to figure out the details of how our order should proceed.”

  “You’re the Archmagister, not me.”

  “Yes, but I also know that I can’t think of everything on my own. We are in this together, so together we’ll be.”

  “Are you keeping the council then?”

  “Yes, but one of my choosing, and before you ask, you are on it, regardless of whether you are a magister or not. Those days are over.”

  Treace couldn’t argue since Drevic was the Archmagister, so instead, as he had done many times before, he simply remained quiet.

  “I’m going to check on everyone else. Let Heral know for me?”

  “I’ll see him later tonight,” Treace said.

  “Take care, my friend,” Drevic told him and turned to leave.

  “You too,” Treace told him. Just then he noticed Drevic was wearing white robes; robes of the Archmagister.

  “Drevic?” Treace asked, making Drevic stop and turn around.

  “Yes?”

  “Why is it that the Archmagister wears white?”

  “You really don’t know?”

  “That’s why I’m asking,” Treace said, feeling a little embarrassed.

  “You do know what a prism is, correct?”

  “Of course.”

  “What happens when you hold one up to the light?”

  Treace understood it then; the prism separated light into all the primary colors. The robes signified that the wearer was made up of all colors of the Paths and had mastered them. He didn’t know how he missed that before. He nodded his head to Drevic.

  Drevic walked off, leaving him to his thoughts.

  He thought of Nimbril and how bright his robes were. He pictured the broken man as he lay in the mud, his once bright robes soiled. Something didn’t seem right about it, besides the fact that Nimbril’s broken body was in it. It eluded him so he moved on. He thought of the College and how he missed the camaraderie of the brothers.

  He thought of Shamir and whether or not the man had done anything truly wrong. In his heart, Treace knew Shamir’s actions, and those of Brental and Drokier, were wrong, even if the laws of their area said they weren’t.

  Just because you can do something doesn’t mean you should.

  He thought of Liern, and was happy that the boy hadn’t been badly hurt. He did have a small cut on his throat, but it would heal. The mental anguish, however, might take some time.

 
He couldn’t help but to feel responsible for that.

  Things were going so well for him until recently; he was a master smith, a member of the College, a member of the Elite Guard, the baron’s personal guard, and a master swordsman.

  Now, he was a master failure. The College as he knew it was gone, its leader cast down in front of him, and war was on the horizon. He didn’t do a very good job of protecting that which he loved, and he hoped he would be able to make amends for that.

  He looked to the south, thinking of Moff, and hoped his friend was all right. He hoped he just got caught up with his family and found it difficult to leave or to send a message. Whatever the reason, when he did get to see him next, he planned on giving him a piece of his mind for leaving him the way he did.

  He looked to the north again and thought of his mother and Jensen. He knew he would have to find out the truth about his father from Jensen. While he didn’t like that he held information from him, he also knew that Jensen was a good man and must have had his reasons. He hoped his mother was happy, that’s all he could really hope for.

  He thought of his friend Exodin and hoped he would agree to train the men. Treace guessed he would, what other choice did he have? Treace hoped he didn’t have to use his past against him, but he was prepared to do what he had to in order to get the man here. He doubted it would come to that, however. Working for the baron was something Treace remembered Exodin said he wanted to do and besides, the baron outranked Constable Wren.

  He thought of Emiah and was glad there was something nice to think of. Thinking of her always seemed to make him feel better. He didn’t believe she felt the same for him as he did for her, but it didn’t matter; just knowing her made him happy.

  In two weeks he would leave for Lake City to bring Exodin back. He would see his mother and Jensen, and hopefully get some answers regarding his father. Maybe he would even see Emiah. He liked the idea of seeing everyone. It had been over two years since he had seen anyone from his home town. He smiled at the thought of seeing Mr. Lavare and Gil.

  He wondered if Constable Wren would consider the dismantling of the leadership of the College and his removal a failure. If so, he wasn’t supposed to be welcomed in Lake City.

  He didn’t care.

  He would see his family, and he would get Exodin and leave. He thought about asking his family to return to Haven with him, but he didn’t like the idea of them being there in case Shamir did make a move to take the city. He thought it would be best if they stayed in Lake City, just in case. It would be safer for them there.

  Of course thinking of the constable inexorably led his mind to Wren. He hated that man. He was just like Shamir, Brental, and Drokier. In Treace’s mind, they were all sores; festering on the side of the world. All of them took advantage of others who were of lower station or skill; whether it was real or perceived.

  In the past he always dreaded seeing Wren. Not now, however, he looked forward to their next meeting; he hated bullies.

  The End