by Matt Russell
He stared as this impossible creature moved from behind the trees and began to slowly walk toward him, feeling too awestruck to run. How could anyone escape from something so massive and powerful? Time seemed to slow as the monster drew nearer, and some part of Kota’s mind began to note details of its form. It had thick, powerful limbs covered with an orange-bronze fur that billowed in the intangible wind. The tremendous head came into view, revealing a black nose like that of a forest cat, and black lips that curled up around thick fangs that Kota knew could rend his body to gnarled meat with an effortless bite. The creature's features were somewhere between those of a wolf and a lion, yet its eyes did not seem entirely beast-like. They were silver, just like Kota’s own, and he could somehow sense that there was a degree of intelligence behind them.
The beast moved within fifty paces or so, then stopped and stared at Kota. He involuntarily gasped and took a step back, and the creature followed him with its eyes, not moving. Kota’s mind struggled to make sense of what he was seeing. Gretis had called this place the spirit world. What did that make this creature? He stared at it, taking in the teeth and the fur and…the claws. Kota found himself gazing down at his fingers. Some instinct from deep inside boiled up, and he extended his own claws. The instant they snapped out, a low growl came from the beast’s throat that shook the world. When the sound died away, there was perfect silence in the forest save for the creature's soft breathing, and the thump of its great heart. Kota listened to that heartbeat and felt it at the same time, for it exactly mirrored his own.
He swallowed as he stared into the silver eyes, and an epiphany too great to believe washed over him. Five years ago, he had left his tribe to venture out into the wilderness and perceive his spirit, and now, in the depths of his heart, Kota knew he was finally gazing upon it. This was the most profound moment of his life. This creature was distinct from his conscious mind, and yet part of him. It was his courage and his strength, and so much more. He could feel its power—raw and primal and enormous. That power lay inside of him. It had always been there, waiting to be called upon.
The beast roared, and the wind of its breath pushed his hair back. It bared its teeth and crouched, readying to charge. Kota knew he should be terrified, but as he gazed at the snarling monster, a thrill came over him. This was the truth of his existence! If this creature were a part of him, then he would face it. Somehow, he knew this was what he had to do.
As the beast bounded forward, Kota ran directly at it, his claws tearing into the ethereal grass beneath his feet. His spirit was on him in two great strides, its enormous mouth open and low to the ground. Kota leaped toward the jaws, unafraid. His clawed hands closed around two massive fangs in the air, and there was an explosion of energy. Brilliant blue light tore and crackled through him like lightning. Kota knew this was his spirit's power, and he embraced it. He felt strength beyond anything he had imagined filling up inside him. The forest vanished away then. He no longer had need of it.
Kota’s conscious mind went hurtling back the way it had come. Again, he passed through the ocean of burning stars, but much faster than before. He willed himself out of the spirit world and back into his physical body, the full might of the beast moving with him in a flash of violent and beautiful power.
Suddenly he was in a domed hut standing on his two feet, letting out a roar so thunderous that the animal skin structure around him trembled. Every muscle in his body was flexing. His claws were out, and they were larger than they had ever been.
Kota heard a gasp, and he looked down and saw a human woman staring up at him with a frightened expression. He thought he knew her, but he could not remember. She stood up slowly and looked into his eyes and said: "Kota!"
The name registered in some distant part of his mind, but he paid it no attention. This human was of little interest. The power coursing through him ached to be used. He turned and gazed at the thin layer of animal skin that stood between himself and the rest of the world. The thought came to him that he should pass through it, and instantly his legs snapped him forward. His body tore through the tent and hurtled twenty or thirty paces in the span of a second before his feet came to a rough skid through the leaves. He laughed aloud at his own wonderful speed.
"Kota!" the woman shouted from behind him. He turned to face her. There seemed to be power from her that was something like his own. She took a step forward and said: "Can you understand me?"
He tried to make sense of the words but could not. The human frowned at him and then her body whipped over the leaves in his direction. She moved with speed like his, and as he saw this, he gave a laugh and whirled away from her. This was a game of chase! His legs launched him forward into a cluster of trees. It was terribly dark, but his body knew how to navigate, and he darted and leaped through the brush. The air whipped at his face, and the trees passed behind him in quick blurs left and right. At one point, he perceived a low branch in his path a little thicker than his head, but his hand moved of its own accord and batted the thing. There was a snapping sound and a spray of splinters, but no pain at all.
Kota accelerated his movements, giggling at the thought of the woman trailing somewhere behind him. He was faster than she was! As he shot further and further ahead, his eyes suddenly fixed on the soft orange glow of a fire off in the distance. Curious, he whipped toward it, his legs kicking up dirt and leaves in a wild pace.
A few heartbeats later Kota came to a skidding halt on a rough patch of dirt just before the fire. He gazed around and saw that he was in a clearing. Two large humans were sitting by this fire next to a pair of horses. They were looking at him with wide, frightened eyes.
"W-what in the hell?" one man said, rising to his feet. He was a heavyset human with a thick brown beard. "W-what are you?"
"Look at its eyes!" the other man shouted, rising as well. He had a thick tuft of closely cropped blond hair, and he wore something at his belt that Kota vaguely recognized as a sword. "He's some kind of demon!" this man hissed, and he drew his weapon out, shouting with a furious glare: "Get the hell out of here!" And then he swung his sword.
Kota watched the blade come. The swing seemed ridiculously slow and clumsy. He easily leaned back and let the weapon swipe pass harmlessly through the air, and he let out a chuckle. The man grunted and swung again, this time at Kota's ribs. Still laughing, Kota whipped his stomach back, and once more the sword struck nothing but air.
"He's so fast!" the blond man shrieked, and he lunged forward in a desperate slash. It amused Kota to leap upward over the blade, and he commanded his legs to launch him. A split second later his feet were above his attacker's head, but he seemed to have misjudged his power, for his body continued to rise for several heartbeats longer.
"OH GODS!" he heard a shriek from below and looked down at the man, who was quite a way down. The human stumbled back as Kota's body finally began its descent. The cool air rushed up for a few heartbeats, and then his feet met the grass, his legs absorbing the impact in graceful silence as he dropped into a crouch. It was then that he sensed the crossbow.
Kota could feel the other human—the one with the beard—behind him, trembling with the weapon in his hands. Kota shut his eyes and let a strange new perception overtake his mind. He felt the tension in the bowstring—felt the muscles in the man's arms as he tried to aim, and then there was the snap of the trigger. Most fascinating of all was the bolt as it shot. Kota felt it flying forward and perceived the way its tip sliced through the cool night air. Without opening his eyes, he spun around and caught the thing with his right hand by the shaft. This was wonderful! He gazed at the bolt for a moment and then tossed it back to the man. The human looked at him with an expression of terror, but Kota pointed to the arrow and then patted himself on the chest several times. He wanted to keep playing this game.
"Kota!" the woman's voice came once more from behind in a furious shout. He turned and saw her. She had a sword in her hand. Kota took a few steps back from her in su
rprise, and as he did, he passed behind one of the horses that had been tied to a tree branch. The horse bucked immediately, and both of its great legs shot out.
Kota knew he could move easily out of the way, but it occurred to him that being kicked by a horse might be amusing so he turned to face it. The two hooves rammed into his chest. Kota felt the power in his body crackle in resistance to the blow, and he remained still as the horse's body jerked forward from the force reflected back at it.
"That horse just kicked me!" Kota said with a loud laugh, and then he remembered that he could speak. He looked at Gretis, who was scowling at him, and he began to make sense of where he was and what he had just done. Swallowing, Kota turned to the two men. Their faces were white with fear.
He swallowed and said: "I—I'm sorry!" Then a wave of dizziness came. Kota blinked, trying to focus on Gretis, but her image blurred. He felt his legs buckle beneath him, and then his vision went black.
Chapter 15:
Recruitment
Somar stumbled out through the red cloth that made up the door to his and Cassian's tent. The boy had disappeared at some point in the very wee hours of the morning, which was quite troubling given the mental state he been in the night before. The two of them were surrounded by soldiers who were commanded by one of the most ruthless generals in Denigoth's history, and Cassian’s sense of propriety and restraint could be…unpredictable.
"Excuse me, have you seen Lord Asango?" Somar said to a group of six soldiers who were walking in a line in front of his tent. They all stopped and turned to him.
"Oh yes, he's causing quite a ruckus," said a tall soldier with thick black stubble on his face. "He's walkin' around the camp with his dragon asking the men strange questions and writin' on a stack of papers with magic. Damndest thing I ever seen! He just looks at the page and letters appear."
A shorter, rounder soldier said excitedly: "Yeah, and General Romulus summoned him just a little while ago, but when the messenger came and told him, Asango just looked at the man and said 'No.' We're all kind of wonderin' what's going to happen next. Nobody says no to Romulus, but then Asango is a Starborn, and—"
"Where is he?" Somar said sharply.
"A few rows of tents that way," said the tall soldier, pointing to the east.
"Thank you," Somar said, and he broke into the closest thing to a run his aged body could manage, stumbling around soldiers and camp equipment. He went through three rows of tents before he spotted Cassian speaking to a handful soldiers not much older than himself. Titus was seated a few feet behind him gazing around and, from the look of things, making the soldiers around him extremely nervous. Half out of breath, Somar sprinted toward the gathering.
"At what age did you enlist?" said Cassian.
One of the young soldiers started to answer, but Somar called out: "Lord Asango, might I have a word?"
Cassian cocked his head toward Somar, then turned back to the soldiers and said: "Stay here, please. I will be back in a moment." He walked to Somar and said: "Yes?"
"May I ask what you were doing just now?"
"Recruitment," the boy said in a matter-of-fact tone.
"Recruitment for what exactly, may I ask?"
"My personal guard."
Just then, a group of three soldiers approached, with one man walking in front and the other two flanking him. The leader said in an official, yet at the same time nervous voice: "Lord Asango, General Romulus has instructed me to remind you that you have been inducted into his army, and that military law requires you appear before him when summoned." A rumbling growl escaped Titus at these words, and the soldier visibly winced.
"Hmm," Cassian grunted. He lifted the stack of papers in his left hand, upon which Somar noticed many names had been written, and pulled a blank sheet from the back and narrowed his eyes at it. Beautifully written black letters began to appear on the page, here and there tiny puffs of smoke emitting from them as they took shape, as if Cassian were burning them into the sheet. The words were written in Dhavic, but Somar mentally translated them to
Somar suppressed a gasp as his pupil handed the paper to the soldier and said: "Give him this.". The man stared at the page with a look of incomprehension. At least he had bothered to write it in the scholar's language. After a moment, the soldier muttered: "Yes, sir."
When the men had gone, Somar said in a quiet hiss: "What the hell are you doing?"
"I told you, I am recruiting my personal guard."
Somar could have slapped Cassian at that moment. Instead, he said: "You are committing insubordination to a General of the Imperial Army. If you do not back down immediately—and I'm not even sure you can at this point—Romulus is going to—"
"Going to what?” Cassian said with a shrug. “What in the world do you think that General is going to do to me?"
"Well, you are openly disobeying direct orders from a superior officer, and in fact, you just threatened him with murder In Writing! By all rights, he could have you killed."
"You think he would dare touch me now?" Cassian said, his eyes cold. "I am going to be the next emperor."
"You have not been named crown prince yet."
"No, but it is extremely evident that I will be now," Cassian said, shrugging. "That is power, and I am choosing to use it."
Somar kept his voice quiet as he said: "Dammit, Cassian, I know you are upset, but this is beyond reckless, even for you!"
"On the contrary, this is all calculated," said Cassian. He leaned in closer and whispered: "What Romulus can and cannot do to me now is extremely ambiguous. Undoubtedly, Emperor Tacitus commanded him to provoke a fight between Dimitris and me." The boy’s face twitched in a barely detectable expression of anger as he referred to the duel. "I do not know why, and I do not believe Romulus does either, which means he has no idea how important I am to his emperor. He will not dare attempt to kill me."
Somar narrowed his eyes. "And based on what happened with the Nemesai a few years ago, you're not exactly easy to arrest, are you? You're defying him openly—putting him in a position where he either has to kill you or leave you alone. Why?"
Cassian tilted his head so that his eyes were perfectly level with Somar’s. "What do you think I would be forced to do under the command of that disgusting man?"
Somar took a slow breath, understanding immediately what Cassian was doing. Romulus was a brutal commander known to butcher entire villages who did not surrender to him at the first prompting, including women and children. Under Romulus's command, the boy would likely be ordered to commit mass murder. This was something Somar had been considering for some time, though he and Cassian had never discussed the matter.
"Fine,” Somar said, “I understand your reasons, but you're playing an incredibly dangerous game. This is not what I taught you."
"I learned a great deal from you, old man,” Cassian said, “but I am not you, and I am not playing." He turned his head in the direction of Romulus's tent. It was only a few hundred paces away. "I find I dislike killing, and I will not be anyone's butcher. If I must fight in the military, it will be on my own terms."
"And you believe that Romulus will just hand over whatever men you write on a list after you just embarrassed him in front of his own camp and threatened to murder him?"
"That and the supplies I need, yes," Cassian said. "Actually, I would appreciate it if you would look over my requisition orders before I submit them. This will be my first time managing an army after all."
Somar let out a very long sigh and gazed up at the clouds. He had long since lost the energy to try to talk the boy out of his brazen actions. After watching Cassian directly threaten Bishop Cromlic in front of the whole world and tell the great dragon to do his worst, was any of this behavior surprising?
"I will look over whatever you have," Somar muttered, shaking his head and trying to let go of the tremendous anxiety of bein
g this boy's friend, which was something of an ongoing problem. "You damn well better write a letter to the Emperor explaining yourself though."
"Tacitus is acutely aware of everything I am doing." Cassian tapped his right temple, which Somar knew represented telepathy.
"And he approves of your actions?"
"He is content to silently observe how I handle Romulus. It is another way he is measuring me, I suppose."
"The Emperor certainly gives you a great deal of leeway, doesn't he?"
"He does not give me anything. I take it." Cassian sighed: "I think it amuses him."
"I see," Somar muttered. His eyes shifted to the boy’s list that, upon further inspection, had more information than only names. There was age, approximate height, number of battles participated in, combat specialties, and then a series of numbers with other symbols that Somar did not recognize at all. Gritting his teeth, he muttered: "I do not wish to detain you then, except to say that I should like to know more about this personal guard of yours when you have the time."
"The whole continent will know soon, I promise you," said Cassian.
Somar accepted this answer with a nod and turned back in the direction of his tent. His mind swam with everything that had happened in the last cycle of the sun. Cassian had been thrust into all the chaotic depths of military life, and soon would follow into the ever more treacherous waters of politics. The boy was no defenseless little fish though, but a clever and powerful serpent. That was what Somar had wanted, and yet it troubled him to see it realized. The bright-eyed young man with all of his absurd ambition and sense of wonder about the world seemed gone now. Somar was rapidly becoming a very old man, and he considered his life to have been a remarkable one, but he supposed he had never been—nor would ever be again—as happy and fulfilled as he had in those years with his surrogate son, with their debates on so many different things, their games of cornerstone, and all their discussions of philosophy, literature, and history. This chapter was closing, and it filled him with an unexpected pain as he shuffled between the soldiers.