by Matt Russell
Gretis let out a soft chuckle and once again took Kota's hands in her own. "You are special, Kota, even among the shamalak. The power that was poured into your people has been diluted and spread thin over the centuries, but you—" she squeezed his fingers, "your animus—what did it look like?"
Kota's mind flashed to the impossible mountain of deadly power that had made the spirit world tremble before its feet. "It was..." He hesitated to put the creature's form into words.
"It was tremendous, was it not—larger than any creature you have ever seen?"
"Much larger," Kota whispered.
She let go of his hand and placed her palms on his shoulders. "I shall tell you the rest of this story another time, and a bit about a prophecy as well. For today, just know that—" she gave a soft and beautiful laugh, "you are everything I ever dared to hope you would be, and so much more."
Gretis stood then and walked over to the side of the hut. Kota watched her draw out a large roll of cloth, his eyes briefly traveling to the gaping hole he had made in the structure the night before. Gretis unrolled the fabric on the forest floor, and the two training swords clattered out. She picked one up by the handle and tossed it to Kota. His new sense attuned to the motion instantly and he stood, extending his arm and angling his hand so that the hilt of the weapon fell precisely into his grip. As his fingers closed around it, he felt his new strength crackle inside him, as if excited.
"Shall we see what you can do, young warrior?" Gretis said, extending her blade and dropping into her favorite stance.
The sword felt as light as a feather in Kota's hand. He gazed at Gretis. She was the greatest warrior he had ever known. The thought of truly doing battle with her sent a thrill through his blood. He felt himself smile as he dropped into his own stance.
The two of them rushed at one another and steel collided with steel with such force that Kota felt a shockwave of air sting his face. More than ever before, he felt alive.
Chapter 18:
Confrontation
in the War Camp
A cool evening breeze whisked over Cassian's skin as he strode toward General Romulus's tent. His lists had been carefully organized and were now ready to present. He clutched them delicately as he gazed at the thirty men that had more or less created a human wall in front of Romulus's door. They were staring nervously back at him. The whole camp knew by now that he and the General were at extremely dangerous odds with one another, and most suspected a confrontation.
"I would like to see Romulus," said Cassian. He spoke loudly and with a tone of complete authority. As he met the eyes of the men, he was surprised at the lack of nerves in his stomach. Dimitris's death was still incredibly close to his soul, and his anger over it squelched all hesitation at what he was about to do.
A soldier with a brass helmet and chest armor approached, his face pale. "Romulus has given orders that you are not to be admitted, Lord Asango. He says that he has sent to the Imperium for orders on how to deal with your—" the man’s voice went dry with nerves, "insubordination."
"Hah!" Cassian laughed. He could feel the eyes of dozens of men on him. Their minds were singularly focused on the threat he represented. That made things immensely easy. Taking advantage of their unified attention, he cast the tendrils of his psychic mind outward, finding clear and open paths to every victim. Not one in the crowd possessed even a fraction of the mental resistance that Cassian had honed his skills against in Somar.
"Let him in," he made them all think they heard Romulus's voice shout from inside the tent. "I will see Lord Asango."
There was a tremendous swell of relief as the wall of soldiers parted, happy to accommodate the terrifying Starborn rather than engage him. Cassian walked through them and parted the hanging bearskins that functioned as Romulus's front door. As he did, he quietly whispered an incantation, summoning a handful of spectrals into a spell that formed instantly around the tent.
"Hello, Romulus," Cassian said aloud as he entered.
"W-What is this?!" the General cried, and he bounded out from one of the great structure’s inner rooms with a group of ten aged men at his back with long beards, each dressed in fine, silvery robes. "Guards!" Romulus cried aloud.
"They cannot hear you," Cassian said, stepping into the center of the room. "No one outside this tent can hear anything within."
One of the old men looked around and then shut his eyes. Cassian felt him reach out with a sorcerer’s aura. "The boy has cast a powerful spell around us," he said.
"Obviously," Cassian sighed.
Romulus glared at him. "Do you have any idea what you are doing?"
Cassian stared at the General. How well he understood things now. The meager psychic walls around Romulus's mind were leaking out waves of anxiety. The authority the man thought he had was being threatened, and he was desperate to reestablish it.
"I know exactly what I am doing." Cassian took a step forward.
"Hold, boy!" the old man who had spoken before said, and he extended his hand, palm toward Cassian.
Romulus's face twitched. "You would do well to watch yourself. These men are all Deklons."
Cassian knew the term. ‘Deklons’ were the highest order of battle sorcerers in the Denigoth military. They were notorious as vicious murderers who worked together to construct spells that could wipe out half a village in an instant. The name of their caste was spoken of in terror all over the known world.
"Hello," said Cassian, looking the one who seemed to be the leader in the eyes.
"Be warned," the old sorcerer said, "we are entirely dedicated to keeping order in the imperial army, even against a Starborn. Do not make further threats against this general."
Romulus stared at Cassian for a moment, trying to gauge his reaction as Somar might. Then he forced a smile and said: "I hope you can now see the gravity of the behavior you have displayed today." His face became friendly—almost consolatory. "My dear young lord, I understand that Dimitris was likely the first person you have ever killed and that he was your good friend. Nearly every soldier in this camp knows the horrible pain of the first kill. What you have done today is understandable, even forgivable—"
"Save whatever foolish speech you have concocted," Cassian said.
Romulus's skin visibly reddened once more. "I am a General in the Empire! You—"
"BE QUIET!" Cassian snapped, amplifying and projecting the vibrations in the air of his voice to every corner of the tent. Romulus visibly flinched.
The leader of the Deklons stepped forward and said in a voice that trembled with rage: "This is your very last chance, boy—"
"All of you can be silent as well," said Cassian, turning and meeting the eyes of each sorcerer. "I know all about your caste, and it has been responsible for many of the most horrific acts of human slaughter ever carried out in the name of this Denigoth." He took a step toward them and said: "You disgust me, but you do not frighten me."
The leader narrowed his eyes and growled: "Your arrogant lack of respect for the brave men of this empire—"
"Have you murdered cowering children, brave man?" Cassian said, his voice sharp. He gestured at Romulus without looking at the general and said: "He has. Romulus demanded grain to feed his army from the great city of Sotomus, but the peasants hid some of their reserves away to keep their families from starving." Cassian turned and glared at the General. "You used Deklons to wipe them all out, did you not?"
Romulus hissed through clenched teeth: "I have always acted within the policy of this empire."
"Yes, I understand all about the grotesquely broad policies in place, and the ways men like you interpret them," Cassian said.
The Deklon leader cleared his throat loudly and snapped: "You have no place to question the actions of this army. Starborn or not, you are an inexperienced youth who has never borne the harsh responsibility of military conquest as we, the Noble and Elite soldiers of this empire have. Frankly, I find your contempt to b
e as childish as it is seditious.”
"Do you?" Cassian said, raising an eyebrow. "Have you ever forced a sobbing peasant into your bed, my noble and elite fellow?"
The Deklon narrowed his eyes, saying nothing, which was quite telling.
Cassian turned back to Romulus. "Now, I have papers I would like you to—" he stopped speaking and turned to the Deklon leader. The old man's eyes were fixed on him with a look of intense concentration. Was he actually trying to pry his way into the mind of a Starborn? Cassian sensed telepathic strength roughly on par with Bishop Cromlic's. The assault might have actually worked on him a few years before, but now it was an absurd blunder. In trying to attack, the man had opened the doorway to his own mind. Cassian retaliated, sending the full force of his psychic strength back upon his opponent.
"GAHH!" the Deklon shrieked, and he fell to his knees clutching at his skull as it exploded with the pain transmitted into it.
As the man thrashed on the floor, Cassian stared at the rest of the Deklons, as if to dare them to fight. Every one of them stood frozen. This was ugly business. Cassian detested using his gifts to bully others, but he was standing face to face with some of the cruelest and most dangerous men in the world, and appeals to reason or morality were useless. Only two things moved them: their lust for wealth and power, and their fear. Cassian refused to indulge the former in any way, which left him singularly with the latter. He watched without pity as the Deklon leader let out one final shriek and then lost consciousness, going limp on the carpeted floor.
"Good, now I have a few papers that require your signature," said Cassian, walking past the remaining battle sorcerers and holding out his neat stack of sheets to Romulus. The General was still staring at his unconscious comrade, and his face was at least one shade whiter than it had been a few seconds ago. "You will reassign the three hundred and fifty soldiers I have picked to my sovereign command. This is represented in the first three pages. I also have a list of supplies I require, which you will order to be handed over to me at the time and in the manner of my choosing."
Romulus blinked and took the papers, gazing at them for a moment as if not understanding what they were. Then he looked up and said in a dry-throated voice: "I am not signing these."
"You will sign them and anything else I place in front of you," said Cassian. His tone was calm. He felt entirely in control, and he knew he was projecting this feeling.
Romulus swallowed, then hissed: "Do you have—"
"Any idea what I am doing?" Cassian said. "I am going to be the next Emperor. Within a year or two I will almost certainly be named crown prince, and by that time I will have achieved more military victories than you have acquired in your entire career. What do you think I will do to you then if you give me the slightest hint of trouble now?" He stepped forward until he and Romulus were only an arm's length apart, and he watched the much larger man shrink. "You have a decision to make. You can give me what I want, or you can make an enemy of me." Cassian's anger blazed within him, and he let it flow out in invisible tendrils of magical energy all around the room. Tables, chairs, and bookshelves began to snap apart into tiny pieces that flew about the room. "Make your choice NOW!"
Romulus looked down at the papers he now held in a trembling hand. "I... I will sign your documents."
"Thank you, General," said Cassian. There was no smugness in his tone. This entire encounter sickened him.
Romulus glanced nervously at the shattered table behind him and then muttered: "I will take them to my office and sign them. I… I will return in a moment.” He disappeared behind a wall of cloth.
Cassian turned and glanced at the Deklons. Several of them were bent over and attending to their unconscious brother. One with a beard of gray-speckled-black looked up at him and said in a deep, throaty voice: "The path you are choosing is an extremely dangerous one, even for a Starborn."
"I agree," said Cassian. He looked down at the unconscious man. "Your companion will rise within a few moments. When he does, tell him I respect his loyalty, but if he attempts to stand against me again, he will die." Cassian paused, then said: "I suggest you and your fellow Deklons consider your options very carefully. I might have use for... some of you, but I think that most of your caste should quietly retire before I am named crown prince. I have no tolerance for the kind of tactics you employ, and standing against me would likewise be an extremely dangerous path to choose."
The old sorcerer only stared bewildered at Cassian as Romulus returned with signed documents in his hand.
"Thank you, General," said Cassian.
"You are... welcome, Lord Asango," said Romulus. His eyes were downcast as he spoke.
"Romulus," Cassian said, and the General looked up at him. "Answer me truthfully, or I will sense it: do you know why Dimitris had to die?"
The man hesitated, then exhaled: "No. I was told only to do everything in my power to instigate a fight between you two."
Cassian allowed these words to wash over him for a few seconds and then let the mystery pass. He handed a second copy of the list of names to Romulus and said: "Have these men assembled at dawn in the northern end of camp." He did not wait for a response but turned and walked out of the tent and back amongst the still on-edge soldiers who had heard none of what had happened. Cassian paid them no mind. He crossed the camp to his tent where he found Somar sitting in an armchair, the old man’s bags neatly packed on either side of him, a roll of brown parchment in his hand.
His tutor stared at him for several seconds, then said: "So he gave you everything you wanted."
A small grin touched Cassian’s face at his dear friend’s powers of perception. "I am going to miss you a great deal, old man."
Somar ran his fingers over the parchment he held. "I was going to slip away." He let out a laugh, as if at himself. "I wrote you a letter."
"You mean you would actually pass up a chance to hear your own voice?"
"Yes, quite unlike me, isn't it?" The old man tucked the document into his pocket, and Cassian felt some small tinge of regret as he realized he might never know what his friend had written to him. "I let myself become convinced that the most important thing was to let you go as cleanly as possible."
"Was that Thalice’s idea?"
Cassian had the satisfaction of seeing Somar's eyes go wide for once. Then the old man muttered: "That sweet girl attempted to conceal herself because she thought it would pain you to know she had been watching you."
"It did—enormously," said Cassian. "It just was not enough to stop me."
Somar breathed in slowly through his nostrils, seeming to consider these words. Then he rose and looked Cassian in the eyes. "I need to tell you this face to face, and if you have developed any respect for me in our years together, then I damned well call on it all right now, and I ask that you listen to every word I say, because there is no one else to tell you these things."
Cassian gave a nod and eyed his teacher.
"I see you becoming a vicious beast,” Somar said without reserve. “You must have been quite forceful to back down Romulus the Terrible just now. I am proud of you for this, because to rise as far as you desire in this empire, one has to have extremely sharp teeth and not be squeamish about using them. But when you find this part of yourself and begin to truly exercise it, it is incredibly easy to become a cruel man. You are going to go into battle, and that will change you, as killing Dimitris has already changed you."
Cassian stared into the old man's eyes as he spoke. He had never seen them so intense.
"It takes tremendous strength of character for a man to retain all of his compassion and his integrity and his ideals in the face of war. Hardening your heart is not courage; it is cowardice. Do not forget that, lest you will become just like those deplorable oppressors you hate from the deepest parts of your soul."
The words stung, reigniting the pain of Dimitris's death, and Cassian became aware of how numb he had been for the last day. The s
urge of emotion was enough to produce a pair of tears. He blinked them away and took a very slow breath, meeting Somar’s eyes for a long moment, and then he said: "Thank you, old man. There is no one else to tell me these things."
Cassian drew out a scroll he had sealed in wax the day before they set out and handed it to his former teacher.
"What's this," Somar said, peering down.
As the old man unraveled the paper, Cassian said: "I have named you steward of all my lands and business ventures while I am at war." He smiled at Somar and said: "Go and live as a coastal lord. It is not a bad life."
"I... I did not expect this," the old man said, shaking his head.
"I am certain you had your suspicions," Cassian sighed. He reached up and gripped his friend’s arm. "I trust you more than any other to run my fief the way it should be run." With a smirk, he added: "And anyhow, it is the safest place in the world for you at the moment. Bishop Cromlic swore an oath never to return there or do you harm, and there is an extremely skilled contingent of soldiers there to keep you safe from all his attempts to sidestep that oath."
Cassian was satisfied to see the old man's expression fidget just a little into one of excitement. "I thank you, Lord Asango," he finally said.
"It has been an honor, sir," Cassian said as he held out his hand. His former teacher gripped it tightly and gave it a deep-felt shake. No further words were necessary between them. They drew apart, and the old man bent down and lifted his bags and left the tent in silence, and Cassian walked over to his bed and sat down, already mentally composing his first speech to his new army.
Chapter 19:
A Slave Once More
Arkas stared down at the teenage slave girl as his sleeping spell slowly dissipated inside her. He had wrapped Iona in blankets with great care and had ridden in the back of the cart with her long through the night while his servant, Dunlin, drove the horses. The morning sunlight was beginning to radiate through the trees to the east. Akas eagerly watched as his captive’s eyes fluttered open. Her breathing shifted, and then she let out a sudden gasp and shot up.