DemonWars Saga Volume 2: Mortalis - Ascendance - Transcendence - Immortalis (The DemonWars Saga) (206 page)

The two masters motioned to the other Jhesta Tu mystics in the room, then
walked out side by side.

“They will issue a challenge,” Master Cheyes reasoned. “They count upon your pride to force you down there, that they might avenge their fallen.”

Pagonel looked at the old man hard, recognizing the critique hidden within his reasoning. Pagonel had gone out, ill-advised, it would seem, and now that same recklessness could lead him down those stairs and into the jaws of the Chezhou-Lei.

“They will appeal to your—to our—honor,” Master Cheyes explained. “But there is no honor in useless battle. There is no honor in dying for no cause other than honor.”

“I will not succumb to the temptations of pride,” Pagonel assured him. “Let the Chezhou-Lei sit out the season, or all of the year, in the dust below.”

Master Cheyes nodded, seemingly satisfied, then walked away.

Leaving Pagonel to ponder again the wisdom of his decision to leave the Walk of Clouds and ride along with Ashwarawu. Indeed there was a part of him which felt as if he had betrayed his order by joining in the distant battle. But when he thought of the wonderful young woman lying in the other room, the mystic found his feelings far more ambiguous. If he had not joined with Ashwarawu, then Brynn would undoubtedly have died on the field outside of Dharyan, and then, Pagonel knew, the world would be a darker place.

He looked up to see Master Cheyes walking easily along a row of red and pink flowers, pausing to pick one, then to move around the corner to offer it, with a smile, to Mistress Dasa. It all seemed so ordinary and so normal for the Walk of Clouds.

Pagonel looked down at the Belt of All Colors that he wore about his waist, a reminder to him that he was without superiors in his order, that his decisions could not be questioned—by anyone but him.

And when he looked back to the door of the room where lay Brynn Dharielle, Pagonel knew that he had chosen correctly.

T
wo days later, a lone figure stalked up the five-thousand-step approach to the Walk of Clouds. He wore the helm of a Chezhou-Lei warrior, though he had left his other gear far behind, carrying only a waterskin and the white flag of truce.

“I would speak with the Jhesta Tu who fought at Dharyan, if he is here,” the man announced. “And with the master of this den if he is not.”

Master Cheyes and Mistress Dasa stood beside Pagonel on the bridge, looking down at the lone warrior. “I believe he is referring to you,” Cheyes said, offering a hint of a smile.

Pagonel, his expression grim, stepped forward. “You will speak with both,” he told the man. “For I am just that, a master of the Walk of Clouds and he who rode with Ashwarawu against Dharyan.”

“Was that your place, mystic?” the warrior spat with obvious derision.

“Is this a debate you wish to hold openly, here and now?”

That seemed to catch the man off guard a bit, reminding him of his position here as an emissary. “No debate,” he stammered after a moment. “Your actions cannot be excused or explained. You did battle against Chezhou-Lei, unprovoked and without reason. My master, Wan Atenn, demands retribution, and so it will be gotten.”

“Indeed,” said Pagonel. “And so you name the protection of my friend from a murderous Chezhou-Lei as unwarranted?” He paused and let that sink in, though he understood that the reasoning would hold no weight with the vicious Chezhou-Lei. Their journey there had been more based on the excuse of Pagonel’s fight outside Dharyan than in any true retribution for a wrong committed, the mystic understood. Likely, the leaders of the Chezhou-Lei order had been thrilled to find this reason to go into battle against their hated ancient enemies, especially since the situation in To-gai had so calmed.

“Does your master wish to do battle with me, then?” the mystic calmly asked.

“Your attack was Jhesta Tu against Chezhou-Lei,” the man replied, confirming to Pagonel his reasoning concerning all of this. “It is order against order and not man against man. Assemble your warriors and come down to the valley floor, that we might engage in honorable battle, and let this be decided!”

“We are not warriors of the heart, young Chezhou-Lei,” Pagonel replied. “Go and tell your leader that your journey here has been in vain, for we will not leave the Walk of Clouds and it would be beyond folly for you to try to overtake us. And think not of any siege, though it would be amusing to watch your army sitting day after week after month down in the arid valley, for we are quite self-sufficient.”

“You will come down,” the Chezhou-Lei warrior retorted immediately, his sudden confidence raising the mystic’s suspicions. “Your reticence was not unanticipated. We have gathered all the To-gai-ru people of three nearby villages, and will begin their executions in the morning, one each day until you come down.” With that, the man bowed and turned about and started down the steps, leaving a very stunned and very confused Pagonel standing there on the bridge, staring.

Master Cheyes walked up and put a hand on the man’s shoulder.

“How badly have I erred?” Pagonel asked.

“You followed your vision, so there can be no error. That is the edict of our understanding. You wear the Belt of All Colors, honestly earned, and so you must follow that which is in your heart, whatever the consequences.”

“The consequences to me or to all of our brethren?”

“To both,” Cheyes answered. “Your vision and fate has brought this battle to us, but would not the Chezhou-Lei have come anyway, once they came to understand that your heart lies with the To-gai-ru in the struggle against the Yatols? Surely the present incarnation of the Chezru Chieftain has shown a fondness for conquest, and so why would we believe that we are exempt? Perhaps this fight is a better manner of defense for us than if all the Behrenese legions had joined their elite warriors in coming against the Walk of Clouds.”

“Then you believe that we are to fight.”

“It would seem the proper thing to do,” said Master Cheyes.

That afternoon, a Jhesta Tu mystic ran down the steps toward the valley floor, taking a measure of the gathered Chezhou-Lei, then ran back up to report their numbers. The three masters of the Walk of Clouds didn’t want to send the whole of the Jhesta Tu down to do battle, though every mystic had expressed a desire to go. But the masters, who had to look ahead beyond the immediate situation, knew that the order had to be preserved, whatever the outcome down below.

As did one other. “This is as much my fight as it is yours,” Brynn protested when she learned that she would not be included in the battle. Her wounds had healed already—a testament to the power of the powrie beret and also the fine tending of the Jhesta Tu—and she seemed more than ready to jump back into battle.

“It is not,” Pagonel answered curtly.

“You were defending me!”

The mystic chuckled. “The fight outside of Dharyan has nothing to do with this,” he explained. “It is an excuse, and nothing more, to begin a battle that has been ongoing for centuries, before Brynn Dharielle ever saw her first sunrise, and one that will continue long after you have viewed your last sunset.”

“I can fight as well as most …” she started to protest.

“As well as any, excepting myself, Cheyes, and Dasa,” the mystic conceded with a smile.

But that smile did not disarm Brynn, not at that time. “Then let me go and fight beside you,” she said. “I have studied here through the weeks.”

“You are not Jhesta Tu,” Pagonel replied. “You could be—perhaps someday you will desire to be. But you are only a visitor here at this time, and so this fight is not your own. And, I fear, any engagement that you have in it will likely hamper your own goals. Have you so forgotten those that you will willingly go down against are the mightiest adversaries that the Chezru Chieftain can offer?”

Brynn stiffened her jaw, wanting so badly to defy that simple logic.

Seventy-five mystics did leave the Walk of Clouds soon after, led by Master Cheyes and Master Pagonel, with Matron Dasa looking on from the bridge, Brynn Dharielle standing beside her.

B
rynn Dharielle moved off from Mistress Dasa, allowing her anger and frustration, and particularly her desire to be alone, to show clearly. She understood Pagonel’s reasoning for excluding her from the battle, and even agreed with it, based on that reasoning. But that gave her little solace, watching these friends she had recently come to know walking down into severe danger …

And so the stubborn young lady, the same little girl who had so often found ways around the strict edicts of the Touel’alfar, took the literal meaning of Pagonel’s command to heart. This was not her battle, but that didn’t mean that she couldn’t watch it! She kept her head down, seeming distressed, until the gathered mystics filtered away, then she took up her bow and her sword and gear, and rushed to the steps, running down from on high.

By the time she neared the rocky valley floor, Brynn saw the two sides squaring off—and it seemed to her as if her friends were at a sore disadvantage indeed! For the Jhesta Tu stood in a long line, evenly spaced and each holding a long spear, while across from them loomed the Chezhou-Lei, armored as the mystics were not, and mounted! How could Pagonel offer so large an advantage to his deadly adversaries as to allow the battle to go forth with the invading warriors on horseback?

Brynn started to mouth a few choice curses, but the words were lost in her throat as the Chezhou-Lei warriors erupted into their thunderous charge, a hundred strong steeds rumbling the valley floor. As one, the Jhesta Tu fell into a defensive crouch, setting their spears appropriately.

Brynn just bit her lip and winced; any skilled rider could take his mount outside the reach of those spears, or take the spear out wide with a feint, veer suddenly, and simply run over the stationary mystic.

In came the Chezhou-Lei, their fabulous swords of wrapped metal spinning up high.

Brynn winced so much that she nearly closed her eyes and missed the spectacle as the Jhesta Tu mystics, again moving as if of a singular mind, exploded into a sudden, whirling motion, bringing their spears up, around, and over, reversing their grips as they firmly set the tips against the stone, even as the horses closed, then leaped up high, the spears bending under their weight, then straightening, lifting the mystics over the front of the charging line!

A few Chezhou-Lei managed to alter their outstretched swords to bring them to bear, mostly ineffectively. A few more reacted quickly enough to veer their mounts out of the line of the flying, kicking mystics. But most caught a Jhesta Tu in the face, literally, and in a few chaotic moments, the valley floor became littered with Jhesta Tu mystics and fallen Chezhou-Lei warriors, with riderless horses milling all about.

Then they were up, both sides, rushing about in sudden and furious battle. Brynn couldn’t even keep up with it, with the flash of a hundred swords, the swing of a hundred fists and a hundred kicks, the stab of a hundred spears. She tuned her vision more narrowly, picking Pagonel out of the crowd.

He had taken his rider down cleanly and slid off the passing horse at precisely the correct angle to land with his knee firmly planted into the prostrated man’s throat. And then he came up hard, swinging a kick at another Chezhou-Lei as the man tried to rise, laying him low. He sprinted away suddenly, leaving the second fallen warrior to one of his brethren, for off to the side, another of the mystics was in dire need.

Brynn winced, as did Pagonel, as that mystic fell away beneath a crimson spray of his own blood, taken down by the sword of a rider who had not been dismounted.

Brynn knew that rider! She had seen him kill Ashwarawu!

Pagonel charged straight in, leaping high in a full forward somersault, coming
around and over with both legs kicking, one to deflect the warrior’s attempt to stab him, the other to kick the man hard in the side, nearly dislodging him. The mystic twisted as he followed through, and grabbed on, pulling himself in close to the man, too close for that sword to come to bear.

But the warrior was no novice to battle, and any advantage that Brynn believed her friend had attained was whisked away almost immediately, as a heavy gauntlet smashed into Pagonel’s face.

The horse reared under the confusing commands of the struggle, and leaped away, running opposite from Brynn, down the line of continuing battle.

That melee held Brynn’s attention then, and her heart leaped, for the Jhesta Tu mystics, with that brilliant initial strike, were fast gaining an advantage.

She looked back to the far end of the line, to see Pagonel and the Chezhou-Lei tumble from the mount, falling hard, out of her view behind a boulder. Despite her agreement to stay out of the fighting, Brynn sprinted away, circumventing the main battle to find her fallen friend.

T
hey stood opposite each other atop a chest-high flat boulder, far to the side of the main fighting.

“I know you,” the Chezhou-Lei warrior sneered, his eyes narrowing to threatening slits. “We meet again, mystic.”

Pagonel, his arm sorely stung from the fall to the rocks, backed away a step, then brought his hands up together before him, dipping a respectful bow. “I am Master Pagonel,” he said. “I would have your name.”

“My name before you feel the sting of my sword,” his opponent promised. “I am Wan Atenn. Know that my eyes are the last thing you will ever see!” And with that, the fierce warrior came on, his sword spinning up above his head, then chopping suddenly, a shortened blow that Pagonel easily backed away from, and then a quick retraction back up, a short step forward, and a second, more deliberate strike coming in at a downward diagonal for Pagonel’s shoulder.

The mystic, moving in perfect balance, could have backed away again, but he decided against that course in the blink of an eye. He found his life energy, that potent, unstoppable line, and focused it into his left arm, then snapped his arm up above him, blocking the blow as surely as if he had used a metal shield.

He came forward inside the blow, firing off a right jab into Wan Atenn’s chest, his fist thudding hard against the overlapping armor. But the blow didn’t have any Chi behind it, for Pagonel’s energy had to hold firm against the powerful sword. While Wan Atenn did stagger back a step, he wasn’t really hurt.