by Dante King
I closed my hand and stepped back. The guild had taught me much, and I owed a lot to it. If taking the core would destroy Radiant Dragon, then I had to leave it here. I had learned the nature of honor, and stripping the cavern of its heart would be an unspeakably dishonorable deed.
“All right,” I said. “I’ll leave it.”
I doubted a fucker like Hamon would have missed an opportunity like this, but I was different. I desired strength and skill, but not enough to steal undeserved power and destroy the guild in the process. I’d come here for the Sundered Heart, and now, I had it. My mission was complete. I didn’t need the Fire Core.
I turned to see my two friends looking at me with puzzled expressions.
“Who were you just talking to?” Kegohr asked.
“Nydarth,” I replied. “The spirit in the sword. Couldn’t you hear her?”
They shook their heads.
“It’s just you for now, my sweet man,” she said. “And I suggest that you don’t tell anyone else about me. You don’t want the wrong sorts of people trying to grab your fabulous sword.”
The journey back up through the Ember Cavern was a lot less arduous than the journey down. We met a few ember sprites that had either missed us during our downward journey or only arrived in the aftermath. We dealt with them easily, added their cores to our stash, and kept moving.
Fortunately, I had a much better sense of direction than my friends. Every time Vesma and Kegohr hesitated at a junction, uncertain which way we had originally come, I led us surely and confidently toward the surface. After a couple of hours, we found ourselves in a lava-lit cavern I had now seen many times, and soon, I could smell fresh air. I hadn’t known how much I missed it until I took that breath and felt my spirits lift.
At last, we emerged onto the mountainside. It was early morning, and birds sang in the trees as the sun crept away from the horizon. A brisk breeze blew in from the south, its cool breath soothing after the heat of the tunnels and so many encounters with creatures of fire.
“So much for getting back under cover of darkness,” Vesma said. “Hey, where are the guards?”
I grabbed my sword and prepared for trouble, but then I saw a familiar face appear from behind a boulder.
“You didn’t really think no one would notice you were gone?” Faryn asked as three disgruntled and ashamed guards came from behind her. She turned to them. “You may return to your posts.”
The guards glared at us as they stationed themselves outside the Ember Cavern’s entrance.
“I came as soon as I heard you weren’t in your bunk,” Faryn said. “I knew you’d be here.” Her eyes were on me, but they didn’t contain any trace of betrayal. In fact, they were filled with relief.
Her mouth dropped when she noticed the rip in my pants. She rushed over to me and inspected my thigh where the hellhound’s spine had wounded me. She shifted behind me and studied the back of my thigh before she stood.
“It must have penetrated straight through you. How could you have healed so fast? There’s not even a scar.”
“Battle scars,” Kegohr said with a grin as he clapped me on the back.
“It’s the sword.” Vesma gestured at the Sundered Heart hanging from my belt.
“You retrieved it,” Faryn whispered.
“Of course. It took me a few weeks to get here, and we almost died a few times, but I got it in the end.”
“You are . . . remarkable.” Faryn stared into my eyes as a smile gathered on her face.
Vesma coughed. “We should get going.”
Faryn immediately blinked as though to shake herself free from my gaze. Then, she ran her hands down her robes and pressed out the crinkles. “Well, I suppose I should congratulate you all. You managed to reach the depths of the Ember Cavern, a feat even some center disciples would have failed to accomplish. I clearly underestimated you.” The compliment could have been for all of us, but her eyes were on me, and they held a familiar spark.
“We should head back,” I said. “I’m exhausted.”
I wanted to get off the mountainside and down to somewhere private, where I could have a proper conversation with the sword. But exhaustion wasn’t merely an excuse. It had been a long night of walking and fighting, one that had left me bone weary. I needed food, water, and a bed, in any order I could get them.
The others didn’t need much encouragement, and we were soon walking down the mountain, toward the shelter of the guild. Faryn, being better rested, had more energy than the rest of us, and Vesma was always impatient to get to the next thing. They were soon well ahead of me and Kegohr as we hauled our weary carcasses home.
With the dragon sword in my hand, I could feel Nydarth’s presence, her attention focused through me. Her gaze lingered on the women walking ahead of us.
“Aren’t you the popular young man?” she observed. “Two women all to yourself.”
I laughed.
“Huh?” Kegohr said. “Did I miss something?”
“It’s Nydarth again,” I said quietly. “Speculating about me, Vesma, and Faryn.”
“Right, right ,right.” Kegohr nodded. “I suppose she’s curious about your life.”
As my attention shifted, so did Nydarth’s, and I sensed her gaze lingering over Kegohr’s muscles.
“What about him?” she asked. “I would love to see those big, strong arms holding you tight, the two of you entwined together in—”
“Nope,” I cut her off before she could fill my mind with images. “He’s just a friend. Nothing more.”
For a moment, Kegohr looked puzzled. Then, his eyes went wide and his mouth fell open as he realized what was going on.
“No, no, no.” He frantically shook his head. “Not that there’s anything wrong with… I just ain’t into… What I mean is…” He cleared his throat. “I don’t feel the attraction of one with a fecund rod.”
I burst out laughing, and Kegohr blushed even more deeply than he already had.
“It’s all right, buddy.” I patted him on the arm. “I don’t swing that way either. I just hadn’t expected you to get all prudish about it. Or to talk about it like you were 300 years old.”
“It ain’t funny.” Kegohr scowled. “I’m just not good at talking about that stuff.”
I laughed all the more as we continued down the mountainside.
We were halfway to the guild, and I could see most of the way down to the rear door. A figure was running up the trail toward us, a servant in guild livery. Faryn and Vesma stopped to let Kegohr and me catch up before the servant reached them.
“What’s this about?” I asked as I watched the servant approach.
“Don’t know,” Vesma replied.
“I have an idea,” Faryn said. “But we’ll have to wait and see.”
The servant reached us, puffing and panting, and paused for a moment while she caught her breath. Then, she looked at me.
“You’re the initiate known as Ethan Murphy lo Pashat?” she asked.
“That’s right,” I said, curious about what was coming next.
“You’re to report to Guildmaster Xilarion immediately,” the servant said. “He will be waiting for you in his office.”
I tensed. Xilarion only summoned initiates if they had done something very right or very wrong. I’d snuck out of the guild and entered the Ember Cavern without permission, a place guarded and watched over by the guild. I’d dragged others along with me, despite the dangers they would face in the caves. And apparently, despite my best efforts, half the guild knew where I had been. I had a terrible feeling that I knew which sort of meeting this would be.
If Xilarion kicked me out of the guild, then I wouldn’t just be saying goodbye to my friends and to lessons in how to Augment. I’d be dishonoring Tolin, the man who’d sent me here. It would throw dirt on the Pashat Clan. Worse still, I’d be losing one of my best chances to learn more about the Seven Realms. To become stronger. Maybe even become an Immortal, not to mention finding out more about t
he whole Swordslinger gig.
But if that was coming, then there was no use avoiding it. Better to face the music and get it over with.
I squared my shoulders and marched on down the mountain toward a meeting with the Radiant Dragon Guildmaster.
Chapter Fifteen
I knocked on the door of Guildmaster Xilarion’s office. Most of the internal doors of the guild house were sliding screen doors made of paper or cloth over a wooden frame. This one was solid wood, planks of ancient mountain pine bound together with cold, unyielding iron. It was a door solid enough to keep those in the corridor from overhearing conversations within. A seal of privacy and of silence.
A servant hurried past carrying an armful of scrolls. The upper reaches of the guild’s grandest tower were where all the administration and governance took place. There were no initiates wandering from lesson to lesson, just masters, messengers, and clerks.
Next to Xilarion’s office was the counting room, from which a shaft led directly down to the underground vault. On the other side was a small library of rare and precious documents, its shelves packed with ancient scrolls and leather-bound books. Both stood open, but the clerks inside watched me warily, and heavy doors stood ready to secure them at the end of the day.
Another servant walked past, this time carrying a tray of tea. I was starting to wonder if Xilarion had heard me, and if I should knock again, when a voice finally came from within.
“Enter.”
I opened the door and walked in. The room was small and simple, not the grand space I had expected for the most powerful man in the guild—by some measures, the most powerful man I had ever met. The walls were smooth white-washed plaster, the floor bare boards. A low desk held a set of writing brushes, a pot of ink, and a few sheets of paper. Cushions sat around the desk and there was a locked chest at one end. On one wall, a single shelf held half a dozen books. Opposite it, a katana in a red leather scabbard hung from a brass hook, the room’s only decoration.
Master Xilarion stood at the window, his back to me, hands clasped behind him. His hair was tied back, and its black matched his robes except for the white streaks running from the temples. The morning light formed a halo around him and added to his air of deep, patient power.
“Close the door,” he ordered.
I did as instructed and then, stood to attention, hands by my sides. Though Xilarion was silent, I understood the ways of powerful men well enough not to speak until invited. My work had carried me into the lairs of crime lords, politicians, and chief executives. None of them liked to feel anything other than total control, and none held positions all that different from the lord of a feudal guild. On some level, all held the lives of others in their hands, just as Xilarion held my life in his now.
I took a deep breath and tried to calm my racing heart. After the battles in the Ember Cavern, this shouldn’t worry me. But then, I had wielded the power to affect the outcome. Here, it was outside my hands.
“I ordered you to come immediately,” Xilarion said. “Was that clear?”
“Yes, Master,” I said.
“Then, why didn’t you?”
I hesitated. I had taken a few minutes to stash my bag and weapons, making sure the Sundered Heart was safely hidden from prying eyes and grasping fingers. Surely, he couldn’t know that out of all the time it had taken me to get to him, I had spent a few minutes on a detour inside the guild? This was just a bluff, and I should answer it with my own.
But what if it wasn’t? Xilarion had taken a chance on me and overruled the protests of many of his own guild members to let me join. It would look bad if I responded to that by lying to him, especially a pointless lie on which I could easily be caught out.
“I’m sorry, Master,” I said. “I went to put something away first. Next time, I will come directly.”
“You assume that there will be a next time,” Xilarion said. “Unless you take care, that may prove false.”
I bowed my head and prepared for the worst.
“I am sorry, Master,” I said. “If you’re expelling me for breaking the rules, I’ll accept that without complaint. I knew the consequences when I missed last night’s lesson.”
Xilarion turned at last to face me. His expression was carefully neutral and didn’t give away the faintest sign of his emotions or his intent. This was not going to be the sort of furious bawling out I would have received from some previous superiors. For all the fiery passion of his guild and his element, the Guild Master of the Radiant Dragon was in total control.
“It is not me you should worry about,” he said. “At least, not judging by the state of your robes.”
I looked down. If I had wanted to hide my activities, then I should have changed before I came here. My robes were blackened with soot, the trousers scorched and torn. My arms, left exposed by the short sleeves of the tunic I wore beneath my clan robes, were reddened by fire and scratched by claws. I'd been solely focused on hiding Nydarth’s sword, so I'd forgotten the clearest evidence of my disobedience.
“Ah, this,” I said. “I can explain.”
“If you try to tell me that you have just been practicing forms all night, I will be very disappointed.”
I met his gaze. Dark, piercing eyes looked back into mine. I felt as though he was staring straight into my heart.
There was a knock at the door. A moment later, a servant entered carrying a tray of tea. She set it down on the desk, bowed to Xilarion, backed out of the room, and closed the door behind her.
“Sit.” Xilarion gestured to one of the cushions beside the desk.
He sat on the opposite side, poured tea into two small drinking bowls, and placed one in front of me. Steam rose invitingly from the cup and reminded me of just how tired and thirsty I was.
I hesitated, confused by the unexpected move to informality.
“It’s not a trap,” Xilarion said. “If it helps, think of it as a command from your guild master.”
I settled onto one of the well-worn but comfortable cushions. After hours on my feet, it came as a relief just to rest, and I let out an involuntary sigh. A second sigh followed the first sip of tea.
“I know that you went into the Ember Cavern again,” Xilarion said. “Even if gossip wasn’t flying around the guild, I would have known. I am the guardian of the cavern and of all my initiates. Little happens here without my notice.”
“I had good reason to go.” I decided that it was best to stick with bold honesty. “But I’m sorry for breaking the guild’s rules.”
“Don’t be,” Xilarion said, and for the first time, he smiled slightly. “You have done me and the guild a service.”
He poured more tea while I tried to work out what he was saying. From everything that I’d learned about the guild, this made no sense. This was a place of rigid discipline, where the rules were vitally important. The Ember Cavern was a precious resource to be guarded and nurtured, something I hadn’t appreciated until Nydarth told me not to take the Fire Core. Everything I had done seemed to run counter to Xilarion’s goals. So, what was I missing?
“I don’t understand,” I admitted reluctantly.
“Then, you should cultivate a better understanding of politics,” Xilarion said. “Swordplay and Augmenting will help you survive in the wild, but other skills are needed to survive in civilization.”
“Oh, I know politics,” I said. “Just not the politics of this place. The only thing I can think of is that this is about the clans.”
“Go on.”
“Something about the Wysaro. They’re the biggest clan in this region, lots of initiates here have the name, and even more seem to respect Hamon. Is there a conflict between the guild and the clan?”
“Let us say that there is a conflict between their interests. Jiven Wysaro is an expansionist, constantly looking to increase his power at the expense of smaller clans. If he were closer to the heart of the empire, that would mean political maneuvering and using financial power to force land sales. Down he
re in the southern borders, he can take a more direct approach. By fighting monsters and barbarians, he can claim land previously lost to the empire, making it his own and winning great acclaim. That means that some turn a blind eye when he uses the same military might to fight his neighbors, seize their lands, and force them to bow the knee to him.
“Many members of the Radiant Dragon Guild are also members of Clan Wysaro. This has been the way for centuries. They need a fire guild to train them in Augmenting. We need recruits from the clans. In most places, the duty of those recruits is to the guild for as long as they are here. Only once that service is complete do many return to their clan, while some give up that allegiance to serve their guild forever. It gives the guilds strength and prevents any one clan from challenging the emperor’s authority. But Jiven Wysaro does not play by those rules. Initiates from his clan are regularly called away from the guild to join him in his thuggery, then return, expecting that we will keep teaching them.”
“Can’t you say no?”
“Forcing initiates to choose between their clan and their guild would be unwise. Jiven’s success has granted his people pride and prestige. It is attractive to those of a fiery disposition, like most fire Augmenters, meaning that their instinctive loyalty is to him. And so his rise harms the guild, his neighbors, and this whole part of the empire.”
“Why doesn’t the emperor intervene?”
“I once served Emperor Talekon as a general. He is a good man, but beholden to the power the clans can give him. He chooses to believe that Jiven’s good work outweighs his harm. It is an easy position to take from the distance of the imperial throne room.”
“But you saw through that and came here to fix things?”
“The other way around. After I abandoned military matters to follow the Path of Peace, I came to take over the guild my great-grandfather had once led. I knew that it was dwindling and in need of much work to regain its former honor. Once I arrived, I saw how much its decline came from the resurgence of the Wysaro. I am here on a personal path, but it is in harmony with the needs of the empire.”
