The Peasant

by Scott Michael Decker

  The Imperial Battalion marched toward the Caven Hills, Howling Tiger in command. The Emperor had allowed the Prefect's younger brother to lead them to save Scowling Tiger's face. They tried to march through the rough terrain in orderly rows and columns, trying to maintain formation in vain.

  Watching them, Brazen Bear and I laughed so hard we pissed all over ourselves. Father had taught us to adapt our strategies and tactics to the terrain, and we exploited their failure to adapt.

  After they got within ten miles of us, our unshielded sectathons analyzed their composition—the numbers of their swordsmen, archers, spearmen, pyrathons, portathons, thermathons, et cetera. The outlanders didn't turn on their own electrical shields until they came within a mile of the canyon, where they camped. Howling Tiger offered to parlay, but the contingent leader refused, as we'd instructed. Only sixteen, with little patience, Howling Tiger waited only one day before attacking the camp in the defile.

  The contingent had ample warning of the attack. In most battles, the attacking force will launch volleys of arrows to soften the defenders. The Arrow Warriors didn't bother. They just charged the contingent, so certain of victory they took few precautions. The contingent resisted as well as they could. The defile protected their flanks and kept the Arrow Warriors from surrounding them.

  As the battalion was about to rout them, the rebel contingent retreated into the canyon. Tasting victory already, Howling Tiger ordered his whole force to give chase. Almost a thousand Arrow Warriors, the lust for victory boiling in their veins, surged into the canyon in pursuit of perhaps fifty rebels. They quickly slaughtered so small a force.

  After nearly all the Arrow Warriors entered the canyon, I signaled the kinathons on the hilltops overlooking the entrance with a big red flag. The most potent telekinetics I could find in the Caven Hills, the two men pushed tons of earth and rock into the defile to block the only way out. On the same signal, other kinathons hurled boulders and trees into the canyon from under the electrical shields, which stop only psychic energy. I signaled our archers to let fly and sent a rain of arrows into the enemy. Still, I kept our swordsmen back.

  The enemy hurled back some projectiles and fired a few arrows. Since they couldn't see or detect us, most of their missiles missed. The scene below was bedlam. From my vantage point, I could see Howling Tiger, his sword in hand and armor glinting in the sun. He looked furious as he tried to organize his warriors, most of whom ran back and forth like trapped rats.

  I waited, knowing we needed to kill as many enemy as we could before committing our main force. The deluge of arrows began to slacken. My archers had almost exhausted their quivers. I asked the Infinite to keep the souls of the brave volunteers who'd baited the trap and sacrificed themselves. Smiling, I looked at my brother. Brazen Bear nodded and drew his sword. I gave the signal.

  Rebels poured down the canyon sides, five hundred strong, my brother and I leading the way. The maelstrom of psychic energy was terrible.

  Mine and my brother's talents worked in ways we'd never imagined. The talent is nearly unique. Even after forty years of watching it work, I still don't know all its tricks. I do know that my talent uses ambient psychic energy to protect me by converting living molecules into stone—usually whoever attacks me.

  That day in the canyon, energy swirled around us on all the frequencies. Every time a warrior blasted one of us with talent, we twisted his own energy back on him. We left statues all over that canyon.

  That was my first pitched battle, and the Arrow Warriors fought in different ways. Electrical shields being standard issue, every warrior had one. Warriors with weaker talents and talents that can't kill—the communication talents carry too little energy, for instance—wore their shields at their belts and always had them on. Some warriors carried their electrical shields in their hands, switching them on and off as they needed. In doing so they lost the blade they might have had in the hand. Warriors with telekinesis left the shields at their belts, switching them on and off with talent. Of course, some warriors didn't need electrical shields. Their mindshields were strong enough and on frequencies diverse enough that they deflected all psychic assault. Since our talents fed off energy directed at us, my brother and I had no need for electrical shields.

  I fought my way toward Howling Tiger, leaving a trail of bodies and statues behind me. Around the commander lay charred peasants he'd burned to death with his talent. While dueling another warrior, I watched him. He fought very well, even with three arrows in the left shoulder between the back and chest plates of his armor. Dispatching the warrior I fought, I charged Howling Tiger. He deftly turned aside my blade and almost hobbled me. We parried and feinted to take each other's measure. His wounds didn't slow him at all. Then a spear caught him in the right thigh. With a scream, he hacked off the shaft, leaving the spear point embedded, then turned back to me. His distraction was so brief I couldn't turn it to my advantage. We circled and parried with blinding-fast strokes. Neither of us found a weakness. I feigned a slip to fool him. As he lunged for me, I cleaved off his left forearm and slashed to press my advantage while blood spurted from the stump. He deftly parried my attack and cauterized the stump with his talent. Stepping into a dead warrior's entrails, I truly slipped. I thought I was dead. Howling Tiger raised his sword for the killing blow but at that moment burned me with his pyrokinesis. My talent saved me again, turning Howling Tiger into a statue.

  Muttering brief thanks to the Infinite, I turned to engage another warrior. The battle continued to rage for another hour. As our rebels crushed the last pockets of resistance, I saw my brother.

  Looking insane, he cut through the remaining Arrow Warriors as if harvesting grain. Charging a warrior, he defeated him, then methodically hacked apart the body until it was beyond recognition. Brazen Bear looked possessed. Usually, I knew what he was thinking and feeling, our sibling empathy-link stronger than most brothers had. He had shut his mind with shields like steel doors. I watched as he finished with one warrior and looked around, not seeing me beside him. After he obliterated another and searched for the next, I planted myself in front of him. He'd have skewered me if I hadn't kicked the sword from his hand and slapped him.

  Waking up, he didn't say anything. Retrieving his sword, he gestured me to follow. He looked enraged about something but wouldn't or couldn't tell me.

  Brazen Bear led me to Father's body. Somehow, Father had found his way to the battlefield and tried to help. He didn't know how to wield a sword, having only watched while others had taught us. Brazen Bear told me later he'd tried to protect Father in the midst of battle but could only watch helplessly as a seasoned Arrow Warrior cut him in half. The price of victory, the Infinite's way of balancing the scales. I've never won a duel, battle, or war without paying for what I won.

  We assigned one detail to search the bodies for possessions, weapons, shields and armor, a second to count and sort them, and a third detail to bury them. Making a litter, Brazen Bear and I dispatched ten men to follow us and collect wood along the way. We carried Father back to the village of our youth. Placing the bier upon the hovel in which we'd lived, we piled wood inside and set fire to our past. Silently, we watched the flames consume all we'd known. We both wept.

  Later, as we approached Bastion Valley, revelry drifted to us on the psychic flow. Who could blame the natives? Suddenly, they had their dignity back. Celebrating was far from our minds. I sighed and said, “Father always told us that a leader has to do what's better for the group.”

  “He'd have wanted us to celebrate the end of his suffering,” Brazen Bear replied. We entered Bastion Valley. I gestured my brother to follow me up to a promontory, where we held our swords above our heads and faced the throng below. Cheering erupted as the crowd recognized us. Soon the tumult died, and my brother and I lowered our swords.

  “We've won this battle,” I said, projecting my resonant voice over the crowd, “but the war continues. We inflicted losses three to one and left not a single Arrow Warrior al
ive.” A roar went up. “We'll fight other battles, and some we may lose. We must never lose sight of the reason we fight!” Cheers greeted this statement and slowly dissipated. “Today we suffered an irreplaceable loss. My father, the village elder Crazy Bear, died in battle. He fought all his life for what he believed, and so he died—fighting for his beliefs! Let us celebrate as much for our victory as for him who dedicated his life to the Caven Hills!”

  A resounding cheer rose from the valley. Into the clamor we descended.

  Chapter 2

  To design a courier implant, you must remember how complex every implant is. Your implant must, first, render a courier unconscious when recording and relaying the message to and from the subconscious mind; second, it must check the face and psychic signature of the recipient; third, it must trigger the message to come forth only after the recipient recites the proper code; fourth, it must erase the message after recital; fifth, it must detect when someone probes the courier's mind and, in that event, erase the message. All these steps insure that no one can intercept, decipher or alter the information, not even another psychological Wizard.—Implants and Their Uses, an instruction manual.

  * * *

  Guarding Bear sighed and looked at his guest. “Thank you for listening to my story. I appreciate your letting me chew on your ear. Did I mangle it—or bore you to sleep?” The retired General chuckled, sighed again and closed his eyes.

  The guest's expression didn't change.

  “Incurable!” He pounded the desk with his fist.

  The guest didn't flinch at the sudden outburst.

  Guarding Bear scrubbed his face with calloused palms. “You know why I told you that story, don't you? My daughter's sick, and I don't know what to do. Stories bring me calm when nothing else will. Why am I so upset?

  “I'm Guarding Bear!” he protested, as though that meant something.

  “For twenty-nine years, I've been the Peasant Upstart Usurper. The people revere me as the greatest general of all time, and I'm wealthier than the Emperor Flying Arrow.” Sighing, he looked across the desk. “And I don't know what to do.”

  The guest regarded him impassively.

  “You're right. I do know what to do. I'm sorry I lied to you, my friend. You're the one person I should never lie to. I'll have to ask Soothing Spirit for help. The most talented medacor in the Eastern Empire won't fail to cure her, but to get the Imperial Medacor's help, I'll have to ask him!” Guarding Bear jerked a thumb over his shoulder.

  Beyond the window, a warm afternoon sun lit Emparia Castle, the home of Flying Arrow. From the top of Emparia Castle protruded a spire, an erect pinnacle of stone thrusting toward the sky. At the peak of the spire was a small platform, the only part of the entire castle not protected by electrical shielding. From this platform the Emperor often disseminated his opinion or exerted his dominion. The circuits of the Imperial Sword enabled Flying Arrow to reach the far corners of the Empire with even his meager talents.

  The guest remained silent.

  “What's so bad about that?” Guarding Bear smirked nonchalantly. “Nothing at all,” he said calmly. “I'm not afraid of him! I'm not!” He smashed his fist into the desk again. “Infinite blast it, I'm a peasant! I'm no stinking noble! I don't care about face! I don't want my nose the right shade of brown!”

  The figure across from him didn't respond.

  “I'm lying again, eh? I am afraid of him.” Guarding Bear sighed and ran his hands through his hair. “Look at me. I'm forty-five years old, but this weathered leather says otherwise, eh?” He pointed at his face. “I know. It's my nose—practically a shapeless blob. See this livid welt?” He rubbed the scar on the bridge. “That's where an Emperor's blade almost removed the top of my head. The years haven't been kind to my face. And look at these unruly tresses.” He pulled on a lock of black, shoulder-length hair, his temples gray. “So curly and tousled I can't even comb it. My hair's always a rat's nest. I'm not famous for my meticulous grooming or pretty face. Thank the Infinite, a man with my influence doesn't need fair looks.”

  Guarding Bear sighed and continued. “Appearance? Influence? What good are they if they won't heal my daughter? She's such a cute baby, turquoise hair, nine months old, a lovely child.” His voice became thick and full. “But ill, terribly ill. Six medacors couldn't tell me what's wrong with her. She's so sick that I'm sick with worry.

  “Infinite blast it,” Guarding Bear muttered. “I shouldn't have retired eighteen months ago. Flying Arrow wanted me to scour the mountains clear of bandits. I retired rather than fight another senseless war. The Emperor was so furious that he'd have executed me if his aunt and I weren't mates, eh? He's still angry with me, and now I need his help.”

  Guarding Bear swiveled slowly in his chair. “Look at that pile of rubble. They worshipped me there. 'Commanding General of the Eastern Armed Forces,' they called me. Only a noble would need a title that long. Now, after thirty years without a defeat, I'm only the Prefect of the Caven Hills, a title much too long for a peasant like me.”

  Guarding Bear grinned. “Of course, I've neither won nor lost the struggle for control of the Empire. Flying Arrow and I are still vying for control, our battle unfinished.”

  The guest didn't lift an eyebrow.

  “I tell you right now, my friend, I know I'll win. Oh, I won't sit on the throne, but my sons or grandsons will—and you know why, don't you? Everyone knows that malicious little secret, eh? Ten consorts have come and gone without issue. Flying Arrow has an empty quiver,” Guarding Bear whispered, as though divulging a secret.

  The guest didn't reply.

  Guarding Bear smiled. “You knew that, eh? How couldn't you know? You haven't lived in a cave for all fifteen years of his rule. I don't have to do anything, my friend, and the Arrow Dynasty falls. I learned as a young man never to lose patience. One of my sons or grandsons will be the next Emperor—if I have the patience to wait.”

  The guest appeared to watch him.

  Guarding Bear frowned across the desk. “I've had a rough, exciting life. In my rise to power and fame, I've lost more than I want to remember. What hurt most was my brother's execution—his death nearly destroyed my sanity. My ancient enemy Scowling Tiger contrived it all, and I'll never forgive him. Never!

  “For twenty-nine years, I've scratched and clawed for power and influence in a society that flattens Peasant Upstart Usurpers such as me. I'm nothing if not resilient: In a span of five years, I lost my brother, defeated the Northern Empire, and drove my brother's betrayer from the Empire in the civil war. If I can do all that, Infinite help those who oppose me.”

  Guarding Bear frowned. “I'm not happy I did all that. The skulls I've left behind are a crushing weight on my shoulders. Even so, I've grown weary of retirement. The rigors of battle and travel exhilarate me, but the killing…” He shook his head and whispered, “Infinite forgive me the killing.”

  Looking toward Emparia Castle again, Guarding Bear found that his fear of Flying Arrow no longer stopped him. “My daughter's illness disturbs me deeply, my friend, but it's an annoyance in light of what I've endured. There, within Emparia Castle, is the man who can cure my daughter. There, I'll go.

  “Thank you for listening. No man can have as good a friend as you.”

  Guarding Bear stepped around the desk, as if to help his guest to the door. Instead, he planted himself behind the figure, put his hands on the shoulders, and looked toward the castle. “Again, my friend, thank you.” Slapping the unyielding shoulder, Guarding Bear turned and left the office.

  The guest continued to stare out the window, the posture rigid, the expression hard and unforgiving, the eyes looking stonily forward. Carved from a large chunk of obsidian, the bust on the desk depicted the retired General Guarding Bear.

  * * *

  Determination and anxiety at war within him, Guarding Bear strode the corridor to a stairwell. Having to ask for Flying Arrow's help churned his bowels but blunted his resolve not at all. Descending, he made his w
ay toward the nursery, where his mate stood over their daughter.

  Bubbling Water hadn't slept in four days, refusing to surrender the infant's care to anyone, even for a few hours. Dark rings circled her eyes. Her blue-black hair hung lank.

  With a glance, Guarding Bear asked the only question unanswered between them—whether their daughter was better.

  Her eyes hollow, Bubbling Water shook her head. “I don't understand why the medacors couldn't even tell us what's wrong with her.”

  Equally puzzled, Guarding Bear linked minds with the girl.

  Rippling Water was miserable.

  He withdrew behind his mindshields. Throughout the four-day vigil, they'd always spoken as if she'd live, neither parent wanting to consider her death. “One medacor won't fail to save her,” he said.

  “The Emperor's still angry at you, even after eighteen months.” Bubbling Water sighed. “There'll be the Infinite to pay for Soothing Spirit's help.”

  “I'll pay it.”

  Looking at him, she smiled. “My Lord, my love, I pray the price isn't your life.”

  “I, too, My Lady, my love,” Guarding Bear replied, “but better I die so she might live, eh?”

  Bubbling Water nodded. “It's more than her life for yours, but we lose nothing by asking.”