Guardians Watch

by Eric T Knight

  Culin was confused. What were they doing? The way they stood, in a long, spread-out line before the horsemen, it was almost like they were blocking the horsemen. But that was crazy. He looked to the right. The horsemen were wearing leather armor and since they were now closer he could see that they were carrying swords as well. Even if there weren’t ten times as many of them, they’d easily win in a battle. Culin’s father had fought for the Empire for ten years and he’d heard his stories. He knew enough about war to know that mounted soldiers were superior to foot soldiers, especially ones with no armor or real weapons.

  The man leading the horsemen had a leather helmet with long feathers sticking up out of it and braided hair so long it lay on his horse’s rump. All of the horsemen had braids, but his looked like the longest. It was dyed too, a bright red color. When the horsemen were about a hundred yards from the people on foot, the leader held up one hand and they came to a halt.

  The leader sat his horse then, looking at the people standing in his way. Culin could see the leader’s head turning side to side. He was probably thinking this was a trap, Culin thought. Da had told him a story about a time when the legion he was in set a trap for an enemy army, hiding most of their soldiers in the hills on either side and then crashing down on the enemy once the fight started.

  But there was no way this was a trap. There were no hills, no nothing, to hide in. Culin started to feel afraid for the people on foot. They were going to get hurt bad. Maybe even all get killed.

  The leader called out something in a foreign tongue and a large number of horsemen detached from the main body and moved forward, lining up facing the people on foot. Culin guessed there were twice as many horsemen in that line as there were people on foot. The horsemen all had short, curved bows in their hands.

  A horn sounded and the horsemen charged. As they came, they unleashed a volley of arrows. Culin winced and put his hands over his eyes, afraid to see the death that was sure to come.

  But he was curious too, and so he peeked between his fingers and what he saw seemed unbelievable.

  It looked to Culin like the people on foot hardly moved. They kind of leaned to one side or the other and the arrows flew harmlessly by. A few slapped at the arrows instead, but the result was the same.

  “That’s impossible,” Rome said. “None of the arrows hit?”

  Perganon took a sip of the liquor, enjoying having an audience. “The thing about the Takare was that at an age when normal children are still mastering the art of running full speed without cracking their heads open, Takare children began learning to dodge missile weapons. The arrows and spears had padded ends for the young children, three to five years old. After that the missiles they faced were blunted, but of course they still flew hard enough to break ribs and tear flesh. By nine all the weapons they faced were real. Those who were not good enough died.”

  “They killed their own children?”

  “You have to understand, Rome, that the Takare believed in rebirth. When one died, they believed he or she would return to them soon. They had special priests who attended births and supposedly had a way to look into the child and see who he’d been in his past life. These priests also helped the young children in the early years of their training to remember this past life so that the skills the warrior had had before could be reawakened.”

  Rome frowned. “You’re telling me that they believed their kids could remember the skills they’d learned in their past lives? Is that possible?”

  Perganon shrugged. “If true, it would give them quite an advantage. It would also explain what happened next.

  Culin stared, openmouthed. How did they do that?

  The horsemen tucked their bows away. Some drew swords, the others spears. An eerie war cry echoed over the battlefield.

  He turned to look at the people on foot. They were just standing there motionlessly as the charging warriors bore down on them. Why didn’t they run, or do something?

  Only at the last moment did they do something. As the mass of charging horsemen struck their line, they acted, and what they did then was even more amazing than avoiding arrows.

  Culin saw one woman dodge a sword blow, slide across in front of the charging horse and, before the rider could react and switch his weapon to the other side, she struck him with the end of her stick square in the ribs. He was knocked off his horse and as he hit the ground, she hit him in the temple with the butt of her stick, knocking him out.

  One man stepped aside to dodge a spear thrust, then grabbed the spear and pulled. To avoid being pulled from his horse, the rider let go of the spear and leaned back. At which point the man struck him with the butt of his own spear and knocked him off his horse.

  Another woman used her stick to flick aside a horseman’s sword attack. Then she dropped the stick, leapt up in the air, and grabbed the man’s wrist. A quick twist and he dropped the sword. Still in the air, she planted her feet against the horse’s ribs, gave another twist that put his arm behind his back, then leaned back and pushed off the horse with her feet, tucking and rolling as she went over backwards, flinging the man over her head and sending him sprawling on the ground.

  One man with gray hair bent his legs as a rider approached and dug the end of his stick into the ground. Leaning into it so that the stick bowed, he gave a tremendous push with his legs. Between the flex in the wood and the strength of his own leap, he rose into the air high enough so that the startled horseman found himself facing an opponent who was at his own level. The gray-haired man struck the horseman’s wrist with a deft chop that caused him to drop the sword. With another chop he struck the man at the junction of shoulder and neck. For a moment the rider seemed okay, then he toppled to the ground.

  One young man—he looked to Culin to be only a couple years older than him—slapped aside a spear thrust, then darted underneath the charging horse. As he went, a knife flashed in his hand and he slashed the cinch. Grabbing one end of the cinch, he continued on out the other side. Saddle and rider slid off the other side of the horse.

  After dodging a sword blow, one woman grabbed her attacker’s wrist, doing something to make him drop his sword. Then she swung around behind the horse’s hindquarters and leaned away, allowing the horse’s momentum to drag the rider from the saddle.

  Two riders converged on a woman who stood frozen, seemingly uncertain how to react. Both riders raised swords, preparing to slash downwards. If she didn’t move their horses would each strike one of her shoulders and she would go down under flailing hooves. But at the last moment she ran forward through the gap between the horses, just before they closed on her. As she went by them, her hands shot out, each one closing on a wrist. Momentum and gravity did the rest of the work as each rider was yanked from his seat and crashed to the ground.

  Then the charge was over; the horsemen had passed through the line of people on foot. Culin saw that only one of the people on foot was bleeding. In contrast, over half of the horsemen were down. Many of them weren’t moving. A few jumped up, waving swords, but they were quickly disarmed by the people on foot. To Culin it looked like it was no more difficult than taking toys away from misbehaving children. They easily dodged or slapped aside the attacks, then with a quick blow or a twisted wrist they took the weapons away.

  Nor did the people on foot then use those weapons against the dismounted horsemen. They seemed satisfied with simply disarming them. Unless one of them broke his neck falling off his horse, they were all probably okay.

  Those horsemen who were still mounted swung their horses about. They changed tactics this time, drawing together in a tight mass, concentrating their force instead of spreading out. The people on foot responded by drawing closer as well and raising their sticks. When the horsemen charged, the people on foot did as well.

  When the two forces were about fifteen feet apart, the people on foot dug the ends of their sticks into the ground, the sticks flexed, and they vaulted into the air. The startled horsemen found themselves facing flyi
ng opponents.

  While still in the air, they began striking with their sticks. Fists and feet followed and this time not a single horseman kept his seat.

  Culin swung around to look at the rest of the horsemen, waiting with their leader, wondering if they would all attack now, wondering what amazing thing the people on foot would do this time. By then he felt like nothing they could do would surprise him.

  But only the leader of the horsemen moved. He walked his horse forward until he was almost close enough to the people on foot to touch them with his spear. But instead of raising a spear or his sword, he drew a long, polished knife from his belt. He shouted something in his foreign tongue, then pulled his braid around in front of him and with a quick stroke cut it off and threw it on the ground before his horse.

  When he did that, the horsemen on the ground—all of them that were conscious, that is—lowered their heads. They dropped to their knees and chopped off their braids as well. Soon the ground was covered with braids like colorful, dead snakes. Then they rose, gathering fallen weapons and whistling for their horses. Those who were unconscious had their braids cut for them and were lifted onto horseback and tied there. They mounted and rode silently back to join the rest.

  A horn blew and the entire army of horsemen turned around and headed north without a backward look.

  “Unbelievable,” Rome said, shaking his head.

  “It seems that way, doesn’t it?” Perganon agreed. “And if this was an isolated account I’d agree with you. But this sort of thing was commonplace for the Takare. In the years after this the Takare fought on behalf of the Empire many times and many others witnessed the same sorts of feats.”

  “And then the Sertithians just went home?” Rome asked.

  “They just went home,” Perganon confirmed.

  “But why come all that way and then just turn around? It doesn’t make sense.”

  “Not to you or me. But there’s probably things we do that don’t make sense to the Sertithians.”

  Rome chuckled. “Yeah. I went to some party a while back for Protaxes, the god the nobility worship. That didn’t make much sense to me.”

  “If I had to hazard a guess, from what little I know of the Sertithians, the whole thing was either a matter of some perceived insult or a challenge of some kind. Once the Takare answered that challenge, there was nothing left but to return home. I chose this story for today because with the Plateau’s destruction the Takare might be a factor once again. I thought you should know.”

  “These people would be mighty allies against Melekath,” Rome mused.

  “So they would. From what I know of the Landsend Plateau, simply surviving up there might be the most impressive feat of all for these people.”

  “So after that the Takare became the Empire’s elite troops?” Rome asked.

  “It didn’t happen overnight, but it was the turning point for the Takare. It marked the end of their isolationism. After they saved the Empire, the emperor lavished them with gifts. They were honored everywhere as heroes. Within a generation they were fighting in the Empire’s wars. It was the beginning of the end, really. Prior to this they were ascetics, dedicated to their disciplines and fighting strictly on a personal level. After defeating the Sertithians they began the slide down the long slope that led eventually, maybe inevitably, to Wreckers Gate.”

  “What really happened at Wreckers Gate?”

  “No one but the Takare really knows. The Empire fell soon afterwards and the only witnesses were the Takare themselves. But we do know that they slaughtered their own people there and that was apparently the last straw. They threw down their swords and walked away.”

  Fourteen

  It was midafternoon and Cara was still scrubbing the stone walkways. Now that she’d done it for a few days, she’d more or less gotten used to it so that her back and knees didn’t hurt so much and she’d come to realize that she didn’t really mind the work. It was kind of peaceful in a tedious way. She could just forget herself, dipping the brush into the pail of water, scrubbing at the stones, dipping, and repeating.

  The water in the pail was dark brown now, so Cara threw it out and carried the pail to a well that stood at the back of the property. Another woman—probably a servant, since she didn’t have a shaved head or the white robes—was already at the well, turning the crank to bring up the bucket. She shot Cara a quick look, taking in the shaved head, and started to curtsy when she realized Cara wore neither the white robe nor the Reminder. Her look turned quizzical. Not wanting to answer any questions, Cara half turned away.

  That was when she noticed the tree. She thought it was an elm, though she couldn’t be sure. It was a large tree, with a thick trunk and lots of shade. She’d seen it before, but this was the first time she’d really looked at it. Most of the leaves were yellow and quite a few of them had fallen to the ground. That was odd. It was still too early for trees to be losing their leaves. Was it diseased? She walked part way around it, staring up into the leaves.

  She noticed then that the shrubs nearby were also yellowing, and one appeared to be completely dead. As she started really looking around her, she saw that all the plants on the estate were suffering. Most of the grass on the wide lawns was turning yellow. Over the wall that separated the estate from the one next door she could see several trees and their leaves looked fine, though there was some yellowing in the nearest one.

  The woman finished filling her pail and walked away. After filling hers, Cara walked back to where she’d been working. While she was gone, a group of Tenders led by the FirstMother had come out to train with their sulbits. Looking closer, she saw that the Tenders from Rane Haven were in the group, along with a few others who had recently gotten their sulbits. Cara surreptitiously moved closer so she could watch.

  “You’ve learned how to control your sulbit’s feeding. Now I am going to teach you to meld with your sulbit. Melding with your sulbit is necessary if you want to exert finer control over the creature. It is also more dangerous, since it entails lowering the barriers between you and it.”

  Cara did not miss the way Donae’s eyes widened when the FirstMother said that. Not for the first time she wondered if it was wise for her to receive a sulbit. She was not a very strong woman, and easily frightened.

  Bronwyn, on the other hand, looked eager. Cara expected that she would be the strongest among them, maybe even as strong as the FirstMother someday.

  “When you are melded with your sulbit, you will see what it sees. You will feel what it feels. You will be able to access its full abilities. Through it you will be able to take hold of flows of Song and bend them to your will.”

  That brought some excited murmurs from the women, and even Donae looked more hopeful. Cara had to admit that she was intrigued. Perhaps the greatest of the powers held by the Tenders of the Empire was their ability to manipulate raw LifeSong.

  The FirstMother gave them a stern look and they all went quiet. “In order to meld with your sulbit you will have to lower your inner barriers and allow the creature into you. It will be difficult at first and you may find it frightening, but it is necessary if you are going to serve Xochitl and fight in her name. Bring forth your sulbits and hold them up. Concentrate on them. When you succeed in melding with them, you will be pulled beyond.”

  The Tenders took the creatures out of their robes and held them up. The FirstMother continued to give them instructions and one by one they managed to do it. Donae was last but all at once she gasped and said, “I feel it! I’m there! Oh.” She put her hand to her mouth. “It’s beautiful.”

  Cara had stopped working altogether and was staring at them. She had to admit that she was a little bit envious. Going beyond was something she’d always wanted to do, but doubted she’d ever have the ability. Now that they were doing it, she could not deny a certain amount of second-guessing about her decision.

  “Time for the next step,” the FirstMother said. She pointed at Bronwyn. “You first. Pick a nearby flow
of LifeSong. Do you have one? Now, reach through your sulbit. You are one mind, one body. Focus on the flow and nothing else.” She waited a few moments until Bronwyn nodded. “Now reach out and take hold of it. Only touch it briefly, then let it go. It is important that you let it go right away. If you wait too long, your sulbit will latch on too tightly, and you may have difficulty pulling away. It is young and does not know any better.”

  Bronwyn grimaced as she concentrated. She reached out with one hand. All the other Tenders were staring at her intently. Their eyes had a slightly unfocused look that told her they were seeing. She wished she could too. All at once a slight tingle went through her and at the same time Bronwyn’s face lit up. “I did it! I touched it!” She pulled her arm back. “It was incredible. I could feel the power moving through it.”

  After her the FirstMother worked with the rest, coaching them to do the same. Some weren’t able to manage it, but most did. Last to go was Donae.

  The small woman was clearly afraid, but she squared her shoulders and reached out with one hand, her sulbit nestled in her other hand. As with the others, Cara felt the tingle inside her as Donae took hold of the flow, but it did not dissipate as the others had done. Instead it grew stronger. Cara quickly began to feel sick to her stomach. It felt like a hot wind was blowing across her skin and sweat beaded her brow. Suddenly Donae cried out.

  “I can’t let go! It won’t let me!”

  The hot wind grew stronger and now it felt like it blew off of a furnace. Cara’s skin felt like it was blistering. The FirstMother shoved Donae hard. When she touched her Cara felt a soundless concussion and both the FirstMother and Donae were knocked down.

  Cara realized that she was on her hands and knees, panting as she tried to draw breath. The hot wind was gone, but the world was blurry and she blinked to clear her vision. As if in from a far distance she could hear the FirstMother berating Donae. She felt a hand on her shoulder.