To Walk in the Way of Lions

by H. Leighton Dickson

  “Hey, Captain…”

  “Yes, Solomon?”

  “Can a talk to you a sec?”

  “A sek?”

  “Sorry. For a moment. In private.”

  Kirin glanced around. The Seer and the Major were barely visible in the firelight. Kerris and the Scholar were not visible at all, for the horses had wandered far as they grazed the lush new growth of the city. There was no one watching. No one at all.

  He didn’t understand.

  The man touched his arm, turned and crunched his way out of the firelight. The moon was waning now, a sharp slice cut out of her usually happy face. The light she spilled was adequate, and when Solomon stopped behind a stand of trees that had pushed their way through stone, his pelt-less face looked stark in its cold blue glow.

  “Listen, Captain, I think I get what you’re saying, here. I don’t want to cause any problems. I certainly don’t want to be toppling any Empires, or starting any wars between peoples or anything like that. We were just trying to ensure the survival of our species, that’s all.”

  “I understand.” He did, to an extent.

  “If these dogs are putting you all in danger just because of me, then I don’t need to be a part of this equation.”

  Now, he did not understand.

  “I was really hoping that you were human. That I would have a place to come back to, a people to come back to. A future to build on. Now, I don’t know what I have…”

  Solomon sighed, put one hand on his hip, ran the other through the tangle that was his hair.

  “I just want you to know that I don’t have to come with you, that’s all.”

  Kirin looked at him.

  “In fact, you might be safer without me. If these dogs are looking to me as some sort of kingmaker, then you all would be better off without me, don’tcha think?”

  Something began to tighten in Kirin’s chest. “The Empire is in grave danger because of you, Solomon.”

  “Yeah, I get that. I had a plan B, you know. There were three Sandman Projects, one in Switzerland, one in Canada and one in Australia. Maybe they are still sleeping over there. Maybe Max didn’t wake their supers and maybe, if I can get to either Canada or Australia, then maybe I can begin the process manually…”

  His heart leapt in his ribs now as what Solomon was saying began to take hold.

  “Maybe there are already people over there, maybe there are living human civilizations in other places, I don’t know, I just know that I need to find out where I belong. If I belong anywhere at all…”

  “There are others, Solomon?” His voice sounded thin, unnatural.

  “I don’t know, Captain. That’s what I’m trying to tell you. Look, I’m grateful to you for what you’ve all done, how far you’ve come to find me. I would have died many times over if it hadn’t been for you. I would have probably killed myself out of despair, and just knowing that you were looking for me gave me hope, kept me alive, kept me going. But honestly, you’re…you’re not human! You’re an amazing feat of genetic engineering, yes, and the scientist in me is dying to see what else this new world has to offer, but…I don’t belong with you. I need to find my people, my own people, if they exist. If not, then…then maybe it’s just as well that there are none of us left. Maybe it’s just your turn, that’s all. We had our shot, and now, you get to have yours…”

  Other people. Other Ancestors.

  It fell upon him like a cloak drawn across his shoulders, the weight of responsibility, the burden of command. Even as Solomon talked, the Captain straightened his posture, quieted his tail (which had been very restless of late), drew long deep breaths.

  He welcomed the heart of Bushido with every fiber of his being, felt it wash over him, calming him, strengthening him. His hand closed over the hilt of his sword.

  “Solomon,” he said quietly.

  “But if there are still some of us, some remnant of humanity, then it’s my job to find them, to help them, to teach them not to make the same mistakes we did…”

  “Solomon…”

  “Before the power went out that last time, the computer in the Humlander said there were Marine Archives in Turkey, two in Istanbul, one in Antalya. That’s why I’m here. I think I’ve found a boat –“

  “Solomon.” Not loudly. Never loudly. But with authority. It was the way of things.

  The man closed his mouth, shoulders sagging. He was exhausted, anxious, frightened at the same time. He never even noticed the Captain’s hand.

  “Sorry, Captain. I’m rambling. Do you have any ideas?”

  The Captain stepped forward. “I am also sorry, Solomon. I am sorry for you, for what you have been through since your awakening. For this long quest to find us and the dangers you have experienced along the way.”

  Another step. “I am also sorry for your people, for the horrible ways they surely died and for the loss of such knowledge and power from our culture. We learned much from you in the early days - it is recorded in the journals of the first Dynasties - but Solomon, you were right. Your people are gone, and they are gone for a very good reason.”

  And he slid the long sword from its sheath.

  “And we are here, we the people of the Upper Kingdom, and we are a people and the Bushido is ours, and the Way is ours, and the Right to Rule is ours.”

  Solomon had not moved. In fact, his brow was furrowed, as if confused.

  “I cannot allow you to discover if any of your people live. I cannot allow you to awaken any more Ancestors for these very reasons. Your people are a threat to the Empire, and you Solomon, even you, are a threat to the Empire.”

  “I don’t understand…”

  “Your star, your machine, your ‘saddle-light’, killed six of the most important men in our Kingdom. It killed them while trying to awaken you. Did you expect no repercussions?”

  “You…you’re going to kill me?” His brown eyes were wide in disbelief.

  “I am the Captain of the Queen’s Guard. I serve a glorious Empire and a glorious Empress. She has given me orders, and I must follow those orders, regardless of my feelings for you.” He held the blade wide, one hand on hilt, the other flexing the point. “It is an honorable death. You will feel nothing.”

  “You can’t kill me…” Disbelief still.

  “But I can, Solomon. And I must. And there will be no more talk of Ancestors in this land or in any other and our lives will return to normal, as if you had never existed. It is the way things must be. Is this so difficult to understand?”

  “Is what so difficult to understand?” came a voice and Kirin froze as Kerris ambled between the trees and into the moonlight.

  ***

  “Lord.”

  The Leader opened his brown eyes.

  “Lord, a scout has confirmed campfires. We have them.”

  “Which party? Sorcerors or lions?”

  “Unknown, Lord. But cats.”

  “Strike the gars. We move tonight.”

  He rolled out of his skins and was out of the tent in a heartbeat.

  ***

  “Kerris.” The Captain’s tail lashed once.

  “The horses are ready, Kirin. If we’re going anywhere, we should go now.”

  “Yes, Kerris, just give us a moment.”

  The grey lion strolled up beside Solomon, smile wide, eyes dancing. He glanced at the Ancestor, the look of panic on his face, then back at his brother and the katanah bared between them.

  “So, what is it, then, that is so difficult to understand?”

  “Nothing, Kerris. Please leave us.”

  “No,” said Solomon, grabbing Kerris’ sleeve. “I would prefer it if you didn’t.”

  “Kerris, for once, will you just do as I ask?”

  Kerris cocked his head. “You’re not keeping more secrets, are you, Kirin?”

  “I think he’s going to kill me,” said Solomon. “And I don’t think I like that idea very much.”

  Kerris turned his smile on his brother. “Kirin is not go
ing to kill you, Solomon. Are you, Kirin?”

  “Kerris, I’ve asked you to leave. Please leave.”

  Kerris took a step toward his brother. “You’re not going to kill him, Kirin. Tell me that you’re not going to kill him.”

  “Kerris…”

  “Now what could possibly be accomplished by killing an Ancestor. Has Lyn-ling asked this of you as punishment for killing the Seers of Sha’Hadin? For that I could see. She has claws, that little one does. Does she know what Solomon is, Kirin? Have you given her all the information? Or did you choose to keep her in the dark as well?”

  The Captain grew cold. “Kerris, step out of the way.”

  “Is that an honorable thing to do, Kirin? Keep the truth all to yourself so that you can be the judge, the magistrate, the ‘Captain’, giving your orders to everyone else but making up the rules as you go?”

  Then hot. “Kerris, move out of the way.”

  Kerris took another step. “Is this the Way of the Warrior, Kirin? Killing a man who hasn’t even claws to defend himself? You will not win her love that way, Kirin. There is no honor in that. Besides, she is marrying another by the New Year –“

  “Enough!” White hot now, and Kirin brought the blade up to Kerris’ throat. “You will not speak of the Empress anymore!”

  Kerris leaned forward and into the blade, his smile unnaturally bright. “Why? Will you kill me too?”

  With a loud snarl, the Captain shoved his brother away. “Why are you like this, Kerris? You are always pushing me. Pushing, pushing, pushing. You never listen to anyone, you never respect anyone. You are lawless, reckless and you have no honor.”

  There. He had said it. He had just crossed a line, he knew it full well, but he believed it and it felt so good to finally say it.

  And it stung, he could tell. Kerris winced as if whipped. But as he straightened, his eyes grew hard.

  “You are right, brother. I have no honor. You always had so much more of it than anyone. I suppose I never felt the need.”

  Kirin sighed, lowered the sword. “There is no life worth living apart from honor. I must kill this man because the Empress has willed it and I obey. It is the way of things. It is my way.”

  “Right now, Kirin, your way is wrong.”

  “Leave Kerris, or be witness. I will allow nothing less.”

  Kerris stared at his brother, then stepped slowly, deliberately and directly in front of Solomon.

  Kirin felt dizzy, felt his control slipping away. It was not supposed to be like this. There was no honor in any of this.

  “Please, Kerris. Please, move.”

  Kerris shook his grey head. “No, Kirin. I will not.”

  Kirin felt tears spring into his eyes. “Please, do not make me do this…”

  “Do it. I make you.”

  He raised the sword. “Kerris…”

  “You have wanted to do it since we were children, ever since you were old enough to realize what having a brother like me meant for our family. You have wanted to do it ever since I called the lightning and killed our father and brought dishonor on our house. You have wanted to do it since I first got drunk and lost the family crest in a barfight. You have wanted to do it since I bedded woman after woman, bringing shame upon shame on the name Wynegarde-Grey. You have wanted to do it time and time again, even when I traveled east and found myself in the company of those damned Chi’Chen and cost the Kingdom great parcels of land for peace. But land is worth far more than peace, isn’t it? So do it, Kirin. Muster up some courage for a change and finally do something that you’ve always wanted to do.”

  Kirin couldn’t help it. The tears spilled down his cheeks of their own accord.

  “Why do you do this, Kerris?” he whispered. “Why can you not at least try?”

  “Try? Why do I not try?” Now it was Kerris’ turn for tears to make tracks in his grey face. “All my life, that is all I have ever done. Try. Try, try and try some more. It’s never been enough. I could never be gold enough. Not for Father, not even for Mummie, certainly not for you. Never gold enough for you.”

  “It has nothing to do with your pelt,” Kirin snapped. “You rejected Father’s ways. You rejected the family’s ways! You rejected the Bushido—“

  “There is no Bushido!”

  “Kerris, stop that!”

  “I say it again – there is no Bushido. It is a lie you have created for yourself and others to stay dead and be proud of it. It is a lie. It is a life of chains.”

  “I said stop!”

  “There is no Bushido!”

  “No more!”

  “I spit on your Bushido!”

  The sword moved of its own free will, wavering at the first talk of Bushido, but flashing now, causing the Captain to lunge forward in following it, and it sliced the darkness in front of his brother, the tearing sound muffled only by the roar torn from his own throat.

  Snapping, the pendants dropped to the ground like rain.

  He stepped backwards, an odd sinking sensation washing down from his ears. The sword felt incredibly heavy in his hands.

  Kerris also stepped back, as the pale moonlight caught a glint of something stretching like a river from shoulder to hip.

  “What have you done?” It was the tigress, and he turned to see the Major and the Seer as well, standing behind him, faces darkened in shadow. They looked as though they had been standing a long time.

  “What have you done?!”

  And she rushed past the Captain, catching the grey lion as he sank to his knees, clutching at the river now a pool, and growing wider across his chest.

  The Seer was staring at him.

  The Major was staring at him.

  The Ancestor was staring at him.

  The Bushido was gone. The Bushido had fled.

  The Captain dropped his sword and did likewise.

  ***

  There was a double ring of fire around the tents and the pack surrounded it threefold. There were enough of them to tear this company to pieces if they chose to do so, but they would wait on the order of the Leader. These were Sorcerors. The dogs were frightened of them.

  Figures could be made behind the flames and long black cloaks swept the ground where they stood. One stepped forward and the fire disappeared as he passed through, only to relight itself behind his feet. The pack shifted as he approached the Leader, stopped an arm’s length away. They were equal in height, the Leader and this Alchemist, and it was a reminder to them all that some cats were as large as dogs, if not more so. They were all formidable.

  The cat reached up and removed his hood. His face was as white as the moon and striped. For many of the pack, it was the first time seeing their enemy so close. Their faces, shorter, smoother. Their noses smaller. But it was the eyes, those accursed light eyes, like stars, like the sun in the sky or the sky itself, not dark like earth or wood or stone. Truly, they were an unnatural people.

  “I am Jet barraDunne, First Mage of Agara’tha.” The man inclined his head, but did not bow. “You are Gansuhk Rush?”

  The Leader raised a brow. “You speak the language of the People.”

  “I speak many languages, lord. It is a useful skill.”

  The Leader nodded. “Yes, I am Rush, Commander of the 112th Legion under Khan Baitsukhan.”

  “He is Third Khan, yes?”

  “Yes.”

  barraDunne smiled and the Leader shivered at the sight. “Perhaps, when we are done, there will be a fourth?”

  Rush grunted. That was the idea.

  The cat turned slightly, gestured back into the double rings. “If it pleases you, we can discuss matters inside, where it is warm. I’m afraid I’m useless without a cup of tea.”

  “Tea is for old women.”

  “I have sakeh and Shyrian Arak if you’d prefer.”

  He grunted again, and followed the Alchemist through the flames and they talked until the first light of dawn.

  ***

  It took all of them to hold him down as first
they peeled the fabric from his chest. The wound was long and very deep in the shoulder and the blood that had soaked his tunic soon soaked his grey pelt. They had no physician with them, no Necromancer or Alchemist with provisions to tend him, and it became apparent that if he continued to bleed the way he was bleeding now, Kerris Wynegarde-Grey would be dead before morning.

  Solomon had an idea.

  He was a Scholar, this Jeffrey Solomon was, but a physician first, and he asked them to help move the grey lion to the fire. He then asked to borrow the Major’s swords and daggers, which she was loathe to give up but was persuaded, and the Ancestor surprised them all by plunging the blades into the flames until they grew red hot, like in a forge. They held Kerris down yet again as Solomon wrapped cloths around the hilts, reached with pelt-less fingers into the deepest parts of the wound, and with seemingly great skill and knowledge, brought the glowing tip down and onto the source of the blood.

  The flesh sizzled and smoked and reeked of burnt meat and Kerris cried out as Solomon dragged this new blade along the path of the first, but soon his struggles ceased as sleep claimed him in her black embrace. Solomon was then able to continue this practice until most of the bleeding had ended. He packed it with damp tea leaves.

  The tigress sat now, cradling the grey head in her lap, stroking his forehead with her fingers.

  “He will be alright now, won’t he, Solomon?” Her voice was quiet, dull. She knew the answer to her question. Somehow she still felt the need to ask.

  The Ancestor shook his head. “I don’t know, sweetheart. That’s a very bad wound. I may have stopped the bleeding for now, but that’s by no means an effective treatment. Infection is very likely and we need to bandage that up, but where in the world will we get bandages?”

  A bolt of white fabric dropped into the man’s lap. He looked up to see the Major standing over him, a slim silhouette against the reddening of the dawn sky. Her long marbled hair lifted and fell on the early morning breeze.

  “Will that do?”

  Fallon looked up at her. “Your cloak? You would let us use your cloak?”

  “This is the desert. I do not need it.” She scowled. “He is a spoiled, insignificant excuse for a lion.”