The Bandit (Fall of the Swords Book 2)

by Scott Michael Decker

  “The Lord Emperor's meal is ready, and the Lady Consort is on her way up,” the servant said upon his return. “This humble servant has picked a few robes for the Lord Emperor's sagacious selection. In this humble servant's opinion, the ivory and teal with the turquoise tassels will do nicely for the occasion.”

  “Thank you.” Flying Arrow stepped from the bath to let the servant dry him, still erect from thoughts of her.

  “If this humble servant may be so forward as to comment, the Lord Emperor's size is quite admirable.”

  “You may.”

  Flowering Pine stepped into the excretory, her dress emphasizing her pregnancy. Seeing his tumescence, she smiled. “Leave us.” She held out her hand to take the towel from the servant.

  * * *

  “I feel famished,” Flowering Pine mumbled later as they hurried through the savory roast duck.

  Smiling, Flying Arrow chewed quickly, his mouth full, both of them already expected at the audience hall. “They can wait a little longer, Lady. I want you to eat until surfeit, eh? Our sons are more important than this ridiculous repatriation ritual for the Usurper.”

  “Don't call him that, Lord. He saved the Lord Emperor Jaguar's life! It's only right to welcome him like a hero, after all everyone honors and respects the Lord Bear and—”

  “Eat!” Flying Arrow interrupted, knowing her liking for loquacity. Sometimes, after sharing their pleasures late at night, she'd start to talk, and Infinite blast it, he couldn't shut her up. He often fell asleep during her insipid soliloquies, which piqued her terribly. He got so tired after spending his seed that staying awake was difficult enough without her interminable prattle.

  They finished quickly, and servants helped the unwieldy Consort gain her feet. Her burnished auburn hair contrasted well with her green, low-cut maternity robes. The flowing folds gathered above and below the protruding abdomen to emphasize the life growing to fruition within her. Her smile dimpling her face, she held her arm out to Flying Arrow. She looked radiant.

  “Infinite bless you, sweetness and light,” he said.

  Her complection flamed, her light skin blazing with blush.

  Flying Arrow stiffened, took her arm with one hand and—

  “Oh!” Flowering Pine yelped, slapping away his other. Grinning at each other, they stepped toward the door. A servant jumped to open it for them. Through it they passed, completely absorbed in each other.

  “Time for my performance,” Flying Arrow said as they approached the hall.

  They entered the packed audience hall from the door behind the dais. Striding straight up to Guarding Bear, Flying Arrow threw his arms around the larger man's chest, tossing decorum aside. “Lord Uncle, so good to have you back!” he said loudly, right into the General's ear. “Welcome!” He clasped the other's shoulders, not the slightest pause in his speech. “You look well, my friend! The Lord Emperor Jaguar treated you like an Emperor! After you saved his hide from that assassin, he ought to have given you his castle, eh? Beautiful pendant you're wearing—looks like solid gold. Was that your prize for defeating the Emperor Jaguar's best swordsmen? Thought so, Lord Uncle, and not a nick on you, eh? How are you, by the Infinite!”

  Looking nonplussed, Guarding Bear stammered and stuttered, nodded and gestured as if groping for a response.

  “It pleases me you're doing so well,” Flying Arrow said, as if Guarding Bear had answered. “Music!” he ordered loudly, gesturing at the musicians in the corner. Quiet strains of an old love ballad began. “Servant! Bring my illustrious Lord Uncle a drink! Get all the Lords and Ladies a drink! A salutation to the Lord Bear!” Flying Arrow grinned at the other man's discomfiture.

  A flock of crystal chalices full to the brims flew from the service entrance. The tumblers distributed themselves to the assembled nobility of the Eastern Empire.

  “Don't be so modest, Lord Bear. You've earned the accolades of an Empire!” A beverage settled into Flying Arrow's hand. Raising it above his head, he looked Guarding Bear in the eye. “I hereby dedicate this celebration to the only peasant I know who has the testicles to assault an Emperor! To the Lord General Guarding Bear, the blessings of the Infinite upon him!” As a cheer rose in accord, Flying Arrow drained his glass. The guests also emptied theirs, having to take their cues from the Emperor's lead. “Another one,” he murmured to no one.

  A servant nonetheless heard him. Emptied chalices rose and left, almost colliding with the fresh beverages issuing forth.

  “Lord Emperor Arrow, I feel so honored.” Guarding Bear finally found his voice, as if his tongue had needed lubrication. A full chalice floated down into his hand. “I couldn't have dreamed you'd laud my return so heartily! I'm not worthy of this—”

  “Oh, but you are, Lord Uncle,” Flying Arrow interrupted. “A salutation!” Again he raised his glass toward the assembled nobles. “To the greatest swordfighter in all four Empires. May the Infinite guide the Lord Bear's blade into the hearts of our enemies!” As the assemblage cheered again, Flying Arrow drained his glass. Everyone likewise emptied theirs. “Another one,” he murmured.

  The master servant sent full chalices from the service entrance before he collected the guests' dirty ones. The air in the audience hall glittered with crystal.

  Guarding Bear bowed, his face growing red, the scar across his nose nearly purple. “Lord Emperor Arrow, I insist you cease this foolishness instantly! I've done nothing more than any man would try to do, Lord. I don't deserve a bit—”

  “Nonsense, Lord Uncle,” Flying Arrow interrupted, lifting the full chalice and spilling not a drop. “To the man who saved the Lord Emperor Jaguar from the knife of an assassin. May the Infinite help the Lord General Guarding Bear to guard us all!” Again a cheer and again a glass emptied. Flying Arrow threw the chalice straight up. As it neared the ceiling, a servant caught it in a psychic grasp.

  A multitude of emptied chalices followed it.

  The Emperor lowered his gaze to the General's face. “Welcome home, Lord Uncle,” Flying Arrow said quietly, smiling and throwing his arms around Guarding Bear.

  The celebration lasted well into the night.

  Chapter 2

  What do we know about Scowling Tiger? History calls him a traitor and an outlaw, yet some said he was neither. The first-born son of the second most influential man in Smoking Arrow's reign, Scowling Tiger began life with a hoard of silver at his disposal and a hundred thousand warriors at his command. At the height of his career, he was Commanding General of the Eastern Armed Forces and President of the Imperial Ruling Council, commanding nearly half-a-million warriors. When assassinated at sixty-four, he commanded fifteen thousand bandits, and his only weapon was a sword. And that sword was in its sheath.—The Long Descent of Scowling Tiger, by Keeping Track.

  * * *

  “Infinite blast it, why didn't he kill the Usurper?!” Scowling Tiger snarled, shaking a raised fist southward.

  Calmly, Raging River watched his liege lord from a respectful distance, one hand on the sheath and one on the haft, as always. For most of the evening, he had waited with his liege lord on the mountain cap to see how the Emperor Flying Arrow would receive Guarding Bear during the repatriation ceremony.

  On the psychic flow moments ago had come the news that Flying Arrow had welcomed the Usurper heartily, which neither bandit had expected.

  Well, Raging River thought, I didn't expect Flying Arrow to execute the Peasant Upstart Usurper—at least, not now. If I were the Emperor Arrow, I'd wait a year or so to lull the retired General. Then I'd order the peasant to do something impossible—maybe mount a siege against our fortress and compel him to take the structure by storm or to die trying. Thank the Infinite, I'm not the Emperor Arrow, eh? Something feels wrong about that effusive welcome, though.

  “Did you hear that?!” Scowling Tiger spat with a gasp, almost hyper-ventilating.

  The fifty-five year old retainer consulted the flow. The Emperor had just ordered the gathered nobility to join him in saluting the
General with a toast. “The only peasant I know who has the testicles to assault an Emperor!” Incredible! thought Raging River, watching his liege lord with concern.

  Tendons stood out on his neck as if his head were about to burst. “Infinite blast it, why didn't he kill the Usurper?!” Scowling Tiger repeated through a tight grimace, clenching his fists at his sides, his arms rigid.

  Had others been present, Raging River would've hidden his head in shame at his liege lord's disgraceful lack of control. Thankfully, no one was with them on the cap of the Tiger Fortress. The old retainer had seen Scowling Tiger completely lose his temper only a few times. Once, after trading the wicked wench Fleeting Snow to Snarling Jaguar for a menagerie tiger, his liege lord had killed a personal guard and obliterated the body. Now, eight months later, Raging River watched the same man from a respectful distance, more concerned with keeping his head than anything else. He didn't want to end up under Scowling Tiger's blinded blade.

  “Did you hear that?!”

  Again, Raging River consulted the flow. Again, the Emperor had honored the General with a salutation. Again, the gray-haired Eastern expatriate wondered at the inconsistent events in Emparia Castle, remembering Flying Arrow's mercurial moods.

  “Infinite blast it, why didn't he kill the Usurper?!” Scowling Tiger roared, his hands pumping open and closed. He twisted at the hips as if struggling to free feet rooted to the stone. The strong back muscles rippled under the fine, expensive silk robe imported from south of the border.

  Raging River took several deep breaths, mentally encouraging his liege lord to calm down. He was smart enough, however, not to send the idea. The old warrior knew he was no longer important in this situation. The bandit general would escalate or defuse as the Infinite willed—or as the bandit general willed. He's like the volcano under my ass! Raging River thought. Scowling Tiger could obliterate everything in his way or turn away from the source of his frustration. The retainer hoped he'd choose the latter.

  “Did you hear that?!”

  Raging River sighed and didn't want to consult the psychic flow for the latest incredulity. He knew it all a ruse. Obviously, the Emperor was lulling the General into a false sense of security in preparation for punishment. In his rage however, Scowling Tiger was blind to it. Sighing again, Raging River consulted the flow anyway. Another salutation, the Eastern nobility cheering wildly with the accolades bestowed upon the ingenuous General.

  “Infinite blast it, why didn't he kill the Usurper?!” Scowling Tiger screamed. He whipped out his sword and hacked at the parapet again and again, ruining the sword with the first blow. The bandit general battered the balustrade with the bent, useless blade. Shards of stone and sprays of sparks spewed forth. With each swing Scowling Tiger expelled a grunt of rage.

  He sounds like a moose in rut upon a mare in estrus! Raging River thought with detached calm. He hoped his liege lord didn't hurt himself before he'd spent his energies. The retainer glanced at the sword in his hands. He felt sad, having grown accustomed to it. When Scowling Tiger was done, he'd give it to his liege lord. For the retainer to bear arms while the bandit general was without weapon was unbefitting.

  Scowling Tiger hurled the valueless metal southward into the dark.

  Wordlessly, Raging River rose and stepped toward his liege lord, knelt before him and offered the sword.

  Wordlessly, Scowling Tiger took it and proceeded to pummel the parapet more.

  The retainer winced but backed away a safe distance. Choosing a star brighter than most, Raging River lost himself in its arrhythmic twinkling, quickly meditating himself away from the mountaintop. An eternity later the whistling of object spinning through space brought him back to the present.

  Several tiny nicks bloodied Scowling Tiger's face and arms and chest. His robes were in tatters, perspiration plastering his hair to his head. Smiling, Scowling Tiger said in a voice more grunt than speech, “I feel much better.”

  Raging River chuckled. “Let's get you a sword, Lord. I don't like your not having a weapon.”

  The bandit general looked at his empty hands and nodded. Shrugging, he turned to look south.

  As Raging River descended the stairs toward the Lair below, his liege lord's voice floated down from above.

  “Infinite blast it, why didn't he kill the Usurper?”

  In the voice was little fury so the retainer knew the madness had passed. At the base of the stairs, Raging River asked one of the two sentries to bring him two of the finest swords in the armory.

  The sentry glanced up the stairs, an expression of contempt on his face.

  Raging River immediately slapped the man. “How dare you listen in on affairs that don't concern you! Crawl as you retrieve the swords, insolent scum!”

  The sentry immediately fell to all fours and apologized profusely, banging his head on the stone floor of the Lair.

  “Go!” Raging River shouted and kicked the man viciously.

  On hands and knees the sentry went.

  The retainer spun, thinking to catch the other sentry for the same infraction. Her face was without expression. Raging River noted the woman's features to keep her in mind for possible promotion. Looking around the Lair, the gloom-filled main hall of the Tiger Fortress, Raging River saw it was empty but for the sentry. Nodding to her, he ascended the stairs. Should I order the sentry to fall on his knife upon completing the errand? he wondered.

  * * *

  Scowling Tiger was looking south, as usual. He turned when he saw that his retainer had rejoined him on the mountain cap. “What do you think, Lord River?”

  “Would you punish the messenger because you don't like the message?”

  “Eh? Of course not. What is it, man?”

  “It's simply incredible, Lord Tiger.”

  “You mean the way the Emperor welcomed the Usurper?”

  “Exactly, Lord, it's simply not credible.”

  The bandit general shifted his head, hearing the shift of emphasis. “Blast,” he muttered, “I just ruined two good swords for no good reason.”

  “I agree, Lord.”

  Chuckling softly, Scowling Tiger shook his head in self-disgust. “I guess I really deceived myself this time, eh?”

  “That was my conclusion, Lord.”

  Easing himself to the blemished balustrade, the bandit general smiled at his underling. “Guarding Bear and I have feuded for nearly thirty years, Lord River, ever since he usurped the Caven Hills from me. Perhaps it's time that I stepped away from my narrow, all-consuming desire to stain the earth with his blood, eh?”

  “Absolutely not, Lord! How could you consider turning aside your blade when the Usurper spilt so much Tiger Patriarchy blood? Gagging Bear stole the Caven Hills prefecture, was directly or indirectly responsible for killing all seven of your brothers and their sons, and drove you from the Eastern Empire at Flying Arrow's order. For all the blood spilt, none reclaimable, you owe Gagging Bear a thousand deaths. That you, the bandit general Scowling Tiger, might relent, is unthinkable!” Suddenly, the retainer knelt. “Forgive me, Lord, the Infinite must have addled my brains for me to speak so tactlessly.”

  Scowling Tiger waved it away. “Listen, Lord River. I'm not a young man with the heat of passion coursing through my veins anymore. True, I get angry at times, but who doesn't? I've better goals in life than the death of an enemy. Infinite knows, I get so obsessed with redressing injury inflicted upon me I forget I have a life to live too. My daughter is eighteen months old now, Lord River. I'd like to be alive when she's eighteen years. Maybe I'm feeling my mortality. Maybe I'm just weary of seeking revenge and fearing revenge. Now that Flying Arrow has assured the succession—even though everyone knows the twins are bastards—we've less hope of getting the Northern Imperial Sword. I don't know if it's worth it anymore, Lord River. I just don't know.”

  “Please forgive me my presumption, Lord Tiger, if you don't know then kindly step aside for someone who does know.”

  “Eh? What?”

&n
bsp; “Lord, I'm glad I don't have a sword right now. If I did, I'd feel compelled to remove your head.”

  Scowling Tiger laughed. “Would you really take my head, my friend?”

  “Only if I thought you no longer had a use for it, Lord.”

  “If that were true then I'd want you to take it.” The two men shared a laugh, one of thousands they'd shared, having been companions for most of their lives. “It's time, my friend, eh?”

  “For the shipment, you mean?” Raging River grinned. “I agree, Lord. I wish I could be at Emparia Castle to see our shit on their faces, eh?”

  Scowling Tiger laughed, nodding. “I feel honored that so many Eastern nobles found me important enough to send so many spies.” He looked toward the northwestern sky, where ominous clouds gathered. “Snowstorm soon, tomorrow morning perhaps, eh? I want to sign the bill of lading myself, Lord River, to give the shipment that extra touch. We'll have to leave during the worst of the storm. Are you up to that?”

  “Lead, Lord, and there I'll follow,” Raging River said.

  “Those words should be your epitaph.” Scowling Tiger chuckled and cocked his head. Sounds began to ascend the stairs.

  * * *

  Raging River smiled. His right hand flexed as if it knew not what to do without a hilt to worry. “Our new swords, Lord.”

  “What took so long?”

  The nosy sentry crawled onto the upper landing, the leather ties of two sheaths between his teeth. The sentry opened his mouth and the swords thudded on stone. Then the sentry's head followed, smacking smooth rock.

  “Have you learned not to listen to conversations that don't concern you?”

  “Yes, Lord River, please forgive me.”

  “Well, to remind you for awhile, you'll continue to crawl until I tell you otherwise.”

  “Yes, Lord River, please forgive me.”

  “Good. Dismissed, Lord.”