Immortal Swordslinger 4

by Dante King

  Kegohr tackled me in a bone-crushing hug. My ribs flexed under the pressure, and I tapped his shoulder as a sign of joking defeat. He detached himself from me and wiped a tear away with a clawed finger.

  “Save it for Veltai, all right?” I wheezed. “I’m pretty tired after today.”

  “Yeah, yeah, yeah. I saw you against Xilarion. You should’ve been ashes after that. But you got up and kept fighting on, like you always do. And that Ash Cloud? It was the damned biggest one I’ve ever seen. You’ve gotten a whole lot stronger.”

  “You shattered Master Rutmonlir’s Flame Shield,” I said. “That would have taken some serious strength.”

  “We’ve all grown stronger,” Kegohr said with a nod. “What do you think our next mission will be?”

  I shrugged. “Xilarion left quickly. I figure he’s been sent word of more cultists.”

  “Cultists.” Kegohr clenched his fist as he said the words. “We’ll crush them like we did all the others.” My friend hated cultists with a passion, and for good reason. His entire family had been slain because of their influence over a tainted guild.

  Kegohr tipped his basin out of the window, tossed it onto his bed, and pulled on his robes for the feast ahead.

  “I’m going to find Veltai,” Kegohr said. “I’ll see you at the feast, yeah?”

  I nodded. “I’ll meet up with you in a bit.”

  Kegohr stomped outside, and I settled down to meditate. Vigor channels could be replenished through rest and food, but meditation was the best method of recovering from the heavy use of techniques. I had raised an eyebrow at the practice at first, but after months of doing it, I knew that it fortified my internal pathways and made casting techniques easier.

  “Center Disciple Lo Pashat?” a timid voice called from the door.

  I put on my robes, slid into my sandals, stepped off my bed, and buckled the Sundered Heart to my belt.

  “I’m here,” I called. “What is it?”

  I slid the door open to see a spindly man in pale gray robes, the Radiant Dragon flame on one breast and a scribe’s quill on the other.

  “Guildmaster Xilarion needs to see you in his office,” the scribe stammered. “Said that it’s for your ears only, and it’s incredibly important. He urges you to come at your earliest convenience.”

  Unless I missed my guess, I was about to find myself on the road again.

  The scribe led the way through the halls of the guild house. I knew them by heart after months of living and training with Radiant Dragon. Tapestries lined the stone walls and showed the long history of initiates; outer, center, and inner disciples; and masters, while elegant torches of cast iron warmed the air.

  The scribe didn’t speak when we arrived outside Xilarion’s office. Instead, he bowed to me, pulled the door open, and ushered me inside.

  The office was just as I remembered it. A low desk of ancient wood took up the center of the room, and the guildmaster stood at the window to survey the courtyard.

  “Guildmaster Xilarion, the Swordslinger has arrived,” the scribe announced.

  “Thank you. You may leave.” Xilarion turned, nodded to me, and gestured for me to take a seat. “You have my appreciation for coming on such short notice, Ethan. I understand the feast is about to begin, but your punctuality is still a credit to your character.”

  I sat across from him. “I’m sure my friends will forgive me for being late. How can I help, Guildmaster?”

  Xilarion didn’t answer. He merely continued staring into the courtyard. I had never seen him rattled before, and he did his best not to show it. But whitened knuckles and the tightness in his jaw betrayed the fact that something was gnawing at him. Years of experience had taught me that people like Xilarion didn’t open up until they were ready to. I respected the man too much to pry until an opportunity arose.

  Xilarion sat behind his desk and considered me. “I apologize for not staying longer for your graduation ceremony. You’ve become quite the figure among our younger students. Did you know?”

  I recalled the last few months I had spent knocking new Augmenters into shape. “I do what I can to help the guild.”

  “Faryn tells me you’re a natural teacher,” Xilarion said. “You’ve taken to training the initiates as readily as a fire to new kindling.”

  “I’m only relaying what you taught me. And experience, as you’ve said, is a great equalizer. Horix showed me the lowest point that a guild could fall to. And I had some practice with the initiates of Steadfast Horn.” I inclined my head. “But I couldn’t have done it without your leadership of Radiant Dragon, Guildmaster.”

  Xilarion seemed pleased at my words. “It grows stronger than ever with the support of the reformed members of Wysaro Clan. We’ve seen a surge in new students, our stadium has been rebuilt, and even those from the other communities have seen fit to send their students to study with us.”

  “Is that why you left in such a hurry, Guildmaster? Organization for other students? Or is something else playing at your mind?”

  Xilarion’s eyes hardened a little as our gazes met. “There is another matter, yes.”

  A long moment of tense silence passed between us. I respected Xilarion, and he knew that, but he was typically one to cut straight to the heart of the matter.

  A cool smile crossed his face, and he nodded. He had reached a decision. “The monks of the Dying Sun Monastery have re-emerged in Flametongue Valley. Furthermore, they’ve opened the doors to highly talented guild members once again. They have heard of your exploits and have asked about you and your friends.”

  Questions flooded my mind, but I kept my mouth closed and waited for him to continue. I had never heard of any kind of monk in the Seven Realms. My own experiences on Earth with religion had been brief at best, and I had never taken any of it too seriously. But in this world? Religion, history, legends, and Augmentation all went hand-in-hand.

  “I’m honored,” I said finally. “Do you know them well, Guildmaster?”

  “I trained with them, long ago, and learned much,” Xilarion said. “They haven’t been seen in this province for some time. But their reappearance seems perfectly timed, and their interest in you is a good sign that your path is carrying you closer to your destiny.”

  “Is that where you learned how to harness the Vigor in the environment?” I asked, recalling how he had used the sun to empower his techniques.

  “Among other things,” Xilarion replied.

  “What do you advise?” I asked carefully. “Their appearance seems to have you on edge, if you don’t mind my saying so. Do the monks pose a danger to the province?”

  “No, their path is a true one. But the timing of their appearance vexes me.” Xilarion waved a hand to dismiss the thought. “My advice to you is to take up their offer and train with them. Their methods are traditional, and their intentions are pure. In bygone times, the monasteries were responsible for training would-be Swordslingers and building upon their understanding of fundamental Augmentation principles.

  “The Path of the Immortal Swordslinger transcends that of the Wandering Path,” he continued. “But it is best that you hear it from them. I would not have a Swordslinger fail from a lack of internal strength or poor teaching, if I can help it.”

  “I’ll leave tomorrow,” I said, “and do my guild proud.”

  “You’ve already proven yourself capable of that much,” Xilarion said with a warm smile. “And there is a hall full of people below us who have assembled to celebrate your ascension to Center Disciples. You’ve kept them waiting long enough.”

  I took his last observation as a dismissal and rose from my chair. I bowed to Xilarion, who inclined his head in return, then left his office with more unanswered questions than I’d had when I’d arrived.

  Chapter Six

  I went down two flights of stairs, through the courtyard, and into the main hall.

  The shrill of wood flutes and the thrum of lyres drifted through the high doorway as I entered the
hall. Long tables groaned under the weight of roasted mountain boar, fresh vegetables, and casks of wine. High-spirited conversation battled with the music as people raised their voices to be heard above the din.

  A cluster of initiates danced in a space at the back of the hall as they took full advantage of the event. I noticed that the guild members kept their distance from the Wysaros, who had taken up their seats at the places of honor at the heads of the tables. I slipped in as quietly as I could and scanned the room for my friends. Kegohr’s mass of blue-gray fur caught my eye on the far left.

  A few people greeted me with cheers and hearty slaps on the back. I offered them smiles and polite greetings, but I needed to tell the others about our newest mission. It took a few minutes to finally slide onto the bench between Kumi and Kegohr. Faryn beamed at me from across the table and raised her goblet to me. On my right, Vesma chatted with Mahrai about the earlier bouts. I tore a chunk off a roasted quail with a pair of chopsticks and dug in.

  “So, you’ve finally returned,” Vesma said. “Where have you been?”

  “Xilarion wanted to see me,” I answered. “Something about our next task.”

  “Already?” Mahrai complained.

  “I’ve seen you going stir-crazy in here.” Kegohr stripped meat away from a boar’s hind leg. “Don’t make out like you don’t want to get back on the road.”

  Mahrai huffed and took a long sip of her wine. “I don’t like being used. What does he want, anyway? Does another province need saving?”

  “Not quite,” I said. “He wants us to go to Dying Sun Monastery to train.”

  “But the monasteries don’t exist anymore,” Vesma said. “They all vanished years ago.”

  “Well, it sounds like one of them has returned,” I said. “Where I’m from, most of the martial arts monasteries are combat-oriented. There are others who do a lot of meditation and ascetic practice, but I doubt it’s the same here.”

  Kumi furrowed her brow. “There’s no magic in your world. Why would your monks meditate if they can’t Augment?”

  “Something about transcending the flesh and becoming one with the universe, or focusing on their Deity,” I replied. “They have their own paths, but none of them involve throwing fireballs around.”

  “Actually, I have heard something that might be related to the monastery,” Kumi said. “I heard some of the initiates talking two days ago. Some rumor about a temple that appeared on the mountain. I thought they were speaking about some local legend, not an actual place.”

  I considered the thought. “Xilarion said that this monastery had only just ‘re-emerged.’ Maybe it’s the same place. Is it possible to hide an entire structure with magic?”

  “Says the man who took down a portal into the demonic realm,” Vesma said. “Of course, it is. There’s more to magic than simple Augmentation. Plenty of magic occurs naturally.”

  “Along the Diamond Coast, legends have it that the monks were originally caretakers of the temples,” Kumi said. “They kept them well-maintained and led the people in the worship of the gods in the Temple of the Deep. But after my grandfather passed, they vanished without any sign and left behind their practices to the King of the Qihin.”

  “Any mention of where they went?” I asked.

  Kumi shook her head. “The legends don’t tell us more than that.”

  “If we leave tradition behind for a moment,” Vesma interrupted, “I can tell you what I’ve read. The histories have a little to say about the monks, but after the Wine Wars, not much is said of them.”

  “There you go again with your books!” Kegohr laughed.

  “I’m the only reason you passed your written exam,” Vesma said, “and you love me for it. But to return to my earlier point, Kumi’s information is accurate. The monks were always caretakers of shrines and temples. But there are mentions made of an agreement with the guilds to train their best Augmenters toward a deeper understanding of internal pathways.”

  “Which lines up with what Xilarion told me,” I said.

  “Exactly. But any further record of their presence isn’t noted, and that was a few centuries ago.” Vesma toyed with her chopsticks. “Guildmaster Xilarion looked worried when he got the news, and I think it has to do with the fact that this is an enormous development for the guild. Perhaps even for the Seven Realms as a whole.”

  “And those who follow the Straight Path,” Mahrai said darkly.

  I turned to her. “Did Saruqin or the others ever mention the monasteries?”

  Mahrai finished the last of her wine and shook her head. “Saruqin didn’t talk to me about much at all, Ethan. It’s not like I was ever truly part of his inner circle.”

  I looked at Kegohr. “What about you, big guy? Know anything about the monasteries?”

  He laughed and thumped his fist against the table. “Didn’t you hear Vesma? I don’t read, and I spent most of my life before Radiant Dragon chasing down sheep in the mountains. Couldn’t tell you nothing about no monks or temples, but I can tell you how to breed goats, if you like.” He guffawed.

  I took another sip of heady wine and looked at Faryn. She had remained curiously quiet. Did she know something about these monks but wasn’t saying? She met my gaze with a smile, but her eyes shifted uncomfortably. I knew that her past was a murky one, and she didn’t like to talk about it. The elvish lifespan of her people meant that she probably had clearer answers to my questions, but she hadn’t offered anything yet.

  “So, we’re going to this monastery?” Kegohr asked excitedly. “When?”

  “Tomorrow, after the feast. But I don’t know what we’ll find there. Xilarion said that they wanted to train us.” I fished a plump dumpling out of a steaming bowl and took a bite.

  “You’ve been quiet, Master Faryn,” Mahrai said. “Not telling us something?”

  Faryn’s smile widened, but I saw the flash of apprehension in her eyes. “Plenty of things, dear. But I don’t know anything more about this than you do. My suggestion is that you do as you always have done. Follow Ethan, support him, and grow in your knowledge of Augmentation.”

  Mahrai rolled her eyes and opened her mouth to retort, but I cut her off with a chuckle and leaned back in my chair. I drained the last of my wine, lifted my empty cup, and fixed Vesma, Kumi, Mahrai, and Kegohr with an intentional gaze.

  Kegohr thumped the nearest cask and shook his head. “No good. They’re all empty.”

  “I’ll get it,” Mahrai said.

  She pulled herself up from the bench and went in search of a fresh drink. I tore my eyes away from her fantastic ass and set my cup down on the table beside a plate of grilled venison. Vesma nudged Kumi and pointed up to the dance floor where initiates swayed to the music in traditional dances I didn’t recognize.

  “Care to take a turn with me?” Vesma asked Kumi. “I saw you dancing back at Qihin City, and I’ve always wanted to learn your style.”

  “It would be my pleasure,” Kumi said with a warm smile. “Come.”

  The girls rose and left together in a flurry of blue and red robes. Kegohr finished his leg of boar just as Veltai sauntered up to him. She wrapped an arm around his massive neck and slapped on a playful choke. Kegohr shoved his short tusks into her arm and growled in return until she released her hold and whispered something in his ear.

  Kegohr blushed violently as Veltai left and started walking through the tables.

  “I think I better go,” Kegohr stammered to me.

  I laughed. “Take it easy on the furniture, buddy. There are only so many beds in the guild house. If you’re not careful, you’ll mulch all of them, and Xilarion will wonder if there’s been a hellhound attack.”

  Kegohr guffawed, slapped my back, and almost made me faceplant into a bowl of soup. He rose from the benches and pursued Veltai through the throng of dancers.

  Faryn lifted an eyebrow at me and leaned forward to take my hand. I let her and enjoyed the play of her fingers against my skin.

  “Don’t you think
this will just add to the rumors?” I teased.

  She brushed off the comment with a shake of her head. “You have good friends, Ethan. How did you manage to send them all off in such short order?”

  I grinned. “We’ve learned a lot together in the last few months. If I have an empty cup, and I raise it at a social function, it means that I’d like to be left alone.”

  “Is that so? Should I leave, then?”

  I shook my head. “You’re normally a lot happier to teach others about things beyond their grasp. But you’re wound up tighter than a spring right now.”

  Faryn sighed. “I trust you, but sharing my past is difficult with the others. You’re all so young. After a century, things begin to fall into place, but even then, it can be difficult to heal old wounds.”

  “You’re talking about what happened to your guild, right?”

  She nodded sadly. “They were slaughtered, as you know. Every time I try to recall anything from that time, it brings back vivid memories. Memories I’d rather not deal with.”

  I tightened my fingers around hers and smiled. “I just want to know about the monasteries, Faryn. That’s all. If it’s too much to ask, then it’s fine. We’ll drink, make merry, and figure it all out as we go.”

  Faryn took a steadying breath and looked down at a plate of sushi. “The monasteries are ancient, that’s true. And what the others said is correct. Monks are devotees of the Wandering Path and always have been. I think Xilarion intends to send you there to further your training as the Swordslinger. And probably to investigate why the monks revealed themselves only now.”

  None of this was new information, but I let the facts swirl around in my mind and realized something. Something insane that should have occurred to me earlier.

  “Xilarion said he’d trained with them a long time ago,” I said slowly. “But Vesma and Kumi told us that the monasteries haven’t been seen for centuries. Just how old is Xilarion?”

  “A few centuries, easily,” Faryn said, surprised. “I thought you knew that.”

  “He didn’t mention it,” I said, stunned. “He’s not an elf, and he looks human as far as I know. Is. . . is he an immortal?”