by Dante King
“I’ll see you back at the Radiant Dragon Guild House,” I said. “All of you.”
Then, I left them behind. The corpses of the Wysaros squelched underfoot as I bore Ultin’s body through the halls and retraced my steps to the courtyard. Ashes, corpses, and scorched armor scuffed against my feet as I pressed on toward the tower. The smell of death and destruction hung heavily in the air as I propped Ultin against the wall for a moment and opened the pouch that Faryn had given me. The last Vigor potion swirled in its glass vial as I held it up to the torchlight.
“Thanks, Faryn,” I said to myself.
I drained the potion down, and new Vigor caught fire within my veins. My layers of Augmented armor fell away from my body at a thought. I’d already be carrying a heavy load through the air, and extra weight would just slow me down. I scooped up Ultin’s corpse and activated Flight. The castle shrank away beneath me as I added raw Vigor to the technique and shot away, leaving the fortress behind. The night sky was obscured with dark clouds, and the first drops of rain hit my face as I sped over the valley. Distance meant nothing to me anymore. With Flight and the Environmental energy of the Seven Realms, I could go anywhere I needed to.
“And now you understand what it is to be a dragon,” Nydarth told me.
“How did you deal with rain?” I asked with a grimace.
Lightning crackled through the sky overhead, and Choshi squealed at the violence of the sound. Nydarth laughed at my question, and I could hear the smile in her voice.
“Dragons have two sets of eyelids,” she said. “One to repel moisture, the other to use while we sleep. I’ll be sure to show you, once you’ve completed your task here.”
An image of a mighty dragon at my fingertips sent excitement through me. Nydarth, Yono, and Choshi held incredible power, even within the Immense Blades. If I could find a way to release their power out into the world, I could take on entire armies. My Augmentation was strong enough to defeat an entire garrison of guards and demons already, but with three dragons at my side? I could take on a city, an entire battlefield, or even the Emperor himself.
“You’ve got to survive Tymo first,” Choshi reminded me. “One step at a time.”
A chill of trepidation countered my excitement, and I nodded. Soon, the Dying Sun Monastery appeared in my sights. Rain lashed at me and soaked Ultin’s corpse in my arms. I looked down at the contentment etched into his face.
Tymo would pay for his treachery. Of that, I had no doubt.
The monastery’s gold trim lit up as another crackle of lightning tore across the sky. I landed lightly on the front steps. The golden dragon statues shimmered under a coating of rain, and their open maws stretched out into mocking defiance of the storm. I scanned the stairs for a sign of the Wysaro messenger I’d left behind, but his corpse had vanished.
Perhaps the monks weren’t as corrupt as I thought. But it didn’t make a difference.
I needed to find Jiven, no matter the cost.
I paused before the doors, centered myself, and started a rapid breathing exercise to recover the small amount of Vigor I’d spent on the journey over the valley.
“Bear us with pride, Master,” Yono said encouragingly. “We’ll be here for you until the very end. But I feel that the tides of fate shift in your favor. Your journey does not end here.”
“Fear nothing from this traitor,” Nydarth said. “His power is great, yes. But we stand by your side, ready to serve your will. I am proud to call myself a servant of the Immortal Swordslinger. Fight hard, and fight well.”
“I believe in you,” Choshi whispered.
“You guys should band together and do TED talks,” I said.
I lifted my foot, fortified my body with strength, and kicked the mighty doors of the monastery. They swung open with an echoing crash, and I strode into the main hall.
The soft glow of candlelight cast flickering shadows across the massive pillars against the walls. Eresin and Myrdel warred in their golden engraving above the main altar, and the Immense Blades quieted in the back of my mind as I set Ultin down against the nearest pillar. The corpse’s head lolled to the side, and I tugged the Demure Rebirth from my harness as I turned to face the altar.
“Tymo!” I thundered.
A movement beside the altar drew my attention. Tymo stepped out from the shadows. Loose trousers hung from his frame, but his usual red robe had vanished. Scars carved their way across his chest and arms, forming into a proud badge of honor from centuries of fighting. Every muscle under his skin stood out in sharp relief and reminded me more of steel plates than actual flesh and blood. He took his time to position himself at the very center of the dais and turned to face me.
Anger and hatred boiled in my gut, but I did my best to suppress them. There wasn’t a shred of remorse on the man’s face, but the sorrowful curl of his eyebrows and slightly inclined head just pissed me off. He knew why I was here, but he was still playing the long-suffering teacher to a hot-blooded student.
“What did you expect?” Nydarth asked. “Black veins and cloven hooves?”
“It would have made it simpler,” I muttered.
A pregnant silence reigned as we read each other’s body language. I could feel the Vigor of the hall crackling just outside my pathways. If I moved fast, I could do my damn best to obliterate him in one strike. But Tymo's position in the monastery hadn’t come from group consensus. The relaxed posture, the scars, and the knowing look in his eyes were evidence enough that he’d been here a thousand times before, and he’d triumphed against his enemies again and again.
I slowed my breathing, and Tymo spoke for the first time.
“Why have you returned, Swordslinger?” he asked softly. His voice carried effortlessly through the hall. “I told you that if you left the monastery, you would not be welcomed back.”
“Ultin wanted to be buried here,” I replied coldly. “I gave him my word.”
Tymo bowed his head respectfully to his fallen brother. “Then you have done us a service. What do you seek here, Swordslinger? You’ve evidently made up your mind about your Path.”
“I came for information,” I said calmly. “Jiven Wysaro was in Flametongue Valley, and he planned to unleash a tide of demons from the castle to ravage the countryside. And he used your people to do it. The only way he could have managed it was if he had a man on the inside.”
Tymo nodded. “You speak truly.”
“Every sign points to you. Ultin said you possessed an Orb, and you used it to bring the monastery back into Flametongue Valley. Then you gave it to a megalomaniac, corrupting some of your brothers along the way, and then kept us here to let him escape.”
The Archpriest nodded again. “Again, this is the truth.”
“Why?” I demanded. “You’re an ascetic devoted to the Wandering Path. A guardian of knowledge. Why the fuck would you take the side of someone like Jiven?”
“I owed a debt. Jiven and I swore an oath upon our Paths in a time of great need, a long time ago. He held up his end of the bargain. And I have held up mine.”
“Jiven used you,” I said. “And you let him do it.”
“Things are rarely as simple as they seem.”
“Where is he? What’s he planning?”
Tymo shook his head sadly. “I am bound upon my word not to speak of it, Swordslinger. Which brings us to an impasse. Because you will not rest until you have the truth. I see it written plainly on your face.”
“Where’s the Hierophant?” I asked.
“He meditates, and I will not allow you to disturb him.”
I shifted my grip on the Demure Rebirth. “Then we have a problem.”
“That we do, Swordslinger.” Tymo sighed. “That we do.”
My feet echoed hollowly through the hall as I moved forward. “If you’ve truly fulfilled your end of the bargain with Jiven, then we don’t need to fight. Tell me where he is.”
“Take another step, Swordslinger,” Tymo warned, “and you will force my hand.�
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I paused mid-step and measured the distance between us with a glance.
“It’s like that?” I asked.
“Regretfully so,” Tymo said. “Please, Swordslinger. Turn and leave. If you have truly halted Jiven’s designs upon Flametongue Valley, then the day is won. Enjoy the triumph of victory. Continue to follow where the Wandering Path will take you.”
“It led me here. Jiven has to be stopped. He’s left the valley, and I’ve seen what he can do with the Orb. He could sow chaos throughout the entire Seven Realms. And I’m not about to let that happen.”
I took another step forward, and Tymo unclasped his hands from behind his back with another regretful sigh. Subtle haze drifted off his bare skin as he mirrored my stride and stepped away from the dais.
“I see your pursuit of justice means more to you than your life,” Tymo murmured. “And you do indeed stand alone on the precipice, Swordslinger, without your allies by your side. Just as I said you would.”
“I’m not alone,” I said, thinking of my Immense Blades. “I never am.”
Chapter Thirty
Tymo moved so fast, I barely had time to force an extra burst of strength into my Physical channels. He crossed the space between us in a single blurring step and slammed his palm into my chest. Stars swam behind my eyes, my feet left the ground, and my gut lurched as I soared backward through the air like a cannonball. The hall vanished as I shot outside. Flight curled around my feet, but I caught myself too late and crashed into the mountainside of the Vigorous Zone outside. Stone shattered around me, and a rumbling tremor shook the face of the peak.
“Ow,” I managed.
I shoved off the stone formation, dropped 10 feet through empty space, and slowed my descent with another burst of Flight. My feet found a rocky plateau, and I shook my head to clear away the probable concussion for a minute. A silver blaze of light barreled through the rain at me, and I lifted myself into the air to avoid it.
Tymo redirected his momentum and rose into the air to meet me. Silver threads of flame spun around his sandals as he hovered above the ground. I’d assumed he wasn’t capable of regular Augmenting, so the ability to fly was something he was doing by enhancing his body via Physical Augmenting.
He was a true master. And this fight might mean his death, because it certainly wouldn’t mean mine.
Tymo’s eyes narrowed as I lifted the Demure Rebirth and unleashed a Sandstorm at him. I added to the power of the technique with the wild Vigor of the Zone. A howling torrent of sand burst from the warhammer and crystallized into glass around his aura. Tymo shattered it with a simple punch and shook his head.
“You never finished your training,” he said. “Simple tricks like that won’t save you.”
He swooped through the air, almost faster than the eye could see, but I anticipated the move and swung the Demure Rebirth in a vicious uppercut. The hammer connected with him mid-flight and sent the Archpriest into an uncontrollable spin.
I raised myself higher, twisted around to get some momentum, and empowered my muscles with another fierce burst of Physical Augmentation. Tymo's hand flickered out and caught the hammer before I could smash it into his skull. He wore an almost regretful expression before he swung me around and smashed me into the mountain. My breath hissed out of my lungs, and I struggled to my feet as he landed beside the small crater in a blaze of silver light.
“You’re strong, Swordslinger. Stronger than any student I’ve ever trained. Even Xilarion didn’t have your potential, nor your ability to master Augmentation so quickly.”
“So, you won’t take it personally,” I wheezed, “if I ask you to stand still?”
Tymo zipped over the slate, and I ducked under a spine-shattering punch. I jammed the head of the hammer into his knee, flipped into a one-handed cartwheel, and drove my feet into his face. Tymo staggered backward as my kick connected but shook it off as easily as breathing. I completed my cartwheel and used the extra momentum to smash the Demure Rebirth into the mountaintop. An earth-shattering Ground Strike erupted from the head of the hammer, and I powered up the attack with raw Vigor. A tidal wave of broken slate and dull stone raged across the peak, but Tymo flew up, out of range. The roar of falling stone filled the air, and the ground trembled as an avalanche rolled off the side of the mountain.
Tymo landed across from me and folded his hands behind his back again.
“Strong,” he repeated, “but lacking in finesse.”
I caught my breath and raised myself to his feet as he strolled toward me.
“You can’t beat him, not like this,” Choshi said with a wavering voice.
“Your Augmentation is not your only weapon,” Yono whispered.
She was right. I had other weapons at my disposal.
Like relentless shit-talking. It had served me well before.
Particularly when I was on the back foot in a fight.
“I want to know something,” I said. “You knew what the Orb was capable of, what it could do to your brothers. You were responsible for their fall to the demons, to the Straight Path. How can you call yourself a devotee of the Wandering Path if you willingly subjected them to corruption?”
Tymo halted his step. “They made their decision to fall, Swordslinger.”
“But you could have prevented it. All you had to do was take the Orb to Jiven yourself, if those were the terms of your oath. But you didn’t. You did exactly what every other Straight Path practitioner would. You used them like pawns.”
Tymo shook his head. “Your training was our first priority. I couldn’t separate myself from it, especially in the Hierophant’s absence. My Path dictated that.”
“You’re full of shit. You can fly faster and better than me. How hard would it have been to take the thing to Jiven and be done with it?”
“I did what I could. I sent you in search of my brothers. You halted the corruption in Danibo Forest. Gods above, you stopped Jiven ravaging the valley. I could have fought you. I could have stopped you. But I let you go because I knew it was the right thing to do.”
“You never should have let it happen in the first place,” I said. “You should have been better than Jiven. You really think some god would hold you to an oath with an oathbreaker?”
Tymo's face tightened a fraction, and he closed in on me again. I used everything I had to block his strikes, but the old master was as fast as a viper and knew everything I had at my disposal.
Another palm strike slipped through my guard, and I shattered a stone cairn before I slid to a grinding halt halfway down a slate-covered slope. Blood dripped from my back as I got up again. My balance was compromised, and I knew I’d taken too many concussive strikes to the head.
But I couldn’t give up.
“You’re pulling your punches,” I shouted out to him.
“Are you really in such a hurry to die?” Tymo replied.
He strode easily down the sloping mountainside and shook his head again. His face was a tight mask of mixed emotion. Regret, sorrow, and anger warred for their place in his gaze. I’d seen the same expression before, in Mahrai’s eyes.
“He hates what he has done,” Yono said. “Who he has become.”
“It makes no difference,” Nydarth countered. “He must die for his sins.”
“Does it gnaw at you?” I asked Tymo. “The guilt? Knowing that you’ve unleashed a psychopath onto the Seven Realms with a relic that gives him free access to the demonic plane?”
I pulled the Depthless Dream from my back and let loose a small tsunami of water. Tymo barely blinked as the tidal wave crashed into his body and evaporated into a hissing curtain of steam. He strode through it without a scratch and fixed me with a glare.
“Ah, there he is,” I taunted.
“You can’t begin to imagine what I have sacrificed for the Wandering Path,” Tymo said venomously. “What I continue to sacrifice so that its integrity remains intact.”
“You’re trying to kill one of your own students doing
the right thing,” I countered, “just to satisfy your pride. Save your platitudes for someone who cares, Tymo. I’m not buying it.”
Tymo halted. “You’re too young, too raw, and far too brash to defeat someone like Jiven Wysaro.”
“Do you know anyone else who’s willing to go after him? Who isn’t tied down to protecting a province or guild?” I shot back. “I’m not perfect. But I have what it takes, and you know I do. That, or everything you taught me about the Wandering Path is bullshit, and you’re nothing more than a hypocrite.”
An astonished look crossed Tymo's face. “You really have no boundaries you will not cross, do you, Swordslinger? Impertinence aside, you don’t fear Jiven. Or me. Or anything that this plane has to offer you. There is no challenge you will not rise to.”
“I only do what needs to be done. I don’t know what the Swordslinger’s Path is, or where it will take me, but I’m starting to think it’s whatever I make it.”
A genuine smile crossed Tymo's face. “Then perhaps you are the one we’ve searched for.”
I pushed the Demure Rebirth into the harness and slid the Sundered Heart from its sheath. Nydarth moaned as I settled her against the Depthless Dream and took up an unsteady fighting stance.
Silver fire flickered around Tymo, and he opened his palm. Blistering heat roared from his skin, turned the slate around him into slag, and a consuming wall of silver fire howled across the slope toward me. I hauled up a Flame Shield and activated Fire Immunity in the blink of an eye, but it still wasn’t enough. My sandals burned away as the ground under my feet turned into a river of lava. I hauled myself up into the air, activated Flight, and met Tymo in mid-air. He slapped the Sundered Heart aside with ease, and his hand closed around my throat. I gurgled a curse and bounced the Depthless Dream off his shoulder.
His Physical Augmentation was too strong. I couldn’t puncture his flesh.
“I could kill you. Here and now,” Tymo said quietly.
An idea flitted through my mind.
I let the Vigor retract into the source within me and hung in the air from his grip. My hands dropped to my sides, as if I was powerless to stop him. Tymo tilted his head, and I raised my head to meet his conflicted gaze.
