The Bandit E-Book

Scott Michael Decker

• Herausgeber: Next Chapter
• Kategorie: Gesellschafts- und Liebesromane
• Sprache: Englisch

Veröffentlichungsjahr: 2022

Beschreibung

Tired of lying in wait, the exiled Noble Bandit seizes his chance at revenge. Meanwhile, as the birth of the Royal Twins nears, Peasant General Guarding Bear is repatriated by the Emperor.

Fearing for the safety of his heirs, the emperor orders the general to lay siege to his enemy’s fortress. In preparation, the general recruits the aid of a powerful wizard and a skilled young healer – but none of them suspects a traitor in their midst.

As loyalties are tested and new alliances made, who will rise above and claim victory as their own?

Leseprobe

THE BANDIT

Fall of the Swords Book II

SCOTT MICHAEL DECKER

Copyright (C) 2014 Scott Michael Decker

Layout design and Copyright (C) 2022 by Next Chapter

Published 2022 by Next Chapter

Cover art by http://www.thecovercollection.com/

This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are the product of the author's imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, or persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental.

All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system, without the author's permission.

CONTENTS

Titles by the Author

Prologue

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

Chapter 11

Chapter 12

Chapter 13

Chapter 14

Chapter 15

Chapter 16

Chapter 17

Chapter 18

Chapter 19

Chapter 20

Chapter 21

Chapter 22

Chapter 23

Chapter 24

Chapter 25

Chapter 26

Chapter 27

Next in the Series

About the Author

TITLES BY THE AUTHOR

If you like this novel, please post a review on the website where you purchased it, and consider other novels from among these titles by Scott Michael Decker:

Science Fiction:

Bawdy Double

Cube Rube

Doorport

Half-Breed

Inoculated

Legends of Lemuria

Organo-Topia

The Gael Gates

War Child

Alien Mysteries (Series)

- Edifice Abandoned

- Drink the Water

- Glad You're Born

Fantasy:

Fall of the Swords (Series)

- The Peasant

- The Bandit

- The Heir

- The Emperor

Gemstone Wyverns

Sword Scroll Stone

Look for these titles at your favorite e-book retailer.

To Bobby Foster,

Who gave me the idea over a cup of coffee in the town of Ft. Bragg on the north coast of California, and who to this day has no idea what an epic it became. Thank you, Bobby – SMD

PROLOGUE

It was a sword. It did not look important. Three feet long and slightly curved, the blade looked tarnished. The metal's dark color suggested it was simply brass. The edge was sharp and without a nick. The haft was pewter-colored, contoured for the human hand, and unremarkable—except for the single ruby set in the pommel.

Despite its modest appearance, the sword was skillfully constructed. The blade itself had been made from microscopic sheets of a chromium-antimony alloy layered one atop the other. The painstaking process made the blade very flexible and the edge very sharp. Even the best swordsmiths found the alloy difficult to work, however, making reproduction improbable.

In addition to its precise construction, the sword was ancient. Forged more than nine thousand years before, the sword had withstood all manner of use and misuse. The number of warriors who'd wielded the sword was a figure lost in the past. The number of warriors who'd died on its edge was many times that. The number of warriors mortally wounded while wielding this sword, however, was fewer than a hundred.

Called the Heir Sword, it assured the succession by preparing an Heir's mind for the Imperial Sword. No different in appearance, other than its slightly larger ruby, the Imperial Sword extended the range of an Emperor's psychic powers to the farthest corners of the Empire. Thus, the Imperial Sword was the figurative and literal source of an Emperor's authority. The Imperial Sword electrocuted anyone inadequately prepared by the Heir Sword, killing the unfortunate (or treacherous) soul. Thus, the Heir Sword was the only way to obtain that authority.

Each of the four Empires had its own pair of Swords, each pair adorned with a different gem. The four Imperial Swords all served the same function: To grant the current Emperor total dominion over his or her Empire. The four Heir Swords all shared their own function: To assure a smooth succession.

Although they shared the same function, the most valuable of the four Heir Swords was the one adorned with a ruby, the Heir Sword for the Northern Empire. Because of this Heir Sword, the Eastern Empire had slaughtered all the people of the Northern Empire. Because of this Heir Sword, a civil war had riven the Eastern Empire. Because of this Heir Sword, bandits besieged the Eastern Empire from across its northern border. Because of this Heir Sword, the four Empires' nine-thousand-year-old political systems were faltering, even though, ironically, the eight Swords had been forged to preserve them.

The Northern Heir Sword did not look important, but because of a single fact, it was the most important object in the world:

The Sword was missing.

1

The Eastern Imperial Sword—the object insignificant, its authority anything but. The blade is three feet long, composed of thousands of microscopic layers of a chromium-antimony alloy whose color suggests it is simply brass. The haft is an aluminum-silicon compound the color of pewter. Set in the pommel is a large diamond, perching uncomfortably on a blade and haft that devalue it. Embedded in the haft beneath the diamond are electrical circuits for storing and amplifying psychic power, circuits that protect both wielder and Sword. In addition, the circuits generate a psychic link between the Imperial Sword and the Heir Sword. Emperors rarely employ the link; in fact, whole reigns might pass without Emperors ever using it. Occasionally an Emperor does need to reclaim the Heir Sword from a usurper, or to disinherit an Heir. The Imperial Sword's primary function is to extend the range of an Emperor's talents to the farthest corners of Empire, and to limit those talents to that same boundary. Thus the Sword is the literal and figurative source of the Emperor's authority, and the only curb on the unbridled expansion of that authority.—The Best and Worst of Talismans: The Imperial Swords, by the Sorcerer Flowing Mind.

The glow emanating from the diamond died as Flying Arrow lowered the Imperial Sword. His left deltoid muscles throbbed from the psychic exertion. A drop of sweat rolled into his eye and stung. A cold, rebellious wind swirled around the Emperor as if to cast him off his pinnacle. Sheathing the Sword, he sleeved the moisture off his forehead and lifted the hatch set flush in the top of the castle spire. Descending a few steps, he pulled the hatch closed above him.

I hope Lofty Lion has the decency to meet me at the appointed time and place! he thought. He wanted to avoid having to summon the former Emperor again, relieved to have contacted Lofty Lion on the first try. He harbored every psi in the Sword's reservoir.

Not that that will guarantee I'll ever have an Heir! he thought.

Two days ago, Lurking Hawk had brought to Flying Arrow's attention a problem that he hadn't foreseen.

“What'll you do with two heirs, Lord Emperor?” the Sorcerer asked.

Flying Arrow scowled at Lurking Hawk. “What are you blathering about?” He'd gone to great lengths to impregnate her and then conceal the manner of it—so great that her being pregnant with twins hadn't struck him as particularly alarming.

The Sorcerer smiled. “Lord, need I recount Snarling Jaguar's subterfuge in usurping the Heir Sword from his brother?”

“Of course not, Lord Hawk, everyone knows the story. What's that have to do with me, eh?” Lurking Hawk's twisting history, Flying Arrow knew, expecting such distortions from the Traitor.

“The Emperor Scratching Jaguar fathered two boys only a few years apart, eh?” Lurking Hawk said. “Their proximity in age allowed Snarling Jaguar to disinherit his older brother.” The Sorcerer smiled at the Emperor, caressing the bracelet on his right wrist. “Lord, I don't intend to offend, but I must ask how you'll insure your own sons don't have a similar dispute.”

Flying Arrow hadn't given it a moment's thought. At the negotiations eight months ago, the Matriarch Bubbling Water had predicted, “one would be too few.” Flying Arrow had just assumed that one son would die before any strife developed between them. Then he'd dismissed the matter from his mind. He shrugged at the Sorcerer. “I'll only have one son and heir anyway.”

“So the Matriarch implied, Lord, but all the prescients I've spoken with tell me that any single vision has many interpretations. My interpretation, Lord Emperor, is that, yes, one will die. What no one can determine is when and in what manner that'll happen. In my humble opinion, Lord, you can shape the future by preventing any strife before it ever starts.”

Flying Arrow nodded. “That would be prudent, Lord Hawk.”

“I thought you might agree, Lord. What'll you do, eh?”

“I'm not sure.” An idea formed in his mind. Before thinking the idea through, he wanted the Sorcerer out of the room. Lurking Hawk could filch thoughts from others' minds with pickpocket dexterity. “Let me think on it awhile, eh? I'll tell you when I formulate a plan. I'm sure I'll need your advice in the matter.” Then he looked at Lurking Hawk suspiciously. “Have you seen your former Emperor lately, Lord Hawk?”

The Northerner put his palm on his chest, a picture of innocence. “I, Lord Emperor? Not in fourteen years, thank the Infinite. Why do you ask?”

“My spies can't keep him under surveillance. I thought you might know the reason. He moves around much too well with the help of that staff. Thankfully, everyone believes he died during the interrogation of his people.”

“He was always a furtive man, Lord Emperor.”

“Yes, blast him,” Flying Arrow muttered. “Where'd he hide the Sword?” The Northern Heir Sword had been missing for fifteen years, since the war. I have to find it! Flying Arrow thought. Now that the Imperial Consort had conceived twins, his frustration was a festering sore. If I had the Sword, I could give one to each of my sons! Then an Emperor Arrow would rule both the East and North! I know Lofty Lion knows where it is. Even the torture and execution of his every citizen wouldn't force the information from him. Infinite blast this whole rotten situation. “Perhaps you know, Lord Hawk,” Flying Arrow said.

“We both know I detest him for killing my father, Lord Emperor. He wouldn't trust me with a lock of his mane.”

“Skulking Hawk shouldn't have trafficked in talismans like that. Stupid to do something so blatantly illegal. He deserved to—” Flying Arrow saw that Lurking Hawk's mouth moved in time to his own. “You were … mouthing the words … as I said them!”

“I, Lord Emperor?”

“I saw you!” He tapped the Sword, lightning flashed, and the Traitor convulsed. “How dare you mock me!” He reached for the Sword again to rid himself of the Traitor forever. With an effort, he stopped himself, his left arm throbbing with gut-wrenching pain. Blast it, I still need him.

The Sorcerer dragged himself off the floor to a sitting position, wobbling drunkenly. “Forgive me, Lord,” Lurking Hawk said, his words slurred.

“Show me where the Northern Heir Sword is, Traitor!” he screamed.

“I don't know, Lord Emperor—I swear I don't know.”

Flying Arrow glowered at Lurking Hawk, wishing he could blast him all the way to the empty northern lands. Sighing, he massaged his left shoulder. “I'll kick your corpse another day, Traitor. Infinite curse the day I was born! How can I rule with such buffoons around me, eh? A Traitor Sorcerer. A prescient Matriarch who predicts in front of everyone that my consort's pregnant before I can use the information to advantage. A Prefect General who can't keep his grimy paws off a visiting barbarian Emperor in my own castle. Another Prefect General who squats across the border and throws his shit at me. A dunce consort who cuckolds me and gets pregnant! How the Infinite can I rule this blasted Empire, I ask you?!” Breathing heavily, Flying Arrow glared at Lurking Hawk.

“You've raised governing to a fine art, Lord Emperor.”

Tempted to shock him again, Flying Arrow scowled. Perhaps the Traitor's right—how else could I rule?

Sighing, Flying Arrow scrubbed his face with his palms, collecting himself. “Speaking of grimy paws, Groping Bear repatriates himself in two days,” he said, raising his head. “The General's been in exile eight months now. Enough time for him to think I've forgiven him his odious behavior, eh Lord Hawk?”

“You haven't, Lord Emperor? I'd never have known from your actions. I congratulate you on the depth of your dissimulation.”

“Thank you.” Flying Arrow wondered at the Sorcerer's odd emphasis. Lurking Hawk didn't usually fawn praise on him like some sequacious sycophant. He probably wants to insinuate himself back into my favor, Flying Arrow thought. “Dissembling through the repatriation proceedings with the Matriarch Water wasn't easy, but I succeeded in fooling her completely.” Flying Arrow chuckled. “When you implanted the Lord Bear after his 'inebriation,' you did install a disabler, eh?”

“I did, Lord Emperor. I haven't forgotten the rudiments of manipulation. The first lesson every Wizard learns is to plant a disabler in the subject's mind. Once implanted, always susceptible, eh? If that meddling Wizard Spraying Egret didn't remove the disabler, I'll manipulate the Usurper any time you want.”

“Yes, Lord Sorcerer, if.” Flying Arrow looked contemptuously at Lurking Hawk. Disgraceful that he couldn't penetrate the shields of the other Wizard! the Emperor thought, knowing the Traitor near the end of his usefulness. “Before you do anything stupid, I remind you I want the Usurper alive, eh? A known enemy is better than the unknown enemy who'll replace him.”

“So you've said on other occasions, Lord Emperor.”

“I repeat myself because of your thick skull, Lord Hawk. I haven't decided his penalty just yet. I ought to order him to perform some impossible task—like laying siege to the Tiger Fortress. Punishing the Lord Bear would be easier if he hadn't garnered such face while 'vacationing' in the Southern Empire, eh?”

“Indeed, Lord. What wizardry do you suppose the Usurper used to defeat those identical twin warriors while blindfolded?”

“Infinite knows, Lord Hawk. Then the insufferable peasant had to save the barbarian Jaguar from that assassin an hour later. Listen, the day after the repatriation ceremony and the Imperial Ball, the usurper will probably present some private missive from the barbarian. That's the time to check his mind for the disabler. I formally invite you to the ceremony and festivities, at which the Sorcerer's presence is obligatory. If Imperial business were to 'detain' you, though, your absence wouldn't be inexcusable, eh?”

“No, Lord, I'll surely find something to 'detain' me.”

“I thought as much.”

“When I check for the disabler, should I do more than just check?”

The idea forming in Flying Arrow's mind intruded upon his thoughts. Quickly, he suppressed it, hoping the Sorcerer hadn't detected it. “No, Lord Hawk, not yet. A more opportune time will come.”

“Yes, Lord Emperor.” Lurking Hawk sounded disappointed.

Descending the long stairwell inside the castle spire two days later, Flying Arrow smiled, preening his feathers that he was smarter than the barbarian Scratching Jaguar. He, the Lord Emperor Flying Arrow, knew how to thwart a struggle for the throne between identical twin sons!

The less the Traitor knew the better! Flying Arrow had set his idea in motion without consulting Lurking Hawk.

Hurrying down the stairs toward his private suite, the Emperor consulted his inner clock. Guarding Bear was due at the eastern audience hall for his official repatriation in another hour.

Flying Arrow lifted his arm to sniff his odor. Moisture darkened the armpits of his robes, outlined by rings of dried sweat. Psychic exertion always made him perspire as if a downpour had drenched him. He also felt famished. Entering his suite, he ordered a bath and a light meal. In the excretory-bath, Flying Arrow let the servants to undress him. As the robes came off his left shoulder, he saw the purple-black subcutaneous contusion on the deltoid muscles.

The arm and shoulder hurt like the Infinite. Lofty Lion, during their three-day duel fourteen years ago, had sliced open his upper left arm. Flying Arrow often felt the ghost of the original pain. Soothing Spirit hypothesized that the pain was like the itching an amputee might feel in his or her missing limb. After every psychic exertion, the Emperor's old wound hurt worse than the time before.

The bruising, though, was new. Flying Arrow had first noticed it months ago, but had no idea when it'd started. He hadn't mentioned the bruising to the Imperial Medacor. The bruises had healed each time as normal bruises would. I should speak with Soothing Spirit about it.

Mindful of the bruise, the ancient personal servant gently washed the tender left arm. He lifted the bucket of warm water to rinse the suds off Flying Arrow. “The Lady Consort has requested to dine with the Lord Emperor. Would that be his preference?”

“I feel magnanimous,” Flying Arrow said, nodding and closing his eyes. The water doused him, the warmth refreshing. Rising from the small stool, he stepped into the large sunken tub. Thanking the Infinite for hot baths, he immersed himself completely. He came up and spewed water, then moved to the submerged bench to recline and soak while he had time.

The servant left to make arrangements.

Thinking of his consort warmed him as well. Flying Arrow smiled, remembering their coupling the night before. Since she was enormously pregnant with his identical twin sons, their positions approached the acrobatic. We should do that little contortion more often.

“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.

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?”

“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.”

“Yes, Lord River, please forgive me.” The sentry thumped his head to the stone again. Turning around on hands and knees, he began to descend the stairs, headfirst.

Raging River helped him out with a foot to the buttocks. When the tangle and tumble of sentry and silk and sword reached the base of the stairs, the retainer knew instantly that—

“He's dead, Lord River.” The other sentry looked up from beside the body, her hand on the carotid artery.

“A pity.” Raging River reflected that he was little different from his liege lord. He felt the same frustrations but simply expressed them in other ways. The foot had been excessive, he knew.

Suddenly she stood and bowed to someone approaching her in the Lair. The retainer couldn't see who it was from the top of the stairs. “One moment, Lord.” She looked up the stairs. “The Lord Leaping Elk to see the Lord General Scowling Tiger.”

Raging River glanced at his liege lord.

Scowling Tiger had already armed himself with one of the swords the dead sentry had brought. “What the Infinite does he want?” Scowling Tiger muttered. “Take him to conference room number two while I clean myself up, eh?”

“Yes, Lord.” The retainer secured the other sword to his side. Bowing, he descended the stairs.

Infinite blast it, why didn't he kill the Usurper? the bandit general wondered, closing his eyes and sighing. Shivering in the wind, he waited until the Lair was clear. Descending the stairs, he turned toward the door behind the dais, entering his private suite high inside the Tiger Fortress. His headservant greeted him, looked him over, and immediately ordered a bath and a change of clothes. Scowling Tiger tore off the sweaty, bloody rags and stepped toward the excretory with only sword in hand. There a servant prepared to bathe him.

The soap stung the tiny cuts, which he'd forgotten. He mended his nicks with his trace healing talent. The servant doused him to rinse off the soap. The bandit general stepped into water, holding sword above head. The bath was tepid. The pyrokinetic servant had had too little time to warm the water properly. Quickly, he rose from the water and presented himself, sword still in hand.

A servant began to dry him. Another brought loincloth, moccasins, and robe, helping him dress. Stripes of white, tan and black rippled the fabric of the robe. Another combed, dried, styled his long black hair, gray peppering his glossy tresses.

He slid the sheathed sword into his sash and cinched it. Then he checked his appearance in the mirror. “You still make the wenches faint with their legs open, eh?” he said to his reflection. Leaving the excretory, he stepped to the nursery to check on his daughter.

The black-haired, eighteen-month-old infant slept soundly. The tiger was absent. “Where's the animal?” he asked the guard standing in the shadows.

The wet nurse answered instead. “The animal left about ten minutes ago, Lord Tiger, insisted I let her out into the fortress.” With a mother's instincts, she was probably better at protecting his daughter than the guard.

“Oh.” Odd, Scowling Tiger thought. Nodding to her, he left his suite.

At the door to conference room number two waited the tiger, who whined as he approached. Scratching her jowls, Scowling Tiger opened the door. The tiger dashed inside before he could stop her.

Raging River and Leaping Elk looked surprised. The animal had preceded the bandit general as if she belonged to him.

“Lord River, take her back to the nursery, eh?” Scowling Tiger stepped to the cushion opposite the negroid bandit.

“Yes, Lord.” Bowing to his commander, the retainer stepped toward the animal. “C'mon, girl.”

'No!' rang in their minds. The three men glanced askance at the tiger, then looked at each other.

'The girl wishes to be here,' sent another voice, this one pitched lower than the first.

“She's too young!” Scowling Tiger protested.

'When will I be old enough, Father?' the higher-pitched voice pleaded in their minds. 'When will the time be right for me to learn about my heritage?'

The bandit general muttered an imprecation, then considered his own motives. He cared for her, this girl who was the last of his blood, and he wanted to protect her. In protecting her, though, would he also deprive her of the chance to learn how to protect herself?

Scowling Tiger closed his eyes and sighed. He didn't know, and he called upon the Infinite to grant him the faith to stand behind his daughter—not in front of her.

“Infinite be with you, Lord Leaping Elk,” he said finally. Acceptance flowed into him from the only authority he acknowledged to be greater than he, the deity called the Infinite.

“Infinite with you be, Tiger Scowling Lord.” The black bandit bowed to the other man. “Tiger Purring Lady here be want, humble bandit not object.”

The bandit general nodded to acknowledge the obeisance, adjusting his position on the cushion. He sat on haunches, sword across lap, left fist propped on thigh.

The conference room was spare of decor, a single silk tapestry adorning one wall. The only pieces of furniture were the cushions on which the three men sat.

Someone scratched at the door.

Rising to answer it, Raging River took the tray from the servant outside. On the tray was coffee and snacks. He set it beside his cushion and poured for the other two men, handing each man a cup.

Not given to ceremony, Scowling Tiger brought the conversation quickly to the point. “To what do I owe the honor of your visit, Lord Elk?”

“Tiger Lord eight month ago animal for woman trade, eh? Jaguar Snarling Emperor Lord humble bandit ask, why trade arrange. Tiger Lord remember?” The black bandit sipped black coffee.

Scowling Tiger nodded, gesturing the other man to continue.

“Tiger Lord, please, humble bandit forgive, not all reason tell. Humble bandit say, 'Humble bandit vision see. Without trade, many bandit dead, maybe half. With trade, not.' Tiger Scowling Lord, many bandit anyway die, will of Infinite. Trade not as many bandit die, eh?”

“Without the trade more bandits would've died?”

“Yes, Tiger Lord, that what humble bandit say, not well speak forgive. Also not say, Tiger Purring Lady young when bandit lead.”

“Eh? What?” Scowling Tiger glanced at Raging River, whose hand worried the hilt of sword.

“Tiger Lord messenger kill because message not like?” Leaping Elk stared at the other man fearlessly.

Sighing, the bandit general glanced at the retainer again. Raging River had expressed the same sentiment earlier. “Eh? Of course not.” Scowling Tiger heard how his voice lacked conviction this time. “Please, Lord Elk, tell me what you know.”

'He can't do that, Father,' the young voice said.

He frowned at the animal. “Why not, eh?”

'Have you ever consulted a prescient, Father? They never tell all they know. What they do tell they say so cryptically, you never really know what they mean until the event occurs. The Lord Elk can do no different. He can't reveal certain facts. To do so would create an awareness of the event before it happens. The event would never take place as foretold.' The voice varied in pitch several times, as if switching from the girl's to the tiger's.

How could she understand those concepts at her age? Scowling Tiger wondered. With the help of the tiger, she sounds like an ancient sage. “For an eighteen-month-old child, you're very perceptive, Daughter.” Scowling Tiger sipped his coffee contentedly.

'I merely listened to the vision-sellers as they spoke with warriors about to do battle.'

“While merged with the tiger?”

'Yes, Father, are you displeased?'

“No, Daughter, not at all. I'm proud of your initiative.”

'Thank you, Father. I'm glad you're not angry.'

“So, Lord Elk, tell me what you can, eh?” Have I given her reason to fear my anger? Scowling Tiger wondered.

“Yes, Tiger Scowling Lord. Vision say, daughter Tiger Purring Lady young when bandit lead. How young not know. Vision animal beside her show, fortress intact, no animal, no fortress, eh?”

“Did you see how I'll die?”

Leaping Elk didn't reply, as if held by some force.

'He can't answer, Father.'

Scowling Tiger nodded. Having felt his mortality earlier, he realized that Leaping Elk wasn't here by chance. The Infinite's warning me, the bandit general thought. “So the tiger will insure that my daughter inherits the fortress, eh?”

“Maybe fortress bandit include, Lord?”

“You mean that the fortress is symbolic of all I've built since becoming a bandit?”

Leaping Elk nodded vigorously. “Yes, Tiger Lord, intuit so tell.”

Scowling Tiger looked at the animal. “What else can you tell me, Lord Elk?”

“Humble bandit many dream have, Tiger Lord. One dream man of bronze show, death to bandit and Empire bring. Dream humble bandit confuse.”

“ 'Man of bronze'? Like Brazen Bear?!”

“Man like Bear Brazen look, Lord, yes.”

“He's dead! I saw the Imperial executioner take his head!”

“Infinite meaning not humble bandit tell, Lord.” Leaping Elk shrugged. “Other dreams humble bandit have, Lord. Dream Snow Fleeting Lady in pool of water be—alone. Water, uh, how you say, boil? Snow Lady water talk.”

“What?” Scowling Tiger asked, mystified.

'She's talking to the water itself?' the young voice asked.

“Yes, Tiger Lady.”

“That insufferable strumpet!” the bandit general spat, his sack shriveling. “Your brother wouldn't allow the traitress to speak to the Matriarch Water, would he?”

“Uh, forgive me, Lord,” Raging River said. “Didn't the bar … uh, Lord Emperor Jaguar trade her to Flying Arrow?”

“Oh, yes, that's right, Lord River.” Scowling Tiger had forgotten. “Who then traded her to Bubbling Water.” He twisted his head on his neck. His brain felt it was spinning inside his skull. The left fist ground into thigh.

“Tiger Lord she all secret of fortress tell think?”

“Eh?” He could hardly understand the other's speech. “Wouldn't you? The wench hates the dirt I walk on! Lord River, how much do you think she knows?”

The retainer shrugged. “She didn't involve herself in the administration of the fortress, but neither did anyone watch her all the time. She came and went as she pleased. What about her servants? Let's question them, eh?”

Scowling Tiger nodded. “We'll have to refurbish the whole fortress, Lord River. Probably redesign every level and seal up all those secret entrances. If she knows the layout and tells the Imperial Whore, then we'll have a mighty shaft headed for our collective back passage.”

“Indeed, Lord.” Raging River worried the hilt of his sword.

“I appreciate your telling me, Lord Elk. When did you have this dream?”

“Dream of Snow Lady humble bandit last night have, Lord.”

“Good—we have time to avert a complete catastrophe. Thank you for your trouble and time, Lord Elk, and for informing me so quickly. If you'd like, you're welcome to quarter here for the night.”

“Humble bandit Tiger Lord thank. Own bed seek, please forgive. Infinite with you be, Tiger Scowling Lord.” Leaping Elk bowed, touching the stone floor with his forehead.

The bandit general nodded to acknowledge the obeisance and watched the negroid bandit leave. The door closed.

Raging River strangled his sword, scrutinizing the door.

“What do you think?” Scowling Tiger asked.

The retainer looked at him—and sighed. “I tried to warn you about that wench, Lord. Forgive me for suggesting it, but I think she spied for the Imperial whore the whole time.”

“Eh? The Infinite has addled your brains! She wasn't the whore's spy!”

Raging River shrugged. “As for the Lord Elk, take his head and still his lies, Lord.”

Scowling Tiger grinned. When he was a young man, a seer had foretold that the man who pulled a bow better than he would inherit his domains. He'd killed the woman to silence her lies, then had practiced with a bow until none could beat him. He was still the best archer in all four Empires.

Killing the messenger never changed the message. The vagaries of prophecy, however, did invite multiple meanings.

Scowling Tiger frowned, remembering Brazen Bear. He's dead! the bandit general thought, wondering who this “man of bronze” was. The Eastern expatriate then recalled that the Consort Flowering Pine was pregnant with twins, fathered by an unknown man. Apprehension crept up his spine and shook him.

No, Scowling Tiger thought, dismissing the ridiculous idea immediately. Brazen Bear had died sixteen years ago, long before Flowering Pine conceived.

3

Burrow: Population circa 9300: 50,000. Location: Southern Windy Mountains, Eastern Empire, 10 miles north of the River Placid, 20 miles south of the Tiger Fortress, 150 miles northeast of Emparia City, 300 miles west of Cove. Etymology: Formerly Barrow, the site of the interred ashes of the Emperors Peregrine. Shortly after the fall of the Northern Empire, the name changed to Burrow. The name quickly became symbolic of how the Eastern Empire dug in to defend itself from the bandits across its northern border.—Encyclopedia Empirica.