Birth of a Legend

I -- From the Ashes

(Derkarya, Lopayzom lands bordering Aizkaur, 4 Redleaf, 1000.)

Hmm? The rider quickly tugged back on the reins, giving his dapple-gray mount the signal to halt. With an equine snort of mild exacerbation, the animal did as his master commanded while the rider's elegant form straightened, all senses on the alert.

The scent of the dusk air held the subtle hint of an early autumn chill in the hours yet to coding forest with a growing inky darkness. As the rider galloped down the timeworn earthen trail, his long, platinum blond hair flowing behind him like a silken banner, the ancient trees to either side seemed to loom closer in the gloom. Threatening, menacing, they added to the atmosphere of increasing doom. Nor could the silver-maned traveler shake the thought that once again, those he would have protected were somehow beyond his aid.

Onward he rode, closer to the haven he knew existed in this isolated, hidden, narrow mountain glen. The steep-sided valley had long ago been abandoned to the primeval forest. Few had known of the refugees who had made their way up along the winding silver stream to find a place to live in peace from their sworn enemies. The argent-maned rider had been certain the secret settlement had not been revealed to those seeking an end to the refugees, so certain that he had answered his overlord's call. Now he wondered if he would regret carrying out his duty to his suzerain.

As he galloped deeper into the lush, dusk-adorned mountain valley, the scent of smoke became ever thicker, overpowering the normally clean, crisp breezes of twilight. The acrid twinge befouling the evening air stung his jade-green eyes, making them water. Beneath the traveler's slender, well-toned form, the dapple-gray stallion broke stride and came to an abrupt stop. The whites of the horse's eyes showing as he tossed his head in agitation, his iron-shod hooves dancing against the ancient game-track's earthen path, the stallion refused to go any closer to the danger he sensed ahead.

Thin lips tightened into a frown of annoyance. Knowing that it would do him no good to fight with the beast, the silver-maned man granned outward with all his senses.

They were all dead. Every one of them was slaughtered, their assailants now long gone. Only the lingering traces of Raven magic remained behind, mocking the swordsman with their triumph. The Kaykolom chieftain had kept his promise, to seek out and annihilate all of the clan of the Fox. Now only the silver-maned warrior remained, cruel fate conspiring to force him to suffer the knowledge of his clan's destruction rather than allow him to have either protected this last haven of the Lopayzom or sharing in their fate.

Anger seethed in the Fox swordsman's heart, replacing the horror at finding the destruction. So be it, he grimly thought, dark-jade eyes narrowing dangerously. First he would report the razing of the village to the nearest outpost of the Dragon army. They could be relied upon to see to it that the last of the Fox would receive proper burials. Then he would travel to the heart of the Raven clan's lands, avenging his kin with as much Kaykolom blood as possible before he either joined his clan in death or saw the Raven chieftain dead at his feet.

The verdant-eyed swordsman turned slightly, seeking the safest path through the inferno. Though protected by his solidified shield of silver oja, the heat from the blaze and the acrid smoke were still suffocating. Nothing more could be done here. Steel softly whispered as the gently curved, single-edged sword sunk back into the protection of its metal sheath. Then the tall warrior darted through the flames.

So intent was he on hurrying to inform the local Dragon commander of the butchery in the gle5in'>Somewhere near here . . . he mused, his narrowed gaze searching the hellishly illuminated forest floor. Stepping forward, his foot nudged against something solid yet pliable. Freezing in place, the warrior crouched down, instinctively pushing down on the hilt of his sword so that the gold-tipped end of the metal sheath would rest gently against the earth rather than dig into the detritus littering the ground. He remained crouching there, silent, his lips twisted into a faint frown of puzzlement. Though he could see only two more bodies lying before him, the tiny glimmer of life he sensed was somehow also right there as well.

He recognized the corpses. Once beautiful women he knew to be mother and grown daughter, both full of joy and laughter, they were now cold and forever still, their bodies ravaged by what looked to be cuts from numerous blades. At least there seemed to be no evidence of even worse degradation done to them; it seemed as if the Kaykolom were content to just butcher the Lopayzom they found living in the formerly hidden haven. For that, at least, the platinum-haired warrior was grateful.

The swordsman straightened, glancing back over toward the smoldering ruins of the village. The women had probably been attacked within the circle of buildings that formed the settlement and had attempted to flee into the forest. However, their wounds had been too great, the blood loss too quick, for them to have gotten far; they had only succeeded in their bodies escaping the hungry maw of the fire while the rest of the Fox apparently had been left for the tender mercies of the roaring inferno. If any of the Raven murderers had been able to sense auras, they may have believed that what the Lopayzom swordsman felt now was merely the final moments of the doomed women's lives.

Behind him, the fire raged on, illuminating the sight of the slashed females with a distant, hell-like glow. His face remaining devoid of any strong emotion, the argent-maned warrior carefully and respectfully moved the bloody remains of his butchered kinswomen.

A mewling cry greeted the Fox-blooded warrior, a soft sound nearly strangled by fatigue but holding a note of defiance and indignation both. The argent-maned man remained transfixed, staring down at the small, sanguine-streaked body kicking feebly at the smoke-laced air. It was an infant. The orange-hued, downy fuzz covering the baby's head as well as the characteristic aura of the Fox cried out to the crouching warrior, assuring him that he was not yet the sole member of his clan. Somehow, the two fallen women had managed to shelter the infant, even in death. Their bodies must have muffled the child's howls while the dissipating heat of their cooling corpses must have sheltered the infant from the elements.

Offering a short, silent prayer to the spirits, the Fox warrior reverently scooped the crying child up into his embrace. Thoughts of vengeance faded as the swordsman's protective instincts flared to life. He would better honor his ancestors by choosing to live and safeguard this infant rather then throwing his life away while taking as many Kaykolom to hell with him as possible. The silver-haired warrior cuddled the mewling baby close as he stood to his full height once more. The baby wished to live and had a strong spirit, but the child's aura was dangerously faint. Too much energy had been burnt crying for help that could never come and maintaining heat that cooling flesh could no longer provide. The child would need rest, warmth and food quickly if it was to survive.

"Lord Arjunayazu?"

The mounted nobleman flicked his dark-jade gaze up to the house's sturdy wooden porch. A young woman stared back at him, large sapphire-hued eyes wide in astonishment. Her long, chestnut-brown locks hung disheveled and she clutched a nightrobe tight against her willowy form, both betraying her interrupted rest. Noting indications that she'd cried herself to sleep, Arjuna frowned. "Forgive my intrusion, especially this late at night and in your time of grief, but I wished to speak with you, Amiyana."

The brunette silently nodded, her pretty but puffy-eyed face still frozen in a dazed expression. She had no idea what in the nine hells would have brought such a famous warrior to her gate in the middle of the night.

Sensing the aura of the wide-shouldered Bear clansman lurking about just inside the gaping entrance of the front door, the jade-eyed noble faintly smirked. "Come on out, Aizu. This will concern you as well."

Muttering under his breath, the former weaponsmith limped out onto the porch, his shuffle-thudding gait breaking the silence of the darkness. Halting next to his petite wife, Aizu wrapped a thick-muscled arm protectively around her while glaring at the mounted swordsman.

"Amiyana," the silver-maned visitor began, his handsome visage subtly shifting to an expression of humility and reverence, "I have no desire to intensify the pain of the loss you must certainly feel, but I have an offer to make. I wish to hire your services."

"What?" the curly-haired farmer shouted, his bass voice strangling on his outburst. Glaring furiously at the silk-clad horseman, Aizu hugged his wife closer to his muscular form. Damned noblemen!

"Oh, please," Arjuna growled in annoyance, easily meeting the other man's furious gaze with his own cold, hard stare.

The young woman quickly gave her affronted husband a reassuring hug, her other hand continuing to secure her linen clothing around her shapely form. "Aizu, don't," she softly warned before releasing the angered, curly-haired farmer and stepping forward. Sapphire eyes darkened in confusion, she shook her head in bewilderment. "I don't understand, milord. All in the same breath you say you wish me no more grief yet you desire to hire me?"

The jade-eyed warrior nodded, silver topknot swaying slightly with the movement. "Nothing can ever replace the child you lost, but perhaps aiding this one can help ease the pain," Arjuna responded, his voice a soft murmur as he addressed the chestnut-brown-haired woman. Expertly lashing his stallion's leather reins to his ornate saddle with his right hand, the regal swordsman then carefully shifted his hold on his precious burden, raising it up so that the two Bear clansmen could see what he held.

Amiyana gasped, eyes wide in shock. An infant!

Sudden exposure to the chilly night and the lack of the reassuring sound of a heartbeat pulled the exhausted, orange-haired boy from his slumber. Indignant, he kicked and flailed his chubby limbs at the air, his strident cry shattering the stillness.

Tears welled up in large, dark blue eyes. Amiyana had so wanted her own baby, but fate had taken him away from her. Born too early, the little one had never been robust; only two days after coming into the world, his sickly body had given up and he'd returned to his ancestors without even a name. The young mother's heart lurched painfully. She had done all she could for her own son, only to be left with a broken heart and empty arms.

"Brat of yours, milord?" Aizu muttered, crossing his powerful arms over his broad chest.

Arjuna chose to ignore the Bear's impolite tone. "No, a kinsman, though to what exact degree we are related, I do not know." Noting the aura of the howling baby was beginning to weaken again, the swordsman turned his attention back to the still-stunned woman. "Quickly, Amiyana. Your answer. If you will not do it, I must find one who will and soon, or risk losing the child."

A warm tear rolled down the still-grieving mother's cheek. She'd felt so empty . . . and the baby's cries pierced her to her heart. Surely her dead son's spirit would understand. She would never forget him. "I'll do it," the brunette answered, stepping down to the lawn.

"Amiyana!" the muscular farmer protested, startled by his wife's response.

Ignoring her husband, the willowy woman walked toward the gate, quickly lashing her robe closed with the linen tie wrapped around her waist. It wouldn't do to embarrass herself as she reached up for the crying infant.

Inwardly sighing in relief, Arjuna warmly smiled at the approaching Bear clan-member. The brunette had been so excited at the coming birth of her first child that the silver-haired swordsman knew that tragic loss must have been a hard and cruel blow to the soft-hearted, maternal female. Seeking to console the upset baby, the mounted nobleman cuddled the boy close against his chest once more as he awaited Amiyana.

The orange-haired baby's cries had softened to tired-sounding mewlings by the time the young mother passed through her domicile's front gate and halted next to the magnificent dappled gray. Her pretty cheeks streaked with new tears, Amiyana reached upwards, the long, loose sleeves of her aqua-blue linen robe sliding down to her elbows, exposing the fair skin of her slender limbs while her sleep-mussed hair slid from her shoulders to hang against her back.

Shifting his tall, elegant form in the saddle to better keep his balance atop his stallion, Arjuna bent low, the silver strands of his topknot swaying forward. Carefully, tenderly, the swordsman handed the tiny child over to the farmer's wife. "His sp they had buried their son just that day. Her arms were no longer empty of a baby and a new life once again depended on her.

Arjuna smiled, sensing the sadness within his long-time friend's aura slip away in the face of muted joy and determination to do for this baby what she couldn't do for her own. Straightening, the silver-haired swordsman turned his dark-jade gaze to the scowling Aizu. "It eases her grief," he commented, meeting the angered stare of the former weaponsmith.

"A child of our own was going to strain what income we had," the barrel-chested man growled, "despite how much we wanted a baby. And now we must suffer that for the whelp of a total stranger?"

Dark-jade eyes narrowed slightly, but Arjuna took no true insult from the Bear clansman's words. Ever since Aizu had been crippled, the couple had been forced to adjust to the much poorer life of a farmer. No more could they live comfortably off the earnings of commissions for masterworks of the blade, and it was a matter of hurt pride on the curly-haired man's part that prompted the harsh words. "I do not intend for your wife's work to be permanent. When the boy is old enough, I will take him back into my custody as apprentice." Arjuna slipped a long-fingered, elegant hand into the pocket formed by the silk of his left sleeve. Finding the pouch nestled within, he drew it out and then gracefully flung the leather object over the fence at the other man.

With the softest of sounds, the leather pouch skidded across the timber planks of theoble families. But it had been so long since he'd done work for which he was paid in anything but kind.

Dark brown eyes still wide in amazement, Aizu lifted his head and stared at the waiting Fox warrior. There was enough money in the pouch to feed an entire village for nearly a year, let alone take care of what humble needs the farmer and his wife had. Speechless, he could only continue to stare at the argent-maned visitor.

"I wish the boy to be taken care of as well as possible," Arjuna stated. "Each year the payment will increase if I am satisfied with his care and how he progresses. So long as he gets all he needs, you may spend the remainder as you wish. However, I don't think I need to admonish you to be discreet in your spending. A crippled smith turned farmer spreading around many bills suddenly will cause suspicion."

Something in the Fox warrior's baritone voice worried the brunette. Still gently rocking the now-quiet baby, Amiyana glanced up at the mounted man. "There is danger, milord?"

"More for the infant than for you, though perhaps you should be careful for your own safety as well," Arjuna admitted, frowning. "It would do him and you ill for anyone to know that he's my kinsman and that I am paying for his support."

Sapphire eyes lingered upon the swordsman's stunningly handsome face for a long moment. In his own way, the silver-haired man seemed as grieved as Amiyana had been. "What's happened, ArjunaIsuna shielded him from the slaughter even as they lay dying."

The swordsman's grim words made both Bear clan-members pale with the image evoked. How it must pain him . . . Amiyana thought, her heart instantly going out to her long-time friend in sympathy. Glancing down at the dozing infant, she further resolved to see to it that the Fox boy would thrive. The Raven would not know the baby had survived.

Aizu nodded, big hand clenched around the pouch full of money. "You have my word, Lord Arjunayazu, that I will do all that's in my power to keep the boy safe from the Kaykolom. Even if your clan truly had murdered the Raven chieftain's little sister, the Lopayzom didn't deserve this in the name of justice. Especially not the truly innocent ones."

His expression cold, distant, the silver-haired Fox formally bowed as best he could while remaining seated upon the saddle. Straightening his back, he gave the married couple a faint smile of relief. "I thank you both. You have lifted an enormous weight from my soul. I must take my leave of you now." Tugging the leather reins free, Arjuna wheeled the stallion to the right. As the dapple-gray stamped a foot against the ground in impatience, the warrior glanced back over to the couple at the domicile. "I have yet to inform the Dragon of what happened." Tiny tassels of metallic-gold thread swung silently, dangling from the bottom edge of the leather reins, as the Fox swordsman prepared to spur his stallion forward.

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annual service to his overlord was concluded. But there would be no way now for the verdant-eyed man to ever know for sure the name the boy had been given by his true mother.

He sat there in silence, tall and elegant astride his well-bred stallion, for a moment longer. A name came to him, one that he sensed would fit perfectly the man the boy would one day become. "He's called Karavasu."

The Soul of the Sword . . .