• Intro
• Chap I
• Chap II
• Chap III

Chapter Three: The Master’s First Pupil

Paen prepared Quanon and himself to travel further west.  Having a belly full of stew, and having said all that he had to say, he disappeared from the company and quickly exited the gates of Ketique and walked back to the Jungle.  He climbed onto his mehra’s back, and intuitively slung Maburata to his own back. As he pulled the reins to steer Quanon, Paen noticed from within the encroachment of trees the sounds of several riders heading his way.  They were thunderous in their urgent cadence as the dark mob of them appeared in the distance, spreading through green mists collecting between the tree trunks and giant buttress roots.

Quanon stirred, and snorted, and Paen answered him, “Yes, it is high time we left,”
But it was too late for Paen and his mehra were surrounded.  At least fourteen fully armored Arkayan warriors on the backs of grey and black horned mehras, circled Paen. The group of riders appeared to be lead by Minot, Dajaai’s nephew.  He was silent, black pearls of eyes staring at Paen from the eyelets of his flared iron helmet.  On mehra back, Minot circled Paen from within the ring of riders Paen was held, his mehra snorting and neying. As Minot recklessly pulled the reins, it trotted, circling, kicking.
Like Dajaai once did, Minot came around full circle, facing Paen who could see a burgeoning anger in this younger and more impulsive man.  Paen wondered where Dajaai could be.
Shaking his head, Paen began to laugh.  It was such a laugh that for a moment it sounded as though all the creatures in the forest joined in with Paen.  Even a few of Minot’ own men cracked a curious smile, beguiled by the Master.

”And what do you find funny about it being your day to die?” Minot sneered.

”My dear boy, you just have no humor; that is all!” Paen said, throwing his head back to laugh harder, and the crickets and mosquitoes buzzed, and birds cawed and clamored about, and the trees swayed as if some strange wind passed through.

“I mean, none of you do, really” he chuckled, gasped, and wiped a tiny joy tear from his eye.
He pointed at all of the warriors and imitated their individual versions of being too serious.  Like frightened boys, they looked among themselves to save face as the Master teased them and made faces at them. Who was this mad-man, they seemed to think. Minot said nothing. Paen sighed.

”So then, you wish to stare into the eyes of the whirlwind?” the master asked, his laughter subsiding,
“Only then will you know? Is that it?”

”I know that you will never get to see Arkaya in your life time, old man.”

”Well then, let us get down to what you truly do and do not know, for I and my friend have much traveling to do” Paen said, a smile stretching across his face.  He sat poised on the back of his mehra, only waiting.

Captain Minot drew his sword and his trained mehra at this silent command bucked, and bolted for Paen, who only remained still.  Minot struck, hard and sure at Paen, who dodged, leaning swiftly to one side, and removed the sword from Minot’s hand.  With a remaining free hand, Paen pushed the warrior off of his steed. Minot flipped backward and fell to the ground with a thud.
Swinging one leg across the back of his white yellow-horned mehra, Paen dismounted Quanon, and observed his catch, the warrior’s weapon. He was not impressed.  Paen sensed an unavoidable storm approaching.  The air became electric.  The hairs on his skin stood up poised, alert, excited. His eyebrows began to dance wildly over his large awake eyes.

“How can you fight me now… warrior?” Paen asked, walking toward Minot.  Frustrated and embarrassed, Minot produced a dagger and lunged for Paen, who merely dodged again, swiftly, surgically removing the knife from Minot’ hand by twisting his wrist.  The large knife dropped to the soft ground and Paen kicked it up to the air and caught it by the handle.  He turned his back on Minot.

”You cannot beat me, Captain. The tale of you and I is not written where you beat me.”

”Are you an oracle? Do you claim to know the future?!” Minot grunted.

”I am that which the oracle consults, boy. There is no future, no past, only me.” And Paen glanced around the circle to elicit a real response from the deadpan mob, and in failing to do so then tossed the dagger back to Minot who was still behind him.

”You are all simply angry and afraid because you cannot rewrite your private little chapter of a life to your satisfaction.  And yet, look how you are all so afraid of change anyway!”

A bitter voice growled from behind him, the one the master had heard earlier inside the Eagle Lord’s dihj and it now said;

”Will you not draw your sword and fight like a man?”

Just then thunder rolled throughout the jungle and creatures could be heard throughout the treetops in preparation.  They all had to see Maburata!
Paen turned to see Minot on two feet, glaring at him, angry, bitter.
Paen now threw Minot his sword back to him.

”If you insist,” Paen said, and he drew Maburata from its sheath. Silver light reflected from its surface, and illuminated the soft greenness of the jungle.  It became stunningly quiet as fireflies gravitated toward and tried to enter Maburata’s light. The on looking warriors were drawn to its brilliance.

Minot however was enraged, missed the spectacle and attacked.  With his eyes closed, Paen , a straight line beneath her luminance, held Maburata high, and with every attempt by Minot to strike, Paen deflected every blow, cleanly, and swiftly, so swift that the Master returned to the pose of the straight line, holding the blade high, pointing it toward the moon, between each strike as if Minot moved in an incredible slow motion, and then again Paen took Minot’ weapon!

”Yaaaarghh!!!” Minot screamed.  He slapped his own shoulders in offense.

”There! Now can you see that it does not matter, what you believe, what you think?” Paen asked.

Minot sulked, and his dissatisfaction was still so obvious that Paen again gave him his sword back to try again.  Rain drops began to fall onto the giant leaves overhead and to the ground where the men circled one another.
Minot attacked, Paen moved, clank, clank, clank, and each time, he disarmed Minot in the most despicable and clever ways.  And with a smile, Paen returned the weapons to his opponent. There were no bounds to the Master’s cleverness.

“And now. Can you see silly boy, that it is not a sword that makes the true warrior?  Try again!” he bellowed, his back turned to Minot, and the Master threw Minot’s blade over his shoulder and into the air, and Minot was only too eager to catch and try again, with more heart, more determination, this time more elegantly applying every swordsman’s trick he learned from his swords master, the Lord Dajaai.  Minot swung with broad sword and a dagger simultaneously, two whirlwinds.
They fought, and the master teased him.

“There,” clank!
”Yes!” clank, clank, clank!
”Good!” clank!!
”No, I shan’t take it from you just yet!” clank! Clank!
”You tempt me, but we shall keep dancing!”

Minot became a wild machine, a killing menace, attacking with youthful quickness and recklessness.  He was brave, and cunning, and clever, and the Master loved it.  Then before Minot could ever get a satisfying advantage, the weapons were easily torn from him by Paen’s quick fingers!
Minot bent over, panting.  He removed his helmet to let a green mane of dread locks hang to the ground.  He had given it his all, and Paen, not even breaking a sweat, was far from defeated. Minot’s men stirred. How can this be? How could Minot not touch this man, let alone suffer the offense of having his weapons torn from him insultingly?

”Have you seen enough of the whirlwind?” Paen asked.
”I only see a clown who will not fight!” Minot rasped.
Paen sighed, and then groaned in feigned sympathy for the spoiled child before him.
”You are just too proud to see the truth here,” and Paen sheathed his sword.  The forest grew dim again. The lesson was over.
”Kill HIM!” Minot raged.  The thunder rolled within the jungle.
Paen held a hand up and said, “Can no one here see the truth?” as the warriors dismounted, cautiously approaching him, stubborn, not yet convinced.
”Ah, I trust many of you see a haze of it, but still your heads are too hard.”
The warriors withdrew their swords.
”Surely he cannot defeat the lot of us.” One said, taking a brave few steps ahead of the others who were tightening the circle around the Master.

”I see. I must soften your heads then.” The Master chuckled “I cannot empty all of your hands enough, and tear down your armor enough for you to see that I am only a device of the truth.  I can only teach you tougher lessons.”

”Get him!” Minot growled beneath the low, deep rumble of the storm.

Suddenly, there was a flash of lightening! The nineteen warriors were on Paen, who smiling wildly and with eyes closed, was moved by Ashuta in a poetic dance that flowed, never stopping.  His steps were flawless, and where the steps of his flawed opponents were made, Paen moved into graceful advantage, constantly.  He pushed, pulled, twisted, punched, and tripped them with an unstoppable momentum that never shifted from his love for the Goddess.  His capabilities were infinite, derived from her, the entire stream of them, flowing with the deepest connection of the perfectly open heart! She wrote the play of victories, played the tightly strung lute of his heart, and Paen acted according to the script, and danced willingly to the song!
Minot watched in begrudging disbelief as Paen demonstrated that no man could ever touch the Master.  He appeared infinitely adaptable, and the whites of his upturned smile made him appear insane, drunk on his love for Ashuta. Paen was invisible to the warriors, unbridled, taking them all down gracefully.  He was a whirlwind, and when the last man was left standing, Paen was again the straight line beneath the moon, one arm held straight to the sky, fingers a gentle fan, Maburata still sheathed along his back, and he held one foot slightly off of the ground like a dancer slowing with concluding music that unfortunately Minot could not hear.
The lone remaining warrior stared in awe, his mouth a gapping maw. He did not know whether to attack or drop to his knees.

”Destroy him!” Minot hissed.

The warrior, unmoved by this order, swallowed hard and looked at Paen who still stood like a crane, his arm swaying to the gentle breezes.  The rest of the warriors were on the ground clutching their arms or knees, unable to fight any longer. Paen opened one eye and looked at the conflicted young warrior and said.

”It is you who chooses who, and what to serve, of what to stand for, live for, and die for.”

The warrior then dropped to his knees, and bowed before his new master, Paen.
”You are the master warrior,” the young warrior gushed.  His heart could only tell the truth of it and his voice conveyed, cracking open like a dam by the forceful flow of heart expression.
Paen took the man’s sword and said, “I will return this to you for your second lesson in Arkaya.”

He then looked at Minot and said,
“And I’m sure that we will meet again, young warrior.  Remember that one who commands men is not necessarily a great leader.  Perhaps you might have observed now that there are defeats that one can accept and yet remain a warrior at heart.”

Minot glared at him, sulked, and said nothing.
Paen, noting Minot’s bitter refusal then added,

”Wise men learn through their mistakes, the wiser through the mistakes of others.  You, like the Tah, subject those you lead to such unnecessary suffering, proudly, stupidly with your feathers in your hair, and your studded shirts, beating your chests like silly apes.  Hah!  And look how poorly you measure up to the truth!  Ah-hahahahahahaha!”

Quanon, sensing it was high time to leave, approached Paen who hopped up on his back.  Paen observed Minot, an ember of resentment, clutching his sprained wrist.
”You may hunt me, lad.  You may spy me along my way, you may even find me as I head to your capital, but I sense that it will be quite a long and difficult road for you before you really ever see me.”

”I see you devil, and I will have my day with you!” Minot spat.

“Indeed,” Paen said and disappeared in the mists of the jungle.  He shouted back to Minot. “That much is for certain, and it will be of your undoing, for as the Tah will learn, so will you learn that the harder you fight against that which is true…”  And then there was an immense crash of thunder and the whitest flash of lightening.
”The more truth must obliterate you!”

The rain poured down through the large overhanging leaves onto Minot and the warriors. Paen’s voice echoed as he laughed loudly throughout the jungle.

• Intro
• Chap I
• Chap II
• Chap III