Shuli Go Stories Vol. 5: The Two Keepers

Part 19

It would be a glorious republic. Every man and woman would choose someone to represent their interests, and those interests would be debated against the interests of everyone else in the land. No more mini despots ruling over their slice of land at the point of a sword. Decisions would be made on the merits of those interests: a great debate full of ideas and figures and diction. No one would need protection from the law anymore; the law would protect each and every citizen from injustice. This was the world Kalsang was building, even if right now it existed only in his head. But slowly they were coming to see the truth of it, each new recruit convinced of the beauty of a future world where the strong protected the weak.

Kalsang had seen enough of the world, as it existed, to know that the one they dreamed of could only be built if it was protected by a strong fist. And his fist was the strongest in this corner of the world. His only shame was that this Shuli Go did not know it yet.

He'd taken it easy on her during their first battle as he'd considered recruiting her: a Shuli Go's strength would make her a valuable asset. Perhaps even a lieutenant of sorts, if she could be persuaded to support his vision. His hope had been strong: if anyone knew the persecution of the Empire more than Keepers and peasants, it was Shuli Go. He'd been impressed with her skill, and had been close to offering her a chance when she'd used that forbidden Shei magic to escape. The incident had piqued his interest even more, but now that she had clearly aligned herself with the Imperials there was no chance of mercy. She would be dealt with.

He had already recited the chant of inner connection and cleared his mind of everything but the coming battle by the time they neared one another on the plateau. The great Tiendu opened itself to him as it always had, each particle in the air and each blade of grass twinkling and curving over themselves into intricate patterns before his eyes, as if some sort of abstract painting made real. They gave themselves to him willingly, offering up their energy to supplement his own. It would take only a few words and a deep inhalation, and it would all course through his body, giving him even more strength than a Shuli Go.

She stopped ten feet away and stood, one of her swords already drawn. She said nothing. Kalsang dismounted his horse and pulled down his heavy staff. It was too dense to use with any agility in his normal state, but once he'd invoked the Strength of the Keepers, it would feel like no weight at all. He held one end out in front of him and planted the other by his feet. He smiled at her.

"We could have been allies, I thought," he said in his accented Imperial. "I'm sad that it's come to this."

She said nothing, just watched him wearily. Her face had no visible scars, but her eyes spoke of a lifetime of battles and wounds, some of them never fully healed. The Keeper in him wanted only to heal those wounds, but the man in him – the man who had been scorned by his own people for his politics and persecuted in the land of his wife because of his religion – knew some wounds could never be healed. Just excised from the body.

"You might think I don't have the fire to draw on this time, and that puts me at a disadvantage," he explained. "But that's why I chose these mountains as my base. Fifty feet down there is a hotspring along the entire length of this land. And all its energy is mine at a moment's notice."

He enlightened her as a final offer of salvation. If she backed down there would be no need for her death. No need for anyone to die other than the few Imperials she'd mustered against him.

She looked him straight in the eye and settled into an attacking stance.

"Fine," he sighed, the decision made for him. "Then you die."

He picked up the heavy staff and slammed it into the ground, then reached deep below the surface to the geyser-fed waters rippling through metal veins, and shouted out in Zhosian: "Great Tiendu, feed me your strength!"