Read Online The New World by Michael A. Stackpole - Free Book Online

discipline is the brake on ambition, then the only way to prevent war is to train everyone to wage it. If everyone was a warrior such as yourself, do you foresee a time of eternal peace?”
    Ciras started to answer, then stopped. All the training in the world might not blunt ambition. In fact, ambition could motivate training. His own ambition to become a hero was what kept him training when he might well have quit. Another’s ambition to become emperor could drive him as I was driven .
    “You are correct. Discipline may not counter ambition. But this is no reason to put lethal weapons in the hands of those who have no understanding of what mayhem they will cause.”
    “I agree, Master Dejote. Your solution, however, is to label the tool evil .” The elder warrior shrugged simply. “I reserve my judgment for the means in which the tool is employed. You have trained with the sword. Now you will train with this metal horse. Master it. Justice will curb ambition, and, through you, a sword and a mount may serve justice well.”
    The Voraxani expedition headed southeast as quickly as possible. Because it was home to the vanyesh , Tolwreen became a target. Empress Cyrsa might not have called them forth to destroy the vanyesh , but allowing them to live would not be serving her.
    Ciras had feared the path to Tolwreen would be hidden. He and Borosan assumed the vanyesh would be watching for them, so the expedition remained alert as they approached.
    But the way to Tolwreen had neither been hidden, nor had it been guarded. They found the mountain stronghold without difficulty and even spotted their own tracks from three weeks previous. The preservation of the tracks unnerved Ciras. It was as if no time had passed, and he found it easy to imagine he would somehow see himself and Borosan escaping again.
    The tunnel at the mountain’s base gaped open like a mouth waiting to swallow them. Borosan sent two of his spider-legged thanatons in, and they returned without incident. One even brought with it a small gyanrigot mouser that was still in full working order.
    Borosan held it up. “This was the one you gave to Pravak.”
    “Did he abandon it because he knew we used it to track him, or is it bait for a trap?”
    Vlay took the mechanical kitten from Borosan. “Pravak was never terribly subtle. If he was present, he’d challenge us immediately. Shall we ride in?”
    He kicked his heels back, prompting the mount to trot forward. Ciras fell in line behind him, taking heart from the fact that the giant statues that had guarded the entrance were no longer present. Metallic hoofbeats echoed through the short tunnel, then the riders entered the heart of the mountain and spread out.
    “They’ve gone.” Borosan pointed to the remains of the citadel that had once stood tall and proud. “And they’ve taken their weapons with them.”
    Ciras nodded. The citadel had been pieced together with swords and shields, armor and spears. It had been a martial masterpiece. Now the wires that once suspended it hung slack and what remained lay scattered like gold coins spilled from a cut purse.
    Wildmen emerged from the distant shadows. Some brandished weapons as if they were talismans. A few had pulled on armor. Greaves hung awkwardly from shoulders, and bracers pinched calves too tightly. Helmets had been put on backward, then tipped up to let the wearer see his feet.
    Vlay clapped his hands commandingly and the wildmen scattered, hooting and screaming. He turned in his saddle and looked at Ciras. “There is discipline for you.”
    “Where have the vanyesh gotten to?”
    Borosan pulled a small, boxy device from a saddlebag. “There are several mousers below the Prince’s Hall. Let’s see what they’re doing down there.”
    It took some hunting, but they found a series of tunnels that carried them deep beneath the mountain. Using Borosan’s device to guide them, they entered a series of natural caverns that opened into one huge cave that had