It is strange what happens to a man when he becomes a legend. They say all war stopped because he fought. The bards say that his army was one million strong and he killed ten thousand with his own bare hands. They even say that he rode twelve dragons at once and could breath fire. All of those stories are lies save for one. Peace has existed for fifty years in the world of Ulam because of him. His army was only one hundred thousand and he only killed fifteen-hundred men. Only one dragon fought alongside him and his sword could breath fire but he could not. I only know this because I fought at his side and I killed almost as many men. He was my blood-brother and I fought to protect him with my life. All know him as Old Shadow, for his skin was as black as shadow. I knew him as Cyrus Shakasson, a good friend and terrible foe of the Farendra Empire. Of him, the bards have told many stories.

    Only one knew the man behind the legend. I, Itza- lupan, am that man. My name means great wolf in the tongue of the pale faces. I learned to read and write from them and before I leave to travel the Eternal Pastures of the Great Spirit, I aim to tell the story of my good friend.

Chapter 1

The Shadow comes from the Iron Horse

    A loud and and unruly noise echoed across the city as the train pulled to a stop at the station at Celilo. The conductor said  “ You may exit, General Arnold. Watch yourself, for the Apator Steppes are not very welcome to outsiders.” “Thank you for the warning, but that is unnecessary. I come to the steppes with forty thousand men. The tribes must either submit to the rule of the Farendra Empire and allow us to civilize them or my saber shall be the last blade that they see.” replied the general. “ Very well then. Godspeed to you and your men, general.” and the conductor opened the doors for all of the men and their equipment to exit. The cavalry left, leading their steeds and covered in armor made of various steel plates laced together covered in ornate embroidery of a golden hue. The guards on their sabers were made of brass and covered the whole hand. On their backs were slung repeating rifles that would reload the firearm with a simple lever. Each of them carried three six-shooter in holsters on their waist.On their saddles was a mace with a circular head, a 3-meter long lance with a fairly large spearhead.

    The infantry and artillery stepped off immediately after them. The infantry carried breech-loading rifles of the same make but with bayonets made of good steel. Their blue uniforms carried many brass buttons all in one column and they sported iron conical helmets. The artillery lowered iron cannons of various calibers and sported short swords with small crossguards. They all left the city as one and General Arnold and the cavalry at their head.

    They marched many kilometers into the Apator Steppes. Then the general called out to his men, “Major Shakasson, come forth.” Then came Cyrus Shakasson,  a strong man of enormous height and dark skin in armor as decorative as the horsemen he led. General Arnold said to him “ Major, take the 15th cavalry and survey this area. Report back to me in a year’s time and be on your guard. The tribe in control, the Apachenegs, are a bellicose tribe that slaughter all intruders.” “I shall do as you command, General Arnold.” and he rode off with his men. General Arnold addressed his men, “ The Sun lowers in the sky. Gather together our palisades and make our camp. We shall rest here tonight.” All worked on making the fortified camp,digging ditches and making the wall of palisades. General Arnold dressed in simple clothes and worked alongside them. They finished the simple but magnificent structure and slept soundly that night.

    The next day, Cyrus rose and rode on with his men. The boundless steppes provided much good game for him and his men to feast on. Cyrus addressed his men, “ Rest here and eat. Be cautious, for we may find the tribesmen soon. Scribe Maharaj, take note that we have not encountered the natives.” “ Yes, sir” said the scribe “ I-”. His words were cut short because an arrow pierced his neck.

    Several more fell as the horsemen scrambled to defend themselves. Their horses were slain in the first torrent of arrows and the soldiers used their cadavers as their wall against the attack. They impaled the corpses with their lances as a further measure against the charging natives.

    The tribesmen attacked as stormclouds, shooting relentlessly at the horsemen. At their head, stood Itza- lupan, son of their reigning chief Itza-shalla. A warrior rode to him and he said “ Itza- lupan, that shadowface is the head of the snake. Should I kill him so the rest can fall?” “ No, Tayunko” said the chief, “Ready the tranquilizer arrow and take him alive. I will kill the rest myself.” He dismounted and removed a wolfskin. He draped it upon himself and became a giant wolf. He charged the shooting Imperial cavalry but not a single bullet struck him. He leaped over the wall of equine cadavers and slaughtered the rest of the soldiers as he got closer to Cyrus.

    Cyrus looked at the wolf as it got closer to him. He thought to himself, “That wolf is their chief. If I can kill him with this last shot from my carbine, maybe these warriors will let me escape so they can bury him.” He slowly cranked the lever on his carbine and aimed. Suddenly, an arrow struck him in the shoulder and he collapsed, stunned by the tranquilizer arrow.

    “The shadowface is down. Why did we not kill him, Itza-lupan?” asked Tayunko. “ He is the man I saw in my vision all those years ago. That is why. Throw him on one of our horses. We shall take him back to to the camp.”

Chapter 2

A Conscious day among the Apachenegs

    Cyrus awoke inside a small tent. He looked around and judged it to be quite spacious for something so small. His eyes then froze on something beautiful. A song from the greatest bard would not be capable of describing her beauty to him. Her eyes were as brown as the trees from his home village but they shined like the sun itself. Her hair was a flowing dark brown and her face seemed to expose no flaw. He had seen beautiful women before, but nothing like this. He had to know more of her.

    Then, he was startled by her heavenly voice as she said to him “ You have woken up. That is good for your recovery.” “ Wh-where am I? How long have I been … like this?” “ You are among the Apacheneg nation and you have been like this for three days.” “ What about my men? Are they all…” “ Dead? Yes. My brother and his warriors killed them all. You should thank the Great Spirit for their swift death. Itza-lupan ordered that your men are to be buried properly and not be scalped. That is strange.” “ Why was I spared? There were others. Why not them?” “I do not know. It would be better if you asked my brother.” “ What is your name?” “Sonsee-array. It means Morning Star. What is yours?” “ I am called Cyrus. What happened exactly to me? All I remember is  being shot.” “ You were shot by a tranquilizer arrow. People with those are out for three days and die in two weeks if untreated.” “ How long before I can move?” “ One hour. My brother and my father want to see you after you recover.” “Why did your brother attack my men? We did not attack them at all except in defense.” “ My people do not take kindly to the Imperial Horsemen since they have raided us many times.”  

He looked at her again. She was too stunning to him, so he stopped. Sonsee-array then said “It is fine with me that you look at me like that. Most who look upon me are stunned by my looks, so I am fine with it. It is only a year before father allows me to marry again.” “What happened to your husband?” asked Cyrus. “He died. It still pains me too much too think of it. You should rest because the rest of the treatment may be too painful for you awake.” “Thank you but I think I should stay awake. I do not like being alone amongst your people because I feel unsafe.” “Whatever you think is best. Be careful.”

The treatment started and he felt a rush of pain swelling through his body. He saw a younger version of himself, running. He was ten and that happened almost twenty years ago. The boy stopped and he saw that his parents’ burning house and the galloping Imperial Cavalry were too close. He saw his dead parents on the ground, scalped. His older brother was impaled. His father had told him to run before he got killed, so he started again. Suddenly, a bullet hit his leg and he fell down. A horseman galloped towards him with his lance raised high, but a voice cried “ Stop!” and the horseman halted. Another horseman rode up to him and said, “ Why did you attack this poor boy? The Emperor specifically ordered that no one under military age is to be killed.” he asked  “His family revolted against the empire therefore he must die!” “ How dare you disobey a direct order from the Emperor himself! Men, arrest this man for insubordination and prepare the firing squad for his execution.” As the horseman was being dragged away, the other horseman, who was his commander rode up to the wounded Cyrus.

He turned him over and raised his head onto his knee. “I am Major Luke Arnold of the Imperial Army. What is your name?” . “C-Cyrus.” was the only answer the boy could give before he collapsed. “ Don’t worry, kid. I will get you to my personal physician. You will be fine.” Twenty years had passed since that day when he was saved by the man he almost called father. He had become a good officer who only lived to see his comrades-in-arms slaughtered in a war that he barely knew by a people whom he had never raised arms against for an emperor he never knew.Why did he fight, then? His training answered for the glory of the empire. Then, he thought why die for the glory of the empire when you will never live to see that glory?

His eyes suddenly opened to see her face again. Surely these tribesmen could not have produced such a beautiful flower if they were as savage as the Empire claimed. He would stay with this tribe for a year to find the answer to one question: What made these people worth fighting?

“Do you think you can walk?” she asked. “Yes. I think so.” He slowly arose from the bed and she gave him some mare’s milk to drink. Cyrus then put on his boots and attached the baldric that sported his saber and began to walk out of the tent. “Wait” she said and she gave him a necklace that sported a small bit of bison horn. “Wear this for luck. My father’s tent should be just across from this tent.” “I will not wear it for luck but rather in excange for your kindness.” he replied and he walked into Itza-Shalla’s tent.

“Welcome, Cyrus of the Farendra Empire. Please sit and ask for whatever knowledge you require.” said Itza-shalla. “Let  me ask, why was I spared? Why were my men given proper burial and not scalped?” “You were spared because of a vision that I had when I was a boy. In order to reach manhood, every warrior in this tribe must ride out to a quiet spot in the steppes and rest until he sees the vision that chooses his true name. In my vision, I saw a man on a dragon riding through a battlefield. One soldier of the Empire after another was scorched by the dragon’s flame. Its rider leapt off its back and cut a bloody swathe through the enemy. Alongside him was a giant wolf that fought just as ferociously. I looked inside the wolf and I saw myself beneath its fur. After the vision, I choose my name Itza-lupan, which in our tongue means Great Wolf. After my vision, I was attacked by the great wolf known as Bardalph and I slew him and took his fur coat for my own. I searched for the dragon rider that I saw for years and now he sits before me. I buried your men because I respected them. They fought well and we only killed them to sate the bloodlust of my warriors who want to kill on sight any horseman from the empire. Their only flaw was that they were soldiers of the empire.” “Know this: I will never fully forgive you for killing  my men but I shall not seek revenge because of the kindness your sister has shown me. I will stay with you and learn if I am worthy of being the man in your vision and why this war is fought.” “I thank you for listening to my son and we shall treat you as our honored guest for there is no greater honor in being anything else. Come hunting with us and you shall learn our ways.” “I would be honored in being your hunting companion.”

Soon after that, Cyrus and the two chiefs found a great herd of bison. Arrow after arrow streamed from the bows of Itza-shalla and Itza-lupan. Cyrus’ rifle joined them as well and they killed five bison. They took the carcasses back to the camp. “ Come with me now, Cyrus.”said Itza-lupan and he showed him how to skin the bison. They parceled the meat and gave it to Sonsee-array and the other women of the camp.

That night, the tribe prepared a magnificent feast around the campfire. As the food was about to be served, Itza-shalla arose and addressed the tribe: "My fellow Apachenegs, Let us give thanks to the Great Spirit for our good food and our honored guest." "But Itza-shalla, I have only spent one conscious day among your people. I have not done too much to be considered honorable." said Cyrus. "You helped us gather food today and you killed your first bison. You have given kindness in return for our kindness towards you. If there is no honor in that, then honor is meaningless. You are more than an honored guest. You are an Apacheneg and this tribe will always be your home if you so wish it."

After the feast, several tribesmen pulled out their traditional drums and began to play. The tribesmen rose and danced to the rhythmic beat of the drums. Cyrus did not rise with them but the drums sang to him the home he had once known: his family on the Isle of the Shadowfaces. He remembered playfully wrestling his brother outside their tent in the grasslands and his father teaching him how to hunt the lions. He smiled as he glanced at the stars. Those days were long gone but now he knew he had a new home and perhaps this one would not be scorched from existence.

Chapter Three

Love

A month passed since the first day that Cyrus was awake among the Apachenegs. The steppes seemed to be his new home. Itza-lupan taught him more of the ways of the tribe such as wrestling, knife-fighting, and archery. He occasionally sparred with Itza-lupan’s subordinate Tayunko. He played games with the children and Sonsee-array. It was especially fun playing with Cochise, Sonsee-array’s son. Cochise was a bold boy, always willing to wrestle and his strength was astounding for someone so small. He enjoyed the food that Sonsee-array brought to him and she always blushed when she tried to look away from him.

He was fascinated by her and one question seemed to be on his mind quite often: what happened to her husband? One day as she brought him food after another round of games with Cochise, he said to her, “What happened to him?” “I guess I have to tell you. Could we talk about this later, alone?” “Sure.” They waited until nightfall. They met under the stars as Cyrus lit a small fire. “My husband was named Geronimo. He was Itza-lupan’s blood brother and they followed each other into battle frequently. Once, Itza-lupan was on a hunting trip and Geronimo stayed with me and Cochise to watch over the rest of the tribe. The Imperial cavalry attacked us and in the midst of the combat as Geronimo was driving them away, he got shot by a stray bullet. I cradled him as he died and I swore vengeance. In the night, I tracked them on a spare horse with just his short spear. I attacked them in the night and killed every last one but the spear was broken in combat. After all that fighting, I cried myself to sleep. I had never killed anyone in my life. I found both joy and sorrow in their deaths. My father and Tayunko found me the next morning. I collapsed in their arms and sobbed in uncontrollable horror. They managed to console me but I was never the same. I swore that I would only kill in defense of my people. I-I do not even know how I managed to tell you this without just collapsing.” and she turned away from him. “I understand a bit of how you feel. My family was a tribal clan on the Isle of the Shadowfaces. When the Empire came, they slaughtered my whole family with my mother being the first to die. I found her killer and beat his head into the ground with my war club. My father pulled me away and told me to run. I ran. When I looked back, he was impaled. I kept on running but I was captured. I was raised and trained by the very people who killed my clan but I loved the army and I care for its foes. We can still choose who we are regardless of the monster within.” “Thank you for understanding. perhaps I must look for another in honor of Geronimo.” “Choose who you will.” “ The one I want is you.” she whispered in his ear as she pressed her lips onto his.

He breathed in her natural fragrance and embraced her. He loved her but did she really want him? He pulled away from her, nervous. “It’s fine. I know what I am doing but we should both get to bed.”she said to him as she walked away.

“You are lucky. Very few can make her feel this good.”, said Tayunko, surprising him. “ Why me?”, he asked. “You are new and unknown to her. Also, Cochise loves playing with you. Be good to her. If you do not, she can readily scar you forever. Good night, Cyrus.”, Tayunko said as he walked away. “May the stars watch over you, Tayunko.”, Cyrus said as he walked to his tent. Perhaps something gold could stay.

Chapter Four

The Last Trial and the Loss of a father

    Cyrus loved being a part of the Apacheneg tribe. He loved Sonsee-array and they spent much time together, dancing at every campfire. The year was almost over and Cyrus was a respected warrior in the tribe. Few were better that him at archery and he won almost every wrestling match he participated in. Now he was ready to face the last trial needed to be accepted among the braves of the tribe.

    He stood at the captive pole, unmoving and waiting for the trial to begin. The drum started beating the first warrior came and shot at him. The warrior missed and Cyrus stood, brave as any other warrior. All the other warriors shot and missed, as per the ritual of the trial. Cyrus never flinched. He was brave and finally came the last warrior. It was Itza-lupan. He came forward and threw his tomahawk at Cyrus. He missed and Cyrus stood there, unmoving and unafraid. Itza-shalla spoke to the people of the tribe: Cyrus Shakasson of the Shadowfaces has withstood the last trial. He stood his ground when others might have run from it. Cyrus, you are now a brave. Here is this bow to signify who you are now.” and the chief gave him a beautiful composite bow. The tribe cheered and clapped and Sonsee-array ran towards him. She gave him a loving embrace and a kiss before Itza-lupan came forward. “Congratulations, Cyrus. I cannot tell you how proud I am to see you here. Before this tribe, I declare Cyrus Shakasson my blood-brother!” said Itza-lupan to a resounding cheer from the tribe. Itza-shalla declared: “The ceremony shall begin tonight! Both my son and Cyrus should go and prepare their gifts.

Night came and the dancing and feasting started. Cyrus ate heartily and danced with Sonsee-array. Finally Itza-shalla addressed the tribe: “May the two new brothers come forth and seal their pact!” Itza-lupan and Cyrus came forward. Both took out knives and cut their arms. The chief addressed the new blood-brothers, “Now exchange your gifts as a sign of your friendship and embrace.” Itza-lupan was the first of the two to speak: “This tomahawk was the weapon of my previous blood brother Geronimo. Now I give it to you. May it be a mighty weapon at your side.” Cyrus soon spoke: “ I give to you the quill of my scribe Maharaj. He was a good man. May you use this wisely.” “I thank you for this gift. I will learn how to use this and I now embrace you as my brother.” They embraced and they were brothers to the bitter end.

The next day, Itza-lupan saw Cyrus packing his horse. “Where are you going this fine day?” “My year amongst you is almost over. I must report to general Arnold.” “I hope this is not the end.” “I want peace for your people. Maybe I can persuade general Arnold to leave your people alone.” “Let me come with you. We are blood-brothers. I want to die defending you.” “Come with me, brother.” The two rode off to meet the imperial army.

    Cyrus and Itza-lupan arrived at the imperial camp after two days of hard riding. Every soldier in the camp was looking at Cyrus. Cyrus did not look like an imperial soldier. He was dressed in buckskin and looked like a frontiersman. General Arnold looked over the walls and he recognized Cyrus. “Open the gates!” he cried. They sat down near a fire and the general said, “Cyrus, where are your men and why are you dressed like a frontiersman?” “The Apachenegs slaughtered my men. I am the only one left.” “Why are you traveling with this savage who might be responsible for the attack on your men?” “He led the attack himself but the Apachenegs have shown me nothing but kindness thereafter. I encourage you to negotiate for peace. The empire and the tribes can coexist peacefully.” “The empire cannot recognize their independence. They must submit to vassalage.” “Then you will have to deal with me. The Apachenegs are my family. I will not allow the empire to discard their independence.” “Then, from now on, I can no longer consider you my adopted son. You are a traitor to the empire. I would kill you here but that would violate your diplomatic immunity. The next time we see each other will be on the battlefield and I will kill you then. Now, depart.” The two left  but Cyrus could not have been sadder. This was his adoptive father calling him a traitor and abandoning him. He would have to kill one of the two men who helped raise him. There would be no joy in killing general Arnold.

Chapter Five

A Battle at the Camp

    It was a casual but weary day at the camp. The negotiations with the imperial forces had not gone too well. However, the Apachenegs had one advantage over the imperial army: they were dispersed throughout their vast hunting grounds. If one band was destroyed, the other bands would not be affected. So, Itza-lupan, Tayunko, and Itza-shalla spoke of what to do in case of an attack. “It would be best to gather all of the bands and burn out the imperials as soon as possible.” suggested Itza-shalla. Then Tayunko said, “My brother Geronimo had exceptionally good relations with the other bands. Maybe I can gather them around us.” “That must be done. Ride out to them today with all haste.” said Itza-lupan. With that Tayunko mounted the swiftest horse and rode out.

Then, suddenly, the roar of a cannon boomed through the camp. Itza-shalla shouted, “Warriors, fight for your tribe!” and the Apachenegs mounted. They rode out against the infantry and cavalry, desperately attempting to keep them away from the women and children. When he ran out of arrows, Itza-lupan draped on his wolf skin and charged. The cavalry’s bullets missed him as he mauled many of the Imperial cavalry. The Apachenegs rode circles around the cavalry and infantry, but the artillery proved to be too powerful for their few thousand warriors and several fell to the blast. Itza-shalla brandished his tomahawk and with Cyrus, he charged the cannons. Shot after shot missed them by sheer chance as they got closer. The Imperial infantry attempted to stop them, but Itza-shalla’s tomahawk was too close and Cyrus’ carbine was too fast. As Cyrus ran out of bullets in his rifle, he drew two of his revolvers and fired off rounds in quick succession, killing a man with every shot. When the revolvers ran out, he threw them at his foes in desperation and drew his third revolver alongside his saber. Then, he heard a shot more terrible than all the rest and he saw who fell: Itza-shalla. The great chief lay on the ground, clutching at his stomach. Cyrus saw a warrior riding towards him, and as he threw the chief onto the warrior’s horse, he cried, “Ride him to Sonsee-array! Save him!”. He saw the man who fired. It was General Arnold. The infuriated general drew his saber and he swung savagely at Cyrus. Cyrus met him with his own saber and the two exchanged in a furious blur of cut and thrust. They exchanged feints and changed directions but nothing seemed to work. They both swung furiously but the longer the duel dragged on, the more frustrated General Arnold became. He grabbed his sword in both hands and hacked viciously at Cyrus. Cyrus dodged and parried but his defense was already exhausted from hours of combat. His grip on his saber seemed to slip and with a vicious power stroke General Arnold slammed the saber from his hands. The general punched him with the guard and Cyrus fell. Time seemed to slow, but then he looked at Geronimo’s tomahawk. He grasped it as Arnold prepared to execute him. Some arrows whistled by as a vicious battle cry rang out. The arrows hit General Arnold and he fell to the ground. Cyrus rolled to the side and stood up. He viciously swung it at General Arnold’s head in a great cry and blood spurted from the general’s corpse. Cyrus looked out and he saw that Tayunko had fired those arrows as Tayunko led the warriors of the other bands. They had arrived in time.

But Cyrus was not joyous at the sight of the relief army. He could only see the corpse he had wrought. As the warriors rode past him, he collapsed in a lake of tears. The sounds of battle seemed to disappear. He collapsed onto the general’s bloody body in a lake of swelling tears. All he could see was the burning house. He did not kill a random soldier. He killed his second father. He held General Arnold’s corpse as he wept.

Then, he felt a warm, brotherly tap on his shoulder. It was Itza-lupan. Cyrus collapsed into his arms. For a long time, they just sat there with Cyrus lamenting. He wished he could save General Arnold but he was gone. Then, the two heard Tayunko crying, “Itza-lupan! Cyrus! Hurry!” They rose and they raced to the tent of Itza-shalla, hoping that he could be saved.