Chapter 33. The sky above was blood-red with the first fires of sunset when Roshan awoke.

The soldiers were gone at last, driven far down the mountain paths in fear and confusion. Their

memories of the terrors they had faced in the High Valley were garbled, and would fade into

fitful nightmares. But not before the legends had spread to the villages below.

The tales of the angry spirits atop the mountains would keep the narrow pass free from intruders

for a time, though for how long not even the master could say. Rachan walked slowly amongst the

bodies of the fallen soldiers, their blood now black upon the rocks of the path that led into the valley.

He walked in silence for a time, his face betraying nothing of his thoughts.

Stood alone on the high rock wall where he took his exercises.

Motionless, the young man in the mask watched and said nothing.

Roshan's elder student waited smugly as if expecting congratulations.

Rashan did not hurry, but walked up to him slowly and held his eye firmly, but with sadness.

"'I have taught you nothing,' he said quietly.

One started as if he'd been slapped.

But Master, no, Russian said firmly, no.

There is nothing that can excuse this slaughter.

One's jaw set firmly his cheeks flushed with anger.

I did what I had to do to defend this place, to defend you.

Liar!

The master's voice boomed.

You did what you did for your own pleasure and vanity.

You wreak of self-satisfaction!

...