Nightblade's End

by Ryan Kirk

  “Thank you, Suzo. I will look into it.”

  The girl looked relieved, but didn’t leave. Asa’s eyes narrowed.

  “I’m sorry, but there’s one other question I wanted to ask.”

  Asa gave her a look that clearly stated she should ask it and leave.

  “Am I a nightblade?”

  Asa stopped sipping her beer mid-sip. She hadn’t been expecting that question. “No.”

  Suzo’s face fell, as though her closest family member had died. “Oh.”

  “Did you want to be one?”

  Suzo glanced up. “Yes. Well, no. I’m not sure. But it feels right to hold a sword, and I know I’m good. I thought that maybe I was one, and no one had noticed when I was young. I don’t remember ever being tested.”

  Asa felt a stirring of compassion for the young woman. “You’re very good, Suzo. But you aren’t a blade. I haven’t sensed anything from you. I’m sorry.”

  Suzo looked down at the table again, at her untouched drink. “It’s fine.” She paused, then looked back up, a sudden fire in her eyes. “I just want my life to matter. And this is the first time it feels like it has. Thank you.”

  With that, Suzo stood up and left, not even taking the time to say goodbye. Asa watched the girl go, finding herself suddenly missing the company.

  Suzo’s concerns left Asa with a predicament. The enemy you knew was far safer than the enemy in the shadows. She’d rather uncover this particular plot than scare them into hiding, only to try again later. She didn’t feel comfortable asking the other women to share what they knew. A single wrong word might be enough to alert the conspirators.

  So she put herself in their shoes. Asa believed in the women she recruited. She didn’t believe, after the intensive interrogation each woman subjected herself to, that anyone was actively trying to harm Mari. If the plotters were interested in the guard schedule, it probably didn’t actively involve the guards.

  Asa recognized the assumptions she was making, but had to stick by them. That meant the traitors most likely were looking for times when no nightblade was present. They probably felt more sure of their chances when only the ungifted were guarding Mari. Although only a guess, Asa felt the logic to be true. Her move, then, was obvious. Until now, guard shifts always included a nightblade. Most of the trainees hadn’t been ready to face threats on their own.

  The day after Asa heard Suzo’s concerns, she announced to all the trainees that they had graduated to full guards. They would still train daily, but they were now allowed to guard Mari without the presence of nightblades. When Asa and Takahiro made the schedules, Asa deliberately chose three nights to not have a nightblade present. The only people who knew of the plan were Asa, Takahiro, and Mari.

  During those open windows of time, Asa made sure to hide nearby, alert for any possible attacks. The first and the second night passed without incident, and by the middle of third night, Asa began to wonder if she’d made a mistake.

  She sat quietly in a corner of a room, hidden by a changing screen. In the center of the room, Mari took a bath, attended by two of her personal attendants. Two of Asa’s guards stood by the door, their shift almost over.

  Asa had just begun to believe she’d been entirely wrong when she sensed an unusual presence below her. The room they were in sat on the top floor of Mari’s estate, and a window looked out over parts of Stonekeep. The presences Asa felt were outside, climbing up.

  Asa nodded to herself. Although only two guards were in the room, the castle swarmed with them, and she’d wondered how the traitors would try to enter. Climbing had been one of her best guesses. The walls of Mari’s estate weren’t easy to climb, but for those who had grown up in the mountains, it shouldn’t prove too much of a problem. Asa sensed four men climbing up, their pace indicating they were having an easy time of it.

  She fought the temptation to warn everybody of what was coming. She wanted to capture at least one of the attackers and see if she could determine who was behind these plans. Mari suspected Yoshinori, but Asa wasn’t as sure. Yoshinori felt too political. He would make his moves in the closed council and in teahouses. The only way to know for sure, though, was to question one of the would-be assassins. She needed them to come in, and the only way to do that was to make sure they saw nothing but what they expected.

  Asa drew her swords slowly, making sure not to make a sound. Then she waited, focusing on her breath to pass the interminable moments until the battle began.

  The men, whoever they were, were careful. The window, for obvious reasons, had a changing screen sitting between it and the bath. Between the screen and the darkness of night outside, the men cast no shadows as they slid one at a time through the small opening.

  Asa gave them a hint of credit. After such a climb, she wasn’t sure she’d be able to move in such a smooth and controlled manner.

  As soon as they moved the screen aside, the room fell into immediate chaos.

  The women watching the door, unsurprisingly, were caught completely off-guard. Neither of them had experienced an attack before, and it took them several precious heartbeats to draw their weapons. Asa noted their reactions, though, and believed them both to be in genuine shock. Neither of them had expected this attack. Had Asa not been there, they wouldn’t have had a chance against the invaders.

  Asa came around her own screen with her swords ready, further confusing the guards. The guards hadn’t swept the room as they should have before letting Mari in, and they’d had no idea she hid there. Of the four men, three turned to meet the new threat, their stances relaxed. They expected an easy fight.

  The fourth man raised his sword to cut at Mari. He became Asa’s first target. She leaped at him, ignoring the wild attacks his partners used to try to stop her. The assassin looked up from his killing blow, unable to react in time. Asa smashed into him, knocking him to the floor and cutting across his torso as she rolled to her feet. She wasn’t sure it was a killing blow. She’d leave another alive, just in case.

  The other three moved in, attacking at the same time. But the room was dim, and Asa wore her loose, dark robes. The men couldn’t see her moves well, and she could sense each of theirs before they even attacked. Asa sliced her way through two of the men in only a moment, then kicked the fourth back into the corner she’d hid in, sending him crashing into the privacy screen.

  The chaos immediately subsided. Knowing the fourth man was alive, Asa turned quickly and killed the assassin she’d tackled first.

  The last man alive finally found his feet. Blood trickled from a cut in his forehead, making him wipe it away from his eye. The two guards in the room advanced on him, too. He was outnumbered, and now that he had time to see Asa’s robes, knew that he fought a nightblade as well.

  “Who sent you?” Asa asked.

  The man stood up straighter, apparently reaching a decision. For a single heartbeat, Asa worried the man would try charging through them all in a crazed attempt to kill Mari. Instead, he yelled, “I will not let this land fall into madness. This house begs for a true ruler!”

  Asa knew what the man was about to do, but was too far away to stop it. He slammed his sword into his own stomach, eyes bulging with pain as the reality of his action caught up with him. The man bled slowly, a painful way to go. No one had ever told him stomach wounds didn’t kill quickly.

  Asa bent down in front of him. “Who sent you? I can ease your pain.”

  The man tried to spit at her and failed. Shaking her head, Asa stood up and walked away, letting death do its slow work.

  11

  Koji avoided the battlefield after the battle ended. Under the orders of the dayblades in his group, he’d been forced to rest and recuperate. Though he’d never say as much out loud, the time was necessary. His body didn’t act the way it had in the past. He knew himself capable of tremendous feats of endurance. The recent battle had been evidence enough; he’d fought longer than any other blade. But the cost to his body went beyond mere physical exhaustion.
When the battle finished he’d felt entirely drained, as though his spirit itself was diminished.

  Rest healed the exhaustion, though he slept like the dead. Days passed without much activity. Fumio had his men strip the battlefield and burn what bodies they could. Even though he slept through most of the days, Koji heard enough to know that Katashi had retreated all the way to the river, pressed up against the bridge that led back to his lands. With the difference in their numbers, Fumio would be foolish to attack.

  Both sides rested, healing their wounds and making their plans. Several days after the battle ended, a messenger came for Koji. Fumio requested his presence.

  Walking to the general’s tent required a fair amount of his stamina, and Koji took note. Whatever was happening to him gave him strength and speed, but if he pushed too hard, the cost might be more than he could pay. As he walked, Koji heard the murmur of voices around him. Several warriors bowed in his direction as he passed. He barely noticed, focused as he was on putting one foot in front of the other.

  When he entered the command tent, everyone within stood and bowed deeply toward him. Koji frowned. “What’s the meaning of this?”

  Fumio answered, “Stories of your deeds have spread throughout the camp. Your force was vital in breaking Lord Katashi’s line, and tales of your own effort in the battle are now legendary.”

  Koji was too tired to take that in. At the moment, he was simply grateful he’d made it to the tent while still standing.

  Fumio gestured to a chair and ushered the others out. Soon the two of them were alone.

  “How are you?” the general inquired.

  “Exhausted, but good. You?”

  “Well. We’ve won our first engagement, and that will matter. I mean what I said. If not for you and the blades, I think that battle would have been hopeless. You ground their center down and allowed us to carry the day. Thank you.”

  “You’re welcome.”

  Fumio looked him over for a moment before handing over a sealed note. Koji looked at Mari’s seal, then up at Fumio. His question must have been obvious. “There were two copies of this order sent. I already know what it says.”

  Koji tore open the letter and read, his eyes opening wide. Then he read the letter again, to make sure he’d read it correctly. He set the letter down and stared blankly at the canvas walls of the tent.

  “Will you do it?” Fumio’s question sounded like genuine curiosity, as though the decision could go either way.

  Koji knew he would do it, but saying so out loud was more than he could bear. Finally, he nodded.

  “You don’t have to.”

  “Can you think of another way?”

  “Not without a great deal of luck, no.”

  “Neither can I.”

  The two of them sat in silence, each lost in their own thoughts. Fumio broke the quiet first. “It’s a horrible task she’s given you.”

  Koji nodded. “Were there another way, I would leap for it, but I do not know what it might be.”

  Fumio stood up and gave Koji another bow. “You bear much of our safety, and our shame. You have my gratitude and my respect, come what may.”

  Koji returned the bow, a wave of feeling washing over him. “I will leave most of the blades with you. Their new commander will report by the end of the day. I will not order anyone to follow me, but some will, I am certain.”

  Koji left the tent, his mind surprisingly calm. He’d been given orders, and no matter how he felt about them, he would complete them. The lives of countless people depended on him.

  He walked toward the camp where the blades resided. He’d have to take volunteers, because he’d never order anyone to follow the instructions Mari had given him.

  Entering Katashi’s lands proved to be more straightforward than Koji expected. After considering a few different options, Koji decided his group was small enough that they didn’t need to fight over one of the contested bridge crossings. He only had a dozen blades with him, and there was no point in risking lives needlessly. Instead, he hired three small boats to ferry them across the river at an unguarded location in the middle of the night.

  The crossing wasn’t without challenges. One of the boats ended up getting lost in the current, depositing the nightblades who rode in it almost a league downstream from the others. Fortunately, they had planned for such a circumstance, and the group united before daybreak at a prearranged location.

  The blades dressed in traveling clothes, but Koji led them away from well-traveled roads and towns. The fewer people who saw them, the better off they would be.

  Koji didn’t like his orders, but his approval wasn’t necessary. His logic was straightforward and simple: he believed in Mari and would go to any lengths to see her dream of a peaceful land realized. If that required someone to engage in horrible acts, he would shoulder the burden.

  Their trek through Katashi’s lands made him reflective, though. He was born here, and while he no longer had any particular attachment to the area, he found his mind wandering frequently. After two days of travel, his primary realization was how little difference there was between this land and Mari’s.

  The grass and crops here were in no better condition than the land they had left. Drought had struck here just as much as it had leagues away. The people here suffered from hunger and starvation as well. In truth, the situation might even be worse.

  Koji supposed there was a lesson here. It was easy to assume your enemies led an entirely different life than yours, that there was some fundamental difference that couldn’t be overcome. However, as Koji and his fellow blades traveled, he realized just how mistaken that idea was. Farmers here fought against the land and the drought just as they did in Mari’s lands. Knowing the suffering he was about to inflict on them made his head spin. But for Mari’s peace, his actions were necessary.

  After a few days of traveling, Koji decided that he would risk approaching a village to gather more information. One of the blades, a young woman named Sakura, volunteered to join him. The other blades set up camp far away from prying eyes.

  The village they entered could barely be called that. The entire place consisted of no more than ten homes, all grouped together with a small clearing in the center for gatherings. Koji and Sakura approached as travelers, their swords well-concealed. Sakura, in particular, hated the idea of hiding her weapons. Her pride as a nightblade directed many of her actions, and if she’d had her way, she’d have walked straight into the village with her sword on her hip, proclaiming who she was as loudly as the black robes they usually wore.

  As they neared, Koji’s eyes took in new details. Every house looked as though it had seen far better days. Where there was paint, it peeled away from the wood, old and faded. Windows were cracked but not replaced, and at least one roof had a hole. None of the wear made the houses uninhabitable, but in Koji’s experience, people tended to take better care of their homes if they could.

  The people didn’t look to be in much better condition. One older woman in particular looked like a skeleton draped with loose flesh.

  Koji noticed the lack of fighting-age men. One elderly gentleman looked as though he’d seen over sixty cycles. Other than that, the oldest male Koji saw was a child who couldn’t have seen more than eight cycles. Even the boy moved lethargically, as though each step carried a heavy weight.

  Koji didn’t consider himself naive. He knew war affected civilians as well. When the army went to war, so did everyone else. But he’d never seen suffering like this in a place that had seen no battle. This village lacked the people and supplies necessary to survive. He’d heard that Katashi’s land lacked resources, but to see the lack with his own eyes almost made Koji doubt his purpose.

  The elderly man approached Koji, his voice wary. “Greetings, traveler. What brings you here?”

  Koji noted the hint of suspicion. He was a terrible liar, but fortunately they’d come up with a story on the way. Koji bowed. “Greetings, elder. I work for a noble from the s
outh, and I’m traveling the land to assess the needs of the people, and to see what can be offered in trade.”

  The old man glanced suspiciously at Sakura, and Koji stepped in before he could ask his question. “My wife. She wished to travel, and there was no denying her.”

  The elder still gave them suspicious glances, but he didn’t question them. His doubt receded further when Koji presented a small selection of their supplies. “By this point, most of our goods are gone, but we offer these to your village to ease your burdens.”

  Looking around, Koji realized that the small bag of rice they had brought would do very little good. All the same, the elder lit up and bowed deeply to the pair. “You have my gratitude.”

  They sat down on logs in the center of the village, and Koji inquired about recent events.

  The elder spoke more freely, the rice effectively buying his trust. “As you can see, the past few moons have been difficult. Our food stores are low. But our faith in Lord Katashi is absolute, and we know that our victory is assured by the end of the season. Do you deal personally with our lord?”

  Koji, unsure of what to say, nodded.

  A fanatical gleam lit in the older man’s eye. “Will you tell him that he has our full support? Every one of us here is willing to do anything necessary to ensure our lord is successful. Will you tell him that, the next time you see him?”

  Koji nodded. He became distinctly uncomfortable under the old man’s gaze. The depth of his belief rattled Koji. From everything the blade could see, Katashi had done nothing but take from this village, and yet their belief in him was absolute, defying the reality of the situation.

  The old man looked down at his hands. “I only wish that these hands were stronger, so that I could continue to serve my lord and cut down his enemies.”

  Koji didn’t know how to respond, but continued nodding in agreement. Fortunately, the man was beside himself with fervor, and didn’t notice Koji much at all anymore.

  In time, Koji felt it prudent to leave. The man knew little of any troop movements, or any information of value. Koji had seen firsthand how Katashi treated his people, and that was enough for the moment. They bid farewell and left, making sure to travel in a false direction until they were beyond sight of the village. But even though they’d left the village behind, Koji couldn’t help but feel queasy at the unquestioning devotion he’d just seen.