Nightblade's End

by Ryan Kirk

  Their report was disheartening. The cavalry had made camp, but had done so on a small rise. Although it couldn’t even be called a hill, it gave them the advantage of the upper ground and allowed them an uninterrupted view of the area around them. Koji and the other blades would have to crawl through the grass to avoid detection.

  Koji didn’t allow himself the luxury of despair. The path in front of them was their only one. The clouds would keep the moon from shining too much, which gave them a chance. Still, all it would take was one observant guard and one mistake from the blades to lose the element of surprise. If they lost that, the battle could be anyone’s to win.

  Koji figured they had jogged about another half a league when the scouts motioned for them to begin crawling. Off in the distance, Koji could see the fires of his targets, which looked far away, tiny flickering lights off in the distance. They were thousands of paces away at least. Still, there was no other way of sneaking up on their enemies, so they dropped to hands and knees, crawling as one large mass toward the encampment.

  By the time Koji guessed they were halfway there, his limbs burned. Running was a challenge he could handle. That, he had trained for. But crawling was exhausting. More than once, Koji signaled for a stop. If the others felt as exhausted as he did, the rest would be necessary. They still needed to fight. One advantage, if it could be called that, was that there had been few rains lately, and the ground underneath them was firm. But while their hands and knees didn’t sink into soft dirt or mud, he soon began to feel as though he had rubbed his knees and hands raw.

  They drew close enough that Koji didn’t dare raise his head above the level of the grass to explore the surroundings. He could sense the life of the soldiers in front of them, and he could sense the energy of the blades behind him. Crawling through the grass had separated his blades, the task testing even their physical abilities.

  Making matters worse, the moon continued crawling toward the horizon, signaling the imminent break of dawn. Koji had to assume that the soldiers would be up early to continue the pursuit. The window of time they had to surprise their opponents closed with every torturous movement the blades made.

  Soon he was within twenty paces of the nearest guards. He stopped, waiting for some of the stragglers to catch up. As they did, they all caught their breath. So far the alarm had not been raised, but they were quickly running out of time. Glancing over his shoulder, Koji could see the very first hints of light on the horizon. Before long the camp would come alive and their surprise would be wasted. At the same time, his people were exhausted. He was exhausted, and in battle, that could easily mean the difference between life and death.

  Koji needed to find the balance between rest and action. He lay in the grass, breathing deeply, focusing on finding the moment they should strike. He felt the strength of the blades returning around him. They had pushed to the limit of their abilities, but the work wasn’t yet over.

  He didn’t know why he made the decision when he did. Perhaps he’d heard the cough of a man waking up from sleep, or maybe he’d just grown tired of waiting. The tension before the battle could drive a warrior to madness. Acting almost on impulse, Koji closed most of the distance between him and the guards and leaped at them.

  Their surprise was complete. He could only imagine it. All night, they had kept watch on what they had believed to be an empty prairie. And now a nightblade had risen from the grass like a ghost of vengeance.

  Koji was between the first guards before they could even work their swords out of their scabbards. His own blade cut twice in the fading darkness, and the guards fell without a sound. All around the camp, blades came out of the grass, attacking the guards nearest them. There weren’t many. In moments, the initial assault was over, and an eerie silence fell over the camp.

  The blades had given no battle cry. For a moment, an alert warrior might have heard the sound of bodies falling limply to the ground, but then a breeze came up and the only sound was the swishing of the grass in the wind.

  Koji gave the signal to the rest of the blades and they began working their way through the camp. He tried not to think about what he did. Steel pierced the hearts of sleeping enemies, or was drawn over exposed necks. Death came as silently and softly as the summer breeze.

  With every kill, Koji felt himself falling, a little piece of himself left in each tent he entered. This wasn’t battle, but murder. How long could it last?

  His answer came about the time he’d worked his way halfway to the center of the camp. He supposed it was only a matter of time before someone awoke to discover what was happening. A yell came from the other side of the camp. “Attack!”

  The shout was quickly silenced, but the damage was done. Around the camp, the soldiers who still lived roused to wakefulness, and several other shouts joined the first. The orderly slaughter became chaotic battle in moments.

  Koji moved faster, trying to end the battle as quickly as possible. He moved surely, not a single cut wasted. When he sensed life inside a tent he stabbed his sword in through the canvas. His aim wasn’t always true, and not every thrust was a kill, but every stab at least wounded the occupant inside. Those who managed to stumble out of the tents, bleary-eyed and unclothed, met a cleaner end.

  Koji was surrounded by death, blood, and screams. One man came out of a tent with his hands up, and Koji cut through him, only realizing after the deed was done the man had surrendered. Dawn was still a little ways away, and the soldiers who did make it out of their tents were cut down by shadows they could barely see.

  Near the center of the camp, one man stepped out of his tent, his sword already in a high guard position. There was something different about this man, and it took Koji a few moments to figure out what it was. A second glance revealed that the man held himself well but was also dressed in finer clothes than the other soldiers. Perhaps he was a noble. Eager for an actual fight, Koji passed by several occupied tents to duel the swordsman.

  He let Koji make the first cut, reacting with practiced ease, countering and moving into a strike of his own. Even though the risk to Koji was greater than just moments ago, he found himself relaxing into the fight. This was combat, something he understood.

  He let the fight go on longer than he should have. Fighting the noble centered him in his body again, and he didn’t want to let the feeling go. He knew the other blades approached the center of the camp and their work was almost done. Finishing this fight meant confronting what he had just done.

  Koji won the centerline and almost struck, but then allowed the man a wild flurry of strikes. With Koji’s sense, he felt the attacks coming before they arrived and had no problem parrying or dodging each one. Finally, realizing how foolish he was being, Koji dodged a cut, slipped inside the man’s guard, and killed him. That kill, at least, had been honorable.

  As the noble fell lifeless to the ground, the enormity of what they had done sunk into Koji’s heart. His blades wandered throughout the camp, killing the last survivors with little difficulty. The rout was complete, but as Koji looked around he felt no sense of satisfaction. This was no battle, no contest he would ever be proud of.

  Blood trickled throughout the camp, and eventually the final sounds of the dying were silenced to nothing. The only sounds were those of songbirds chirping in the distance and the fire crackling in the center of the camp, almost burned out. Koji looked around again, torn between imprinting this scene on his memory to guide him forever, or to close his eyes and pretend like it had never happened.

  He didn’t even give the orders to loot what supplies they could. He simply wiped his sword clean, sheathed it, and walked away.

  15

  Mari experienced a strange mix of emotions as she looked out over the walls of Stonekeep at the procession moving up the narrow road. Lord Isamu’s banners snapped in the wind, the symbol of his house making her feel ill. Those banners hadn’t been seen anywhere near Stonekeep for many cycles, as the southern lord preferred to have the others come to
him in times of peace.

  Those banners also flew over the armies that invaded her lands. The armies that, thanks to Hajimi’s timely information, sought to destroy her even as their leader met to discuss the terms of peace.

  Part of her wanted to call out to her archers, to shout the order to rain down death and destruction on the small party. It would be easy. They’d been certain to withhold all other traffic from the road during the procession. Attacking Isamu wouldn’t risk a single soldier, and it would kill a man who worked to destroy her lands.

  Unfortunately, killing Isamu did no good other than sating her own anger. If Isamu died while under her protection, not only would the opposing armies have a new cause to rally behind, but her enemies within the house would have reason to doubt her ability to lead. Perversely, Isamu’s well-being was crucial to Mari’s own.

  Besides that, of the other lords, Isamu was the most likely to be amenable to a deal. He was a coward and an opportunist. He was the only lord who had served under a king, and he had weathered the storms of the past two cycles by keeping himself out of the middle of the battle. But if she could convince him to cease his attacks, the balance of power in the Kingdom would shift.

  Mari wondered what the lord was thinking as he approached. Did he expect her to surrender? She wouldn’t be surprised. By most accounts, Mari and House Kita were losing this war. If not surrender, Isamu at least expected an alliance with major concessions.

  Whatever he expected, he would not be pleased by the time he left. Although this meeting had been forced by the other nobles of her house, their reasoning was sound. Mari would support Isamu’s claim to the throne, but she would demand more than he might be willing to give. Lacking that, she had other ideas, which he also might detest. But he would not receive her surrender. Her people would not suffer the oversight of a different house that would only take advantage of them.

  Mari felt a slight shiver pass through her body as the first ranks of Isamu’s honor guard crossed underneath the gates and into the narrow alleys. The group would be vulnerable to attacks for hundreds of paces, even when they reached the first courtyard, which was also designed as a killing ground in case of attack. The temptation to order one almost overwhelmed her. With one command, she could cut off the head of another house. Denying herself tested her will nearly to its limit.

  She shook her head. Isamu’s line was strong, and given the chaos of the past cycles, she no doubt his successor was prepared, unlike in the other houses. Killing him would only turn them more firmly against her.

  Mari came down from the walls to the courtyard where Isamu and his honor guard waited. Although this was a routine greeting, Mari could feel the tension in the air. She brought with her only four of her closest guards, no more than she’d take if she was taking a trip to the outhouse. Asa, for some reason, hadn’t shown up, but that was a problem for Mari to solve later. Against the hundred soldiers that made up Isamu’s guard, they stood no chance. Mari offered the same chance to Isamu he’d offered by coming into Stonekeep. What better way to prove her trust?

  With an unseen signal, the guards, dressed in the green of Isamu’s house, split apart, giving Mari an open passage to Isamu. She stepped forward, leaving her guards behind.

  Isamu slid down from his horse, and their eyes met for the first time in many cycles. Mari kept her face carefully neutral as she bowed towards him slightly. He returned the bow to the same depth, a small token of respect at least. Perhaps there was a chance for peace. She almost dared to hope.

  “I welcome you to Stonekeep, Lord Isamu. It has been many cycles since you last visited, and I am honored that you accepted my request.”

  Isamu looked around warily, as though still expecting some sort of trap. His reply was rote, not displaying a hint of his true feelings. “I am honored by the invitation. Thank you for your hospitality.”

  Mari gestured towards the path that led to the main center of the city. “In your most recent letter, you indicated a desire to visit the shrines dedicated to my father and brother. I would be pleased to escort you. Any men who don’t join us will be shown to their lodging by my chief adviser, Takahiro.”

  Isamu agreed to the idea and selected four of his own guards. Mari made note of the number, pleased that Isamu didn’t disrespect her hospitality. The signs were small, but the other lord gave every indication of being willing to work together.

  Mari led the way toward the shrines for her departed family. The journey was a considerable distance, and out of respect for her guest, she deliberately slowed her pace. Stonekeep’s steep roads exhausted most visitors, and Isamu was hardly in peak condition. As a consequence, it took them no insignificant amount of time to get to the shrines, and by the time they did, the heavyset lord panted constantly and wiped his brow every few moments, even though they never moved much faster than a slow walk. As a polite host, Mari made no mention of it.

  With all the duties requiring her attention, Mari hadn’t visited the shrines nearly as often as she would have liked. She was the one who’d ordered them made, and their design reflected her own simple beliefs. There were small symbols representing each of the family members she had lost. The shrine was guarded day and night by a few members of the previous honor guard, and Mari had made it known that any attempt to dishonor the shrine would be met with the harshest consequences.

  She was surprised to see the genuine emotion on Isamu’s face as he knelt slowly and bowed his head towards the shrines. When she’d received the note, she had expected the request was some sort of political maneuver designed to influence the way she felt about the lord. But seeing the small contortions on his face and the grief that he wore, Mari revised her original assumption. She paid her own respects, then waited until Isamu finished. When he stood back up, she was surprised to see that his eyes were bloodshot.

  She spoke softly. “I did not know how strongly you felt about my family.”

  Isamu’s lips compressed into a tight line. When he spoke, it sounded as though he was still fighting for control. “I miss your father dearly. We were both rulers in a time of stability, and in the chaos that surrounds us now, his wisdom is greatly missed. However, it is Juro that I miss the most. Did you know that I was with him just a day before he died?”

  Mari gave a small nod. Thanks to her own research, plus her acquaintance with Asa and Koji, she knew the story of Juro’s last days better than almost anyone else.

  Isamu continued, his eyes focused on some point far in the distance. “I’ve thought often about those days, and if something could’ve been done differently. I do not have many answers, but I can tell you this: Juro always behaved honorably, no matter how desperate the situation became. He was a good man, and in many ways, when I look back upon my behavior in the time of crisis, I am ashamed. Your brother, young as he was, taught me to hold myself to a higher standard. You should be proud of him.”

  The words touched Mari. She bowed, more deeply, to Isamu. “I am.”

  Isamu’s posture shifted, and Mari received the impression that they were about to move to the reason of Isamu’s visit. He spoke with a sudden firmness. “I also know from your father’s letters that Juro only accepted the head of his household with great complaint. He did not seek to rule. Unfortunately, he was born a warrior, but he died before the war arrived.”

  He gave Mari a meaningful glance. “But here you are, claiming the head of your house in the midst of the war. From the reports I’ve heard, you’ve clawed and scratched your way to the top and barely hold your house.”

  The pride and warmth that Mari had felt vanished instantly. There was no respect for Mari’s rule in that statement. Isamu acted as though she only played at ruling the house and clearly did not take her authority seriously. But she wouldn’t meet his disrespect with her own. “Like all of us, I only do what I’m called to. My people need protection in these chaotic times, and that is my sole concern.”

  Something she said must have resonated with Isamu, because he nodded a
s though she had said something worthy. “I think by inviting me here, you’ve taken the appropriate first steps. This war could destroy us all.”

  Mari didn’t want to begin this conversation quite yet. Isamu had arrived more quickly than she’d anticipated, and to have the strongest bargaining position, she needed another day. Fortunately, as host to this gathering, there were many tricks at her disposal. “Lord Isamu, we do have much to discuss, but I would not take advantage of one who has spent all day traveling. As you may recall, here in Stonekeep the sun sets early. You and your men will be provided for, and tomorrow at noon we will hold a feast to celebrate your arrival. Afterward, we can discuss the future of our two houses.”

  Her last line had been carefully crafted. If he did suspect surrender, it would lull him into a false sense of security. Regardless, she dangled a carrot out in front of him, making it in his best interests to be agreeable. A brief look of frustration passed over Isamu’s face, but he hid it quickly. If Mari hadn’t been looking for it, she probably wouldn’t have seen it.

  Isamu’s interests would be better served by moving faster. Every day that passed was another day where his army’s plot to the south might be discovered. But Mari had her own reasons for delaying. The two of them played a complex game, and they had just made the opening moves.

  Mari forced herself to stop tapping her foot. Soon she would meet with Isamu for the first time that day, and the true negotiations for the future of her house would begin. Her mind sprinted from idea to idea, never pausing long on any one. Concerns threatened to overwhelm her.

  Foremost in her mind was the future of her lands. She’d scripted, rehearsed, and practiced for this meeting. Takahiro had spent most of his time the past few days pretending to be Isamu. How he’d gotten anything else done, Mari had no idea. Mari knew she was prepared, but the stakes were impossibly high. Mistakes today could doom everyone in her lands.