Nightblade

by Ryan Kirk

  He had dispatched Orochi and the entire house had started to fall around him. If one nightblade could take out a monastery, what could two of them do? Akira couldn’t imagine the fear if the public found out. The monasteries were supposed to be the protection against nightblades. He began to understand why they had been so feared. As advisers and warriors they must have been invaluable allies, and the number of them would have guaranteed some degree of safety because one could always be dealt with by another. But with only a handful of them running around, nothing short of a dozen squads of soldiers could take out one of them. It was ridiculous how much they altered the balance of power.

  Akira was balanced on the edge of a sword. On one hand, the boy was a threat. He had taken out the monastery and killed an official’s son. What bothered Akira was that he didn’t know why the boy had attacked the monastery. Had he tracked Orochi there? Did he come to rescue the girl? Her name had been, what, Moriko? He couldn’t think of a reason why he would rescue her. Maybe to take her as a hostage against Orochi?

  He shook his head. It was dangerous to make assumptions without information. He knew the boy represented a threat to his Kingdom. But he wasn’t convinced the boy wouldn’t simply return to hiding if the threat to his life disappeared. He had lived his entire life in hiding and had only come to light when the girl was threatened. It seemed logical to assume the boy would return to the state he knew best.

  But Nori needed a head. Otherwise he would become unhinged. From every report he was already close to losing everything that made him a valuable asset. But if Akira allowed Orochi to continue, he made an enemy out of a nightblade who had already proved he could disrupt major operations.

  Akira’s head swirled with the complications of the situation. There wasn’t an option without risk, but to not make a decision was even more dangerous. He did the best he could to protect his people, but the constant stress of knowing one wrong decision could mean the death or enslavement of his people haunted him every moment.

  After completing another circuit of the rooms, he stopped again at the map. He couldn’t help but think that if he had two nightblades in his employ his position against the other Kingdoms would be strengthened. It was against the terms of the treaty, but the risk seemed worth the reward. Commanders who would never fall for an ambush, assassins who knew exactly where they would never be seen. The uses for them were endless and the temptation was strong.

  He tried to resist the temptation. His father had cautioned him about the dangers of power. Akira had always tried to live by his father’s advice, never wanting to do anything more than rule the Southern Kingdom well. To try for more was to risk it all.

  Nori was the problem. His descent into alcoholism was concerning. Akira insisted on discipline among his troops, and an army was a small family. Word of his behavior would spread. If it affected the army the pass and the Kingdom were at risk. Nori’s position was of vital importance and something had to be done to ensure he stayed in one piece.

  Akira considered the distances and the risks. Perhaps he could allow Nori a personal leave and have him meet up with Orochi. Even for his age, Nori was one of the top swordsmen in the country, and Akira knew he had kept his skills as well-honed as his blades. He might be an asset to Orochi, just as Orochi may temper Nori’s rage. It also gave Nori the purpose he was looking for. That purpose would draw him out of his alcoholism and set him on a straighter path.

  With a set of horses, Nori could make it to where Orochi’s last reported location was. If the hunt was completed soon, Nori could be back with the army moons before it was ready to march south again for the spring. The plan wasn’t without its risks, of course, but it also seemed like the best option.

  Akira left his main room and went to his private offices where he started drafting out two letters. The first was to Orochi, ordering him to stay in one place until General Nori arrived. Akira did not attempt to use any guile. Nori was an exceptional swordsman and had a strong personal hatred of the target. He was to assist Orochi in any way possible, and Orochi was to defer to him in matters of strategy.

  The second letter was to General Nori. It explained to him that Akira’s top assassin had been assigned to the mission of avenging Nori’s son. He was waiting and Akira was sending Nori to assist him. Nori was to travel with no more than a small group of men.

  After writing the letters, Akira sealed them and pushed away from his writing-desk. He hesitated just a moment before calling for a messenger. He had trained himself many cycles ago to learn that at a certain point a man simply had to act. He had to make the best decisions possible with the information available to him. Once committed, he just had to accept the consequences.

  Akira called for his secretary, asking that the messages be sent that day. He hoped both made it in time. He felt as though his Kingdom was unraveling in front of him.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX

  It took Orochi a moment after he woke up to remember where he was. It took only the barest shifting of his weight for his memory to come back to him. Shigeru had cut him deep. If his cut had been just a bit faster, Orochi would be as dead as Shigeru. It had been closer than he expected.

  Just as he had every day since he had come upon the farmhouse, Orochi replayed the fight in his mind. It had happened fast. In some part of his mind he had built up his expectations for the confrontation into epic proportions. But it had just been a few moves. Shigeru must have figured out Orochi was faster, just a little stronger. A couple of more passes and Shigeru knew that he wasn’t going to be able to get past Orochi’s guard.

  In hindsight, Shigeru’s decision was brilliant. Orochi had never seen a move quite like it before. Shigeru had left a small, minuscule opening in his guard, the sort of opening only an expert swordsman would be able to see and take advantage of. Orochi hadn’t even questioned it. He moved in, the killing strike happening within the space of heartbeat.

  But it had all been a ruse. In the moment Orochi attacked Shigeru’s blade had turned in. It was a sacrifice, taking advantage of the moment without defense to strike. Orochi had seen the blade coming and had managed to shift his weight slightly, just enough that the cut wasn’t fatal. It had still almost killed him. He had attempted to field-dress the wound, but he hadn’t done very good work.

  The fever had been devastating, and it was only due to the assistance of others that he was alive today, a fact that grated on him. Ever since he had left the island he had depended on no one but himself and had done well.

  Worse, the fever had taken almost a moon to break. He had been unable to move, unable to use the sense, unable to do anything that made his life worth living. He had considered giving it all up, letting the fever take him or ending his own life. He had killed Shigeru. He had taken his revenge. It was all that he had wanted for as long as he could remember. Now that it was complete, he felt an emptiness he didn’t know how to fill.

  The only thing that kept him going was the thought of the boy, whom he assumed was Shigeru’s son. The boy made Akira’s honor guard, perhaps the best swordsmen in the Kingdom, look like children with sticks.

  Orochi’s curiosity kept him going. He wanted to know how the boy had managed to reach such a high level without training. His first thought had been that Shigeru had discovered training secrets without the masters on the island. But Shigeru hadn’t discovered the secrets. If he had, Orochi wouldn’t have had a chance in their duel. Even with Orochi’s skill at suppressing the way the sense encountered his life, he was still confident that with those skills Shigeru would have killed him.

  Somehow the boy had learned, and Orochi wanted to know how.

  The wind and snow howled outside and Orochi couldn’t help but think of the legends of the elemental dragons that commoners still told. It was easy to imagine the wind swirling around his ankles as the tail of the dragon attempting to trip him up, and the ice which struck all over his body, the frozen breath of the beast.

  Orochi pushed his thoughts aside as he app
roached the command tent. He had heard stories of the general he was about to meet. A swordsman who could hold off a squad of men with no more difficulty than a woodsman raising his axe. A man who, it had been rumored at one point in time, was the reincarnation of Morehei, the legendary nightblade of old. Orochi snorted to himself. If nothing else, the man knew how to build a reputation.

  But Orochi had also heard the rumors of the old man's weakness. When the boy had killed his pathetic excuse of a son the general had broken like a dry twig. Orochi had nothing but contempt. The man may have been great once, but a man who allowed adversity to triumph over him had no place in Orochi's world.

  Orochi had considered destroying Akira's letter or killing the messenger and striking out on his own again. He had killed Shigeru and his life's purpose had been fulfilled. But his own code held his hand from his blade. Akira had always been honest with him and had wielded him well. If he left Akira's service he would do so to his face.

  Orochi was also troubled by the sense he had of the boy, and not just the power he displayed. There was something, a current underneath the surface of reality surrounding him, but Orochi couldn’t put his finger on it. It was like trying to catch a feather falling from the sky. The more he tried to catch it, the further he pushed it away. He felt it was important, vital even that he understand it.

  Orochi shook his head. Some mysteries wouldn’t be solved today. He pushed aside the tent flap and stepped in, the heat hitting him like a blow to the face. It was a simple tent unfit for a general of Nori's stature, which was why it had been chosen. But the heat within was unbearable, especially for Orochi.

  Orochi knew Nori wasn't much older, but the two of them were separated by much more than just a few cycles. Nori was by the fireside, a cup of whiskey in his hand. Orochi didn't need his sense to tell the man was dying whether he realized it or not. His hand shook almost imperceptibly. His sword wasn't even within reach, marking him as careless as well.

  He had been a true warrior once. Orochi’s eye took him in. The calluses on his hands, the defined muscles, slightly the worse for age. But it was the recent decay which was the most obvious. The disheveled hair, the bags under his eyes. Nori's weakness made him sick. Orochi knew firsthand the pain that came with losing a loved one. In his case it had been partly his own fault Yuki had died. Nori didn't even have that to deal with, yet was finding refuge in drink instead of in warfare. Orochi suppressed his rage. He had seen it before, the toll that living took upon those still alive.

  Nori looked at Orochi with open contempt. Orochi had half expected this sort of reaction. Nori knew nothing about Orochi whereas Orochi knew almost all about Nori. Orochi suspected Akira would have described him as little as possible to his general to keep his secret. It gave him yet another advantage over the decaying man.

  Orochi kept himself at a relaxed attention. He didn't approve of Akira's orders even though he understood his motivation well enough. He would follow them out of respect for his word, but he didn't have to like Nori or show this man any more respect than he deserved.

  The moment Nori opened his mouth, Orochi knew for sure he was drunk even though the sun had recently risen over the tops of the trees.

  "So you are the man Akira sent after the murderer of my son!"

  Orochi raised an eyebrow in surprise. To refer to Akira without his title could be considered treason in some areas. To show contempt for a man of Orochi's size was downright foolish. Either the man had a high opinion of his abilities or was more drunk than Orochi suspected. Either way, he kept his silence.

  "Our Lord has sent me here to finish the job you could not. I'll need all the information you have on the whereabouts of our targets. Once we have found them, I will show you what it means to be a warrior."

  In other circumstances, Orochi would have removed his accuser's head. But Nori was in such a pitiful state it would have dishonored his blade.

  "Yes. May I ask what your plan is?"

  Orochi grinned at the anger on Nori's face. The general did not appreciate Orochi's lack of manners. He didn’t come here expecting to be treated as an equal. Nori was a man used to deference, used to fear. He wouldn’t find either in Orochi.

  With effort, Orochi swallowed his pride. Killing Nori would gain him nothing and potentially lose him everything. His arrangement with Akira had been beneficial to this point and a drunken general wasn't worth losing it.

  "I'll prepare my notes and bring them to you by first light tomorrow."

  Nori nodded. “Good.” His attitude made it clear their meeting was over.

  Orochi shook his head as he turned around and walked out of the tent. He preferred his life simple. He did not care for court intrigue or desire power. He had wanted revenge, and with that complete he found he wanted peace and to be left alone.

  It had been so warm in the tent Orochi had forgotten the blizzard outside. The cold wind cut right through his robes and for a moment Orochi relished the sensation. It felt more real and more right than anything happening in the tent behind him.

  He scanned the surrounding area. There had to be someone around worth talking to. He saw the man standing guard at the perimeter of the camp. Despite the freezing temperatures and wind, he stood relaxed but firm in his post. His insignia marked him as a higher ranked infantryman, not an officer. But Orochi guessed besides himself and a sober Nori, this man was probably the best swordsman of the bunch, as well as the most intelligent. Just what he was looking for.

  Orochi walked up to the soldier, remaining in the soldier's field of vision so as not to give any indication of stealth. He noted the soldier slightly shifted his stance so he was facing Orochi. Although he didn't bring his hand any closer to his sword, it was clear he was ready for combat.

  Orochi saw the shift, and the soldier saw that Orochi had seen it. They both broke out in a small smile and Orochi bowed his head slightly, a token of respect to the other man.

  The soldier was eager for company. "So you're the assassin?"

  Orochi grinned. Such forthrightness was rare but appreciated. "Yes."

  The soldier’s eyes took in Orochi. "Good?"

  "Yes."

  The soldier nodded. "I thought as much. You're certainly intimidating, even from a distance. Would you care to spar sometime when I'm not on duty?"

  Orochi liked this man. "As time permits, yes."

  The man lived and breathed swordsmanship because from the man's glances Orochi could tell he was about to ask about Orochi's blade. He spoke quickly to interrupt the process before it started. He jerked his head at Nori's tent. "How long as he been like that?"

  The man glanced around, although no one was anywhere near earshot with the blizzard howling around them. "I'd rather not say, sir."

  "I need to know if I can depend on him when the moment comes. I'm not out to ruin his reputation.”

  The guard thought for a moment. "You can always depend on him. Just needs a little action to remind him why he's alive. Moping around like he is now, he can only think of his boy and that causes him to drink. All this traveling, with nothing to do, he's only gotten worse. But get him out hunting and he'll be back sure as the sun will rise."

  Orochi digested the advice, trying to determine if he trusted this opinion. To be a member of an honor guard meant loyalty, an unwavering devotion to a lord. But most men were not fools, biased they may be. Nori had been formidable before. Perhaps if the alcohol were to leave his system he may be again.

  He was surprised to find he wanted to believe it. The man had lost a son and that would impact any man's soul. For the son to be so near when it happened, to be protected by the very army that defined the man had to bring a unique pain. There was no honor to be found in the bottom of a wine cup, but it was a cold man who wouldn't mourn the loss of a son.

  Orochi shivered. Such dark thoughts depressed him although they came more often since his fight with Shigeru. It was if Shigeru's blade had struck him not to kill, but instead to fester, thoughts of remorse and lo
ss crawling their way to his heart.

  He shook his head. Thinking such thoughts would get him nowhere. Better to act than to reflect. He strode to his tent, already looking forward to his routines. One could never practice forms too much, and the purity of movement often burned away the thoughts of his own past.

  When the sun rose the next morning Orochi was prepared. He woke light and refreshed. His kata the night before had stripped him of his fear and concern.

  Orochi stepped out of his tent to greet the new day. The blizzard had passed through in the night and a virgin snow lay all around him, undisturbed except for the path of footsteps left by the few sentries overnight. The air was crisp and chilled his throat, but there was no wind, and his robes kept him warm enough.

  He walked to Nori's tent to let the guards know he would request another audience as soon as the General was prepared. They let him know they would pass along his message, but in a confidential tone, one whispered to Orochi it may be some time before Nori was prepared to entertain visitors. Orochi nodded his understanding and looked around for something to do.

  In the center of the camp, a group of soldiers was beginning to mill about, warming up their bodies by practicing their martial arts. Orochi walked over to observe their movement. He had heard Nori trained his soldiers with some unique skills and he was hopeful he might be able to observe.

  If the soldiers were disturbed by his presence they didn’t show it. They went about their daily routine in the manner of those who have gone through it hundreds of times before. Few words were exchanged as a captain of the guard led his men through their initial stretches.

  From the stretches they moved to techniques, choosing sparring partners based on equal ability. Orochi watched and was impressed by what he observed. Honor guards were skilled, but even among the skilled there were levels of ability. Everyone here was good.