by Ryan Kirk
Ryo attacked, the final insult too much for his pride to handle. The strike was obvious, an overhand cut even a civilian would have seen coming. Koji easily sidestepped, the steel passing harmlessly on his right side. He drove his fist into Ryo’s stomach, knocking the wind out of him and dropping him to the snow-covered ground.
The older blade coughed and gasped, clawing at his stomach as though he could force it open and let air in. Koji drew his own sword and waited. Ryo’s next attack would be better, but Koji wanted him to feel as helpless as he had made the farmer’s family feel.
Koji took a deep breath and looked around. A few trees were visible in the moonlight. Many leaves remained attached, the snows falling before the trees could complete their preparation for a new season. He exhaled, watching his breath freeze in the still air.
His host attacked sooner than he expected, bringing his sword up and trying to cut him from below. Koji sensed the strike coming and stepped back, allowing the tip of the blade to pass just a hand’s breadth in front of him. Although he knew an opening was there, he didn’t attack.
Ryo got to his feet and launched a series of cuts, fast and strong, but Koji found himself disappointed. He expected better from a nightblade. This fight would be far too easy.
Koji watched as the fire left Ryo’s eyes as each strike missed. No matter what the older nightblade did, he couldn’t bring his steel anywhere near Koji.
He deflected a cut and stepped inside Ryo’s guard, bringing his elbow to the man’s face. Koji felt a satisfying crunch as Ryo’s nose collapsed from the blow.
Ryo dropped to the ground again, clutching at his bloody face. He looked up at Koji with hatred in his eyes.
“You can’t stop what’s coming, Koji. You’re trying to have it both ways. Are you going to side with blades or with those who hate you? You’ll need to decide. A war’s coming.”
The other nightblade must have thought that he was distracting Koji, because he tried another cut. Koji met his steel with his own, pushing aside the weak strike and slicing through Ryo’s neck. His host collapsed, his life spurting out of him in pulses.
Koji bent down so that he was the last thing Ryo saw. “The war is already here, fool.”
Koji returned to the farmhouse before the sun started to rise over the horizon. He had been careful in his battle with Ryo not to get any blood on himself. His sword was clean, and there was no evidence he had been in a fight.
If one of his two hosts was going to cause him trouble, it would be Hiroki. The man was large and moved with the grace of a cat. He had clearly been the muscle of the partnership. Koji wasn’t frightened. He was certain of his skills. He was looking forward to fighting the other blade.
He entered the farmhouse and took off his sandals. There was no hurry in his action. He tried to move as though he was tired from a long night, even though nothing could be further from the truth.
As he had hoped, Hiroki came out into the common room to meet him. He brought the younger daughter with him, but he didn’t look to be on his guard. “Where’s Ryo?”
“The meeting went long, and he is planning on staying for a while with Akane to discuss plans. We’re going to attack River’s End in a few days.”
Koji spoke nonchalantly, watching as Hiroki worked his way through the new information. He would never have a better time to attack. Hiroki was distracted and wouldn’t have time to draw on the girl before Koji reached him.
Koji sprinted at the other nightblade. Hiroki was fast. Even distracted, his hand was drawing his sword out of the scabbard by the time Koji reached him. Koji might have gotten in a first cut, but the only thought in his mind was getting Hiroki away from the family. He lowered his shoulder and crashed into Hiroki before the man’s steel could clear its sheath.
Hiroki’s sword slammed back into its scabbard, and the two of them crashed through one of the paper walls dividing the rooms. Remarkably, Hiroki kept his balance, even as he stepped backward over the waking form of the farmer’s older daughter.
Koji also stepped over her, driving his legs hard, pushing the large man through another wall into an empty room. He tried driving his fist into Hiroki’s stomach to knock the wind from him like he had Ryo, but he couldn’t bring his fist back far enough to generate sufficient power, and when he did punch, his hand felt like it had crashed against a brick.
Koji gave one final shove, and both warriors drew. Koji was faster, but Hiroki’s hand had started far closer to his blade. Koji deflected Hiroki’s cut, but it was a close affair.
He hadn’t expected Hiroki to be as fast as he was. The downfall of most physically strong sword fighters was that they had a tendency to rely on their strength in the heat of combat. Hiroki didn’t make that mistake, and their swords crossed three times before they broke apart.
Koji expected a short break, but Hiroki wasn’t giving him one. The massive nightblade used the extra space to bring his sword over to Koji’s weak side and launch a powerful attack. Koji blocked it as Hiroki pivoted on his foot, trying to get behind the younger blade.
Koji let him, certain that Hiroki was used to fighting nongifted civilians or soldiers. If a warrior gets behind a civilian, the fight is over. The civilian doesn’t know what’s happening and dies. But a nightblade can easily sense attacks from behind. When Koji sensed the cut coming, he dodged low and spun.
Hiroki was fast even if he was caught by surprise. Koji’s cut sliced through the bigger man’s robes and into his stomach.
The duel continued, Hiroki becoming more cautious. The cut had to be painful, but his face gave off no expression. They slowly circled, Koji trying to keep his foe from the rest of the household. He could sense others moving behind him, gathering to watch the fight for their lives.
The sun was just coming up, lighting the blade’s fight just enough for the family to see what was happening. Koji was at a slight disadvantage because he had to keep them safe. Hiroki figured this out and started trying to angle toward the family.
This had to end. Hiroki wasn’t like Ryo. Koji wouldn’t be able to get him to die in fear the same way he had with his master. Koji needed to just kill him.
He took a deep breath and lunged forward. Steel met steel in the predawn light. It took five moves for Koji to get inside Hiroki’s guard, but he was too fast for the bigger man. One cut opened up the nightblade’s arm, but the killing blow was a stab into the heart. When Hiroki died, his face was as expressionless as it had ever been.
Despite the knowledge he had done the right thing, Koji felt his own heart tear at his actions. It still seemed wrong to fight and kill his brothers and sisters.
Koji sensed the movement behind him but didn’t react. The family would be safe now. He would help move the body and then leave. He wasn’t sure how he could save River’s End on his own, but he had to try. If he died then, at least his problems would be over.
He felt the blow coming, but he had let the farmer get too close, thinking he posed no threat and being distracted by the future. Koji started to spin around, but his world went black in an instant.
Koji’s first sensation was pain. His second was more pain.
He came awake with a gasp, his head immediately flaring in agony. He blinked away the stars in his vision threatening to black him out again.
Once or twice, when he had been younger, he had been hit in the head, but he couldn’t remember any incident in recent memory. The pain was excruciating. Every time he moved his head, the pain came back with a fresh vengeance.
Koji forced himself to remain still. He tried to bring his hand to feel the knot on the back of his head, only to realize he was tied down to something.
He groaned. At that moment, he didn’t care why he was restrained. He didn’t care about who captured him or where he was. All he felt at that moment was an overwhelming desire for a strong bottle of sake.
His memories returned quickly to him. He remembered the meeting and slaying Ryo and Hiroki. He remembered the farmer coming up behind
him in the dark. Then he remembered that the blades were going to attack a village soon.
Koji struggled against his bonds, sending another wave of agony traveling from his head down his back. Whoever had restrained him had done so well. Time would be needed to escape, the one thing he didn’t know if he had. How long had he been unconscious?
The door slid open, and Koji watched with some degree of disbelief as the farmer and his entire family came into the room. Everyone appeared. The farmer and his wife first, the older son and Hana next, the younger son and daughter trickling in behind. They stood there for a moment, and if it didn’t hurt to move, Koji would have laughed at how absurd the situation seemed.
The farmer spoke first. “I’m sorry for the pain that I caused you. I saw a chance to free my family, and I wasn’t sure if you were any better than the others. Had it been up to me, I would have killed you, but Hana claims that you helped her.”
Koji glanced at his bonds.
The farmer continued, “Although I trust my daughter, you must understand: the safety of my family was at stake. I felt this was my only choice until we spoke.”
Koji didn’t care. The family was safe, so his duty here was complete. There was only one subject he cared about now. “How long was I out?”
“Most of the day. It’s almost evening.”
Koji swore. “How far is it from here to River’s End?”
“A day and a half on foot perhaps. Why?”
Koji swore again, unconcerned about his language even in the presence of the younger girl.
“Are there any horses nearby?”
The farmer frowned, apparently confused by the questions, but he still deferred to the authority of the blades, answering Koji’s inquiries without debate. “Some of the wealthier farmers nearby had some, but they’ve all been captured by blades.”
The farmer seemed to realize after giving his answer that he was the one who was supposed to be in control. He tried to direct the questions. “Are you a danger to my family?”
Koji shook his head. “That doesn’t matter now.” His mind was racing.
On a horse, a day and a half would become less than half a day. He could still reach River’s End in time. He would need to get to the nearest farm with a horse and kill the blades there before they left. A difficult task, but if he left now, perhaps there was still a chance he would make it.
First he needed to get out of the house. The farmer was about to ask another question, but Koji stared daggers into him. “Let me go, now. I need directions to the nearest farmhouse with a horse.”
The farmer was taken aback. He looked around the room for guidance, and Hana nodded. Still the farmer hesitated.
“Come on, old man! I don’t have time for this. The other blades are gathering to launch an attack on River’s End. There’s still time for me to stop them, but I need to hurry.”
Something he said snapped the farmer out of his indecision. He moved quickly to untie Koji, giving him directions to the nearest horse. “I can come with you.”
“Can you run the entire way?”
The farmer shook his head.
“Then you’re just holding me back. Stay here and protect your family.”
Koji sat up, a wave of nausea passing over him. The farmer had hit him hard. He tentatively reached out with the sense, grateful that he could use the ability without more pain.
Forcing his discomfort aside, Koji stood up and grabbed his weapons piled in the corner.
The farmer’s directions had been clear. Koji ran, seeing every landmark described to him. He raced across the fields, his legs carrying him as fast as they could. The moment he saw the farmhouse, though, he knew the truth. He didn’t sense anyone.
The farm was as dark to his sense as it was to his sight. Because he wasn’t sure what else to do, Koji entered anyway, disgusted at the sight of the corpses left scattered on the floor.
The blades who’d made this house their home hadn’t treated the bodies with respect. They didn’t give the family a warrior’s death. Bodies were bruised, stabbed, and sliced, but nowhere did he find a body with the single clean fatal cut most blades prided themselves on.
Koji didn’t even bother with the barn. He would have been able to sense the horses. Instead, nothing.
He went out into the fields, taking a deep breath and fighting the frustration and anger welling up. These blades, led by Akane, were a disgrace to everything he’d been taught.
With no horse, Koji started running.
Chapter 8
Asa had grown up on a farm. Many of her earliest memories were of the time she spent in the fields, planting and harvesting rice. The work had always been a torment to her, but every hand was needed, and those early years certainly helped to give her the strength she currently possessed, shaping her physically and mentally.
When she had begun training as a nightblade, she had never thought to return to farming. The work was difficult, and the reward was small. She remembered thinking on the day she left, her mother waving goodbye and crying, that she would never work on a farm again. That day it had been the only happy thought she’d had.
Now, cycles later, she was working on a farm willingly. It was too late in the season to harvest many crops, but there was still some work to be done, work she had long been familiar with.
She was surprised how quickly she allowed herself to fall into a routine. She had been with the couple less than a quarter moon, but already a definite pattern to her days had emerged. There was a beautiful and rugged simplicity to the life. The three were up early every morning, Asa helping with the chores that she could. Rice harvesting was her primary responsibility. She cut the remaining stalks and hung them out to dry. Then she’d thresh the rice and toss it, watching the husks fly away in the breeze. The harvest she could do with little supervision. At other times she helped Daiki in his woodshop, learning and assisting.
Ayano had tried to recruit her in more womanly duties, such as laundry and cooking, but she quickly discovered it was faster to do the tasks on her own than supervise Asa. The younger woman’s basic inabilities had confused Ayano, who seemed to think Asa would never find a husband without the most fundamental of skills.
Daiki, at least, enjoyed his wife’s confusion. He had no doubt Ayano was evaluating Asa as a match for their son, and Asa’s clear discomfort at this thought seemed to be one of his greatest joys.
Despite the occasional awkwardness of the situation, Asa felt more at peace than she had since she’d been a young child. Every day was filled with things to do, and she fell asleep fatigued every night. Life was hard but simple.
One morning Asa came across Daiki kneeling in front of the family’s small shrine to the Great Cycle. She was surprised. Most mornings he gave the shrine a perfunctory bow but nothing more. Driven by her own curiosity, she knelt beside him.
When he finished, he looked at her. “Most days I am able to go about my life as though nothing out of the ordinary is happening. I clean my tools and build new creations in my shed. I can lose myself in the work. More than anything, having something to do with my hands, something to focus on, allows me to forget the outside world.”
Asa understood the sentiment well enough. She felt the same way about practicing with her sword.
“But there are also days,” Daiki continued, “when I’m doing everything I can just to maintain a sense of calm. Days where all I can think about is how desperately I miss Akihiro. We worked hard to raise him and give him a future.
“I was proud of my military service. I was a decent sword, and at the time, the military gave me the order and purpose I so desperately needed as a young man. When it came time to send my son into service, I was glad, thinking he would have the same experience I had.”
Asa wasn’t sure what to say. She had never been good at consoling others. Her own childhood had taken that ability away from her. Regardless, seeing Daiki this vulnerable made her at least want to try.
“There is every chanc
e that he still lives.”
“Perhaps. Perhaps not. Part of me wants only to know the truth. Is my son alive or not? But another part of me says that it’s better not to know. Now at least, I can pretend he’s still alive. Some days the illusion even works.”
Asa gestured toward the shrine. “Does it help?”
“Sometimes. It provides hope, at least.”
Daiki glanced at her as though he was unsure whether to ask his question or not. “It is said you nightblades know more about death than anyone.”
Asa nodded. She threw out her sense to make sure Ayano wasn’t in the house. When she was certain they wouldn’t be overheard, she spoke softly. “I don’t know for sure what happens when we die. No one does. But you know what the sense actually is, I assume?”
Daiki looked at her as though she was asking him if he knew what wood was. “You sense the energy from living creatures.”
A simple explanation, but accurate enough. “Yes. I also know that when people die, their energy doesn’t disappear. Instead, it dissipates and merges into the life surrounding us. Although I can’t say what the experience is like, I can say for certain that some part of us goes on after the body is dead.”
Daiki turned to her and bowed deeply, his gratitude unspoken.
They stood up, and Asa thought Daiki looked a bit older than he had before, his limbs a little less mobile than they had been yesterday. He took one last look at the shrine.
“I so desperately want my son to be alive. I want to embrace him tightly, even if he tries to break away. My desire is so real, sometimes when you walk into the room, I think for a moment you are him. But I’ve heard the same rumors everyone else has. The houses are at war, and it’s likely my son is dead.”
Asa stopped him. “You can’t think that way. You need to keep up your hopes.”
Daiki shook his head back and forth slowly. “No. Perhaps in front of my wife I can keep up pretenses, but I’ve always believed that it’s important to see things as they are, not as we wish them to be.”
