by Travis Bughi
World of Myth VII
Fated for War
Travis Bughi
Copyright 2017 Travis Bughi
Smashwords Edition
ISBN:
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Dedication
To my best man, Ken
For a lifetime of comradery
Acknowledgements
Patricia Hamill for the editing
World of Myth Series
Emily’s Saga
Beyond the Plains
The Forest of Angor
The Fall of Lucifan
Journey to Savara
Juatwa
A Legend Ascends
Takeo’s Chronicles
Fated for War
An Enchanted Sword
Fortress of Ruin
Prologue
Lady Xuan Nguyen, the Old Woman of the Mountain, had a favorite saying: Never do unto others what they will gladly do unto themselves.
She had applied this to many areas of her life with great success. Among these, her first husband, a man of violent and wretched tastes, was the first. An arranged marriage—the last act of control Lady Xuan’s father had exerted over her before succumbing to illness—she’d hated every moment of it, but there’d been no need to kill her first husband, for after he’d given her three sons, he’d gladly died of his own accord, drunk and howling like mad as he’d charged into combat during a border dispute with one of the other daimyos. Her first husband had died with a smile plastered to his face—or so she’d been told. Lady Xuan hadn’t bothered to attend the funeral.
After that, her boring and pitiful second husband had joined the first, but only after giving her four more sons. He’d been sickly, frail, and even older than she was. They’d wed to secure Juatwa’s northern end under one rule, and there’d been no need to kill him either. He was always searching for new remedies to keep him tied to the world of the living, though Lady Xuan knew not why. No one trapped in his body should have desired to live, but she’d played the role of dutiful wife and helped nonetheless. She’d introduced him to the ways of bloodletting, perhaps overzealously, and then had given a mock shrug when the doctors told her they couldn’t stop the bleeding. Her second husband had died with an expression of horror and fear plastered to his face—or so she’d been told. Lady Xuan had fallen asleep at the funeral.
But Lady Xuan’s philosophy did not limit itself to her unfortunate husbands. There’d been other times her enemies had been led to do unto themselves. Rival daimyos had fallen into debt, died in wars, or found their trading routes severely assaulted. Lady Xuan never understood the desire of some rulers to lead their samurai into combat. What was the point of having sworn warriors if one had to do the killing and dying themselves?
Jiro Hanu, like his father before him, had been one to make such a mistake, but Ichiro Katsu had required a bit more planning and tact to make him do unto himself. Yet in the end, he had. His choice of allies, his desire to flee home, and his overbearing confidence in himself had all led to his undoing. Well, that, and Lady Xuan’s surprise assault on his fortress.
After those two had perished, it had finally seemed like everything had come together. Only a few daimyos stood in her way, and once her army swept down upon them, those lords and ladies would kneel before her, too. Juatwa would, for the first time in its history, bow to one leader and unite as a nation. The world would be doomed to quickly follow.
Or so she’d thought. Unfortunately, that’s not how things had played out.
“How much has she demanded in ransom?” Lady Xuan asked, sitting upon her wooden throne, supported by an overabundance of plush pillows.
“Too much, I say,” Pircha, her eldest son, replied from an arm’s length away. “She demands a king’s ransom, as if Oiu were your only child. I suggest we wait until we capture some prisoners of our own to offer in exchange. Oiu can wait.”
“Wait in a dungeon?” Lady Xuan said. “He’s nearly eighteen, and you suggest he should spend his best years in chains? He should be leading, or marrying and having children, as if I need more of those.”
Pircha shrugged and replied, “He is young. He will survive.”
“You’re a terrible brother,” she said, voice cracking in the middle as she stifled an old cough.
The first thing that had not gone as expected was for Katsu’s surviving relatives to unite. The late Lord Ichiro Katsu had been very careful not to put too much power or trust into any one of his many wives, relatives, and generals. He’d believed each of them capable of betrayal and thus had hoped to stave off that nature by ensuring his death favored none but his enemies, an ingenious and quite successful plan.
Over the corpse of Ichiro, the Katsu family had fought a bitter civil war. Supposedly, for a few short months, assassination had become the leading cause of death in Juatwa’s southern region. Ninjas from across Juatwa had flocked to every Katsu hold, hoping to land one of the countless contracts being handed out. This had gone exactly as Lady Xuan had hoped, and she’d moved to conquer them all before another victor could reign supreme on the Katsu throne.
To her shock, in the face of her armies, the few surviving family members had set aside their differences, joined forces, and rebutted her initial attack. Their brief victory instilled in them a sense of purpose, and they had not fallen back to infighting since.
Two of Katsu’s cousins, standing tall upon the corpses of their slain family members, rose above the others and agreed to work in unison under the title of shogun. Against Lady Xuan’s invading forces, the two cousins, along with an army raised from what forces remained, had met her attack on the open plains of the Katsu territory. With forces mounted on komainu, they’d outmaneuvered, flanked, and driven Lady Xuan’s forces back.
This could have been only a temporary setback, but unfortunately, Lady Xuan’s defeat had emboldened more than just the Katsus, leading to the second thing that had not gone as expected. The late Jiro Hanu’s young wife, Zhenzhen, had broken her oath to submit to Lady Xuan’s rule and fled back to her loyal subjects to raise a second army.
Now, after defeating both Ichiro Katsu and Jiro Hanu, instead of ruling Juatwa as its empress, Lady Xuan was fighting yet another war against the same families headed by different members.
And that wicked woman, Zhenzhen, had captured Lady Xuan’s youngest son!
“That filthy little yuki-onna,” Lady Xuan seethed. “How dare she oppose me? The next time I capture them, I will not be so merciful. I will slaughter her, her son, her uncle, and her mother-in-law, too! I’ll bet this is all that old woman’s fault. Bitter and power hungry, she just doesn’t know when to lie down and die.”
Lady Xuan’s eyes, sharp and mean, flicked across the six sons kneeling before her. Her language had been intentional—carefully chosen, one might say—and she watched for signs of betrayal in them, daring any to note the irony of her statement. Surely, at least one thought the same of her, and she waited for that son to reveal himself. Her gaze lingered especially long on her oldest son, Pircha.
Poor Pircha, she thought. He was a grandfather himself now, and age had not been kind to him. He’d grown fat and lazy, and worse yet, contemptuous and stubborn. Above all the others, Lady Xuan knew he wished her dead the most. He was over fifty years old now and yet still found himself bent to her will. He hated it; he mus
t. She would, were she in his position. He must think daily, If only she would die and leave the ruling and leadership to me.
Yet Lady Xuan had no intention of doing so. She’d lived longer than some immortals, and she made sure to keep her indulgences in check so as not to perish like her first two husbands. She would not do unto herself.
“Too much, hm?” Lady Xuan muttered. “Is that how much the ransom is? My youngest son, Oiu, captured by this vile Zhenzhen Hanu, is made to suffer in her dungeons, and the ransom is probably too much. How tragic, as Oiu was my favorite.”
Lady Xuan watched the ripple of jealousy pass through each of her sons and hid her smile. Nothing bred good character like jealousy and competition. Ambition could only stem from want.
She lifted a thin, wrinkled finger and traced it across her dried lips. The wispy hairs of a thin, white-haired mustache graced her skin, and she felt her hand tremble from age. It was habit to do so, an unpleasant one as it reminded her that her best years were far behind her. She could not afford to wait things out as she once had. She would die one day, like it or not, but by her effort, she would die an empress.
So be it then, Lady Xuan thought. She would, for once, have to do unto others what they would not do unto themselves.
“I must deliver a response, then,” she mused aloud. “I agree with you, Pircha. We can’t afford to pay ransom. The damage to my reputation alone could be my undoing. I’ve already suffered slight enough. Take whatever amount Zhenzhen has demanded in ransom, deduct a single coin, and add it to the bounty on her head. Perhaps some ninja will be brave enough to try for it.”
“As you wish, Mother.” Pircha bowed low until his forehead touched the ground, which was a considerable effort for him with such a round belly in the way.
At least he knows respect. She huffed and then said, “Be gone, all of you! And send in Hyun.”
Her sons bowed and left. A short while later, a tall, thin samurai with gaunt cheeks entered her throne room with purpose and pride in his stride. He knelt before her like a passionate devotee before an idol.
It was enough to bring a sparkle to Lady Xuan’s sharp eyes.
“Leave us,” she said to her remaining personal guards and waited until the doors had closed behind them.
“My lady,” Hyun Jee spoke to the floor.
“My soldier.”
Lady Xuan had never said it aloud, but she would have rather given birth to one Hyun Jee than to all seven of her sons. The samurai was fiercely loyal, having been raised up as a warrior in her own household and trained alongside many other samurai to serve her until death. For whatever reason, he’d taken a stronger liking to her than the others, even at an early age, beaming and blushing at the sight of her through his lessons. Lady Xuan had been just over fifty years old when he’d been born, and she could never quite figure out if his devotion stemmed from inner character, a sense of her as a motherly figure, or some perverse attraction.
It was probably a combination of all three, and truth be told, she liked it that way.
“I trust your travels went well?” she asked.
“As well as expected, my lady,” Hyun spoke to the floor again, “and I would like to thank you. It was nice to visit a place so warm after returning from Khaz Mal.”
“I am pleased to hear that.”
Lady Xuan extended her frail, wrinkled hand. Hyun, catching the movement out of the corner of his eye, rose up and took her hand carefully, kissed it tenderly, and then returned to his kneeled position.
“Rise, Hyun,” she said. “I need you fit for another journey, and I’ll not have your back bowed on my account.”
“Yes, my lady.”
“Now, tell me about Savara. Is it as I thought?”
“It is, my lady. The Great Desert is awash in chaos. The rakshasa who impersonated Ichiro Katsu conquered much of the land before he left to raze Lucifan, so his death left a power void that has plunged the land into violence, which is truly amazing because Savara was already a dangerous place as it was.”
“You find it interesting?”
“Oh, yes, my lady,” Hyun said, giving a genuine smile. “I’m always fascinated by new people and places. Also, as you suspected, the land’s normal level of hatred and distrust towards rakshasas has increased tenfold. Their kind are being hunted and slaughtered across the land. Warlords are paying huge ransoms for any rakshasa heads brought to them, and in every city, one can find bands of mercenaries teaming up to hunt for the beasts. It’s dangerous work, I’m sure, but it pays well. If something isn’t done soon, there might not be any rakshasas left in the world.”
As Lady Xuan listened, she rubbed the hairs on her upper lip, occasionally fighting back a cough when she took a deep breath. Hyun’s words were like music to her ears, and she longed to hear more of them.
“Tell me of your journey,” she said. “All of it.”
Two years ago, Lady Xuan had learned of Emily Stout, the legendary amazon now known as the Angels’ Vassal, and Lady Xuan had spent a fair amount of coin digging into the amazon’s past. From this, she’d learned the young girl from the Great Plains had spent some time in Savara before traveling to Juatwa, but more importantly, she’d learned Emily could control the last colossus in the world. By the time Lady Xuan decided to do something with this knowledge, the girl had been on her way north to the Khaz Mal Mountains to free her lover, an infamous ronin named Takeo Karaoshi. Lady Xuan had immediately dispatched Hyun to seek the girl out and speak with her, hoping to strike up a peaceful greeting.
As fate would have it, although Hyun had been successful, there had been no need.
Emily Stout had perished saving the city of Lucifan from an invasion by a rakshasa and his armies. Her humble upbringing, grand deeds, and subsequent death had sealed her as a legend in the minds of many, and tales of all kinds were being told across the world by those who claimed to have met her.
Separating fact from fiction became a difficult task.
However, Lady Xuan had secured one piece of Emily’s past that she thought unquestionably correct. Before coming to Juatwa, the girl had traveled across Savara and visited two places: two degraded old structures known as Phoenix Temple and Kings’ Hearth. Lady Xuan had dispatched Hyun to find these places and discover what he could, and also to watch what happened to Savara in the wake of the rakshasa’s defeat.
Hyun had taken a ship of two dozen samurai and traveled to the Great Desert, but his troubles had started right away. In the very first place he landed, he and his ship were assaulted by townspeople who thought him another invader. Hyun had decided to flee rather than waste precious time or effort slaughtering useless villagers. The next two towns had been burned to dust, but the fourth was stable enough to accept him and allow the purchase of supplies. According to the folks there, this was a rare treat these days, and Hyun should count himself lucky.
This proved true, as Hyun quickly discovered that half of the towns on the map he’d purchased were nothing but smoldering ruins. Among sand dunes, Hyun and his men hid from voracious armies of mercenaries that roamed from city to city, looting what little treasure remained and slaughtering any in their path. People found wandering alone were accused of being rakshasas and tortured until they died. Conquered people were being enslaved at an unsustainable rate. There were now more slaves than slavers in Savara, leading to widespread revolts that burned yet more towns, slaughtered yet more villagers, and spawned yet more bands of armed lunatics rampaging across the sands.
Hyun admitted to shedding quite a bit of blood in his short time there.
“It amazes me that Savara is still a desert,” he said partway through his tale. “How the sands can still be dry after all the blood that’s soaked the land? That place should be a swamp.”
Hyun had sent his ship back out to sea rather than leave it at one of the unstable ports. Armed with supplies, knowledge, and a healthy attitude of distrust, he’d set out to find Phoenix Temple and Kings’ Hearth, all the while asking any he
found about the girl known as the Angels’ Vassal.
“As expected, I found too much information rather than too little,” he explained. “It seems nearly every single man—and more than a few women—across Savara spent one or several romantic evenings under the stars with her. Also, apparently, her footsteps created tiny pools of water, and—you will love this, I’m sure—she had the strength of an oni, the beauty of a mermaid, and the heart of an angel.”
Lady Xuan chuckled and coughed again.
“The heart of an angel?” the old woman repeated. “That is rich. How quickly everyone forgets that Emily traveled across the world for revenge. Ha!”
“Obviously, I paid these people no mind. Those who said she traveled with a samurai, though, those I listened to. They gave me nothing useful, but I did find one baker in a town west of Phoenix Temple who gave me something interesting. Before Emily and Takeo left Savara together, they traveled with others. She was a slave for a short period of time, and according to the baker, the slaver was a rakshasa.”
“The rakshasa? Jabbar?”
He nodded. “That’s my belief. The story that I pieced together is this: Jabbar and his henchmen, which included Takeo somehow, bought Emily and two others, a satyr and a viking, and went to these two temples. The viking turned out to be a well-known person named Kollskegg Ludinson the Sturdy. I hadn’t heard of him, but apparently he’s famous in viking lore.
“Anyway, Kollskegg and the others perished in the desert. Only Emily, Takeo, and Jabbar survived. When I reached Phoenix Temple, it was nearly collapsed, but more than a couple of skeletons were scattered about. Kings’ Hearth was similar, but all the bones lay in a pile outside, while the basement was filled with sand. Nothing I found says she acquired the colossus in Savara.”
“Damn,” the old woman huffed.
Lady Xuan assumed she wasn’t the only one with this idea to track Emily’s past and find the link between the girl and the colossus, hoping that perhaps it was a jinni’s gift instead of an angel’s command. To have control of the colossus would spell doom for any and all who stood in her way. Like Ichiro Katsu before her, Lady Xuan just couldn’t resist seeing if perhaps the colossus was a tool that could be used.
