by Jon F. Merz
“That’s more time than you have,” said Ran. “And that’s enough for me.”
Ran feinted with a stab at Malkyr’s heart and then cut up suddenly, hoping to catch the underside of Malkyr’s arms. But Malkyr showed a bit more skill than Ran had expected and jerked his arms away from the edge of the blade. He shook his head, flicking droplets of blood across the ground.
Ran stalked him, edging around and looking for the moment. Malkyr was heavier on his feet and slightly unbalanced. Twice he came at Ran, and Ran evaded the cuts, looking for the weakness in Malkyr’s attacks. Malkyr snarled each time he missed, which only made him overcommit on the next attack.
“You can’t avoid me all the time.”
Ran allowed himself a small grin. “You think I’m avoiding you?”
“Aren’t you?”
Malkyr attacked again, cutting from the left to the right and then back again. The two cuts were heavy and meant to overpower Ran. Ran sidestepped the first and parried the second.
“No,” he said simply.
And then he swept Malkyr’s blade over and up, flicking it away. The sword flew from his grasp and stuck point first in the ground ten feet away.
For a moment, Malkyr stood there.
Ran saw the indecision in his eyes. Should he try to grab for the sword?
Too late. Ran stepped in and brought his sword arcing in. The tip of his blade cut the juncture of Malkyr’s neck close to his collar bone. Ran followed through and then drew back.
Malkyr laughed. “You missed.”
Ran nodded. “Touch your neck.”
Malkyr put his hand up to his neck and felt the surging pulse of fresh blood flowing from the severed artery. Even as his hand came away covered in sticky blood, he felt his legs buckle, and he sank to his knees.
Ran stepped in closer. “Neviah is waiting for you on the other side. I hope she gets her own chance to kill you when you get there.”
Malkyr fell face-first into the bloody, rain-soaked ground and lay still as his life pumped out of him and into the sodden earth. Ran looked down and exhaled. “Good riddance.”
Kan-Gul clapped his hands. “Marvelous. That was marvelous. Truly. I admire the way you led him around and only after you’d annoyed him sufficiently did you kill him. And that final cut, absolutely exquisite. But why didn’t you cut his head off? Wouldn’t that have been preferable?”
Ran shrugged. “Consider it a final insult. My way of showing him I didn’t need to do all that much to kill him. He wasn’t worth the extra effort.”
Kan-Gul kept smiling. “You’ve got style, Ran from Gakur. I really must congratulate you on that.”
“I don’t much care what you think,” said Ran.
“Well, you should. After all, I hold the lives of you three survivors in my hands. One nod from me and you’ll have more Chekhal to deal with than even you and your talented friend there can handle. You might want to reconsider being rude to me.”
“I wasn’t being rude,” said Ran. “I was simply stating a fact.”
“You’re tired,” said Kan-Gul. “I can certainly understand that. You wouldn’t believe how utterly exhausting it was trying to hunt you all down. And the troubles we had along the way. Honestly. But here we are. Atop this horrible cliff. My ship is wrecked. Yours is as well. And Malkyr’s, well, that’s a bit of a mess, isn’t it?”
“I haven’t really thought about the ships recently. We’ve been a bit busy.”
“Indeed,” said Kan-Gul. “Let me ask you something: who are you? Really. Because you most definitely are not some silly blade for hire. I’ve known mercenaries before. And I’ve known scum like Malkyr who would sell their own mother for the promise of a gold piece. You don’t fit the mold. And I’m curious to know who stands before me.”
“No one important,” said Ran.
“You know, when I first met you I felt there was something about you that defied the appearance you’ve tried hard to affect. So I took to my library and consulted some of my books. I have so very many books, you know. Ancient texts on virtually every subject and culture known to us. And when I researched the region of Gakur in Nehon, do you know what the books told me?”
“I can’t even imagine.”
Kan-Gul smiled. “They told me that the region of Gakur is known as one of the most remote places in all of Nehon. Towering mountains enshrouded with impassable fog, twisting mountain passes that are blocked virtually year-round due to the mountain snows. The people who live in this are are a most hearty folk who keep to themselves. Mostly, they’re farmers who manage to eke out an existence only at the mercy of nature.”
“They’re good people,” said Ran.
“I’m sure they are,” said Kan-Gul. “But the books also spoke of something else. Apparently, Gakur is rumored to be the location of a training facility for a clan of mysterious fighters known as Shinobujin. So adept at combat, they are fearsome opponents. Their ability to steal through the night, infiltrate impregnable fortresses, and use virtually every weapon known makes them border on the supernatural.”
Ran said nothing. He wasn’t too fussed about Kan-Gul’s revelation. Besides, Kancho already knew, so it wasn’t like Kan-Gul was spilling his secrets.
“The legends that surround the Shinobujin clan rival some of the magic that sorcerers wield. It makes me wonder how much of what I read is rooted in truth and how much is the byproduct of the overactive imaginations of your enemies. Because it quickly became apparent to me that you are most definitely a Shinobujin. Especially when I saw the cell door in my dungeon so easily opened. Only a Shinobujin would have been able to pick that lock and fight as well as a Murai. And you did both as easily as drawing a breath.”
I wouldn’t say it was that easy, thought Ran. But he said nothing.
Kan-Gul folded his arms. “So, while I was busy pursuing you and dealing with obnoxious dragons, I got to thinking. Specifically, I got to thinking about how valuable it would be to have my very own shadow warrior. Someone I could send off to do some of the very dirty work that unfortunately tends to plague the existence of a sorcerer like myself. Honestly, so many enemies . . . it’s quite tragic.”
“Why would you need a shadow warrior to do your bidding? Isn’t your magic strong enough to do whatever you need done?”
Kan-Gul sighed. “Well, ordinarily, I would say that magic would solve most of my problems. There are, however, certain situations that require a more deft touch. And solutions that once implemented don’t necessarily point back to me.”
“You’re looking for someone who will kill for you such that it can’t possibly be traced back to you.”
Kan-Gul sighed. “Honestly, I thought the way I said it had a bit more finesse. But if that’s what works for you, then fine. Yes, that’s exactly what I’m looking for. It occurs to me that you would be the perfect person to fill that particular role.”
Ran shook his head. “I’m not for hire.”
“Not according to what I read. The books told me that night stalkers are often for hire. That they sometimes hire themselves out to the highest bidder and warlords all over Nehon utilize their particular skill set since the Murai are bound to a code of honor that precludes them from engaging in things they consider underhanded.” He glanced at Kancho who had said nothing during the entire exchange. “Is that true, Murai? Does the notion of working with night stalkers disgust you?”
Kancho sniffed. “I don’t presume to judge those who walk a different path. If they operate with honor and integrity, then I have no qualms with them.”
“Spoken like a Murai with an identity problem,” said Kan-Gul. “I should have expected that from you. You see, I also found it fascinating that a supposedly drunken warrior would behave as you did. It made me suspect you from the start. But you weren’t a shadow warrior. I knew that much. But if you were Murai, then what in the world were you doing over here? The warlords of Nehon tend to keep to themselves, believing that pitiful island is immune to the whims of the world at
large. There’s no way they would send a lone Murai abroad. Unless that Murai went against the wishes of his lord. And to do such a thing would bring tremendous dishonor upon the Murai clan he was a part of.”
Kancho frowned. “What would you know of my clan?”
“I know enough about Malkyr and his raiding tendencies. I also know of his associates who have been plundering local fishing villages on the coast of Nehon for years. A short time ago they came upon a sloop while at sea. And they took a hostage—let’s call her a guest. Supposedly, this guest was a young and exquisite beauty rumored to be of Murai stock.”
Yuki moved a little closer to her father. Kan-Gul nodded.
“Exactly. As soon as I thought it through, it made perfect sense. The Murai was alone in a foreign land because he’d come to rescue his daughter. Imagine the circumstances that conspired to place both of you on Malkyr’s boat. Here he was, tasked with bringing me the delectable thing that was Jysal. Sadly, she is no longer with us. Such a shame. As such, I am forced to do what I do best: make the best of what I have at hand.”
“Meaning what?” asked Ran.
“Meaning,” said Kan-Gul, “that despite the shattering loss that was Jysal’s death, I still have something to show for all of the trouble I’ve been forced to endure throughout this campaign.”
Ran shook his head. “I’m not for hire. I don’t know how many times I can say that before you’ll get it.”
Kan-Gul nodded. “That’s fine. I understand. You don’t much like the prospect of working for me. I can’t say I blame you, given how we got off on the wrong foot when you first came to my castle. But that said, I could certainly make your employment worthwhile. I pay very well. And what I can’t pay, I can supply in other ways. If you want women, I can have my minions raid the villages until they bring you back something that pleases you. If you have . . . other tastes, I can accommodate those as well.”
Ran swallowed. Listening to Kan-Gul offer him a job was making him feel slightly ill. “I don’t think there’s anything you have that will convince me to come and work for you. If you know anything about the shadow-warrior clan, then you’ll know that I am bound to them. Whether I am in Nehon or elsewhere in the world, my allegiance to the clan comes first.”
“And how would they know?” asked Kan-Gul. “You’d still be free to do your spying and feeding information back to your clan. I don’t have an issue with that. In fact, I might even be able to help you in certain regions through the use of my magic.”
“I’m not for hire,” said Ran. Ran knew some of his teachers wouldn’t have approved of his being so quick to dismiss a potentially pragmatic solution. But the head of his clan would not want this monster left alive.
Kan-Gul paused, took a breath, and then exhaled it slow and smooth. “You can’t say I didn’t try to make this as palatable as possible.”
“There’s nothing palatable about you, Kan-Gul,” said Ran.
Kan-Gul pursed his lips. “Very well. Let me put it another way, and then you can decide for yourself if this isn’t an offer very much worth considering: either you agree to come work for me, or you will all die tonight.”
Ran shrugged. “You’ll kill us all anyway.”
Kan-Gul let a thin smile creep across his lips. “Have I told you about my Chekhal? So much of magic remains a mystery, even to those who are trained in its use. Sometimes, you never know quite what the outcome will be. Surprises are not uncommon, especially when you attempt to cheat death.”
Ran sighed. Listening to Kan-Gul talk was growing tiresome, but perhaps it would reveal an opportunity Ran could exploit.
The sorcerer continued. “Take my Chekhal, for instance. I’ve told you that they are reanimated warriors. They were dead, and I hauled them back out of the ground to serve me for as long as I need them. In exchange, I let them feast upon the souls of other living beings. In this way, they are . . . well, I suppose one could say they are reasonably content.”
“How can anything that was dead ever truly be content? They belong in the afterlife, not forced to serve here with you.”
Kan-Gul ignored him. “Being content is not really enough to keep warriors—alive or dead, for that matter—loyal to you. They need further incentive. A bonus, if you will, that will keep them only too happy to stay and serve me.” Kan-Gul strode over to the closest Chekhal and placed his hand on the warrior’s shoulder. “A curious effect of reanimating these dead warriors has been that they apparently have other needs apart from the ingestion of living souls.”
“Such as?”
Kan-Gul’s smile grew as he drew up the articulated armored plate that covered the Chekhal’s lower abdomen and groin, exposing the flesh underneath. Ran was horrified to see the Chekhal’s genitalia.
“You will note that for an undead warrior, death seems to have gifted it with an unusual physical ailment: nearly permanent rigidity.”
Ran stared at Kan-Gul. “Nearly permanent?”
“There is a cure for it, albeit temporarily.” Kan-Gul’s eyes flicked over to Yuki, and his smile grew. “Perhaps I will see if Kancho’s daughter has the ability to satisfy the unearthly cravings of my Chekhal warriors. She can start with the dozen I have here with me and later on attend to the thousands back at my castle.” He sighed. “If nothing else, it will no doubt provide me with hours of entertainment.”
Now Kan-Gul stared directly at Kancho. “Imagine that, Murai: your daughter’s every orifice filled with the undead seed of my men. How much dishonor would that bring upon your house?”
CHAPTER THIRTY-NINE
Kancho’s reaction was immediate. The older warrior lifted his curved blade and ran directly at the sorcerer, swinging his blade overhead and down, determined to cleave the evil sorcerer in two. Ran watched him rush Kan-Gul, and then it was as if time started to slow down. Ran felt himself breathing and his pulse quickening as the older warrior seemed to take a long time to close the distance between where he stood and Kan-Gul’s position.
The sorcerer wore a nasty smile full of pleasure, and there wasn’t a hint of surprise. Ran realized that Kan-Gul had deliberately baited the older warrior. He didn’t care about Kancho or his daughter. He wanted Ran now that Jysal was dead. Everyone else was just a distraction.
Ran tried to shout a warning, but even the words took forever to spill from his mouth. It wouldn’t have mattered. Kancho was beyond reason. Yuki had been the reason he’d dishonored himself in the first place. She’d been his entire reason for being. To hear the possibility of his only family being tortured in such a way had robbed him of common sense and any wisdom he’d gained from years on the battlefield.
The Murai adherence to their code of honor dictated that Kancho strike down Kan-Gul. The sorcerer knew this. And now he was exploiting it.
Kancho took another step in half-time and started to bring his sword down right at Kan-Gul. The sorcerer looked up at the descending blade; the smile he wore never wavered. For an instant, Ran wondered if Kancho would be able to carry through with this strike.
Then the sword simply stopped moving.
So did Kancho.
“Men are so often victims of their egos, wouldn’t you say, night stalker?” Kan-Gul walked around the frozen Kancho. “Let us look at the example before us. Here we have a warrior who by all accounts is ferocious. He’s a veteran of many conflicts, and his skill with the sword is obvious. Talented. Some would even say wise, filled with experience. And yet, despite all of his successes, he is still vulnerable to me playing his ego like a violinist plucks strings. It took but one little idea that his daughter would be ravaged by the primal lust of my undead warriors to get him to willingly abandon all restraint.”
“It’s his only daughter,” said Ran. “She is the only family he has left.”
Kan-Gul shrugged. “You’re making excuses for him now? Surely you know the dangers of ego. Surely your masters taught you how to manipulate it to your advantage when it comes to gathering information or dealing with a warrior who wo
uld be, by any other standard, a formidable challenge?”
“They did. And I do.”
“Those who claim to be immune from the vulnerability that ego infects us with are most often the first to fall prey to its insidious tendrils. They creep about the mind, destroy the spirit, and rob us of our ability to remain detached from vanity, idol worship, and whims of desire in all its forms. This is the advantage that sorcerers and other mages have over warriors: our minds need to be sharp, objective, and flexible in order to master the forces of magic. The art is demanding and full of traps and pitfalls that ensnare those of lesser discipline or lesser imagination. Most often it seduces them and blinds them with the promise of power and prestige while robbing them of everything they hold dear, until they are driven insane. This is how the lineage of sorcery protects itself; only the very best should ever be able to ascend to its highest peaks and wield power nearly equal to that of the gods.”
Kan-Gul regarded the Murai in front of him. Kancho might have been frozen, but Ran could see that he was still trying as hard as he possibly could to bring the sword down on Kan-Gul.
The sorcerer continued to smile. “Even now—trapped as he is within the spell—the Murai is determined to strike me down. He has no hope of doing so, but his ego will not let him abandon the quest to kill me. To do so, he believes, would be giving up—surrendering—to a lesser foe, someone beneath his stature.” Kan-Gul shrugged. “As much as he is trapped within my spell, he is simultaneously trapped within the cell of his own vanity. I find the human brain such a fascinating topic of study. Don’t you?”
Ran shrugged. “Perhaps.”
“Bah.” Kan-Gul waved him off. “You do as well. It’s one of the things you Shinobujin are so adept at playing with. You think I can’t see through your legends? The ability to vanish in the night. The nearly supernatural physical abilities you are supposed to be able to do at will? Tell me, can you truly turn invisible? Can you really disappear in the blink of an eye?”
Ran smiled. “Why would I tell you my secrets?”
