Nightblade's Vengeance (Blades of the Fallen Book 1)

by Ryan Kirk

  The restaurant, like the village, was quiet and sleepy. Asa was one of three customers, and the only one present who was actually eating the food. The other two were local boys who were more interested in the pretty server—the old shop owner’s granddaughter, no doubt—than the food. Asa didn’t mind. A part of her mind tracked the boys’ feeble attempts to romance the server. She had at least four cycles on them, in Asa’s estimation, and there was no likelihood they would succeed. But Asa enjoyed watching them try.

  For a moment, everything seemed right with the world. Her legs were tired but ready for another half day of walking. Her stomach was almost full, and the warmth of the broth drove away the chill of the spring air. For a moment, she was a little girl again, in a village not too different from this one. Her village, the one closest to her childhood farm, had also contained a small noodle shop, with another old man who spent his entire life pursuing the perfection of noodle making. One of her last memories of her father was from that shop, enjoying a meal with him. He had taken her there alone, a special treat for just the two of them.

  Thoughts of her father pushed her attention back to the present. Asa’s mind ran over everything she had learned from Takashi. Again and again she saw Takashi’s face. He had met his death calmly, and that had shaken her. She had taken life before, but the deaths had always been violent. Asa had never seen a man let himself go calmly into the Great Cycle. She had heard stories of such suicides, but Takashi’s dignity in his final moments indicated a peace with himself that Asa envied.

  Takashi had told her more than she had expected. He had told her everything. The problem was, most of his account only confirmed what she had already guessed. Asa had spent almost fifteen cycles getting her hands on every piece of information about the massacre at Two Falls, and although the real story had never been made public, she had searched resolutely for the truth.

  She thought she had put the story all together, but it was all circumstantial. All she had was logical deductions and her intuition. Until she met Takashi, there hadn’t been any evidence for any of her suspicions.

  Takashi had confirmed everything she’d suspected. He had added a few details she hadn’t been aware of and had shown her she was wrong in a few places, but mostly, he confirmed she had been right, that her journey thus far hadn’t been wasted. There had been a conspiracy, but Takashi hadn’t known enough for Asa’s liking.

  However, he had given her a name: Commander Osamu. The name was unfamiliar to her. Takashi had been convinced Osamu had died after the massacre. She worried she had come all this way only to be thwarted by the past.

  Asa tried to control her frustration. She had hoped that taking the assignment to kill Takashi would bring her closer to closure.

  She remembered the initial rush of excitement when her master had shown her the letter from the council ordering Takashi’s death. Asa didn’t believe in fate, but passing that outpost only days after the letter arrived was luck almost too good to be true. After considerable persuasion, Asa had convinced her master to accept the order and give it to her. She thought that after all those cycles of waiting, her family could rest in peace, the man responsible for her father’s death a part of the Great Cycle.

  Instead of closure, all she found was another clue, another journey to go on. The commander the blade had referred to, all those cycles ago, hadn’t been Takashi, but Osamu. The realization made her consider giving up, but then the memories would return. She had to keep going, no matter how long it took.

  Asa finished her second bowl of noodles and sat back against the wall of the restaurant, her eyes wandering up to the ceiling as she thought. There was only one possibility—the archives at Starfall, the seat of the Council of the Blades. Asa had long avoided Starfall, even though she had always suspected it would be necessary to return there.

  Asa valued her independence. She had become a nightblade because she had the gift of the sense. Even now she could feel a pair of villagers walking down the street outside the restaurant. But her purpose had never aligned with that of the council. Asa often turned down requests to patrol areas of the countryside, and she absolutely refused to guard any lords or nobles.

  In Asa’s mind, her purpose was clear: she lived so that her family would be revenged. Fortunately, her master was lazy and preferred to spend most days with a bottle instead of a sword. Most days she was allowed to do as she pleased, and he would make no fuss. So long as she didn’t bring attention to either of them and shared credit on completed assignments, he would remain silent.

  Thus, she focused on missions that were short and exposed her to new places and people. Although young, she had already traveled over much of the Kingdom, raiding archives and questioning scribes and historians whenever she could get a chance. Over time she picked away layer after layer of lies, finally getting to the truth of what had happened at Two Falls.

  Going to the seat of the council meant risking her freedom. She didn’t have the authority or permission to investigate the massacre, but because she kept her true purpose secret, no one had stopped her from digging up the truth of Two Falls. The council, if her presence became known to them, wouldn’t be so friendly toward her actions, and her arrangement with her master would be jeopardized.

  But Starfall was the only place she could go where there might be answers. She had looked at every possible document she could get her hands on related to the massacre, and she had never found mention of a Commander Osamu. That meant whoever had cleaned up the incident had erased the name from most of the records. If there was a record that existed on the man, who had to be a nightblade, the only place it could be was with the council. As much as she hated the idea, Starfall was the only place for her to go.

  Asa paid her bill and gave the two boys a sly wink. Both noticed her for the first time, and for a few precious moments, the poor serving girl got a break from their unwanted attention as the boys turned to Asa and made suggestions about nicer places they could go to eat. Asa just smiled and bowed as she left the restaurant.

  Asa walked along the path leading from the village. After a few more leagues, she would reach a small town where she would rest for the night. Her feet were sore from a day on the road, and she looked forward to resting at a nice inn and having a wonderful bath.

  The two boys had followed her out of the restaurant, but when it was clear their antics would not be successful, they went back to tormenting the serving girl. At times, Asa missed parts of having a normal life. She missed having boys and men flirt with her, and when she was traveling through villages like the one she had just visited, she missed the scenes of day-to-day life she encountered: women going about performing their daily chores, men out at work in the fields, and the noise and bustle of local markets.

  Asa loved being a nightblade. She loved the power it gave her, and she loved that she had the strength to make a difference. But the cost was high.

  Blades were a part of the world, and yet separate. Civilians held them in awe and a little bit of fear. Wherever blades went, they were the center of attention. Asa often tried to travel incognito, but being a woman alone on the roads often gave her away.

  There were days, like today, when she wasn’t certain about how to move forward, where she yearned for the simplicity of village life. When she had been younger, she sometimes dreamed of settling down with a husband and starting a family.

  Those moments still hit her with the force of a punch to the stomach, but they were rarer now. She was old enough to recognize that she loved her freedom, and while the idea of domestic life wasn’t without its appeal, Asa knew she would never submit to another.

  Asa stopped walking and looked around. Her thoughts and footsteps had carried her far from the village. She was in the plains, which made up the vast majority of the northwest lands of the Kingdom. The land rolled for as far as the eye could see. People who hadn’t traveled here or lived here always thought plains meant flatland. Sometimes that was true, but here the grass rose and fell
in hills, like a gently rolling sea.

  Asa turned around and took in her surroundings. The path she was on was empty, and as far as she could see, she was alone. She smiled. Perhaps the thought of being alone scared some, but it was a feeling she craved. She had been born on a farm, and the emptiness of fields was as close as she ever got to a feeling of home.

  When she was young and the sense had first developed in her, cities had been terrifying places. Cities already contained enough new sights and sounds to scare a young child, but add to that an awareness of everything happening around you, an awareness no one else can explain, and the visits had been a trying, if not traumatic, experience. No matter how much older she grew, she always hated cities and loved the countryside.

  Out here, Asa could let her sense run free. It was possible to control how strongly the sense acted. Like plugging your ears with your fingers, you could slow the information down to a trickle and quiet the noise of the outside world. Or you could focus on your sense and allow it to sharpen every experience. You could pick out the organized dance of the ants below your feet or feel the vast, quiet presence of old woods. With enough training, you could shut the sense down completely. But most of the time, your awareness sat somewhere in the middle. In many places, at least some small part of your consciousness had to be expended to ensure the gift didn’t extend too far.

  But out here in the prairie, with no one to bother her, here she could let her abilities go. And she did. She focused on her sense, closing her eyes and calming her breathing. She could feel the tendrils of her sense spread far and wide across the prairie. Many people thought the prairies were lifeless, but Asa knew differently. She could sense the bugs moving in the dirt, the hundreds of ants making their home where humans would never bother them. She jumped as a group of small songbirds flew overhead. There was plenty of life here; one just had to pay attention.

  When Asa felt the tendrils of another person with the sense, her eyes opened with a snap, and she lost all focus. The world returned to normal, or as close to normal as it could be for one gifted with the sense. Asa’s first instinct was to spin around again, to search for the person the sense was emanating from. Only blades were able to use the sense, and there was no reason for another one to be nearby. A warning in her mind told her not to move suddenly.

  Asa listened to her gut. If someone else was out here, someone else who could use the sense, something was wrong. There was no reason for another blade to be here. Trying to learn a little more, Asa took a deep breath and turned around slowly, acting as though she were trying to take in all the scenery. She spun in a lazy circle. As she turned, she focused her gaze in the direction the sense had come from, but she couldn’t see anyone.

  Someone was hiding, and if someone were hiding and using the sense, it meant she was being tracked. But on the other hand, no one else was around. Asa figured if the blade meant her any harm, there would be no reason to hide. This place was as good as any to attack. If the blade were hiding, she wasn’t in any immediate danger.

  Perhaps that was why no posse was in pursuit. Perhaps the town had sent one assassin after her instead of a group. But still, if there were a time to attack, it was now. So she was safe, at least for a while.

  Asa turned around again. She closed her eyes and focused on her breath. This time, she channeled her sense, pushing it farther in the direction from where she had felt the other sense. She felt her tendrils stretch out ever farther, and she was worried because for a few moments, she couldn’t feel the other sense. Had she imagined the entire experience?

  She patiently kept her sense crawling in the direction she wanted. As far as people knew, there was no limit to the distance the sense could travel; the only limit was how much information one person’s mind could handle. The farther the sense traveled, the more information it brought in. If the sense traveled too far, your mind couldn’t understand. Legends said that if you pushed too far, you risked snapping your mind.

  She felt the tendrils again, the sure signs of another person using the sense. But they were farther away, or the tendrils lacked some of their previous strength. Someone was trying to hide from her. She pushed her sense out even farther, nearing the edge of her ability. For just a moment, she thought she found where the tendrils were emanating from, but she couldn’t sense anyone there.

  The effort of keeping her sense extended so far exhausted Asa, and the fact that she couldn’t feel the person at the center was too much for her mind to endure. She broke her connection, bringing her sense back into line with its normal work. She knelt down in the grass, considering what she had felt.

  Asa had a hard time figuring out what was happening. Whoever was following her was far away, and his or her ability with the sense was probably more developed.

  There was no way to hide from the sense, so she must have not been able to reach the person’s hiding place. If the blade were following her, which seemed increasingly certain, the tracker could sense Asa far beyond where she could funnel her sense.

  Asa fingered her short blades. The most obvious solution was to try to kill whoever was following her. Under most circumstances that would be her decision. But today the idea made her uncomfortable. Whoever was out there had skills beyond Asa’s, and she had to assume someone had assigned that person to track her. If that was true, she was probably outclassed. Asa was a strong warrior, but she was far from the strongest nightblade. She could name at least a dozen off the top of her head who were better, and those were only the ones she knew.

  The other action was to pretend as though she hadn’t noticed. The other person would have felt her sense, but if the nightblade was confident in his or her ability to hide, Asa’s stalker might feel safe. Asa had never turned around suddenly or given any definitive indication she was certain she was being followed. The person following her would be suspicious, but if Asa could sell her ignorance, perhaps the other person would get overconfident.

  Asa grabbed some dried fruit from her bag and stood back up, chewing slowly. If the blade could see her, the gesture would reveal a reason for having knelt down. Taking a deep breath, Asa started walking forward, wondering if the person following her was a shadow or an assassin.

  Chapter 5

  Minori looked down at himself, making sure he appeared presentable. He wasn’t comfortable admitting how much time he had spent deciding what to wear for this meeting, but it was crucial that he make the right impression. He and Kiyoshi had met several times in the past, but the introductions had always been brief. The two of them knew each other primarily through reputation alone.

  Despite their political disagreements, Minori had a great deal of respect for Kiyoshi. The older man was a fool when it came to the way the world worked, but a noble fool at least. Like Minori, Kiyoshi believed. He believed the actions he was taking were in the best interest of the blades. Minori disagreed. If Kiyoshi’s philosophies continued to become policy, Minori was certain the blades wouldn’t have any voice in the direction of the Kingdom. But if he had any chance at all of working with Kiyoshi, it all would start with this meeting.

  To that end, he had dressed and re-dressed himself, considering the statement each outfit made. He knew Kiyoshi was a simple, straightforward man. But though the dayblade was simple, he was not unintelligent. The man was brilliant and knew whom he’d be dealing with. Minori couldn’t help whatever impression Kiyoshi already had of him, but he could determine how that impression would change.

  Minori had settled on simple black robes, the traditional garb of the nightblades. The fabric was of quality, but wasn’t so fine as to be only for decoration. The garment had seen wear and tear. After much debate, Minori wore his sword. Kiyoshi didn’t always, but the man was also a dayblade and had little need. Minori wondered if the sword would be considered too martial, but decided to stick with his values. He was a nightblade, and he would wear a sword wherever he went.

  Satisfied with his appearance, he knocked lightly on the door. The two had agreed
to meet at a teahouse Kiyoshi favored. While Minori waited for Kiyoshi to welcome him in, he studied the teahouse. Though placed in the heart of the city, the venue was surrounded by a small bamboo grove and thick walls, serving as one of the most peaceful locations in the city. Minori approved. Whoever managed the grove was diligent about their work.

  The details always mattered. A small rock garden sat next to the path to the teahouse; no stone was out of place. Minori could hear the soft trickle of the stream that ran through the property, and the plants were trimmed with a thoughtfulness that spoke volumes about the caretaker of the teahouse.

  He didn’t hear movement, but he could sense Kiyoshi moving through the house. Minori frowned. Despite his advanced age, Kiyoshi moved with surprising strength and grace. He was a man who clearly took care of himself. Minori reminded himself again not to underestimate his fellow blade.

  Kiyoshi opened the door and bowed deeply, a deeper bow than Minori warranted. Minori returned the gesture, bowing equally low. The move made him uncomfortable, but he wouldn’t be rude to his host. He hadn’t bowed so low in some time.

  “Come in, please. I am grateful for the opportunity for us to have a conversation.”

  Minori noted the older man’s choice of words. There was no possibility Kiyoshi was grateful to have Minori here, at least not yet, but he hadn’t alluded to that. He was trying to be both honest and polite, confirming everything Minori suspected about the man.

  “Likewise, I am grateful that we can get to know each other after all this time.”

  Minori saw the fire of intelligence in Kiyoshi’s eyes. There was a mirth there, a hint of a man who saw humor in the day-to-day situations he found himself in. Reflexively, Minori decided he liked Kiyoshi. He wondered, if they played chess together, who would win.

  Kiyoshi gave him a brief tour of the teahouse, but there wasn’t much to see there. Minori paid attention to the space, certainly arranged by Kiyoshi prior to Minori’s arrival. But there was little to learn. Kiyoshi didn’t weave any subtle messages into the arrangement of the house. Everything was organized for an ideal tea-drinking experience.