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

by Ryan Kirk

  In the back of his mind, Minori felt that something was wrong, as though there was an insistent buzzing. But he mentally slapped it away, trying to focus on what Shin was going to say next.

  “The group that burned down the palace, and who killed several of my guards in the process, were the blades, acting on orders of their council.”

  The crowd was as silent as Minori, the weight of Shin’s words settling on them.

  Minori froze in place, his mind racing. What he was hearing—it couldn’t be true. He was trying to process all the implications, but his mind felt trapped in a small cage, denial running through his head.

  “The man standing next to me, whom I’ve trusted these past moons, has secretly been the leader of the plot against me. I have learned that the blades seek to overthrow the government of the Kingdom and rule this land. They are tired of serving and wish to rule instead.”

  Shin glared at Minori and drew his sword in a clumsy motion, his eyes as cold as ice. “Guards, take this man prisoner.”

  Shin’s command snapped Minori to attention. He couldn’t process the betrayal and its implications, but he knew imprisonment meant death, and he wasn’t ready for that. As his mind caught up to the events of the past few moments, he paid attention to his environment with fresh eyes. The platform was surrounded by guards with spears, and Minori realized there were eight in number, the same as in Shin’s nightblade-hunting units.

  The guards had been waiting for Shin’s signal; they turned and faced the platform. Minori glanced around and saw another pack of eight spears marching toward the platform. Shin wasn’t taking any chances.

  At that moment, Minori was thankful he had been so frustrated earlier that day. His body was warmed up and ready to move, a much different sensation than most mornings, where morning movement came hand in hand with stiffness. His own anger could be the difference between him escaping or dying.

  With the extra group behind him, Minori only had one logical path. He took one last look at Shin and sprinted forward, leaping as high as he could off the front of the platform. There were four guards who had been stationed there, and Minori passed within spear range of two of them. They stabbed out, and Minori felt at least one of the spears tear through his robes.

  Minori landed hard and rolled clumsily. He cursed himself for not having kept his body in better condition. In his time in Haven, there had been so much to pay attention to, he hadn’t moved as often as he should. Fortunately, although his side and back hurt from the hard landing, he was certain he hadn’t rolled his ankles. He had a chance.

  Again the crowd parted before him, the well-established fear of nightblades still holding, but in the already-packed space of the road, there wasn’t always a place for people to go. Citizens tripped over one another, and when some tried to get away, they only succeeded in being pushed back against Minori. Fast movement simply wasn’t going to happen. Still, the guards behind him were bogged down as well.

  Minori risked one glance. Shin stood on the platform, back straight, a bemused expression on his face. No doubt he believed his guards would have little problem rounding up Minori. In a moment of doubt, the blade considered just giving up. In combat, he had a chance, but against sixteen of Shin’s specially trained men, that chance was exceedingly slim. If it came down to a footrace, Minori knew he was doomed. Perhaps if he didn’t resist, there would be an opportunity later.

  His mind screamed at him, and he realized he was being foolish. If he were captured, Shin would ensure he was the best-guarded prisoner in the history of the Kingdom. His chances of escape now might be slim, but he had to try.

  When Minori reached the edge of the street, he saw that he had been headed off by two of Shin’s guards. They were only carrying swords, and Minori assumed they were regular soldiers, present to oversee the gathering.

  They both drew their swords and slashed, but Minori was able to sense both strikes coming. He easily slid between the guards and kept moving. Regular soldiers weren’t his worry. The group of eight behind him was, as well as the others behind them.

  His only real hope was to try to lose the soldiers in the folds of Haven. To do so, he needed narrow alleys and lots of corners and hiding spaces. A market nearby just might serve him well. Minori turned toward it, the sound of footsteps running hard behind him.

  Minori didn’t feel fear. He had been in impossible situations before. When he was younger, they had been considered his specialty, which was why he had been sent into Two Falls in the first place. When times got tough, when their lives were threatened, most people had a tendency to panic. Not Minori. His breath settled, and he sensed everything around him. He could feel the empty streets and knew just how far away Shin’s guards were. An implacable calm settled on him as he knew what he had to do to survive.

  He could sense Shin’s guards splitting up and going down side alleys. They knew they were faster and would seek to box him in. If he was going to live, he needed to make sure that box never closed. He found the side street he was looking for and sprinted, asking more of his legs and lungs than he had in many moons.

  He sensed the soldiers before he saw them, and skidded to a stop. One pair of guards was coming up the cross street in front of him. Minori threw himself behind a cart—a poor hiding place, but he was betting his pursuers wouldn’t stop to look carefully. He breathed slowly as his guess was confirmed and they ran in front of him, just glancing to see if their quarry was in the alley. Then the soldiers continued on their way.

  The pair that had been trailing him turned the corner, saw him crouched behind the cart, and immediately realized what had happened. They let out a shout, and Minori was back on his feet, sprinting through the intersection perpendicular to the path of the first pair. At the next intersection, he doubled back toward the palace. He had broken through the box once. Now he had to continue to do so.

  What he needed more than anything else was a place to hide, a place where no one would suspect him. His mind raced through different options as his body raced through the streets of Haven. The guards had gotten between him and the market, and he could sense all sixteen prowling the area. His options were quickly disappearing.

  The pair behind him had eased their pursuit. But he could tell why. His sense told him he was surrounded by guards, and rushing would only put the guards in greater danger. Despite his efforts, he was indeed boxed in, even though the box was large.

  Minori turned a corner, thoughts of his earlier life as a shadow returning to him. He had been pursued regularly then, but how did he always evade his pursuers? Then he remembered that there were two directions people rarely looked—down and up. Minori didn’t think he’d be able to hide anywhere underfoot, but they wouldn’t expect an old man to climb up. He just had to find a place to scale without being seen.

  Minori slowed down to a jog, scanning his surroundings. A cold wind picked up, and the blade felt a sudden chill. There was the spot he was looking for. Minori climbed on top of a barrel, and from there onto the top of a wooden wall. He balanced precariously for a few moments before finding his center. He walked along the wall for about six paces. Across the alley, only two paces away, was a rooftop he could hide on. Now all he had to do was make the jump. He hesitated. If he missed his target and fell, everything would be over. He sensed two pairs of guards getting closer. There wasn’t any time to doubt.

  Minori leapt, trying to get his center of weight over the roof, but he failed. Slowly, he slid backward, his hands scrabbling for purchase on the slanted roof. He caught himself just before he fell, and for a brief moment hung in space. Summoning all his energy and youthful memories, Minori pulled himself up to the top of the roof, grunting through the final effort.

  He got his feet up and over the wall just before the guards came in view of the alley. Not seeing him, they continued on their way. Minori knew they would be back, continuing to search the area. But for now, he was safe, and that was enough.

  The blade collapsed onto his back, his en
tire body aching from the effort of escape. He felt a wetness on his face, and it drew his eyes toward the sky. The gathering clouds had thickened, and the first snow was falling.

  It was going to be cold, but he wouldn’t freeze. He had one thing left to do in this world, and he wouldn’t fail. All his plans may have been for nothing, but a new mission had taken their place.

  He was going to kill Shin.

  Chapter 27

  Kiyoshi sat in his room, the rightful king in front of him, breathing peacefully and calmly. If he took a step back, he had to acknowledge how unusual the situation was. Monarch and adviser were on the run, even though Masaki should be in his palace, surrounded by aides. Instead, he was here alone, with only Kiyoshi to look after him. His palace had burned, and all his aides believed he was dead. If they knew the truth, they would never speak of it.

  Masaki didn’t deserve this fate. There were a handful of people in the Kingdom who knew the sacrifices he had made for peace, but in the end, they would all come to nothing if Kiyoshi couldn’t salvage the disaster that currently surrounded them. Masaki had paid the price for peace in blood, and no one knew.

  As he looked at his king, Kiyoshi thought about when he had first entered Masaki’s service. They had known each other for some time, but Kiyoshi had recently failed in the most spectacular way. He had disappeared for some time, and after a long period of wandering, he returned to the palace. He had laid his blade before Masaki and told him that if he so wished, he would gladly take his own life. In his youth, Kiyoshi had despised the practice, but he had come to understand it. Sometimes death was the only peace one could find.

  Masaki hadn’t allowed him his death. He asked Kiyoshi into his service, and the blade had remained there for more than twenty cycles now. They hadn’t always experienced easy times, but Kiyoshi always looked up to Masaki. He was the only truly selfless leader Kiyoshi had ever met, a worthy man to follow.

  Kiyoshi was close to giving up on the Kingdom. Maintaining order in the land was like trying to hold together a piece of pottery that had already shattered.

  Asa was in her room, recovering from her injuries. Koji had been a force Kiyoshi hadn’t reckoned on. The young boy’s power and strength were remarkable. Minori had found a tool more powerful than even he realized.

  With Juro dead, there were only two real contenders for the throne. Until this morning, Kiyoshi had thought perhaps it was best to allow Shin to continue his way forward. He was the smartest and the boldest, and if it was a choice between him and Isamu, Kiyoshi would gladly have chosen Shin. But not after the information he had just received.

  Here in the inn, his shadows were able to get plenty of information to him, and the most recent news from Haven had been the last cut Kiyoshi could take. Minori, displayed in public as the arsonist who destroyed the palace. Shin, demanding representation from the council, but until then, ordering all blades to turn in their swords. If they didn’t, they were guilty of treason and would be hunted. Kiyoshi’s note said that groups of citizens were going from house to house, making sure no blades dwelled in Haven. Several blades had already died, unable to escape the sealed city.

  The petty part of Kiyoshi wanted to laugh at Minori’s misfortune. His game had been a foolish one, and although Kiyoshi believed Minori had meant well, he had come into the game not knowing where all the pieces were. He hadn’t known about Shin’s desire to rid the Kingdom of the blades. A crucial mistake.

  Mostly, though, Kiyoshi felt sorry for Minori. They might disagree, but they both wanted what was best for the blades, via their own opinions. Minori had made mistakes, but going down in history as the most despised man in the Kingdom was a fate he didn’t deserve.

  Kiyoshi had thought about the problem all morning but couldn’t come up with any solutions. They needed some way of keeping the Kingdom from remaining in Shin’s hands, but the usurper’s plans had been very well thought out. With the blades as a common enemy, he might even manage to keep the families united. Juro, of course, had also been killed by a blade, another step that Shin seemed to have anticipated.

  Kiyoshi turned the problem over and over in his mind, like constantly tilling up new earth in a garden. But no matter how hard he searched, no answers came to him.

  He was so busy thinking about the problems facing the Kingdom that it took him some time to see that Masaki’s eyes were open.

  The king was awake.

  Kiyoshi was so excited that he jumped to his feet, ready to shout for anyone who would listen. But his sudden movement startled Masaki, and as the king’s eyes tracked over to Kiyoshi, the old dayblade saw something that terrified him. Masaki’s eyes, usually sharp and attentive, were blank and glassy. Kiyoshi realized Masaki, or whatever was left of his friend, was gone. All that remained was a scared child.

  Kiyoshi’s heart almost collapsed in grief. After all of this, to have the king come to only to have lost his mind was almost too much to take.

  Kiyoshi’s healing nature reasserted itself, and he walked slowly toward Masaki, his voice soft and soothing. “Hello, Masaki. Do you know where you are?”

  Masaki didn’t reply to Kiyoshi, but his lips moved. As Kiyoshi got closer, he could hear some of the words Masaki uttered, largely gibberish, but a few remarks Kiyoshi recognized. Names, places, random sentences that didn’t fit into any context Kiyoshi could imagine.

  Moving slowly, so as not to frighten Masaki, Kiyoshi moved his hands, placing one on the king’s head and one on his chest. Kiyoshi closed his eyes, and the outside world faded away. He took a deep, calming breath as he realized just how sick Masaki had become. The growth inside of him had grown much larger, and it was amazing he could even draw breath. But Masaki’s mind was what Kiyoshi was most worried about.

  Kiyoshi could feel the energy of Masaki’s mind, torn into shreds as though a child were ripping up paper. It wasn’t wise, but Kiyoshi dove into Masaki’s head, into the heart of the disturbance of the energy. It was time for desperate action. The worst he could do was kill Masaki, and he wasn’t sure that was a bad thing anymore. The king had earned his rest.

  Kiyoshi focused his own strength and dove into the knot that had defined Masaki’s recent existence. Gently, but firmly, he tried to force the energy into patterns he recognized. He didn’t concern himself with causing permanent damage. He was driven, partly by desperation, partly by curiosity. What was he capable of? Could he bring the king back after all he had been through?

  Sweat beaded down his face, a minor irritation. He worked his way to the center of the disruption in Masaki’s mind. The energy there circled and swirled, an angry hive of bees. Kiyoshi couldn’t imagine beginning to untangle it or rearrange it, so he tried to cut at it with his own inner force.

  Kiyoshi felt something snap in Masaki’s mind, and he was abruptly thrown out of his meditation. His eyes took in the room they were in, but he needed a few moments to remember where he was and what he was doing. Dayblades were always cautioned about jumping out of patients. It wasn’t good for the mind, and in the schools they told stories of dayblades who had lost their sanity trying to heal. Kiyoshi could understand. His soul felt as though it was trying to stitch itself back together.

  He looked down, and what he saw brought joy to his heart, the first real joy he had felt in a very long time. Masaki was looking at him, warmth in his eyes.

  “Hello, old friend,” said the king.

  The rest of the day was both depressing and refreshing. It was heartbreaking because Kiyoshi needed to give the king at least a small idea of what had happened while he had been unconscious. The blade tried to be quick, because it soon became apparent that while Masaki was awake and alert, he wouldn’t be for long. Kiyoshi caught him drifting time and time again, and his moments of lucidity were getting shorter.

  Whatever Kiyoshi had managed to do to the king wasn’t a permanent healing. Kiyoshi also noticed that the king’s breathing was becoming more labored.

  The two sat next to each other, talking in quiet
tones. Masaki looked tired, more tired than Kiyoshi had ever remembered him. A part of Kiyoshi regretted his actions. Masaki looked as though he would have preferred to pass into the Great Cycle.

  The king looked at his friend. “What would you have me do?”

  “You need to declare Isamu the next king.”

  “He’s too weak.”

  “I agree. But Shin will pursue his vendetta against the blades, destroying the Kingdom. We have no choice anymore.”

  Masaki was silent, and for a few moments, Kiyoshi worried he had slipped back into his lost mental state. But the king was just thinking. “I hate it, but I agree. The Kingdom needs the blades, even if the people don’t realize it.”

  Masaki asked for paper. It was painful for Kiyoshi to watch the king struggle to write, but for the healer’s own conscience, he needed the king to perform the act himself. After all of Shin’s forgeries, this document needed to be as authentic as possible. They didn’t have the king’s seal, which was a problem, but the note would have to do.

  The orders signed, Masaki gazed at his friend. “I assume you will take it upon yourself to deliver these?”

  Kiyoshi nodded.

  Masaki looked out into the distance, out through the window. When he spoke, his voice seemed to come from far away. “I think that if you return, I will not be here anymore.”

  Kiyoshi’s first instinct was to argue, but as he looked at his old friend, he knew the king spoke the truth. He would not survive several days of travel overland to meet at Isamu’s camp. Kiyoshi wasn’t sure Masaki would survive even a few days in the inn. If Kiyoshi was successful, it would be some time before he could return.

  Masaki continued. “When will you leave?”

  “As soon as possible. Time is among our enemies right now.”

  “Would you sit with me for a while? It is a rare gift to be among friends.”

  Together they spoke of old times, of events and people that had passed into the realm of history, some stories of which they were the only two alive who knew of them. Eventually, talk turned to Yoshi, the king’s son, the once prince of the Kingdom.