by Ryan Kirk
It came down to a single cut, one move that left Shika slightly off balance. Ryuu quickly moved inside her guard, the first opening she had given him. Shika tried to back away but Ryuu pursued her with relentless determination, pushing her backwards. The momentum of the fight had turned in his favor. She blocked his cuts, but was falling further behind. They both knew it was only a matter of time.
Shika committed to a last effort, a strong overhead cut that would have broken Ryuu’s head or shoulder, but she was too slow. Ryuu sensed the strike coming and moved in, striking her across the chest with his own wooden blade before she could defend herself. If he’d had a real blade in hand, she would have been opened up.
As it was, the blow knocked her off her feet and she rolled across the grass. The world returned to normal and Ryuu came over to Shika’s aid. She was slowly getting back to her feet, winded, but without permanent damage. Tenchi signaled for a dayblade, but Shika waved them away.
“I’m fine. Only my pride is hurt.” Even as she said it, she gratefully accepted Ryuu’s hand.
As she stood, a round of applause rippled through the amphitheater, a sound Ryuu had never heard before. He had listened to the tromp of hooves and the guttural cheers of men in battle, but never this polite clapping on such a scale. He wondered what the assembled nightblades thought of the demonstration they had just witnessed.
He didn’t have too much time to think about it. Just as the applause ended, an eager silence descended over the crowd. Ryuu studied Tenchi. Tenchi had expected he would beat Shika, but still seemed confident he’d have no problem defeating Ryuu. He wondered what tricks the old man had up his sleeve. He didn’t seem the type to boast needlessly.
The entire island felt as though it was holding its breath. Ryuu didn’t make the same mistake again. He emptied his mind and slipped entirely into the flow of the world as the duel was announced.
Tenchi didn’t seem to be interested in attacking. They each stepped closer until only two paces separated them, but neither moved, each on their guard. Tenchi was as immovable as a stone. In combat, Ryuu might have waited, but this was a duel with wooden swords. He grew impatient and attacked.
He came in with a low cut, moving up and across Tenchi’s body. It was easily deflected, but then the battle began in earnest. Ryuu wasn’t surprised that Tenchi was incredibly fast. The old man matched Ryuu in speed. Ryuu tried different techniques, always staying just a hair ahead of Tenchi’s counter-strikes.
They passed and passed, with Ryuu waiting for Tenchi’s tricks. He kept his guard close, not allowing Tenchi a moment to attack. Despite his best efforts, Tenchi turned the tide and Ryuu had to disengage or get beaten. They kept their distance, both looking for any opening.
What happened next, Ryuu couldn’t explain. Tenchi attacked, but it was as if he was attacking everywhere at once. Ryuu’s sense screamed at him, and he sensed all the cuts coming at him, but another part of his mind was shouting just as loudly that such an attack wasn’t physically possible. No one could make eight cuts at one time. It was impossible.
Ryuu didn’t know where to block. He couldn’t block eight simultaneous cuts. Ryuu did what came first to him, he jumped into the air as far as he could. He leapt above the attack, coming down with an attack of his own. Tenchi easily dodged it and the battle resumed.
Ryuu could feel the excitement radiating off the assembled nightblades. They had seen and sensed everything that had just happened. Ryuu’s mind was racing to catch up with an attack that wasn’t humanly possible. It didn’t seem like he was the only one. He could hear the low murmur going up through the assembly.
They split apart and came together again, Tenchi repeating the same attack. Ryuu tried to focus, find the truth of what was happening, but he couldn’t. In desperation, he dove to his right, rolling out of the way, barely dodging the attack.
How? How could one man strike in eight places at once? There was always an explanation, Ryuu just had to find it. It had to be a trick of some sort, a deception of the sense. But Ryuu couldn’t let his sense drop. He’d be hit in an instant. He reached out, quieting his mind, focusing on Tenchi’s movements.
Tenchi struck again, the same impossible attack reaching out to pummel Ryuu. This time Ryuu didn’t dodge but kept himself centered, focusing, searching for any information he could use to defeat the attack. A person could only strike in one place at a time. There could only be one real attack, he just had to find it.
At the last moment, Ryuu felt something. One strike, slightly different than the others. More substantial. Ryuu took the chance and blocked just that cut. His block was slow, but he connected with Tenchi’s wooden sword.
There was a gasp from the crowd as they realized what had happened. Ryuu felt a surge of pride. He could beat Tenchi and his tricks.
But then he saw Tenchi’s smile and realized he was deluding himself. Tenchi launched himself into a series of cuts, each showing multiple possibilities. Ryuu’s mind reeled, unable to focus. Some attacks would have two possibilities, some four. Ryuu dodged and blocked, but he blocked empty air as often as he blocked Tenchi’s strikes. The hits came with increasing rapidity, and Ryuu knew he had lost. As he lost his balance, Tenchi delivered a series of blows which knocked Ryuu off his feet and eating grass. He tried to move, but Tenchi’s wooden blade was resting at the back of his neck. A killing stroke for sure.
Ryuu swore and then laughed. His body felt stronger than it ever had before, but there was still more to learn. When Tenchi heard him laugh he relaxed his own posture. Ryuu flipped over onto his back and gladly accepted Tenchi’s outstretched hand. He brushed himself off and shook his head. “I’ve never seen anything like that before.”
Tenchi was about to reply, but was drowned out by the cheering that erupted from the audience. Ryuu looked up, surprised. In the heat of the combat he had forgotten there were thousands of people watching. It was almost enough to make him blush.
Ryuu had never seen Tenchi’s grin wider. He waited for the cheering to subside a little and then leaned over to Ryuu. “I had forgotten how much fun a real challenge can be. You are stronger than I expected. It was well fought.”
“You’ll have to show me that technique some time. I imagine it isn’t much good against those that can’t sense.”
“It isn’t. But if you’re fighting someone without the sense you’ll never need it. I’ll teach you when you return.”
Ryuu caught and held Tenchi’s eyes. He was an impressive man. Of that there wasn’t any doubt. He was as strong as steel but also knew enough to bend when the pressure was too great. He possessed an integrity Ryuu admired. Ryuu wasn’t sure where his life would take him, but he knew he wanted to come back to the island. This was where he belonged.
25
Renzo was on horseback, galloping across the Southern Kingdom. He had gotten used to riding horses, something he had never been able to do growing up on the island. It was one of the small pleasures of the Three Kingdoms he delighted in. Even though he had spent almost every morning and afternoon of the past two moons in the saddle, it still never got old. He loved the feel of the wind in his hair, the sensation of speed as they flew through the grass.
He had made a mistake. In retrospect, he should not have allowed the hunters to go to the island. He had underestimated Ryuu's abilities once again. The young man was gifted, strong. All the attack had accomplished was to give away Renzo's plans. He was sure of it. They couldn’t come to any other conclusion. When he had approached Shika, he hadn't been surprised when she turned him down, although he had hoped they could work together. They both felt the pressing need to bring the nightblades back to the Three Kingdoms, but Renzo didn't think she had the courage to go as far as was necessary. Change wouldn't happen unless the blades were pushed. Renzo wished that it could be different, but it wasn't.
The hunters on the island would have forced her hand. Shika would have told Tenchi about his approach. Renzo had trusted her enough at the time. Their methods may
have been different, but they had the same goals, and she had told him she wouldn’t speak to Tenchi about it. But he suspected he had gone too far. She wouldn't protect him after this. Renzo wondered what the old man would do, if he would send assassins.
Every evening Renzo extended his sense, sacrificing sleep to learn all he could about what was happening on the island. He had sensed the battle between Ryuu and the hunters. He had known it failed the moment it was over. Every night he returned, wondering what would happen. For a while, he had thought perhaps everything would continue as usual. Days passed and nothing seemed different. But then he sensed Ryuu leaving the island. He tracked the young nightblade for two days, wondering if the boy was coming for him.
After two days of tracking, Renzo was increasingly certain that Ryuu hadn’t been sent to assassinate him. The boy was making a beeline through the Northern Kingdom, racing to where the Southern Kingdom troops were. Renzo made up his mind. He begged leave of Tanak for a few days. There was only one place Ryuu would go, and it would be straight to Akira. Renzo didn't know what Tenchi or Ryuu hoped to accomplish, but he couldn't let their plans come to fruition. Even though he had failed at the Conclave, Akira had shown himself to be a dangerous and cunning opponent. Public opinion supported Akira and the words he had said. The people wished for peace. Tenchi was no fool either. Renzo couldn’t let them cooperate, not when his plans were so close to fruition. The Three Kingdoms were on the brink of complete chaos. It would only take another small push and it would all be over.
And so here he was, on a horse in the Southern Kingdom, riding to intercept Ryuu. It was time to put these games to an end. Ryuu had to die. Then Akira. And then his plan would be complete. He kicked his horse to go faster, riding towards Ryuu’s end.
26
Moriko was in shock. She wasn’t sure what she had expected, but it hadn’t been a quick death sentence. They hadn’t even listened to a word she said.
She glanced around and saw that many of the hunters around the fire were on the edge of their seats. They were expecting her to try to run for it. She didn’t have the time to process everything. Escaping under the spotlight wasn’t going to be an option.
She kept her courage and bowed. It was mock respect, and their nameless leader understood. “I am sorry to hear it, but I am not sure you will live to regret it.” The threat sounded hollow, even to her. She had her throwing knives and her sword but decided against using them. Nameless was on his guard, and she wouldn’t be able to surprise him. Better to wait for later.
A group of warriors came up to her, and she submitted to being bound, her wrists behind her back and her ankles given a pace of leeway. She could shamble along, but that was it. A leather strap was tied around her neck and she was led roughly away from the campfire. She offered no resistance. Better for them to think her meek. It wasn’t much, but it might give her the opportunity to make an escape later.
She was brought to a large tent and thrown inside. The strap around her neck was tied to an upright support at such a height that she had to remain straight to prevent being choked. She admired the cruel simplicity of it. Her blade was taken from her and placed off to the side of the tent, taunting her with its closeness. She tried to reach her knives but couldn’t. She forced herself to take slow breaths and think. Her will was as sharp as her blade, and there was no way she’d let them execute her.
It didn’t seem like much time had passed when she heard an angry conversation outside the tent. She had fallen into a meditative state to stay completely upright, but she jerked herself aware when she heard one of the voices outside. It was the voice of Dorjee. There were two voices arguing, but then Dorjee burst through the tent, trailed by the two guards. He was carrying a small pack, which he tossed into the corner of the tent. He drew his sword and sliced through the leather strap around her neck, close to the upper support.
The sudden release would have brought her to her knees, but Dorjee’s fist was in her gut before she could fall. He might have been older, but he could still hit. Moriko had just taken her first full gasp of air in some time, but his fist drove all the precious breath out of her lungs. She collapsed over his fist and fell to the ground, unable to protect herself or process what was happening.
While she was on the ground, Dorjee kicked her over and over, shots to her legs and chest. She was gasping for air but nothing seemed to come into her lungs except the dust from the ground. He lifted her up and a small knife appeared, as if by magic, in his hand. He cut her left arm, blood flowing freely from the wound. A few more blows and a slap to the face sent her crashing to the ground, blood all over her. Dorjee had gotten some on his hands. Finally, he stood her up and rammed his fist one last time into her gut. He didn’t let her fall, but kept her limp weight supported on his fist. He grabbed her hair and pulled her face to his and whispered “Not all of us look for war.” Then he let her drop heavily on the ground.
She felt the tension tighten around her neck as Dorjee bound that leather strap to the one tying her wrists together. She was still in shock as his agile hands worked on her bonds. It didn’t even occur to her to struggle. When he was done, he shared a laugh with the guards as they all walked out of the tent.
It took Moriko some time to gather her wits. The first thing she noticed was that the strap around her throat was loose. It had seemed tight at first, but it had quickly slipped until it was almost meaningless. Then she noticed the straps around her wrists were also coming undone.
Moriko looked around and saw that the small pack Dorjee had come in with was still in the tent, apparently forgotten. But she knew better. She smiled to herself. It was perhaps the first time she found use in political maneuvering.
Moriko was patient. There was no rush, but she was eager to see what Dorjee had left for her. She waited until she figured the moon was past its peak. The camp all around her was quiet, only the soft laughter of drunk couples breaking the silence of the prairie. Moriko undid the straps at her wrists and then made short work of the straps around her throat and feet. Silently, she walked over to the pack and opened it up.
All her belongings were in the pack, as well as Azarian clothes and food. It was all she needed to escape.
Moriko thought about trying to cut a hole in the hide, but she wanted blood. The guards outside the tent never knew what happened, their throats slit from behind. She dragged them into the tent and left them.
The experience of getting through the camp was horrible. She was dressed as one of the Azarians, but she still did not want to draw any attention to herself, so she tried to avoid being seen. She moved from tent to tent, using her sense to tell when people were nearby. She stayed out of sight as often as she could, and when she had to be seen, she made it look like she was in a hurry to get from one place to another.
The worst was when she was in between the tents of different clans. At night, these spaces were no-man’s land, and she had to ensure she wasn’t seen as she crossed through each of them. There was usually a fair amount of open space between the clan’s tents, and every one was a complete and utter nightmare. She kept turning around, expecting to find a hunter behind her.
By the time she reached the edge of the camps, Moriko was exhausted. She wanted to stop and rest, but there wasn’t any time. If they could find her at a distance, her only friend was more distance, more time. She found an unguarded horse and cut it free. There were outriders, but as she passed them at a distance she waved, just another scout on a mission. They waved in return, and she was free of the camp. She rode as hard as she could, knowing the hunters would soon be behind her.
When the sun rose, Moriko was exhausted, but the rising of the sun led to a new outlook. She had succeeded. She knew who had sent the hunters, knew they could find her at distance. Most important, she knew what was in store for the Three Kingdoms. Now all she had to do was get back in time. Even though the journey would be long and treacherous, she felt calm and confident. The prairie stretched as far as the eye could s
ee, and she was free.
She rode through the day and through the first night. When the sun rose on the second day of her escape, she allowed herself and the horse a break. She laid in the grass and fell asleep before her head hit the ground.
When she woke up, the sun was high overhead. She didn’t bother trying to throw out her sense. Instead, she found a rise in the land and looked in every direction. There was no pursuit. She didn’t question her good fortune. Perhaps Nameless didn’t care she’d escaped? She knew it wasn’t true, but it was the best explanation she had.
Moriko traveled by night and day. She slept as little as possible, seeking only to put as much distance between her and the People as she could. It was the end of summer and the days were hot. Often she had to get off her horse and walk beside it. But she stopped as little as possible. She knew she was covering ground much faster than she had going south. Now she had a purpose.
A half-moon passed, and Moriko knew she was close to the Southern Kingdom. She had found the foothills of the mountains, and now all she had to do was ride east until she found the Three Sisters. A handful of days, no more. It was just as well. She had been eating sparingly and hunting as much as possible, but even so, she was at the end of her food. In a few days she’d have to kill the horse and eat it.
When they came, they came from the mountains. Moriko was surprised. She had been looking to the south, but Nameless must have had birds sent to an outpost. There was only one place she would go. Moriko didn’t hesitate. If she could see them, they would have seen her too. She dropped off the horse and sliced its throat open. Raw horsemeat wasn’t her idea of a good meal, but she’d need the energy, and she couldn’t hide on horseback. When they dropped into a depression she ran, heading south. She figured it was the last direction they’d expect her to go. She ran and ran, staying low, squatting in the grass when the dust came over the depression.
