by Ryan Kirk
Moriko stepped away, giving him a moment of peace. Fear and anger mixed in his mind, a deadly milieu he couldn’t escape. Moriko struck again, a series of cuts Ryuu struggled to keep up with. She was so fast, much faster than he remembered. Her last strike hit him in the upper left arm near his shoulder. The pain flared, but he pushed it down. Had she been using steel he would have lost his arm. It wasn’t broken, but it felt horrible when he tried to move it. Her next pass would be her last. She would break his arm and there was nothing he could do to stop her.
Fury overrode his other emotions. He didn’t know why Shigeru had trained him, but he believed he was meant to do something important. His gift was the blade, and that gift was about to be taken away. It was profoundly wrong, and every part of his body and mind knew it. Moriko shifted her weight, and in the back of his mind, Ryuu knew he only had moments to decide. Faces ran through his memory, and he looked at them for the first time without regret. Yes, he was sorry they had died, and he missed them dearly, but he had taken the best actions he could. It was all he could do. It was all anyone could ever do. And he was needed, perhaps now more than ever.
Moriko darted forward and all the doubt, all the hesitation in Ryuu’s mind shattered. It was as though a cold wind blew through his mind, clearing out the debris that had built up over the past few cycles. His sense came flooding back to him, never gone, but only hidden. Moriko contained her presence well, but Ryuu had spent too much time training with her. He could sense her as easily as he sensed himself. His mind was blank, and his body slipped into the energy that flowed through the old woods as easily as he slipped on his robes in the morning. He felt strength flood his limbs, and he exploded forward.
Moriko grinned and they met in combat in earnest. Their wooden swords snapped through the air as they spun around each other and the trees. Sweat poured from Ryuu’s forehead as he met Moriko strike for strike. He was faster and stronger, but she had learned new techniques in their time apart. Her cuts came low and fast, and her body masked her movements well. If not for his familiarity with her, he would have been cut several times.
When he finally disarmed her, a wave of pride rushed through him. He felt whole and alive for the first time in many moons. He pressed her up against a tree and kissed her deeply, memories of their first kiss making him smile. She had pushed him away that time. Now she returned his passion hungrily.
The moment was over all too soon, and when he stepped back, he saw a light in her eyes that hadn’t been there before.
He smiled. Their problems were only beginning, but in this, at least, he was whole. He didn’t know what would happen next, but he knew it would be with Moriko, and that was enough for him.
10
Akira, Sen, Mashiro, and Makoto sat around a table discussing the spring. Winter had come early, and it had been bitter; but spring was coming just as early, and with the change of the seasons the Azarians would come. Already some of the game trails were opening up in the mountains, and Akira worried they would soon be dealing with another flood of Azarian hunters in the old Southern Kingdom.
“My king?” Mashiro spoke, the lean general as impatient as ever.
Akira glanced up from the maps. He still wasn’t used to the new title, even after several moons. They had held a ceremony, but it had been a quiet affair. There would be time for celebrations later, so long as they managed to keep their fragile kingdom alive. The unification had gone smoothly enough, but Akira hadn’t instituted any major changes yet. For now, each of the old kingdoms managed themselves much as they always had. Akira had trusted advisers in each of the courts, but he was focused on the challenges ahead. Already he had summoned almost all the armies available. From the old Western Kingdom he had pulled two armies south to the Three Sisters. From the Northern Kingdom, another two armies of cavalry well-used to mountainous terrain. And from his own ranks, every man he could spare. Altogether, over thirty thousand men would be massed at the entrance to the pass. It was the largest fighting force assembled in the land for over a thousand cycles, and he still worried it wouldn’t be enough.
Toro’s last estimate to Akira had been that there were almost sixty thousand Azarians. By population the kingdom was much larger, but all Azarians were trained in warfare. The sixty thousand Azarians would be over half women and children, but Akira didn’t discount their effect on the battle. He knew they would fight well, and he worried his own men would hesitate to strike a woman, no matter how deadly she appeared.
But what worried him more were the hunters. Even with Moriko’s journey into Azaria, they had no idea how many hunters the Azarians possessed. Perhaps it was only a few dozen. Or maybe it was closer to a few thousand. Akira had some of his best minds trying to guess what they might be facing.
Generally the sense was passed down by blood. A parent with the sense almost always gifted it to their children. However, in the kingdom, the ability had been weeded out for dozens of generations. Monks weren’t allowed to reproduce. The best guess of the scholars and the monks themselves was that the ability randomly appeared in about one out of every thousand children.
But according to Moriko, there was no prohibition against hunters reproducing in Azaria. The sense would be strong in some bloodlines, and it meant there could be many more hunters than they expected. Akira had read all the reports the scholars had written, but it all boiled down to one bare fact. They had no idea how many hunters would come through the pass once the snows melted. And that frightened Akira much more than the other warriors.
“My king?” Mashiro repeated, and Akira looked up from his thoughts. It was getting harder to control them. He needed rest.
“Mashiro, I see nothing in your plan I could improve on. Does anyone else have any suggestions?”
Those around the table shook their heads. Mashiro was a brilliant strategist, possibly the best military mind in generations. Nobody doubted him, even though he still hadn’t seen thirty cycles.
Mashiro’s plan was simple in its execution, which Akira was grateful for. In his experience simple plans were often the best. They would hold the fort at the end of the pass as long as possible. It would be filled with archers and some infantry. They would make the Azarians pay for every step of ground they tried to cover. They wouldn’t bother trying to man the small outposts along the pass. Mashiro agreed with Toro’s judgment. Any soldiers stationed there would be sitting targets for hunters.
Mashiro hoped to hold the fort for as long as possible, but he knew it would have to fall sometime. The fort was too small and the numbers of their enemies too great. The plan was to draw the Azarians into the foothills of the mountains north of the fort. They would station a large force directly ahead of the Azarians to meet them head-on. Once the battle was met, men would swarm the Azarians from the hills to the east and west. They would come together and crush the Azarians in between them. Finally, Sen’s mounted cavalry would stream down from the game trails in the mountains behind the fort. They would crush whatever stragglers remained.
As far as plans went, Akira couldn’t think of one better. It used the terrain to their maximum advantage. If they were going to emerge victorious, it was by far their best way forward. But he couldn’t shake his worry over the hunters. How would they affect the plans?
Akira looked around the table. “I believe we have the best plan laid here in front of us, and for that, I’m grateful. But I want us to put together plans for what should happen if we fail.”
Mashiro looked as though he couldn’t believe his ears. “My king?”
Akira met his incredulous gaze. “I hope more than anything that we emerge victorious from this battle. We are putting almost everything we can into this effort. But my heart urges caution. We need to be prepared for what should happen if we fail.”
Sen nodded, and Akira saw he had been thinking along the same lines.
Akira continued. “Sen, my first wish is that you return to your homelands and find shelter there. Should we fall, your lands will be
by far the safest. You can mount a resistance from there.”
He could see the disagreement in the old man’s eyes, but he didn’t let the lord argue. “You are second in line to the throne. I will not risk both our lives in this battle, and a king needs to lead his people, even to the end.”
Sen nodded again, and Akira was grateful. The older lord didn’t need to like the command, but he had to follow it. The land couldn’t be without leadership. Not for the first time, he wished that either he or the older lord had another to pass the command to, but neither of them had an heir.
Akira turned to Makoto. “I want you to organize a resistance. If we fall, what should the soldiers do? It is a delicate line I ask you to walk. Soldiers must be assured of their victory, but they must know what to do if it fails. This land will not fall peacefully to the Azarians the way the Southern Kingdom fell to the Western. Understood?”
Makoto nodded. His personality was better suited to the task than Mashiro’s. Mashiro was the genius everyone looked up to, but Makoto was the one everyone followed. If anyone could inspire hope and help the men prepare for the worst, it would be the giant.
Akira stood up and bowed to all the assembled men. He thanked them and asked for Sen to see him before he left. Then, like a good leader, he stepped aside and let his men do the work that needed to be done. There was another task before him that he needed to finish.
Unfortunately, the war wasn’t the only item on Akira’s mind. In his tent was one of the most unusual messengers he had ever encountered. The man wore a long dark cloak that didn’t hide the scabbard at his side. By all outward appearances he seemed no different than most men, but Akira had watched him move with the cat-like grace that belonged to only one type of person. He had received a messenger from the nightblades.
Akira hadn’t had time to speak with the man before he was to meet with Sen and his generals. More to the point, he needed time to think. Ryuu had indicated there were far more nightblades alive than anyone suspected, but he gave no clue as to where they were. If this messenger was from the same place Ryuu had gone, it was possible he was the most important messenger Akira would meet with.
The man sat exactly where Akira had left him, motionless. If Akira hadn’t seen him move earlier he would have suspected the man was a statue. The messenger stirred when Akira entered his tent, lifting his hood and standing. It was the first time Akira had seen the man’s face, and it was utterly unremarkable. Akira guessed the man had seen over thirty cycles, and was strong, but beyond that, there was little to identify the man as unique.
“Greetings, king.”
Akira nodded. “Thank you for your patience.”
The man gave him a look that indicated he saw right through Akira’s discomfort. He knew the real reason Akira had gone to his meeting instead of receiving him. Akira straightened up. Nightblade or not, he wouldn’t be intimidated in his own camp.
“You are welcome. It has been a long journey, and I am grateful for the opportunity to rest.”
Akira wondered if they would have to go through the traditional pleasantries before the man got to the point.
“I see you have already intuited a fair amount about me,” the nightblade said. “This doesn’t surprise me. There are those who speak highly of you, and I see now they weren’t entirely mislead. You seem a man of integrity.”
Akira was grateful for the compliment, especially from a nightblade. In his experience, they didn’t often say what wasn’t true. They had no retribution to fear for speaking the truth. “Why are you here?”
“I have come for Rei.”
A mix of emotions ran through Akira’s heart. On one hand, he was glad. Rei had told him they had greater healers where she came from, but with no way of contacting them, there wasn’t any way to bring the healing to her. Perhaps this man would be able to take her back home. Akira was grateful she would be safe, someplace away from the coming war. But all the same, he was saddened. Even paralyzed, he would miss her company. She was beautiful, yes, but she also possessed a wisdom and strength far beyond her age. Akira had enjoyed his time with her.
“She is paralyzed from the waist down. I’ll have a litter prepared for her as soon as you are ready.”
The messenger smiled as though Akira had told a joke.
“Please allow me to see her first. I am aware of her injury and would like to attempt to heal her.”
Akira glanced at the man quizzically.
“You have guessed that I am a nightblade, for that is all you know, but I am actually a dayblade, trained in the arts of healing. I have come to do what I can and bring her home. They already know she is injured. It is why I was sent.”
Akira was surprised, and couldn’t help himself from blurting out the first question that came to his mind. “You came just to heal her, knowing she was injured?”
The messenger nodded. “She is important to us. She is special.”
Akira agreed. “Yes, she is.”
The messenger cocked his head to one side, studying Akira closely. Again, Akira got the impression he couldn’t keep any secrets from the man in front of him. “I see. We did not know.”
Akira shook his head. “It’s of no matter. I care deeply for her, and am glad you came to heal her.”
The dayblade gave the king another knowing look. “You were expecting a different message.”
Akira nodded. There wasn’t any point in trying to hide the truth from the messenger. It seemed he could see directly into Akira’s heart. “Your eyes see far, and the events shaping our lands are not secret. The land is reunited for the first time in over a thousand cycles, and yet we face an enemy more dangerous than we have ever met before. I know you know of the hunters. I hoped perhaps you had come with an offer of strength for us in our time of need.”
The dayblade was silent for a moment. “And you would accept us with open arms?”
Akira nodded.
“And your people?”
Akira was about to nod, but then he thought about the question. He had become used to the idea of nightblades, but for almost everyone else, they were still considered the most deadly enemies the Three Kingdoms had ever known. “I don’t know.”
The messenger spoke softly. “We are no longer under the command of the king, but I will let your desires be known.”
Akira didn’t think he’d get any more from the messenger. It was as much as he could hope for. “Thank you.”
Without another word, Akira led the dayblade from his tent to the tent where Rei was resting. When they entered Akira saw that Rei was wide awake. She had sensed another one of her people nearby.
“Rei,” the dayblade’s voice was filled with concern.
Rei murmured a greeting, and the dayblade got to work. Akira watched with unconcealed interest. The nightblades and the dayblades were legendary. He had been given the opportunity to see the skill of nightblades in some small part, but he had never seen a dayblade at work. The dayblade ran his hands gently and slowly along Rei’s body, spending more time around the cut which had paralyzed her and left her right arm useless.
Akira wanted to question the dayblade. By sight alone there was little he could see. The works of the dayblades had passed into legend, and the reality of their skills was beyond his knowledge. He resisted the urge. Whatever the dayblade was doing, he was clearly focused on the task at hand.
The king stepped forward, risking the ire of the dayblade for a chance to see more clearly what was happening. The dayblade had his hand wrapped softly around Rei’s arm, where she had been cut deeply. Time seemed to slow down, and to Akira’s eyes, nothing seemed to be happening. But when the dayblade removed his hand, Akira saw that the scar on her arm had faded. It was still visible if one looked for it, but the change was dramatic. Akira shook his head to make sure he was seeing everything correctly.
The dayblade stood up and took a drink of water. He looked tired but determined. He glanced at Rei. “Do you want something for the pain? This next healing will
hurt even more.”
Akira was surprised. Rei hadn’t let out any sign she was in pain. She was a strong woman.
Rei shook her head, and the dayblade nodded. “Then let us begin.” He turned to Akira. “This will take some time. There is no need for you to remain.”
Akira bowed. “I will stay for a while longer yet, thank you.”
The dayblade seemed not to care. His attention was already focused on Rei as he sat down next to her, placing both his hands on her bare back. He closed his eyes, and again he went to work. Akira watched, but could see nothing happening. He did see that Rei was in pain, her face contorted and her teeth grinding against one another in an effort not to scream. Her will held for a time, but eventually the scream broke free, surprising and frightening Akira for a moment. Her scream was primal and uncivilized. It didn’t seem to faze the dayblade at all. He just kept his hands on her back.
Akira took his leave as another scream was ripped from Rei’s throat. The legends only told of the healing of the dayblades. They never spoke of the pain that accompanied such healings. Akira wanted to stay, but he could do no good, and Rei’s screams rattled his nerves, as well as those around the tent. He was grateful her screams faded quickly.
Akira ran some errands, meeting with some of his commanders and signing a set of orders placed in front of him. He went about his day-to-day responsibilities with half a mind until the dayblade found him.
“I have done what I can.”
“How is she?”
The dayblade hesitated. “My skills are excellent, but her hurts are grievous. Perhaps if I had been here sooner, but what is done is done. I have healed her spine as well as I am able, and I expect she will be able to walk again. In time, with more healing, she may fully recover from that cut. Her arm is another matter. There is only so much one can heal, and the cut across the back of her arm severed everything to the bone. I have done what I can, and she will have use of it, but she will never wield a blade again. I have given her the news and she grieves to hear it.”
