by Ryan Kirk
Amidst his regrets, Akira also grieved for Mashiro. The general and his men had covered Akira’s retreat and had paid for it with their lives. His loss was most keenly felt when Akira studied his maps, trying to decide his next move. Mashiro had been young, but he had possessed a mind unlike any other.
But the past was the past, and Akira couldn’t change it. There were supplies to manage and orders to give. He tried to put himself in the place of the Azarians, tried to figure out how they would expand through the land. He gave orders to the remaining soldiers to stop the Azarians however they could.
Time passed by like a swift river current, gone almost before he noticed it. He focused on the larger problems, and Captain Yung, the commander of his honor guard, worried about their personal safety. Most of Akira’s honor guard were still alive, about ninety of his best warriors, all camped with him. Soon he needed to decide what to do with them. They were probably one of the largest fighting forces left in the land that used to be the Southern Kingdom. Akira studied his maps, marked all over with the positions of small units of troops.
Yung barged into his tent, interrupting Akira’s study. “My king.”
Akira waved his hand dismissively. “You can just call me Akira, Yung. We’ve known each other long enough, and I don’t feel much like a king these days.”
Yung shook his head and stepped up to Akira. “With all due respect, you are still the king. Act like it.”
Akira straightened his back and Yung let out a slight grin. “Very well. News?”
“There is a clan moving in this direction. We’ve identified at least one pair of hunters with them.”
“So it’s time to move?”
“It does seem to be the wise decision, my king.”
Akira studied his maps. They had been considering their next moves for a while now, but they hadn’t settled on any specific plan yet. “Where do you think we should go?”
Yung stepped next to Akira and pointed at the maps. “My opinion hasn’t changed. Sen is well defended with mountains and men. I think we should head west, and lead a rebellion from that direction. That way the Azarians will always be between us.”
Akira nodded along. It was the same argument Yung had made earlier, but Akira was uncomfortable with it. It meant retreating from the potential safety of Sen’s strongholds and risking everything out in the open. It also kept their forces divided, and Akira wondered if it might be smarter to keep their forces together as much as possible.
But Yung seemed able to adapt more quickly to a new way of thinking. They weren’t going to drive out the Azarians through brute force. If they combined their forces, all they would do was provide a larger target for the Azarians to attack. By staying separate, they could divert some of the Azarian attention from their allies.
Akira struggled to decide what to do next. The king in him wanted to go to Sen, to rule over what was left of their kingdom, but the warrior in him wanted to run towards death and danger, wanted to follow Yung’s advice. The two sides of his personality warred, but there was little time.
“Very well. Let’s send a message to Sen to let him know what’s going to happen. He’s to take over command of the kingdom for now. We move west.” He placed his finger on the symbol of a small village nearby. “We’ll stop here for supplies and keep moving.”
Yung grinned from ear to ear, perhaps the first time Akira had seen him do so. “Perfect. I’ll inform the troops.”
Just as he was about to leave the tent, Yung turned around, “By the way, it’s the decision your honor guard wanted too. They want revenge.”
Akira paced his tent and started packing his things, meager as they now were. He had the feeling his honor guard would have their revenge sooner than they expected.
Akira and his men rode down the trail in silence. They traveled the main roads, choosing speed over stealth. Besides, there were almost a hundred of them all together, and the idea they could hide from expert trackers like the Azarians was a foolish one. A blind man would be able to find their trail.
It was disorienting, to be riding through his kingdom like this. When he looked around, the last of the winter snows were melting despite the shade of hills and trees, the sun was shining, and birds flitted across the sky. It was a normal day in his land, and nature continued to follow its course despite the actions of the humans who made war on the land. If not for his memories, Akira could almost believe everything was right with the world. But then his memories would return, and all would not be right.
One of their outriders came back to the main group, a look of alarm on his face. Akira watched as the scout spoke with Yung, who then came and spoke to Akira. He knew the news would be bad as soon as he saw his captain’s face. It was even more somber than usual.
“My king, the village we are approaching has been attacked. The scout reports that some terrible deeds have been done. I suggest we go around.”
“Are there survivors?”
“Yes.”
Akira considered, but only for a moment. “We go to the village. I am still their king, and if there is anything I can do for them, I will.”
Yung studied his king and nodded. “As you will.”
“And captain, let’s make haste.”
With that, Akira’s entire caravan took off at a gallop. They were only a league from the village, and the distance passed swiftly underneath them.
Akira rode into the village and saw the scout hadn’t been wrong. Several huts were burning, and blood was everywhere. Akira dismounted and looked around. Some of the blood was still drying. Whoever had attacked the village had done so recently. What happened here couldn’t have happened more than half a day ago.
Akira ordered his men to provide what aid they could. They had hoped to stock up on supplies here, but they would be leaving with less than they came with. Akira didn’t hesitate. They were his people, and he would protect them. Akira knelt down next to an older man who was surprisingly calm. He suspected the shock of the attack hadn’t worn off yet.
Gently, Akira asked what had happened and got the story from the old man. It had been a small group of Azarians, young men by the sound of it, who had come for the village looking for cattle to feed their clan. They had gotten the cattle but had killed many. Some of the farmers and townspeople tried to fight back, but they had no skill and no blades. The young men didn’t sound like hunters, but they made short work of those who stood up to them. They left not long ago with all the cattle from the area.
Akira told the man he would do what he could when a cry came out from down the street. “My king!”
Akira hustled down the street, eyes now following him. He had hoped not to be recognized, but his troops were too used to routine. He’d have to get them to stop using titles when speaking with him, for all their safety. When he got to the soldier, he saw his man was standing over an unconscious monk. Akira called for smelling salts, and soon the man came to.
The story he told was much the same as the old man’s. He had been wandering when he came upon the village being attacked. He had rushed to try and aid the villagers, but he had been overpowered. While they spoke, some of the villagers came and thanked the monk for trying.
Akira stood up and conferred with Yung.
“We should follow them.”
Yung looked with doubt upon Akira. “To what end? They’ll return with the cattle to their clan, and then there will be little we can do. Even the smallest clan poses a significant risk to us. If they have a single pair of hunters, we’ll be dead.”
“Yung, this village needs hope. This land needs hope. I need to do something.” He swept his hand across the scene and all his men. “We need to do something. This is small, but it’s something we can do. They’re moving cattle, so they’ll be slow. We can catch them before they return to their clan.”
Akira saw that Yung was swayed by his arguments. He nodded, and the debate was over.
“Good. Round up twenty men. Leave the rest here to help with rep
airs. We ride as soon as we’re able. We’ll bring back what was stolen.”
Yung went about making it so. Akira told the old man what he planned. He figured the old man was the closest to a village elder they had.
“My king, you don’t need to do this.”
“Yes, I do.”
Yung had no trouble rounding up volunteers. Each one of the honor guard wanted a piece of the action. He chose twenty and they returned to their horses.
Akira leapt on top of his horse, but Yung grabbed his reins. “You don’t plan on going with them.”
“Yes, I do.”
“I know you want to fight, but you’re no good to anyone dead.”
Akira took a deep breath. “I know. But I need this. Then I’ll listen.”
Yung raised a doubtful eyebrow, but there was no stopping Akira. He nodded and went about giving orders to the men, and Akira rode off with the twenty soldiers.
They rode out of the village at a full gallop, and Akira could feel the frustration and anger pushing them forward. The tracks were easy to follow, and even Akira’s untrained eye could see the Azarians were having trouble controlling the cattle. They didn’t raise their food, so it would be a new experience for them. Akira grinned fiercely as he glanced up. The sun was still high in the sky. With luck, they could be back before the sun set.
It was mid-afternoon when they came upon their quarry. Akira took them in at a glance. There were six young men, and Akira was certain there wasn’t a hunter among them. He ordered his men to charge, and he joined them with vengeance in his heart.
Akira spurred his horse faster, and he attracted the attention of one of the Azarians. The young Azarian turned around his own horse and charged at him.
Akira glanced at the blade the young man was holding. It was similar to the blades the hunters used, shorter than Akira’s by the width of a hand. The king drew his blade and passed to the left of the Azarian. At the last moment, Akira turned his horse just slightly further to the left. Both warriors cut with their blades. The Azarian had tried for Akira’s neck, and his cut was true, but the extra distance at the last moment caused the blade to pass harmlessly over Akira’s shoulder. Akira’s blade didn’t miss, slicing into the side of the Azarian’s belly. It was a fatal cut, but a slow death. He didn’t care.
He looked around for someone else to fight, but everywhere he looked he saw only his honor guard. He took a quick count and saw they were all present. There were a few wounds between them, but nothing fatal. Akira grinned, and a flood of emotions surged through him, the familiar relief and regret of surviving another battle.
He glanced at the eyes of his men and saw the same emotions running through them. All were glad to have done some harm to the Azarians, even as small as this. An idea began to form in Akira’s mind. He had almost a hundred of the best warriors of his kingdom near him. They could exact revenge wherever they went, so long as they were smart about it. The more the idea sat in his mind, the more he liked it. He thought Yung would as well.
With a single command he summoned his men to attention. They rounded up the cattle and began the short journey back. Akira grinned all the way.
“You want to do what?” The look on Yung’s face was priceless.
Akira simply grinned and said nothing.
“That’s a horrible idea. You’ll be putting a target on your back, and if you haven’t noticed, the Azarians are pretty great archers.”
Akira just shrugged. “Admit it, you like the idea.”
Yung paced back and forth, and Akira couldn’t tell if he was going to explode or embrace him. Either seemed like reasonable possibilities.
“But you’re the king.”
“Which is exactly why this will work. It’s far better than hiding in some dusty corner of the kingdom and letting others die.”
“What about your honor guard? How will they feel about it?”
“You know they’ll be tripping over themselves to volunteer. I won’t order anyone else along this path.”
“You’ve really thought this through, haven’t you?”
Akira nodded.
“It’s a brilliant idea. We’re all going to die, but it’s brilliant.”
“I’m glad you’re with us.”
The captain and the king were sitting around Akira’s maps as he discussed his thoughts. His plan was simple. They would go from village to village, helping however they could, striking at the Azarians whenever it made sense to do so. They would harass and embarrass the Azarians, and as they did, word of Akira’s movement would spread. Akira didn’t plan on it, but he hoped the stories would inspire others to rise up against the Azarians. Already they had gotten a small taste of what life under the Azarians would be like. Small raids like the ones they had seen in the village were common among the invaders.
In short, Akira wanted to become an outlaw king. It meant they would probably die, but Akira couldn’t think of a better way to make a larger impact in the next few moons. He could send out orders, but for the most part, the soldiers still alive in the land knew what they were supposed to do. The message had already been sent to Sen to take over the administrative duties of the kingdom. He would be most useful fighting. It was also what he wanted to do. He’d rather fight than hide in the shadows and send more men to their deaths.
That evening the village held a celebratory fire for Akira and his men. One of the returned cows had been slaughtered, and the meat sizzled over the fire pit, eagerly devoured by Akira’s men. Despite the pain the village had recently suffered, there was soft laughter around the circle, and several of his men were drunk.
Akira looked around, and for a few moments, he felt as though he was doing exactly what he was supposed to. He belonged around a campfire more than he did a map room.
Akira stood up and all eyes turned to him. He waited a few moments for silence.
“Men. When you were selected for my honor guard you gave up almost all that was dear to you. You swore to defend me, to forsake family and friends and maybe even life itself. I know I haven’t always made it easy for you to guard me, but we live in tumultuous times, and I’m afraid I’m going to make it harder for you once again.”
Akira paused for effect, taking his time to look around the circle.
“The kingdom is in crisis, the worst it has ever seen. The Azarians have beaten us. They come for our land, but our lives mean nothing to them. We saw that firsthand this morning. Now the wise action to take would be to hide, to move from one secret location to another, issuing orders so that others may mount a resistance against our occupiers. It’s what I should do. It’s what any king should do.”
Akira could see the discontent in the eyes of the soldiers around him, and he knew they would follow him. He hadn’t been worried. Each of them was a good man, ready to do anything for their king and for the land.
“But that’s not what I’m going to do. In front of me are almost a hundred of the best fighting men in the land. It was your skill and your character that earned you these positions, and it seems a mighty waste to not use both in service of our kingdom. This fight is much bigger than just my life. I have spoken with Captain Yung, and although he questions the wisdom of this decision, he fully agrees. Our plan is to make the life of the Azarians miserable. They may have come into the kingdom, but they will find no warm welcome here!”
A cheer went up from the men. Akira waited for it to subside before continuing.
“I’m asking a lot of you all. This I know. We will be on the roads the entire time, and I expect that soon we will be hunted, if we aren’t already. Perhaps even our own people will give us up for hope of reward, and when the sun sets on our lives, perhaps we were nothing more than an annoyance. I will not order any to join me, but I will ask for those willing to volunteer. Tonight we celebrate our lives, and tomorrow we go about taking back our land!”
Another cheer went up, and Akira knew that every single man would be coming with him tomorrow. Pride swelled in his chest. It was an
honor to be able to command such men. Perhaps he wasn’t worthy, but he would do everything in his power to make their skills and their lives mean something, even in defeat.
As Akira sat down next to Yung, the young monk they had found earlier in the day came up to him. “Excuse me, my king.”
Akira glanced at the monk. “The people here in the village say you fought bravely against the Azarians. You have my thanks.”
The monk shook his head, and Akira saw the shame on his face. “I tried, but I wasn’t strong enough.”
Akira placed his hand on the young man’s shoulders. “Have no fear. All we can do is the best we can. There is nothing for you to feel ashamed of.”
“Thank you, my king. I was wondering . . .,” the monk’s voice trailed off.
“Yes?”
“I was wondering if I might join you?”
Akira glanced over at Yung, who just shrugged. Akira saw nothing wrong with the idea. The monk was young and had clearly tried his best. He would be useful to have around.
“You would be more than welcome among us. We leave tomorrow.”
The monk bowed his head in appreciation. “Thank you very much, my king.”
Akira watched the monk walk away to join the celebration. Then he looked among his men again. He could not help it, but he was excited for the rising of the sun. To be on the road, a sword in his hand. He didn’t realize how much he had missed the life of a soldier. It was a hard and short life, but it suited him best. He smiled at everyone and joined his men in the celebration.
