Nightblade Boxed Set

by Ryan Kirk

  "What do you hope to accomplish with the nightblades? Even if you get them to return, what will you do?" Moriko asked.

  Ryuu thought for a moment before answering. "I want the nightblades to figure out a way to attack the hunters. If we can break the hunters, we can break this invasion."

  Moriko shook her head gently. “The Azarians are more than just the hunters. Everyone who rides with them is a strong and capable warrior, and I don't think just killing the hunters will be enough. Also," she hesitated, "I don't know if the nightblades are strong enough to overcome the hunters."

  Ryuu almost objected, but Moriko stopped him.

  "Come on, Ryuu. You have fought both hunters and nightblades. Tell me you think the nightblades are stronger."

  Ryuu looked like he was about to, but stopped. Perhaps he wasn't willing to admit it, but he had to see the truth of Moriko’s statement.

  Moriko pressed her advantage. "So if you aren't sure you can win, why are you even trying?" She thought about her next statement before continuing, deciding it needed to be said. "What if all you are doing is sending all these nightblades to their death?"

  A tense silence hung over the room as Ryuu considered Moriko's questions. When he spoke, he spoke slowly, wanting to make sure every word was exactly what he meant. "I have thought about that, too. I think about it every day. The fact is, I don't know if the nightblades coming back is the right thing to do. However, it is the only thing I can do. I don’t have any other way to help."

  "But why? Why do you feel the need to protect people who wouldn't lift a finger to help you?"

  Ryuu spoke softly. "Because all life is worth fighting for. It's not about trying to save only those people that I care for, or those who care for me. It's about trying to save everybody, as many people as I can."

  "You can't possibly save everybody. You know that."

  "I know. But to me, it is like pursuing perfection in swordsmanship. There is no way to be perfect. There will always be some little thing that you can do better. But that doesn't mean I don't try every time I train."

  Moriko didn't agree, but she understood what Ryuu was trying to say.

  Ryuu continued. "You're absolutely right. I don't know what's going to happen if I succeed, but I have to try something. I couldn't live with myself if I didn't.”

  Moriko hated Ryuu then. He had always been willing to sacrifice himself to save others. Why couldn’t he just think about himself for once? Ryuu’s next question froze her mind solid.

  “The only question I have is this: what will you do?"

  Moriko wished desperately this moment had never come, that she would never have to answer this very question. She knew what she wanted. She wanted to stay on this island, to hide from the world and live out her days in peace.

  Suddenly, her time back in the monastery returned to her. Again she was naked and tied to the floor, and Ryuu came into the scene. That evening, he had been willing to sacrifice himself to save her. Every time she drew breath, it was because of the type of man he was. For the first time in a long time, she felt guilty about her selfishness. She couldn’t ask him to change, not now when everything was at stake.

  Her next words surprised her. "Will you come back to the island, if you can?"

  Ryuu nodded. "If I can."

  With that, Moriko’s mind was made up.

  "Then I will come with you."

  Ryuu's face lit up. It seemed like he was a new man, and Moriko realized how much her answer meant to him.

  She gave Ryuu a small smile. "Somebody has to keep you alive, so you can come back. And knowing you, I'm the only one strong enough to bring you back safely from whatever mess you get yourself into."

  Ryuu laughed as she spoke, but she couldn't help but feel her words were far too accurate.

  26

  If there was one thing Nameless was certain about, it was that the land the People had moved into was a rich land. Losing the old man had been hard, and Nameless hadn't forgiven himself yet, but now he was able to wander the land freely, hunting and wandering as in the days of his youth.

  Everywhere he went, Nameless was amazed by the diversity and quantity of the wilderness he explored. Almost all his previous life had been spent wandering the plains of Azaria, and while his homeland held an austere beauty, it paled in comparison to even the most desolate sights of the Three Kingdoms.

  For almost a full moon Nameless lost himself in the beauty and wonder of their new land. He wandered back and forth, and although he would sometimes encounter a clan, he always avoided them. He told himself he wasn't shirking his responsibilities, that he was scouting out the land to ensure it was right for his people. But it was a thin lie, and he knew it. He wanted to be alone, to focus only on his own survival. It was pure living.

  From time to time he would be visited by some of the demon-kind, and they would report on the progress of the invasion. For the most part, it had gone as expected. The People, although vastly outnumbered by the citizens of the kingdom, were much stronger warriors; with the aid of the demon-kind, the People had made tremendous progress into the land. But despite this, there were problems beginning to bud, challenges to be solved immediately. The alliance with the monasteries, which had given Nameless much of the information they had used to plan their invasion, was on unstable ground. From the reports Nameless heard, it sounded as though the monasteries were using the invasion as an excuse to assert their authority. Nameless had always expected this, but he hadn't expected that they would try to do so by attacking his clans. The reports were scattered at best, but Nameless worried they were indicative of a growing problem. The monasteries would need to be dealt with.

  And their king, if he could even be called such, was still a problem. He was wandering the land, much like Nameless. But instead of exploring, he was harassing and killing the People. For a single man, he was causing an impressive problem. Had Nameless felt like exerting the authority, he would have sent two pairs of demon-kind hunting him, but none of the clans could look beyond their own survival.

  His People were also having trouble settling in the mountainous regions which had once been known as the Northern Kingdom. Apparently the military there was still powerful, and the riders had superior skills in the mountains to those of the People. It was unfortunate to hear, but Nameless couldn't bring himself to care too much. Even if they weren't able to make progress into the Northern Kingdom, they would still have over two-thirds of the land, which was more than enough space for them to grow and become stronger. In time his warriors would learn how to ride in the mountains, and they would decimate the armies of the Northern Kingdom.

  At times, the demon-kind would inquire as to what his intent was. His answer was always the same. He had done his duty as he saw fit. The People did not need a leader anymore. The only reason he had seized power was because of the necessity of the situation he had felt. Now that his people were across, his duty was done. He planned only to serve individual clans as best he could, much as he had before he came to power. At times, the demon-kind were disappointed in his answer, but none dared to question his strength, and Nameless would continue his wanderings.

  After a full moon of exploring their new land, Nameless decided it was time to rejoin a clan. He would wander until he found one, but once a clan accepted his service, he'd be happy to join them as their demon-kind.

  Once his decision was made, it only took Nameless a matter of days to find a wandering clan. Here, in the land that used to be known as the Southern Kingdom, the clans were already widespread. They were still moving north through the Western Kingdom.

  When he came upon the clan, the first thing he noticed was that it wasn't very large. There were probably no more than three or four dozen members. He wondered if they had always been so small, or if it was the move into this new land that had killed so many of them. There were none of his kind with them, which surprised him. There should have been enough demon-kind for one pair to go with every clan. He wondered if a pair h
ad fallen to violence, or if something else had happened to cause them to leave.

  Nameless decided that in the tradition of his people, he would come bearing a gift. Instead of going directly to the clan, he went on a hunt. Here, hunting had almost become a trivial task, and before half the day had passed, the carcass of a deer hung over his shoulders.

  By the time he entered the camp dusk was beginning to fall. There was a short cry from one of the women as he was first spotted, but Nameless made no move to react. The old man had said he was not loved by all the clans, and that was something he must live with. Perhaps someday they would see what he had done for them.

  Nameless stopped about two dozen paces away from the camp. If they did not want him, so be it. It was their decision to make.

  A man separated from the rest of the clan, and Nameless could see from the way he walked he was the leader. His balance indicated he was a strong warrior, and he exuded confidence. He stopped two paces away from Nameless. Nameless made no move, aggressive or otherwise. For all the clan leader’s strength and confidence, Nameless towered over him, and could have crushed him without a thought.

  "Why are you here?"

  It was a ritual greeting, one asked to any demon-kind when they first approached a new clan. Nameless responded with the ritual words, "I come to serve."

  Nameless fought the urge to say anything else. Words were cheap, and intent could only be discerned through action. The leader of the clan looked upon the deer carcass and upon Nameless, and in a moment his decision was made.

  "You are welcome at our fire. We would welcome your service."

  Nameless nodded and followed the clan leader forward, surprised at how relieved he felt. With some help from the young men, Nameless quickly skinned and prepared the deer for the fire, and prepared to feast with his new clan.

  For the next few days, Nameless could almost believe everything was right with the world. He acted as a scout and hunter for the clan. During the days he ranged far and wide, and at night he would return to the campfire to be among the People, those who had survived the harsh transition from the lands of Azaria to the lands of the Three Kingdoms.

  In bits and pieces, Nameless learned the story of the clan he traveled with. They had always been a smaller clan, for as long as their stories went back. They were an offshoot of an older clan, but had never numbered more than two hundred members. It had not been the battle at the Three Sisters that had reduced their numbers, but Azaria itself. Many cycles had passed since the founding of the clan, and every cycle was a greater struggle than the last. Food had become scarce, and as the clan dwindled, fewer and fewer others were willing to trade women, causing the clan to diminish even more quickly.

  Prior to the battle of the Three Sisters, the clan had been fervent supporters of Nameless. They had experienced the danger he had foreseen and knew he spoke the truth.

  The Battle of the Three Sisters had been brutal to their clan. They had already been reduced to less than fifty, and the battle claimed the lives of several more. When the demon-kind had come to guide them on their journey through the new land, they had politely declined help. It was not that they held anything against the demon-kind, but the clan had decided that if they were going to survive and grow in this new land, they needed to do so on their own. It was a belief Nameless agreed with. Their story touched him, and although they made it clear he would not travel with them permanently, he was welcome to join them on the journey for a little while. He couldn’t have found a better clan to serve.

  Nameless was grateful for his time with them. The clan might be small, but each of them was hard and strong. If all the clans were made of warriors like these, there was nothing they couldn’t accomplish.

  He traveled with the clan for almost another full moon before trouble struck.

  The clan had been traveling west, hoping to find the bridge that spanned the old Southern Kingdom and the Western Kingdom. Their final goal was the plains of the Western Kingdom, and they were eager to be on their way. But as they approached the bridge, Nameless realized something was not right. The Three Kingdoms, to his gift, was a loud and bright land. It was always full of life and energy, and the land practically sang to him. But today the land was quiet, as though a hush had fallen over every living thing. The hairs on the back of his neck stood up, but he could sense no danger. Nameless didn't warn the clan because he was not confident of what he felt, or more accurately, what he didn't feel. He knew something was wrong, but unless there was something solid he could bring to the clan, he would remain silent.

  When the attack happened, it happened with a suddenness and ferocity even Nameless didn’t expect. He felt them at the edges of his awareness, but they approached quickly. Men charged over the hill, and it took Nameless only a moment to realize his clan was being attacked by monks.

  Quickly, he cleared his head of disbelief. It was hard to imagine monks attacking, but here they were. There wasn’t any time for thought, only action. Nameless drew his sword and leapt into the battle, summoning all the energy he could.

  His gift told him there were almost a dozen monks altogether. In the moment Nameless had to think, he realized that no matter how fast he acted, he wouldn't be able to kill all the monks before they reach the clan.

  Then the battle was upon them and there was no more time for thought. Nameless rushed into the melee, his sword singing in the air. Three monks fell by the time they even had a chance to react to him.

  Four monks turned to face him while another four ran towards the clan.

  The four who remained surrounded Nameless, but he had no fear. He knew the monks of this land were stronger than the average person, but they would not be able to touch him.

  They attacked as one, their blades moving to strike in well-rehearsed unison. But Nameless wouldn't give them that chance. He moved in towards one of them, forcing them all to react. The monks were good, but they had no idea what they had brought down on themselves. Nameless was faster and stronger, and in only a handful of passes, all the monks had fallen to his blade.

  He didn't take any time to gloat. The other four monks were wreaking havoc within the clan. The clan had strong fighters, but they had been taken by surprise, and the monks were strong themselves.

  By the time Nameless reached the battle, several clan members had already fallen, but so had one of the monks. When Nameless entered the fight, everything changed. Two of the last three monks fell in quick succession, a look of confusion plastered upon their faces. Nameless severed the spine of the third, causing him to collapse in a useless heap on the ground.

  Nameless lifted the monk’s head from the dirt. “Who sent you?”

  The monk tried to summon up the energy to spit, but Nameless felt it coming and slammed the monk’s head into the ground. He pulled at the monk’s hair and brought him face to face. He waited for his answer.

  “You’ll never have our land.”

  Nameless pushed the monk’s face into the dirt, holding him there until he almost suffocated before letting him go. The monks were beyond foolish. They had helped Nameless and the People enter, and now they thought they were stronger? His rage could barely be controlled. He stood and let the clan know they could treat the monk as they wished. His death was certain to be slow.

  A silence descended upon the party as the clan started to take care of their dead. Every death was keenly felt in the small clan.

  Nameless watched them work with anger rising in his belly. It was one thing for the people of the kingdom to resist the advance of his people, but the monks had been allies, promising aid and assistance once his people came into the land. Now they had betrayed him, and betrayal he would not stand.

  He thought about offering to help the clan with the care of their dead, but he knew it was a task they would want to take care of on their own. He respected this clan. Respected their strength. They deserved better. It was time to show those monks they weren't in charge of this land. Nameless walked over to the man who
had first greeted him, the man who led this clan.

  “Forgive me, but I must go. I must have vengeance for this act."

  The leader of the clan nodded, and Nameless could see the fire of vengeance burned in his eyes as well. As he left, he could hear the final words of the clan leader echoing in his mind. "Make them pay."

  27

  Akira and his men rode in silence. Not because they were hunted, or even because they were hunting. It was sorrow, pure and simple.

  He understood how his men felt. He battled the same emotions, and when he was honest with himself he had to admit he was losing the fight. All summer long he and his men had fought valiantly, but the situation seemed worse than ever.

  The village they passed two days ago was the third in a row devastated by the Azarians. It was getting worse. In the spring, it had seemed like there needed to be some pretense for the Azarians to attack. Now they simply walked into villages and started the slaughter.

  Despite a life on the battlefield, Akira was still surprised by how much blood a human could lose. In the last village, dried blood covered every surface that wasn’t burned down. As they always did, the Azarians left one alive to spread the tale. In this case, it did them no good. Akira didn’t think the young man would ever speak again.

  In the village before the last, the sights had been even more gruesome. There was a grove of trees outside the village, and every villager but one had been hung from the trees. Not by their neck, which would have been a relative mercy, but by their arms. Their skin and organs had been removed. There had been no survivors. The body of one young woman wasn’t hanging with the others, and Akira suspected she had ended her own life rather than live with what she had seen.

  That time, Akira’s men were able to track the clan, and they had attacked. Perhaps it hadn’t been wise, but it had been right and necessary. They caught the hunters out scouting, before they could raise the alarm for the clan. It had taken almost all his men to encircle the two hunters with spears, but eventually they fell. They attacked the rest of the clan in the middle of the day. The clan was taken by surprise, their confidence in their hunters misplaced.