by Ryan Kirk
She bowed again and left the room without saying a word. Although her expression didn’t give any indication of discontent, something in her bearing made Koji believe she was carrying a heavy burden.
The blade who had made the request saw the question flicker through Koji’s eyes. He gave a reassuring smile. “She is one of the farmer’s daughters. When we arrived we made an agreement. We offered to protect the grounds if they would serve us while we were here. It has been beneficial for everyone.”
Koji heard the tone of voice, the half truth present in the statement, but he didn’t ask any questions. His instincts warned him that the less he said, the safer he was in this new world of conflicting loyalties.
“While we wait, let us properly introduce ourselves. My name is Ryo, and my more silent companion is Hiroki. I am Hiroki’s master, although in my opinion he is more than ready to take the trials.”
The fact was yet another one to add to his growing list. Blades, once they had finished their training as children, had one of two ranks: master or apprentice. There were a series of tests one needed to pass to become an apprentice. You were given three chances, and if you failed, you were no longer considered a blade. Those became the people who served the blades, carrying messages, maintaining the way stations, and completing other necessary but distasteful tasks.
If you became an apprentice, you gained your first freedoms. You were assigned to a master and traveled the lands under her or his supervision. The only real restriction on your behavior was that you had to obey your master. Many blades spent much of their lives as apprentices, fighting or healing side by side with their masters.
The tests to become a master were of a different sort. Skill was, of course, a consideration and an important one, but just as important was one’s judgment and wisdom. Becoming a master meant traveling on your own, with no guidance except the occasional command from the Council of the Blades. The trials, therefore, were no small task, and only two attempts were allowed in a lifetime.
Koji bowed to the duo upon learning their names. He considered lying about his identity but dismissed the idea. There was every chance they knew who he was, and he didn’t want to lose their trust. “My name is Koji. It is a pleasure to meet you.”
Koji received their bows in return, and the tea was prepared. He studied the daughter carefully and saw the slight tremble in her fingers as she served. Her eyes darted around the room, as though looking for the nearest exit. He kept his expression perfectly neutral, well aware of Ryo’s constant gaze.
After the daughter departed, her footsteps quicker than when she had entered, Koji turned to Ryo and asked his most burning question. “I must apologize for my rudeness, but I have been in the wilds for several days now. My plan was to travel to the nearest way station and see what news could be had.”
He was interrupted by Ryo’s laughter. “If you mean River’s End, I can save you the trouble. The way station was burned to the ground two days ago when word of Shin’s death arrived.”
Koji tried to shut his jaw but failed. “By whom?”
“The citizens of the town. I’m not sure, but I heard the keeper died in the fire. Brother, I’m glad you found us first. If you had gone to River’s End, your life would be in great danger.”
Koji didn’t reply.
“I don’t know how much you’ve heard, but several days ago, King Shin was killed by a nightblade,” Ryo said. “Since then we’ve heard that civil war has broken out among the houses. The Kingdom can’t agree on much these days, but there is one truth everyone agrees on: everyone hates the blades.”
Koji digested this information while he sipped his tea, a hard knot forming in his stomach. Civil war? The blades despised by everyone?
The fear that controlled his mind was that everything was his fault. If he hadn’t killed Shin, the war would never have happened. The blades would have eventually returned to their former status. The weight of his actions crashed on him, and the thought he kept returning to was that he should simply take his own life. He couldn’t live if so many deaths were on his shoulders.
He didn’t hear Ryo at first. The blade spoke louder and dislodged Koji from his thoughts.
“I asked if you are all right. You turned very pale for a moment.”
With an almost physical effort, Koji turned his mind back toward the present. “Yes, I’m sorry. I didn’t realize the situation had become so horrible. Your news is appreciated, but . . . devastating to hear.”
The room was silent as the two blades gave Koji time to come to terms with the news. Koji tried to break the cycle that dominated his thoughts, but to no success. Overwhelming guilt tore at his heart.
His actions had been honorable, hadn’t they?
Ryo’s voice again broke into his awareness. Koji stopped himself from glaring angrily.
“I am sorry that the news has disturbed you so. We will all retire for the evening soon, but first, I must ask you a question.”
Koji looked up and focused on the other nightblade.
“These are difficult times, and our safety is important. You are familiar with Kiyoshi and Minori, are you not?”
Koji almost burst out laughing. Although he had only met Kiyoshi in person once, he was certain he had known the two old blades far better than anyone else in the room. Instead, he nodded.
“You are familiar with the philosophies they both espoused?”
He nodded again.
“Although they have both rejoined the Great Cycle, whose philosophies do you agree with?”
Koji saw the heart of the question. It was strange, he reflected, that for all his experience with the two dead blades, he had never thought of his loyalty in such terms. Both men had wanted the blades to serve the Kingdom, although Minori would have them rule the land while Kiyoshi would have them be slaves to its people.
He knew the answer the blades in front of him wanted. The character of his hosts had become obvious with the question posed.
Koji considered his response, his guilt still tearing him apart.
He could feel his silence increasing the tension in the room. The men in front of him expected the answer to be easy. They needed an answer soon.
Koji gave them his most disarming smile. “I am sorry. My former master once told me that I wasn’t a very fast thinker, and I have never had the question asked before.”
Some of the tension seeped from the room, but not much. Hiroki looked as though he was about to draw his sword. Koji didn’t sense any violent intention from the blade, but that could change in a moment.
“I agree with Minori’s philosophies,” Koji lied.
His hosts visibly relaxed.
“I am glad to hear it, brother. I am sorry I had to ask, but surely you can understand why I must in these days,” Ryo said.
“Certainly.”
“Very good.” Ryo looked outside at the sunset and turned to their guest. “The day is coming to a close, and I’m sure you must be exhausted from your time on the road. Hiroki and I have our evening training session, but I will ensure you receive a meal and a bath before you retire.”
Koji bowed his head in acknowledgment of the kindness, and after the appropriate farewells were exchanged, Koji found himself alone in the giant space, unsure of everything he had once believed.
Koji had never been great at meditating. The practice had been pushed on him as a child, but sitting still and trying to let go of his thoughts had rarely worked for him. He far preferred the peace that came from sword practice, the blending of the mental and the physical. But such active meditations weren’t available at times.
He sat in his room, a plain area without decoration, trying to calm the tempest of his thoughts. He couldn’t shake the belief that he was responsible for the tumult happening in the Kingdom.
The thought was foolish and prideful. Perhaps he had contributed, but the lords had reacted, driven by thoughts of power and greed. He told himself he was nothing but part of the problem. Yet if he hadn�
�t killed Shin, none of the horrors of the past few days would have come to pass.
Koji forced his limbs into stillness, fought the urge to get up and move, to pace the room. The farmhouse, for all its size, was still small, and every action he took would be noted by the other blades.
His dilemma was postponed by a bath and a meal, the best he had eaten in many days. The food was simple, nothing more than rice with fish from a nearby stream. But he held every bite in his mouth, allowing the flavors to wash over his tongue.
On the road he survived by hunting and harvesting what food could be found. The sustenance was enough to live off, and sometimes the freshest meat, killed just that day, was excellent. But often only dried meat, nuts, and berries sustained him. The chance to eat fresh fish and hot cooked rice was an incomparable pleasure, his mouth watering long after the food was gone.
He returned to his room and his tormented thoughts, eventually giving up as the moon rose over the horizon. He turned in for the night, sleep coming with surprising ease.
His sense warned him of life nearby, and he came awake with practiced ease, his hand flying to the hilt of his sword, ready to draw. As his awareness returned, he saw the farmer’s daughter, Hana, silently closing the door to his room. The young blade held his draw. The girl posed no threat to him.
She finished closing the door, knelt before him, and bowed. “I’m sorry to disturb you, master. I didn’t realize you had already fallen asleep. I hope you’re not angry with me.”
Her voice was soft, but still it quavered, and Koji thought he saw her shoulders shaking gently in the dim light of the moon. His mind, still clouded with sleep, was slow to understand what was happening.
Koji didn’t respond, confused, as Hana began disrobing in front of him. Her movements were quick and jerky, lacking the grace such movements usually enjoyed in the brothels he had visited. In a few heartbeats she knelt before him, naked and shivering although the room was warm enough. Her arms were crossed over her chest, although they were too thin to do much good.
Still slightly dazed, all Koji could think was that everything happening was wrong. He couldn’t rationalize his discomfort. She was certainly old enough, a young woman by all accounts. He hadn’t done anything dishonorable, and his manhood was reminding him it had been many moons since he’d had the pleasure of a woman’s company. Yet everything was wrong.
Instinctively he reached toward her. She flinched away from him, then moved toward him, surprised when he reached past her, pulled her clothes off the floor, and draped them over her.
“Master, what are you doing?”
Koji scooted backward, putting some space between them. “I’m not your master.”
The uncertainty on Hana’s face saddened Koji. “But they told me to come to you tonight. Are you not with them?”
His faculties returned to him. He pieced together what he should have understood much earlier. Now he understood why she was here.
His anger flared. To test him this way was beyond reason, and indicated the weakness inherent in Minori’s beliefs. Blades shouldn’t be able to command such actions, but if they placed themselves above the law, similar commands would be inevitable. Greater power was only useful if greater control was exercised over it. The blades were no better at controlling their weaknesses than any other person. Combined with their strength, situations like this would become common.
“I am no more with them than you,” he answered.
A new determination came across Hana’s face, her shoulders set and square at him. She disrobed again, but still Koji saw her discomfort in the action.
He reached over to clothe her again, but she stopped him and pulled him close.
Koji pulled away. “What are you doing?”
Her voice shook as she whispered, “I need to do what they say. Otherwise they will hurt or kill my family. My father already can barely walk because he stood up to them.”
She leaned in toward him, and Koji wrestled with temptation. His mind screamed that this was wrong, but he hadn’t been with a woman for a very long time.
She kissed his cheek, and he almost turned his face to kiss her lips. Trying desperately to hold on to the hate he felt for the other blades, he pushed her aside.
“I will not.”
Relief and fear crossed her face. “But I must.”
Koji hated Ryo and Hiroki. Minori would be disgusted by the men who claimed to work for his memory.
“You’ve been to them?”
She nodded, tears in her eyes.
The thought occurred to Koji that there was another choice. He didn’t need to play their game. He didn’t need to curse either Hana or himself.
“You don’t need to do this. I will confront them.” Koji reached for his sword.
The young woman grabbed him again. “Please don’t. They sleep in the same room as my younger sister.”
Koji was disgusted, but Hana shook her head. “It’s not like that. They sleep there so that if we try anything, she is the first to die. You can’t confront them now.”
“Very well. I shall do it in the morning. Return to your room.”
The woman hesitated. “May I stay here? Then I can act as though I obeyed, and my family will be safe.”
He almost told her it wouldn’t matter. Inside the farmhouse they would be able to sense everything that happened, and they would know Koji hadn’t slept with her. They would know he failed their test of his beliefs. But when he saw the terror in her eyes, he relented.
Without hesitation Hana climbed into his bed and laid her head on the pillow. Unsure of what to do, Koji reached out and ran his hands through her hair, letting her cry. As he did, his mind was plodding along, considering the different outcomes of his actions and the story he would need to tell.
He didn’t notice when she fell asleep, but eventually he realized that her breathing had become slow and steady. What had she been through in the past few days? Had he caused her suffering, or would it have happened anyway?
The questions troubled him, but a new thought formed in his mind, a new purpose for him to pursue.
Eventually Koji fell asleep, his heart set on rectifying his biggest mistake.
Chapter 5
She had only been traveling a few days, but Asa was already tired of looking over her shoulder. For some time the populace had been wary of the blades, but now Asa and her kind were being hunted, an accident of birth making them targets.
She had gotten used to the suspicious looks, the fear on the faces of those she passed. Where once fellow travelers may have welcomed her and given her food, now she was greeted with quick glares. No one shared, and no one spoke to outsiders, blade or not. She was always on edge, always waiting to be attacked. She replayed the incident on the road over and over. One moment she had been a helpful stranger, the next an enemy worth risking one’s life to kill. The shift didn’t seem possible in so short a time.
Asa was tired. The constant vigilance was more than she was used to, and it wore her down, like a grindstone wearing down a once sharp knife.
For two days Asa had wandered away from the road, always keeping to the northeast. Unfortunately, necessity required her to return to the populated paths. She didn’t know the territory well enough to wander it without a guide. She needed to stay close to the road, as much as she detested the idea.
At times she wondered if being attacked would ease the constant pressure. She itched for the chance to practice her forms, but there was no chance of that now. If anyone saw her, she would be pursued relentlessly.
Despite her wariness, no one attacked her as she journeyed. She blended in with the sea of humanity heading away from Haven, away from war.
She barely noticed the sign for River’s End, knocked over along the side of the road. Someone had nailed another sign to the same broken post proclaiming “NO FOOD—NO ROOM.” The letters were painted with a bright red color that pierced even Asa’s exhausted awareness.
Asa didn’t need food or sh
elter, but she did vaguely remember that there was a way station for blades at River’s End. If her hazy memory served, the small village was only about a half-day’s walk from the road.
She decided to change her course. The mountains of the northeast would still be there later, but Asa saw a chance for a place to rest. The way station would have bunks and food. She could practice her forms without fear of being hunted. The offer was too good to pass up.
The road to the village was almost completely abandoned, and Asa decided to stick to it, seeing no reason to get lost in unfamiliar territory.
When she first came into sight of River’s End, her heart sank. The ruins of the way station were no different than the ruins of Haven, smoldering days after they’d been burned. She didn’t have to ask what had happened. Although the village numbered less than a hundred people, it seemed each person glowered at the ruins as they passed, as though by their stares alone they could reignite the blaze.
The remains of the way station were a startling contrast to the natural beauty of the town. Most of the houses near the city center were two stories tall, opulent by most standards. Asa’s eyes followed the river, and she assumed that though the village was small, its residents lived well off the trade coming from upstream.
If not for the burned remains of the way station, the village had an idyllic quality. River’s End lacked the noise and bustle of a city like Haven, but its shops were well supplied with food and spices. In the background, the soft sounds of the running river relaxed and soothed.
Asa sat down next to the river that ran through the town, utterly exhausted. All that was left was a bleak, seemingly endless trek. She didn’t want to live like this.
Her head was cradled in her hands when she heard a friendly voice behind her. “Excuse me, ma’am, but do you need a place to stay?”
Asa looked up and saw an older man, who had seen maybe fifty cycles, looking at her with a face filled with concern. He was dressed in common clothes: a loose-fitting robe that had been patched countless times, sandals, and a wide hat. At first glance he appeared entirely nondescript, but as she studied him, she realized he held himself well, almost with the balance of a swordsman.
