World's Edge

by Ryan Kirk

  The Azarian’s blade got closer and closer, and then Moriko snapped. She had never experienced the sensation before, but it was immediately apparent to her what had happened. When it came to her, it was so easy. She knew exactly what had happened and knew how to find the ability without problem again. The blade that had once been such a danger to her was now almost a joke. The openings were as easy to find as a mountain in the plains. Her actions were smooth and controlled, and she delivered a series of blows that staggered the man.

  Her opponent stumbled back and Moriko’s world returned to normal. She studied her own hand as thought seeing it for the first time. So this was what Ryuu had been experiencing. The world had been so sharp, so clear. Moriko was addicted to the sensation, to the power.

  The bear in front of her wasn’t done. He caught his breath and moved forward, his actions cautious and controlled. Moriko didn’t sense any openings, but then she pushed herself to snap again and there they were, as clear as day. She allowed herself to drop back to normal perception, and the openings disappeared. Her opponent almost caught her. She snapped again and delivered one tremendous blow after another.

  In her opponent’s defense, he fought with incredible tenacity. He took punch after punch and kick after kick and still kept coming at her. Finally he made a last desperate attempt to cut her. He was the most off-balance he’d ever been. Moriko leapt out of the way and delivered a powerful roundhouse kick to the side of his face that laid him flat in the dirt. He tried to get back up and couldn’t, finally giving up in a sitting position.

  Moriko shifted back to her normal perception. She was surprised to find the man was laughing, even though blood was streaming down his face.

  “I never thought I would see the day I was bested by a woman. At least, not in a fair fight. Tell me, what is your name?”

  “Moriko.”

  “Moriko. It is a strange name. But your strength is incredible.”

  He stopped laughing and stood slowly back up, a deadly calm on his face.

  “So, Moriko, who are you?”

  Moriko’s mind raced. She hadn’t thought through much of a plan. “I’m here as a messenger to speak with your leaders.”

  The large man scrutinized her. “You are a strange messenger, but I suppose these are strange times.” He stopped to consider the facts. “Very well, do you consent to be bound?”

  Moriko wasn’t in the mood. “I am a messenger from a Lord. For what it is worth, you have my word I will not strike anyone else while I am here in camp. Unless I am attacked first.”

  The man laughed again. He seemed the type that found much enjoyment in all that life had to offer. “You are a bold woman. Had I met you at an earlier age, I would have taken you as my wife. I like you.”

  He shouted orders in Azarian and men moved to action. Moriko was impressed by how quickly the camp returned to normal. Even the children went back to playing now that the action was done.

  “Very well, I will take you to my clan leader. He will then decide your fate.”

  Moriko nodded. It was as good as she felt like she was going to get.

  “Thank you.”

  With that, the man led her off deeper into the camp. Moriko’s plan had worked. She was now a captive of the Azarians.

  It was a short walk to the clan leader’s tent, sitting at the center of the circle of tents Moriko had identified as this particular clan’s. She kept her eyes, ears and sense open to everything happening around her. Any small detail might be a useful key to the puzzle of the Azarians.

  The Gathering seemed to be a time of significant cheer among the people. Women crossed boundaries between clans to speak with one another, and although Moriko couldn’t understand what they were saying, the sound of women exchanging news and gossip sounded the same, no matter where one traveled. Children ran underfoot, cautious of the men but otherwise carefree.

  Moriko decided the Gathering was primarily a time of peace, although she assumed with any group this size there would be inter-tribal tensions. It was amazing to her such a large group could exist in one place at all. She’d have to ask how long the event lasted. She smiled as she saw the day-to-day lives of the Azarians. If not for the tents and the physical appearance of the people, she could have been in any city in the Southern Kingdom.

  The tent they brought her to was larger than those around it and decorated more extravagantly. Most tents seemed to be made of unadorned leather, but this one was decorated with garish designs made with some sort of red ink or chalk. Moriko entered, accompanied by the man she had fought. He had cleaned off his face a little, but it was still obvious he had been in a fight. Apparently that wasn’t anything he was ashamed of, even though he’d lost.

  As soon as they stepped into the tent, the first person Moriko noticed was an older man. He had seen maybe fifty cycles. Despite his age, he still looked to be in peak physical condition. He moved well and his eyes were bright. He was a man who commanded respect, and Moriko had no doubt she was face to face with the leader of this clan. The man she had fought spoke rapidly in Azarian, and Moriko couldn’t make out any of it. She had hoped she might be able to pick out some individual words, but everything came across as gibberish to her. She couldn’t tell if the two men were having an argument or a conversation, so she stood silently, ready for whatever would happen next.

  In time the matter seemed to be settled, and the man who had brought Moriko to the tent backed out of it, leaving her alone with his clan leader. Moriko was mildly surprised. She was still wearing her sword, and the man who had left knew she was capable of violence. She realized he must have taken her earlier promise at face value. Interesting. Her mind flashed back to Kalden, who had also taken her word at face value. She pushed aside the little pang of regret she felt.

  The clan leader looked her over, a process she bore with as much grace as she could muster. This was her first chance at learning something useful to bring back to the Three Kingdoms. Already she had been gone much longer than she had anticipated. She would be lucky to make it back before the leaves finished falling.

  “My name is Dorjee. I greet you, Moriko.” There was no smile on his face. She sighed inwardly. Perhaps it had been too much to expect a warm welcome.

  “Thank you, Dorjee.”

  “You gave Lobsang there quite a fight, and quite a story to go with it. Is it true?”

  Moriko admired the man’s simplicity. She wondered if she lied if he would believe her without question.

  “It is true. I have come from the kingdoms of the north to speak with your leader.”

  He rose an eyebrow. “You stand before the leader of the Gathering you see before you.”

  Moriko studied Dorjee for a moment. She hadn’t encountered any duplicity in Azarians yet, but that didn’t mean it didn’t exist. She didn’t believe him, but wondered if it would be appropriate to call out his lie. Perhaps it would be rude, but the Azarians seemed to value honesty. “No, I don’t.”

  Dorjee let the silence hang in the air for a moment, but Moriko could see from his face she had made the right choice in calling out his lie.

  “You are right, of course. What is the message you bring?”

  “I am sorry, but that message is only for the leader of the clans.”

  “But if your message is negative, it may be my people that suffer. Surely you can be reasonable.”

  “No harm will come to your people due to my message.”

  “You cannot promise that.”

  “No, but my message is one of friendship.” Moriko’s mind was racing. She had no idea what her “message” would be, but she hoped Lord Akira would back her up. She’d have to figure it out when the time came.

  Dorjee paused and thought. Moriko could almost see the thoughts running through his mind. She imagined it would be something of a coup for him to bring her to whoever the clan leader was. Her suspicions proved to be correct.

  “Fine. I will lead you to our clan Lord, although I should warn you it will prob
ably cost you your life.”

  Moriko nodded. She was trapped in a current of events she couldn’t control. All she could do was hold on and keep her wits about her. Ryuu would throw a fit when he found out she had walked straight into the Gathering and requested an audience with their leader. She didn’t care. It was the quickest way to her destination, and for the first time, she had a clear picture of what she was capable of.

  Dorjee said, “You will spend some time here in the camp with my men. They will tell you what you need to know. It may take several days for me to find a way to gain an audience. Until then, do I have your word you are not here to spy or harm my clan?”

  Moriko thought for a moment. The tribe seemed to value honesty. “I will give my word I will not bring harm to your people while I am here, and that I shall follow whatever instructions I am given, so long as they don’t endanger me or my mission.”

  “Good enough. I will speak to you when I can.”

  Moriko nodded and stepped out of the tent, where Lobsang was waiting patiently for her. She was surrounded by thousands of Azarians. She hoped she knew what she was doing. A single mistake now would cost her her life.

  Chapter 17

  In the time since he had come to the island, Ryuu had settled into the daily patterns of life. He had requested what training the island had to offer, and his request had been granted. Every morning he and the other nightblades trained in physical combat. They would break for a light lunch, and then they would mix with dayblades and train in different mental aspects of the sense. It was most often guided meditations, and Ryuu’s more impulsive nature strained against the discipline of the afternoons. He recognized the importance of what he was learning, but it was difficult for him to calm his mind with so much happening.

  In the evenings, Ryuu sometimes questioned why he had come to the island. Once the shock of discovering such a large enclave of blades had worn off, he’d slipped into a new type of routine. Yes, he was learning, but he didn’t feel he was learning the skills he had come to learn. More than anything, he had come to gain strength, but there was little here anyone seemed able to teach him. They were strong warriors, better than any swordsman in the Three Kingdoms, but when Ryuu snapped, they all fell to his practice blade. He had hoped to learn why he snapped and if it could be controlled, but none of his instruction addressed his problem. It was all general combat training, old news to Ryuu.

  The difference between them was that Ryuu had been in real combat. He had killed, and most of the nightblades he trained against had only trained with wooden swords. It seemed like a subtle difference, but it was a difference that changed the dynamics of their practice matches. Ryuu struck harder and didn’t have any rules. He struck exposed flesh, understanding that if he didn’t, he would hesitate in an actual battle. It was the manner in which Shigeru had trained him, and it was the manner he held to everyday. The people he fought against practiced almost as an academic exercise. They didn’t train as though they would see real combat. Ryuu trained to fight because his life depended upon it.

  This morning started out the same as all the rest. Ryuu was paired against two nightblades who were to practice coordinating their attacks. Although it wasn’t said aloud, it was obvious Ryuu’s job was to prove again that he could fight multiple nightblades. The idea was simple. Disrupt their attacks and take out the weaker opponent as soon as possible. If you let them coordinate, you deserved to get beaten. Ryuu held his wooden practice blade in a comfortable grip. He wasn’t worried about the two opponents in front of him.

  The two nightblades moved in, each taller and older than Ryuu. They had more experience in training, but neither had seen real combat. He had observed each of them in the past, and he knew what they were capable of. They didn’t have a chance. They came in at him, perfectly synchronized with one another. If Ryuu had remained in place, it would have been hard to stop them, but he drifted towards the one on his right, forcing the one on his left to adjust. Ryuu kept moving, deflecting a hastily aimed strike from the nightblade on the right.

  He sensed the one on the left attempting to get in position. He had to act quickly, before his opponent succeeded. The nightblade on the right was off-balance from his strike being deflected, and Ryuu stepped inside his guard. Ryuu drove the hilt of his sword into the gut of his off-balance opponent. It wasn’t enough to do more than stun him, but it was enough time for Ryuu to rip the sword from his hands. He grabbed his opponent’s hilt and twisted, snapping it out of his opponent’s hand and taking it for his own. He turned to meet the incoming strike from the nightblade who had started on his left and smashed it aside. If Ryuu had only had one blade, it would have left him terribly open, but he kept turning and followed with a strike from his new second blade. The nightblade saw it coming, but couldn’t react in time. Ryuu felt the wooden sword smash against his opponent with a satisfying crunch.

  He turned to the second nightblade, who was recovering and trying to decide what to do without a sword. Ryuu looked into his eyes and saw a man who knew he couldn’t get past Ryuu’s defenses. He bowed, and Ryuu returned it in equal measure. Another day and he had taught these isolated nightblades something new once again. He tossed the stolen wooden sword back to the nightblade. He hadn’t even snapped. Ryuu looked around at the assembled nightblades and was surprised to sense Tenchi in the crowd. It wasn’t often he attended training sessions.

  Tenchi seemed thoughtful, but he pointed to a nightblade who had been hovering on the fringes of the crowd. The nightblade would be the oldest Ryuu had fought since coming to the island. Until this point, he had only fought nightblades about his age or younger. As the older nightblade worked his way to the center of the circle, Tenchi spoke.

  “Ryuu, you come to us with great strength, and in terms of pure swordsmanship, you are probably the best on the island right now. I thank you, for you have reminded our young nightblades they still have much to learn. But a fight with a sword is not always won by the individual with the greatest skill with the sword. There is always more. As you have taught our young students a lesson, now one of our more experienced warriors will teach you one as well. It seems like a fair trade,” Tenchi smiled, his mirth obvious, “and it is a lesson many of our young nightblades are excited to observe.”

  Ryuu examined his opponent. He had probably seen forty cycles, and he looked strong, but Ryuu couldn’t see anything about him to fear. He was far less intimidating in stature than Orochi. Ryuu tried to remind himself not to underestimate his opponents, but he had yet to be impressed by anyone he had fought. There was no reason why this should be any different.

  They bowed to each other, and the older nightblade waited patiently for Ryuu to come to him. Ryuu sighed. He preferred not striking the first blow, but his patience was thin. He was beginning to wonder if there was anything related to combat he would learn on the island. Approaching with caution, he struck several times, but each time his blow was turned away easily by the nightblade he faced. Good. Ryuu knew he was fighting someone with some skill then. He increased the speed and complexity of his attacks, and their wooden blades began an intricate dance in the air, snapping into each other with quick cracks that echoed throughout the island.

  In the background, he knew they were attracting a crowd. Ryuu had to admit it was the most impressive fight he had been in since coming to the island. They passed each other multiple times, neither one getting the opening they were looking for. Ryuu was starting to sweat. He kept attacking with more power and more speed, but every time it was as though the nightblade he was facing was a step ahead of him.

  Ryuu was caught off-guard when the nightblade switched from defending himself to attacking. Ryuu gave up ground slowly and intentionally. He was able to keep up, but he felt himself slipping more and more behind in the battle. It would only be a couple of moments before he broke under the onslaught.

  He felt the snap coming, and when it did, the tide of the battle turned again. Ryuu went on the offensive, but even with the worl
d moving in slow motion, the nightblade in front of him kept up. The momentum of the battle turned over and over again in the space of a heartbeat, and Ryuu fought against his own surprise. He’d never been matched when he snapped. Even the hunters who had almost killed him and Moriko had eventually fallen under his increased speed and strength and foresight. But this nightblade kept matching Ryuu, no matter how fast or how hard he struck. Ryuu felt like he was being played with, like the nightblade was teasing his strength.

  Ryuu was right. In front of him, the nightblade exploded into action. Ryuu’s mind was flooded with an impossible amount of information. There was no way anyone could move as fast as the man in front of him was moving. For the first time in many cycles, Ryuu didn’t know how to meet an attacker. He retreated backwards, taking a few glancing blows and deflecting some at the last possible moment.

  It was inconceivable, and his mind could barely keep up, much less his body. He was on the retreat, stumbling over himself to get out of the way. When the nightblade finally slipped his defense, it was dramatic, a strike coming in Ryuu had no hope of blocking. He could sense it, but even snapped he couldn’t block in time. The sword struck Ryuu’s left forearm with tremendous force, and Ryuu felt the bones of his arm crack as he dropped his wooden blade.

  Time and pain and sensation all came rushing back to Ryuu with tremendous force, and he almost fainted from the noise of pain which permeated all his thoughts. He had never broken a bone before, much less two. His heart sank and filled with rage. He was a warrior, and a warrior with only one good arm was no use at all. Everything he was had been taken away in a moment.