World's Edge

by Ryan Kirk

  Tonight they camped at the border of the Western Kingdom and the Northern Kingdom. Tomorrow they would cross the river which divided the lands, but for tonight they stayed in Tanak’s territory. Renzo sat in his tent, allowing his sense to roam far and wide, far beyond the bounds of the camp. He was curious about the movement of Akira's troops, curious what old Sen was doing. Renzo prided himself on keeping track of all that happened in the Three Kingdoms. Knowledge was power, and it would bring him success in his endeavors.

  He sensed them then, a beacon burning in the empty fields north of the encampment. Renzo sighed. There shouldn’t be any reason for them to be here, but they were calling for him.

  Renzo dressed himself in the garb of a soldier of the Western Kingdom. He did not want to be noticed as Tanak's adviser. The uniform would allow him to move freely through the camp and out of it. He put on his swords and fingered them gently. Perhaps they would drink blood again tonight.

  The journey out of the camp was uneventful. Renzo had the papers in case he ever got stopped, but the men were still lax, even after the attack that had almost claimed Tanak's life. Renzo made a mental note of it. He would have to bring the subject up again, even though they had already discussed it several times. Tanak needed to live, at least for a few more moons.

  Once he was out in the field, Renzo took a moment to meditate and extend his sense. Now that he was away from the crush of people he was surrounded by day in and day out, he had the chance to sense his surroundings more clearly. He focused first on his guests, ensuring they had come alone. When he was certain he was safe, and they were alone, he stood back up and walked towards them.

  It was a dark night, the sort of night his guests seemed to prefer. The moon was near-full, but its light was blocked by a thick layer of clouds. They were clothed all in black, and if Renzo hadn't already known they were there, it would have been easy for them to ambush him. Renzo was on his guard. They might work together, but he certainly didn't trust them.

  Renzo heard, rather than saw, one of their short, painted blades hum through the night. He almost drew his blade, but his sense told him he wasn't in danger. One of them just seemed bored and was practicing. The sword was sheathed as Renzo approached.

  "About time."

  Renzo glanced at the speaker. He had never met this one before. "You don’t have the right. Getting away from camp takes time. And your people still haven’t reached the pass. You can’t pass judgment on me for being late."

  The two glanced at each other. The one on Renzo’s right spoke. "There have been. . . complications."

  A silence stretched between them. Renzo suppressed his frustration, but his time was precious. "Why have you summoned me here?"

  "It's about the boy."

  Renzo shook his head. They continued to use the diminutive term, even though the “boy” had killed two of them already. He was a man grown, although Renzo suspected he was still coming fully into his power. "I've already told you where you could find them."

  "And he defeated those who we sent."

  Renzo stared daggers at the two men. He knew that, of course, but he kept his abilities secret. Better they underestimate him. They expected him to be scared of them, but he wasn't. He had assessed their skill and found them wanting. He was the strongest on the island, and he was by far the strongest here. "That's your problem."

  "No, that's our problem, and He isn't happy. Now He really wants the boy dead, but the boy has gone beyond our sight."

  Renzo already knew all of this. He had sensed the battle, sensed the two of them go to Lord Akira. He couldn't track her, but Renzo knew where Ryuu had gone, and Renzo assumed she was with him.

  "So what do you want from me?"

  "We know that you know where he is. Tell us."

  "No. I've already told you he was dangerous, and I told you where he was once. That was the deal. You don't need to worry about him now, he's gone far away."

  One of the two men stepped closer to Renzo. "I don't think you understand. First, this was business. Now, it's personal. If you don't give us what we want, the deal is off."

  Renzo stepped back, not because he was scared, but because he was surprised. "What do you mean?"

  "Was I not being clear enough? He wants the boy dead, and it has become very important to him. Give Him the boy or it's off. All of it."

  Renzo thought quickly. He hadn't expected the situation to escalate so far. One nightblade wasn’t that much of a threat. Even alive, there was no way Ryuu could stop the pieces in motion. Renzo frowned. It was a betrayal further than he cared to go, but he was committed. When he had started this journey, he had promised himself he would go as far as was necessary, no matter the cost. His hesitation lasted only a moment. Getting people onto the island would be a challenge, but one he had already thought through.

  “Fine. It will be done.”

  Renzo started describing what they would have to do, his disdain for his actions melting as he went deeper into his betrayal.

  Chapter 19

  The man she had fought, the one who reminded her of a bear, remained by her side for the rest of her first day in the Gathering. His name was Lobsang, and Moriko couldn’t help but be entertained by him. He was open with her and answered most of her questions without guile. While she had seen firsthand his skill with a blade, in person he was the type of man who seemed to find joy everywhere he went. His laugh was loud and frequent, and after a day with him, Moriko found herself more relaxed and at ease than she had any right to be. She tried to remind herself she was in the middle of a Gathering of the Southern Kingdom’s greatest enemy, but it was hard to be serious about it when children were clambering up this mountain of a man, trying to pull his long hair.

  Lobsang was not the leader of the clan, but Moriko gathered that he was well respected. He had multiple wives, whom he introduced to her at his earliest possible convenience. She asked him about the young men she had injured when they first met, and Lobsang laughed again. They were young men who had earned some small regard in a small horse raid that Moriko learned were common among the clans. It was a way for the young men to gain combat experience. The warriors who were more experienced had chalked the young men’s success to luck, but the young men’s egos had grown. They had been a terrible nuisance, but clan rules prevented them from receiving the discipline many of the warriors felt they deserved. Then Moriko had come from nowhere and taken care of it for the clan. All of them had been beaten by a single woman. They wouldn’t be able to live down the shame for many moons. Lobsang was overjoyed and didn’t make any effort to hide it. He told Moriko they were considering adopting her into the clan just to take care of proud young men. Moriko couldn’t tell if he was joking or not.

  Moriko was fascinated by everything she saw. She estimated the clan she had stumbled upon had about five hundred members in approximately eighty of the portable structures. They had a large number of horses, and although Moriko wasn’t an expert, even her unpracticed eye could tell they were mounts of uncommon grace. People moved among the tents, laughing and doing chores. Everyone seemed happy, but Moriko felt an underlying tension, subtle but ever present.

  Moriko had dozens of questions about their day-to-day life, and as she spoke with Lobsang, she started to develop a more complete picture of Azarian life. The People, as they called themselves, were a tribal, nomadic people. They moved across the land, following herds of animals that roamed the plains. Their lives were hard, filled with leagues of travel and a constant struggle for survival, but Dorjee sounded like a competent leader. The clan had grown under his leadership, and the people were more content than at any time in the elders’ memory. But Lobsang said times were getting tougher. It was getting more and more difficult to find food. The herds were becoming scarce. It sounded like he would say more, but then he studied Moriko and held his tongue. She decided not to push. Lobsang had been very open with her, and she didn’t want to endanger that, not now.

  The children were active and
happy, and Moriko felt like this place was a home for them. When she asked about the Gathering, she found out it was a meeting of all the clans that happened every cycle during the summer moon. It was a time to make marriage alliances, settle disputes, and trade news with other clans. The idea seemed brilliant to Moriko. An annual meeting kept the blood fresh in all the clans, and it was a good way to maintain clan alliances. Again, Moriko felt there was something about the Gathering that Lobsang wouldn’t speak about, but she kept her peace.

  The Gathering wasn’t the only subject Lobsang was silent on. He didn’t bring up anything about the hunters, and Moriko was careful not to ask. She didn’t want to raise any suspicions. His silence on the subject was indicative of something. If the scout’s report to Lord Akira was true, hunters were killing off clans, and there was no way it wouldn’t be news at the Gathering. Moriko was content to let it be a mystery for today. She enjoyed Lobsang’s company and didn’t want to drive off the big man by being too nosy.

  Moriko’s barrage of questions ended when they came to a large tent. Most of the structures they had passed were plain, with only one or two markings on them, but his one was bare leather, not a symbol to be found anywhere. Lobsang’s grin had faded. “Moriko, you are a strange messenger, but you seem honest.”

  The words stuck needles into Moriko. Her memory flashed to Kalden, his throat cut, astonishment fading to death in his eyes. Lobsang misjudged her.

  He continued, oblivious to Moriko’s inner torment. “If you want to know more about our clan, more about the People, you must look in here.”

  “What is it?”

  “It is,” Lobsang struggled to find the word in Moriko’s language, “a death home.”

  Moriko was shocked. She hadn’t expected to go from playing children to a death home. But Lobsang was right. She was curious. She stepped into the tent without hesitation.

  Moriko had expected it would be filled with corpses, but she was wrong. Inside were the old, the sick, the young and injured. There were a few people wandering among them, caring for them, but most fought against death alone. She turned to Lobsang, who had followed her into the shelter. “Why do you call it the death home? These people aren’t dead.”

  Moriko’s gaze settled on a young man, no older than she was. He had cut his arm, and it had gotten infected. She shook her head. With the proper care they could have prevented the infection. At best, he’d have to lose his arm, the way Kalden had.

  Lobsang spoke softly. “No, they aren’t dead, but they are fighting their final battle. They must live or die on their strength alone. If they aren’t able to keep up with us when the Gathering breaks, they will be left behind.”

  Moriko considered herself a strong woman. She had seen death, been tortured. But this pulled at her. This was wrong. “Why show me this?”

  “Because this place defines our clan. Defines all the People. Survival and strength are everything. If you aren’t a benefit to the clan, your life is forfeit. You would grieve over what you see here, but we do not. They do not. Life is hard, with no room for weakness. If you can understand this, you can understand us.”

  Lobsang led her out of the tent. Moriko gave one last look at the barren tent before she followed him, her mind racing to explain what she had just seen. She didn’t understand.

  It was surprising to Moriko how quickly she fell into the daily patterns the clans held to. She had thought when she first came into the Gathering she’d be able to get to the leader of the clans with little difficulty, but her assumption had been foolish. Clan politics were so complex she didn’t have a hope of learning all the intricacies in the time she had. Lobsang and Dorjee tried to explain what they were doing to get her an audience with the head of the clans, but she lost track of their plotting moments after they started speaking. She trusted them and they were making efforts, slow as they were.

  Although the vast network of clan politics set her head spinning, there were some basics she understood. Dorjee and his clan, the Red Hawks, were on the perimeter of the Gathering for a reason. Clans fought for position closest to the center of the Gathering, and they were accorded honor based on how close they were to the elevated platform Moriko had seen coming down into the valley. Most cycles the Red Hawks were close to the center of the Gathering, but this time, Dorjee hadn’t even made the attempt. They’d hunted late and were one of the last clans to arrive. Moriko gathered that there was some sort of disagreement between Dorjee and the Azarian leadership, but no one would speak to her about it. Not even the older women, who gossiped all day, would say a word about it. They were much more concerned about how strong of a man Moriko was with.

  Moriko had been informally adopted into the clan, and while she waited for a chance to speak to the Azarian leadership, she fell into their daily lives. They were up before the sun, no matter how late they had stayed awake to celebrate the night before. Moriko struggled at first to find her place in the clan. She slept with a group of unmarried women, and they talked constantly. As a deference to her, they spoke in her language as much as possible, although sometimes they became overwhelmed with passion and slipped back into Azarian. They were all kind to her, but it was the event of the year for them, and Moriko wasn’t given to much talk. She bore their questions with as much grace as she could manage, but her interests were a world away from theirs.

  The Gathering was the most important event of the year for many women. Those Moriko lived with were of marrying age, and it was expected several would be married to men outside the clan. It was a source of endless speculation. They were strong and beautiful, but they weren’t warriors like Moriko. Every morning she itched to work her way through her combat practice, but a close eye was kept on her every day. She didn’t want to draw more attention to herself.

  The women she stayed with were industrious. They quilted and repaired clothing and cooked. Moriko alternated between looking down on their habits and being jealous of their skills. Their fingers moved with a dexterity and grace she couldn’t match. She could repair clothes to some extent, but she was a horrible cook. Ryuu was much better. In the monastery, she had always been fed. She had never had to develop skills beyond boiling rice.

  When boredom overwhelmed her, she wandered through the tents, being careful to stay within Red Hawk territory. She wanted to go hunting, but she needed to hide her ability with the sense, and she was worthless without it. The only reason she ever got food was because she knew where the food was going to be. The only person she was a danger to with a bow was herself.

  It was with the children that she found her place. She had never been much around children, but she naturally gravitated to the Red Hawk youth. They asked questions, but their questions were innocent, like how old she was and how many messages she’d delivered. She played frequently with them and got to know them well. They were strong and active, and after a day with them, she felt as though she had run for leagues without stopping. No other adults tended to them often, except for the occasional mother who would come in and yell at them for making mischief.

  Almost a full moon passed in this manner. She talked with the women, she talked with Dorjee and Lobsang, and she talked some more. She had never talked so much in her life. It wasn’t that she was happy, but there was a contentment in the clan that was hard to resist. A part of her knew it couldn’t last forever. The Gathering was reaching its peak, and action had to be taken soon.

  On the last day of the Gathering, Lobsang came to see her. The grin on his face was contagious, and Moriko wondered if they’d finally been successful in garnering an audience for her. She asked, and he shook his head. “I am sorry. Dorjee doesn’t have many friends close to the center of the Gathering right now. You will have to decide what to do, but the clans aren’t separating. We’ll stay together and march north.”

  Moriko didn’t have to ask what that meant. Her heart dropped at the thought of so many thousands of Azarians heading towards the pass.

  “Will you keep trying?”

>   Lobsang nodded. “Dorjee believes you when you say you come with offers of peace. Perhaps it’s not too late yet. He’ll keep trying.”

  Moriko frowned. She could put off her decision for a few days, perhaps, but if they didn’t make progress soon, she’d have to try something else. She still didn’t know why the hunters had come after her and Ryuu. “Well, if you’re not grinning from ear to ear because you have good news for me, why are you here?”

  Lobsang laughed. Moriko listened. She loved how he laughed from his belly, getting his entire body into it.

  “We are having a contest as a clan this afternoon. Perhaps you’d like to join?”

  Moriko glanced sideways at the man who seemed more bear than human. It was hard to tell if he was joking or not, but she was pretty sure he was joking. She smiled. “No thanks, I’d like for all your young men to have a chance this time.”

  Lobsang roared with laughter. Moriko worried for a moment he would actually blow over one of the tents with his hearty laugh. Despite herself, she grinned. It was hard to remember that she was among enemies and not friends here. She had been watched closely, yes, but that was hardly unexpected. She had been treated with a kindness she hadn’t expected.

  “I thought you would say so. I’ve seen the way you watch our warriors. You may be a messenger, but I know the sword you carry isn’t for decoration. Dorjee has insisted you participate.”

  Moriko considered it. In the time she’d spent with the Red Hawks, she had decided Dorjee was a pacifist. At the least, he eschewed violence when other options were still available. What would he gain from having her fight? Did he expect her to win? There was no way of knowing. But the idea of stretching her muscles was more tempting than she cared to admit, and it seemed rude to deny Dorjee after he’d opened up his clan to her.

  “Fine. I’ll participate.”