Ryojin- the Bonded Blade

by Noah Ward

  He picked up the pace and slunk around the corner. Where’d she go?

  Hmm…

  There!

  The streets were darker here, afforded no lantern light. A couple of drunks stumbled about and there were more than a handful of people fooling around in alleyways that he ignored. The woman in red had entered one of the storage structures. The door shut behind her. He wasn’t getting in without making a noise.

  His eyes darted around the darkness.

  Shogens, he’d pay for this later.

  Gin slunk into the darkness, bled under the door, and appeared on the other side. It semed to be relatively empty: a few crates, wooden shelves packed with clay pots, rope discarded here and there. And, more importantly, no sign of the woman.

  Gin couldn’t keep his immaterial state any longer and reappeared.

  He held his breath, expecting someone to leap out at him. Shafts of moonlight speared the barred windows above, illuminating the layers of dust and debris in the centre of the space. There was no way she was hiding in here. Gin’s eyesight was superior to that woman and he knew of no one in Saito’s retinue that possessed an ability like his.

  She must have exited out the other side or vanished through some secret passage in the warehouse.

  Fuck it. He’d capture her if he had to. Idling like this was doing him no good and his strength was waning even further.

  Gin strode to the centre of the floor. He kept one hand on the tanto concealed under his clothes, but it did not stop their attack.

  22

  Grudges

  The blind falcon batted its wings and searched for the night sky, drawing a dark silhouette against the pale moon. Saito stood at the edge of the village of Ishael, studying the scrap of parchment between in his fingers, one hand braced against the saddle of his keval. It could not be true.

  “Hanza…” he whispered. He crumpled the parchment and cast it into the snow. Its edges darkened with water before the wind swept it away.

  Anger began to curdle in his gut, but he willed himself to overcome it. Sacrifices. They had known that from the start. Though he could not help pangs of guilt and confusion. It should have been him. He knew that. But Asami, she would not hear of it.

  What if it had been you that had fallen, ey?

  Impossible.

  No, that was hubris talking. No warrior, sworn or not, was invulnerable. They bled all the same when you stuck them with a blade. Well, some sworn did not, but there was always something that could snuff out their lives.

  In the silent night, he made a promise to himself that after he was done, when things were right, he’d avenge Hanza.

  Now, however, he had other business to attend to.

  As if sensing what was to come, the thing beside him shuffled and nickered like an agitated beast. He regarded the hunched, cloaked figure, with the strange iron contraption on its head. Saito unhooked its chain lead from around the saddle of the thing’s smaller keval before tying the beasts up. He withdrew the pouch from his robes and dangled it in front of the man. The iron box whipped around to fixate on the pouch before it pointed to the village.

  Saito steeled himself, then trudged towards Ishael.

  The village was a day or so ride from Hakkanose. The thought brought a griping pain in his stomach.

  He tried to occupied his mind, musing on how this seemingly sworn, frail thing functioned. Asami had claimed it was like a dog that could track a scent, but its affinity was toward tracking krystallis and not scent. So far, they had tracked it all the way from the south’s capital of Koa. It seemed the creature had not failed them so far.

  “This village thrived once,” said Saito as he wandered the decrepit streets. “How many of its people knew I was the cause of its downfall?” He stopped and cast the village. Those who looked his way were drawn by the frail prisoner, not the one that had massacred their warriors winters ago. If they knew, what would they do?

  “How many are just like Ishael?” he said, partly to himself, partly to the caged figure. “The south thrived but all I see is despair and poverty in Zenitia.” Saito had never seen the aftermath of his destruction. Like a violent flood, he had torn through towns, cities, villages, reaping destruction and then moving on, never once sparing a thought for the consequences, only focused on the next target.

  “Minor pain, for long-term prosperity, that is what we said…”

  Saito had shuttered himself from the land, happy in ignorance. What weakness...

  There were no traditional guards in a village like Ishael. After its original destruction in the war of unification, its residents had moved on. Now it was a haven for crooks, gamblers, whores, and all flavours of criminality. In his opinion, it sure seemed like he was heading in the right direction, further bolstering the claims of the bandits.

  What few people roamed the freezing streets at this time kept their distance. It was not motivated by recognition; his white yukata, no more than light, white robes were admittedly impractical. The armour underneath helped stave off the cold enough. Maybe they felt intimidated or slightly curious about the unarmed man taking out his pet human out for a nightly stroll.

  All of a sudden, the thing stopped pottering through the snow. It craned its iron head toward what appeared to be a pub. It was two-storeys high. Despite the cold, a few patrons sat outside, knocking back rice wine next to burning braziers. The pub itself looked in disrepair: windows had been nailed closed with planks of wood. There were several holes in the roof.

  It was not the type of place he’d been to in some time. And he could do with a drink before this whole thing got underway.

  Saito yanked the chain in the direction of the pub and the sworn complied. Patrons watched it hobble through the snow and slide the door aside with surprising deftness. Inside, the newcomers garnered even more inquisitive stares. He ignored them and approached the bar to his left.

  The layout of the space was fairly open, which worked to his advantage. The long tables were arranged like a barricade around a brazier in the room’s centre, accompanied by a stove set into the ground over which a large cauldron bubbled. It did not smell like the freshest of meat. At the opposite end, doors led upstairs; something to be mindful of. A few patrons sat by the bar, sipping from small, shallow porcelain bowls.

  “Honjin,” said Saito and pointed to a black clay bottle on the rickety shelf behind the bar.

  The barman made no effort to move until Saito produced several silver hans from his robe and placed them in a neat little stack on the sticky bar. The man grabbed the bottle and cup before placing them in front of Saito, who forwent the cup and necked a good swig from the bottle.

  “And for your friend there?” the man asked him.

  Saito glanced at the sworn from the corner of his eye. “He’s not one for alcohol.” After another long gulp, he said, “I need supplies. I heard there is a merchant named Ichiro around here.”

  The barman sniffed, and stroked the stubble around his chin. “Don’t think you’re the kind of man who would buy what he’s sellin’.”

  A couple of seats down the bar, a man extricated himself from his stool. He wandered over to one of the men who sat on one of the cushions surrounding the long, low tables.

  Still got it…

  Saito had a few more sips of honjin. It was one of his favourites, but all it left was a bitter taste in his mouth. He wanted this Ichiro to be uncooperative, to goad him, to refuse, but he knew that was not the way. That would not change their minds. You could not build a future on a foundation of corpses.

  “You’re looking to trade,” a voice said from behind him.

  He took the bottle from his lips and rose to confront the speaker. “Yes.” He stood a few inches taller than the thug in front of him. The probable bandit wore a thick, sleeveless coat, revealing sinewy arms. There was a blade at his side; he’d bet it was not well maintained.

  A few other bandits had their eyes on him. From the ten or so of them, only one seemed more well dre
ssed than the others, in fine robes and a tall, black, rimless hat.

  Saito let the chain fall to the floor and then looked at the sworn. “Wait in the corner.”

  The thing did as instructed, the chain clattering behind it. It waited in the corner like a house cat.

  Saito looked over the bandit’s shoulder. “Ichiro, I’d like to speak with you. I can pay--”

  The thug placed a hand against his chest and pushed him back slightly. Thankfully, none of his alcohol spilled.

  “You just wish to talk?” the one he believed to be Ichiro said. He rose from the table. Because he was not a tall man, Saito could only see his hat poking above the brazier. “About what, exactly?” The man strolled into view before he began wandering around what Saito guessed were his thugs. “What you spoke with the others about?”

  Saito frowned.

  “Where is the rest of your army?” Ichiro asked. He leant forward. “Kept them further away, have you? Is this how you did it with them?”

  “I don’t know what you’re--”

  “Shut up! Our scouts only saw you and that...thing.” Ichiro turned his nose up at the sworn. “What the in the name of the shogens is that?”

  “I honestly don’t know,” said Saito, which earned him a jab in the gut from the butt of a katana. He grimaced but did not flinch.

  “Why are you here, Saito Kitagami, and where is Retsudan’s army?”

  A frown creased Saito’s face.

  “What, you think because we are bandits and lowlives that some of us do not know who you are? You do look nothing like the paintings they made of you, but I’ve seen you in the flesh, though it was many winters ago.”

  Saito looked the man but could not place him.

  “Your sworn soldiers slaughtered countless Zenitian freedom fighters at Wasahashi. I watched fewer than a hundred men and women slaughter over a thousand. People burned alive; limbs severed at a mere thought; ones who turned blue from failed organs.”

  Saito’s shoulders sunk. “That was war…”

  Ichiro spat on the floor. “Your war. Your emperor--Retsudan’s war. Not ours. Now you’re, what, going around on your emperor’s orders cleaning up a mess you created?”

  “I did not force you to become a criminal--”

  “You gave us no choice!” The men and women around Ichiro swore and spat and hollered and nodded solemnly. “You took our our jobs, our homes, our lives.”

  “So you deserve to rape and pillage and thieve where others do not?”

  “Easy to say for an emperor’s lap dog. You killed my brothers and sisters at Ghashul.”

  Saito attempted to step forward but was stopped. “I did no such thing! They live.” And should know nothing about this…

  Ichiro rolled his eyes and spat again. “Oh, they are very much dead. My scouts attest to that, to the bloated corpses, the ravens pecking out their eyes…”

  His fists tightened. He had left those men and women alive.

  Are you sure, Saito?

  “I’m only here for answers, nothing more,” said Saito.

  Ichiro was shaking his head, smiling. “All you’ll find here is death, Saito Kitagami.”

  Steel sung as it left a dozen scabbards and his bottle of honjin smashed against the floor.

  23

  Tied Up

  Just wait here with the keval, Shay. Just carry on by yourself, girl. Just keep complaining about me being useless while I do everything because you’re a stranger here...

  Shay huffed and folded her arms, glaring at the keval like it was somehow the animal’s fault.

  Then whose fault is it, Shay?

  Shogens, she didn’t know. There was no denying that because of Kaz, and in spite of the her grumpiness, the woman was the reason she was alive and still able to harbour resentment. But this feeling of helplessness that had pervaded ever since she crossed the border into Zenitia seemed to chip away her confidence every day. She’d made it this far by herself, but the north felt like stepping into another world where she did not speak the language or grasp the basics of life. Nothing worked here as it should. Was coming here even the right decision?

  No. Of course it was. She had nothing left back home. It had all been taken away from her. She just had to keep moving, stop her mind thinking like this. When she had a sword, when they were on their way to Akimaru…

  Shay’s stomach twisted. If Zenitia was an uncertainty, then what awaited her in Akimaru was an even greater unknown. What would she say? What would she do? Would he want her? Be happy? Sad? Frustrated?

  She loosed a sound somewhere between a grunt and cry, swinging her fist into a nearby tree. Her right hand flared in pain and a dusting of snow crashed on her and the keval’s heads. The beast wasn’t too fond of her antics and began trotting away.

  “Hey, where are you--”

  That was when she heard them coming.

  Shit. If only Kaz were here.

  Don’t think like that. This is what you wanted.

  Yes, but a step at a time.

  Too late.

  Did she leave the keval or take it with her? They’d surely hear that.

  Shay squatted by a thick tree and peered into the forest. A good distance away were a group of men. Some carried a few animals--rabbits she’d wager. Another two had a deer trussed up on a carrying pole. A few others had thick cords of rope in their hands.

  Had they already spotted her?

  Her feet danced on the spot. Soon they’d be able to see her.

  Leave the keval, Shay.

  Yes. Kaz was in the village. They’d think it was hers. Hopefully…

  “Sorry,” she whispered and bolted.

  But where to go?

  Away from them, that seemed best. Not out in the open.

  So she ran. Up ahead was a slight rise in the land. Mudan’s shrine. She could hide there. Wait it out. That’d work.

  Shay checked over her shoulder. Back to the forest. They had stopped. Checked again. The men were conferring. Trees ahead. They were running. Not good. But it wasn’t far until she broke from the trees.

  This was the crushing weight of independence she wanted, threatening to drag her guts out of her arse. And she was dealing with it. No. Conquering it. She’d show Kaz how she wasn’t a child. She was--

  The sky yanked her feet from under her and dragged her towards the green and white canopy above. Her guts were now ready to tumble out of her mouth.

  It took Shay a moment to figure out what in the name of the shogens was going on. Her head whipped around. Yep, definitely upside down. One leg hung limply down while the other was snared by rope.

  A trap.

  Her abdomen tensed as she tried to force herself to grab the rope. Missed. Now she was spinning, catching glimpses of the men who were running right towards her. Shit. Shit. Tried to crunch and reach it again. Just ended up swinging like a lame animal. How embarrassing.

  You know what you need to do, Shay.

  But..

  If they catch you, they’ll probably kill you. You heard what Kaz said. They don’t like strangers. They kill strangers.

  Shay tried to calm herself, stop from swaying. She focused ahead of her, held her hand out. Willed it.

  They’ll kill--

  The rope cut. She loosed an “oowah” as she plummeted into the snow unceremoniously. But she’d done it. She’d escaped--

  “Don’t move, sworn,” a voice spat from behind her.

  Shay gulped. She didn’t need to turn to confirm that the hiss of steel belonged to several blades wielded by angry men.

  ◆◆◆

  Kaz’s rollup toppled out her open mouth; she was quick enough to snatch it out of the air with the hand that wasn’t wrapped around the small keval’s bridle. Couldn't go wasting good tobacco, no matter how horrible the scene that was about to play out in front of her. Instead, she watched and waited.

  The group rushing towards the village, who had captured the village’s head guard’s attention, not to mention his crew,
soon materialised out of the night. A couple of them had rabbits trussed up by their belts. Two of the burlier men jogged along with a carrying pole meant for deer and other larger animals. Strangely, the hunters and foragers had decided to expand their catalogue to more human fare. More specifically Shay.

  What, Kaz, you think they just happened upon another girl out there in the wilderness and saw fit to capture her?

  Of course not. That would be some coincidence.

  She took another drag of her rollup and then glanced at the keval. The beast’s watery eyes regarded her with as much enthusiasm as she would have after being asked to take a swim in a lake full of shit. It did not look like it was the type of animal who’d be able to bolt from this village, weaving between arrows and tree trunks to freedom, so that escape route died swiftly.

  You could always just leave, Kaz....

  She couldn’t help chuckling at that. It did not take a genius to figure out that when an even vaguely familiar face appears, quickly followed by a stranger, the two were connected. Their fates were very much sealed. The only way out of Kirral was on the way to a shallow grave if they tarried.

  The men approached the village gate breathless. Tessho, who still had Kaz’s bundled blades as well as the shorter sword she’d purchased for Shay, broke from his line of three guards to question the villagers. Atop the stout battlements, the archers had not relaxed their grips on their bows. A few crows who had landed atop the gate scattered as a rather large bird took their place.

  “What in the name of the shogens...is this?” said Tessho, holding his arm out at the suspended girl.

  “Hear...us out,” rasped one of the thinner men. A tracker most probably. He had his hands on his knees, sucking in great lungfuls of air.

  A few smiles broke out on some of Kirral’s guards, and a couple tittered on the wooden parapet. Kaz meanwhile sucked in another hit of the tobacco. She could feel it in the air, a precipice. It was as if she were able to see several seconds in the future of some catastrophe that would cost lives.