by DB King
And so he did.
Every sensation quickly faded as his body broke upon the surface of a cool pond.
There was only darkness.
* * *
“Show me what you have learned, my former pupil!”
Yojimbo looked on with keen interest as both Jin and his master, Nobito No Yoritsumo, disappeared before his very eyes, like shadowy wisps of smoke and ashes. What was left of them were the barest of specters, vaguely resembling their forms, before that too faded.
The old traveler raised an eyebrow, smiling at the spectacle.
After settling their differences, his newly-hired instructor and his benefactor apparently decided on a friendly spar, using only this Feather-Moon Blade they both kept talking about. Hence, the strange sight before him.
Jin and the old man reappeared near the corner, their blades clashing once before they both disappeared again.
They reminded him of the Hashashins of his homeland, shadowy warriors whose skills in the arts of assassination were legendary. Even the Great Khan commended them, offering their dark brotherhood a place in his Empire to serve as his dealers in death where swords and spears failed. The only difference, Yojimbo noted, was that the Hashashins were not overly fond of melee. Indeed, their methods would’ve seemed alien to the ‘oh-so-honorable’ children of Moyatani.
The Death Dealers of the Great Khan preferred the use of poisons and deadly regents as their means of disposing of their lord’s enemies. Political rivals, outspoken patricians, grumbling merchants, and protestant leaders would often be found on their beds, frothing at their mouths, their eyes rolled to the backs of their heads and the Hashashins’ emblem carved upon their foreheads—a warning to all the peoples of the Great Khan’s Empire.
The shinobi of Moyatani were little more than children, playing at being assassins and somehow getting paid to do it.
It’d been a source of great annoyance to Yojimbo when several of his rival merchants, from an earlier time when he’d attempted to trade with the islanders, had hired the Shadow Warriors to dispose of him. They should have succeeded. They had everything going for them and it should have been an easy task, but they blundered all the same. Yojimbo had been asleep. His guards had been stationed far from his abode and it was in the dead of night. Instead of poisoning his sake gourd or the very conveniently placed pot of soup, the shinobi had tried stabbing him through the heart—the least efficient method.
Heck, they could’ve just disguised themselves as one of his guards and that would’ve been better.
Regardless, their weak attempt was the death of them.
He was no slouch in close quarters combat, especially in the realm of wrestling and boxing—both forms of combat were culturally ingrained into his people. Of course, they would’ve beaten him eventually, since they were better trained and Yojimbo hadn’t fought anyone for over a decade at that point, but he should never have had the chance to fight back at all. If they were clever about their work, he should’ve died in his sleep, without ever knowing the faces of his attackers.
Feathery silhouettes of both Jin and his master appeared suddenly a few feet before him, their blades narrowly missing each other’s throats, before they disappeared in a shower of ashes and dust. Yojimbo honestly couldn’t tell how either of them were doing that. It didn’t seem like magic, despite the fact that neither of what they’re doing could even be considered physically possible. But the old traveler had seen the Hashashins perform similar feats that hardly made sense to any logical mind and boggled the senses.
He didn’t question it too much, of course. Yojimbo was curious, certainly, but the tricks of assassins were more of a spectacle than an actual subject to be studied intently. It was the same with magic. It was an oddity that, more often than not, caught his attention whenever it was displayed, but that was all it was for him: mere spectacles and sources of entertainment.
The real subject, the old traveler posited, was the walking mystery that was his benefactor, Murasaki Jin.
Who was he, really?
The boy was definitely not a child—not by any stretch of the imagination, and yet his features were that of a ten-year-old. Still, his physical appearance was likely just a very powerful illusion. Mages were known to do that—especially the ones who were conscious of their image and, despite his feeble attempts at hiding it, Murasaki Jin had a penchant for wanting to maintain a somewhat dignified and regal appearance, though he himself may not be aware of such a thing.
Then again, Murasaki Jin’s appearance hardly mattered.
No, what really caught Yojimbo’s eye was the knowledge and wisdom his benefactor hoarded. The walls that surrounded Hirata and the manner in which they were designed and built, were eerily similar to the structures of the peoples of the far western lands of the world, who built great fortresses and dwelt in forested, hilly regions, where the Great Khan’s horse-bound armies could not conquer. According to the very few travelers and merchants, who dared to cross the Crimson Desert and braved its myriad of demons and monsters, the people there were superstitious and ignorant of magic. They were said to have gathered any and all mages and had them all burned in pikes.
Yojimbo turned. Beside him was his travelling chest, where he kept most of his personal effects – most of which were worthless to the eyes of many. He reached in and grabbed a leather-bound journal. Etched upon its face were the words: Records of the West by the explorer Ashan Al-Ayyub.
He flipped open its pages, skipping most of the earlier bits as the explorer described his arrival upon the lands of the far west, and its people. Yojimbo flipped and flipped until he reached the section wherein the explorer began writing down the details of the foreign peoples’ architecture and construction techniques, even sketching their buildings and structures in several of the pages.
The resemblance to the buildings in Hirata was uncanny—especially the walls. Yojimbo hadn’t seen the weapons Jin designed, but rumors speak of strange and unnatural contraptions that bent and moved at odd angles. They described the weapons as capable of firing massive spears of metal or launching rocks at massive distances. Yojimbo certainly wasn’t an expert on the designing and creation of weapons, but the descriptions were most definitely of siege engines—powerful siege engines at that.
The one that unleashed massive spears sounded suspiciously like a ballista, while the one that launched heavy rocks across vast distances was almost definitely a catapult. The Great Khan’s legions made use of both weapons, especially in sieges.
It was unmistakable. Murasaki Jin somehow knew these things, despite never having seen or encountered them before. Or, more realistically, he had encountered them before through some unknown means. Yojimbo was certain his benefactor had never set foot outside Moyatani. The way Jin’s eyes widened when Yojimbo had spoken of a much larger world outside this little island hadn’t been faked.
His natural mannerisms and inclinations hardly resemble anyone of Moyatani heritage, Especially considering the fact that it was Jin himself who had concocted the idea of building an army whose sole purpose was to strike from the shadows before running away—an anathema to the kind of warfare waged by bushi.
And the children of Moyatani themselves hardly built any fortifications to defend their homes and castles, neither were they capable of building actual siege weapons.
The fact that this… man had thought of such a thing at all was already an oddity. It was clear that, like many of his fellow Islanders, Murasaki Jin had never been outside the island nation of Moyatani. And yet his designs and ideas reached far beyond.
How was that possible?
Eyes narrowing, Yojimbo looked on as Jin and Nobito reappeared for a flash, their blades held over each other’s eyes, before they disappeared as they had before.
Just who are you, Murasaki Jin? Yojimbo wondered.
Almost as though the man had heard Yojimbo’s thoughts, Jin reappeared. His eyes were wide, almost as though he was in shock. And his right hand was place
d over his chest. The… man had a distant look on his face. He didn’t even notice the edge of his old master’s blade land on his neck. Something about him seemed different – unnatural. His aura was off and unfocused. Murasaki Jin wasn’t himself.
Yojimbo stood up. “Is there something wrong, boss?”
Murasaki Jin blinked, before heaving and groaning as he fell to his knees, grasping at his chest. “There’s something… there’s something calling out to me….”
Yojimbo raised a single eyebrow. “What are you—”
Someone burst through the tent flaps, wheezing. Yojimbo turned. It was one of his boys—a runner. “Boss, I’ve got a message from one of our forward scouting teams!”
“What is it?”
“There’s an army that’s marching down south!” the runner said. “Hirata’s right in its path!”
Chapter 20
“An army?”
The news appeared to have pulled Jin out of his strange, magically induced stupor. It had blinded him, somewhat, to be stuffed into a dreamlike state, where voices and whispers filled his head. There was something calling out to him, telling him to return and finish the joining of their souls. The time was now, it said. The time has come to finally become one—as they were always meant to be.
Those thoughts had not been his own. The mere fact that something else had once again invaded his mind sent Jin’s blood to a boil. He wanted to rage at something, maybe burn down a whole section of some random lord’s forest, but now was not the time to lose control of his emotions. No, as much as Jin hated the feeling of having his mind utterly defenseless to psychic attacks, there really wasn’t much he could do about it at the moment. He was stuck with two choices: wallow in anger and indignation or ignore it and move on.
Jin had chosen the latter choice.
There were far more important things at play that needed his immediate attention.
The runner nodded. He was a young man, who was probably recruited by Yojimbo from one of the few fishing hamlets around Hirata. His hands were calloused and hardened, but he didn’t look the type to have developed such things by wielding a weapon in hand. “Yes, sir, there’s an army.”
Jin paused at the news, his eyes narrowing dangerously. This was early—too early, in fact, that it hardly be said that the war had already begun at all. The Shogun’s funeral hadn’t even started yet. For anyone to try and move an army at this time would be seen as utterly disrespectful and dishonorable. Then again, beneath the façade, no one really cared about either of those things. No, what the lords cared about was that no one should move before they did.
Whoever was at the head of this army sure had some guts. It might be because they’re moving their army unseen through the north-eastern passes. It might be a forward force of some kind, meant to hunker down and wait for the war to start before striking out with another army.
He couldn’t be sure of anything. There were too many unknowns for Jin to arrive at any logical conclusion. For all he knew, the army could just be a very large war-band of bandits and gangbangers, held together by some brutish, self-styled, warlord.
Jin nodded. His old master walked up beside him, sheathing his tanto. “Tell us everything, boy. Spare none of the details.”
“At once,” the runner said, procuring a document from the pouch he had on his waist. He gave it to Jin. “I’ve detailed everything I’ve observed of the passing army on that piece of paper. I would’ve observed more, and for longer, but I wasn’t confident in my ability to remain undetected. It was a small host, my lords, and they had forward scouts running all over the place. I was afraid I’d get caught.”
The boy’s scribbles were not easy to decipher, but it was legible enough to be understood after a while. Jin turned to the map at the far end of Yojimbo’s tent, decorated by several pieces, each one serving a particular symbol: a flat black disc represented Jin’s forces in Hirata, and a flat square represented Yojimbo’s ambushing army. Jin eyed the document, before taking a single gold coin, placing it at the far north of the map, a few hundred miles away from Yojimbo’s encampment.
“The invading army is here,” Jin said, pointing a finger at the gold coin. “In the Jazan Pass. It’ll take them at least a whole week to get through the whole passage on foot. Can we send a few scouts to monitor their movements?”
Yojimbo nodded, pointing at a spot on the map that was further south than the invading army. “We definitely can. I can send in the veterans to Snakebite Ridge. If they’re passing in from Jazan Pass, my boys won’t miss them when they pass right beneath the ridge. We can get a more accurate troop count and army composition from there.”
“It’d be good if we can get a more accurate number than between five hundred and ten thousand. This estimation is useless.” Jin sighed. But, then again, he couldn’t exactly fault the young runner for panicking. That kid just wasn’t ready. “Still, we can extrapolate a few things. The fact that they’re using Jazan Pass means they can’t have brought siege equipment with them, which means they’ll want to make camp at a place with plenty of lumber. If they want to take Hirata, they won’t be able to do it without siege equipment.”
“That is, of course,” Nobito interceded. “We’re assuming they’re here to attack Hirata at all. It could just be a passing army that’s quite unaware of that little village. Not to be tactless, but Hirata’s not exactly the most important place in the Eastern Provinces. I’ll bet this army’s trying to get behind the Daimyo’s lines, circumventing the reach of the Great Lord’s armies.”
Jin’s former teacher pulled out a much larger map. Hirata wasn’t even on it. Instead, Nobito’s map focused on all the major trade hubs and large cities, alongside important castles and roads. Jin winced at the Murasaki Castle symbol that was still on the map—far to the north. “Muteba Castle is right here. It’s lightly defended and hardly worth mentioning, except for one thing. It was built right over the Uemi River, which flows in through the Red Rivers in the Northern provinces. My guess is that this army is trying to take Muteba castle and gain control of the river. This would essentially allow whoever was in charge of this army to send in reinforcements through the river, circumventing most defensive positions in the Eastern Province and allowing them to set up a proper defensive foothold.”
Jin hummed and nodded. His eyes scanned the map. “That’s certainly a plausible explanation.”
It hardly mattered. Then again, invaders always sent out raiding parties to attack nearby villages and hamlets for supplies. Hirata was close enough to Muteba castle to be included in future raids, if the invading army ever decided to do so. Besides, whoever was at the head of this enemy army was an enemy of his uncle and, by extension, was Jin’s enemy. It didn’t matter that they might not attack Hirata at all. What mattered was that this was a trespassing enemy and should be disposed of as such.
“We can’t ignore the possibility that it might attack Hirata to gain supplies on its way to Muteba castle,”Jin voiced. Though, if the invading army ever decided to do that, it’ll soon find that Hirata was a lot harder to breach than that dumb river castle. Hirata was defended by a ring of walls, each one more difficult to conquer than the other, whereas Muteba Castle barely had a moat to defend it. It’d be a terrible decision to attack his beloved village on the way to siege an insignificant castle.
Both Nobito and Yojimbo nodded in agreement. Hirata was just on the way to Muteba castle. In fact, even if the invading army chose to ignore Jin’s village altogether, it’d still be passing through incredibly close. The whole thing was just a recipe for disaster.
“Indeed, it’d be wise for us to strike first, either way.” Yojimbo said. “Even if this rogue army isn’t headed toward Hirata, sooner or later, it will attack that village for resources and supplies. It won’t be holding a position in Muteba, otherwise.”
Jin nodded. “Then we’re in agreement. Send a scouting party to observe the passing army. I want a half-decent troop count and army composition within two weeks. Sen
d your messengers to Hirata. I will meet them there.”
Yojimbo laid a hand on the map, bringing his pointer finger over the flat square and moving it into the Sleeping Woods to the far North of Hirata. “I’ll have my boys set up ambushes all over the woodlands. We’ll attack their flanks and their rear. They won’t see us coming and, if they do, they won’t catch us anyway. We’ll thin them out before they ever reach your village, boss. You can count on that.”
Jin eyed the Sleeping Woodlands. He had briefly passed through that place a long time ago when he’d just escaped his home. It was a deadly place, filled with all sorts of nightmarish Magical Beasts—no sane army would ever pass through it, unless they were all suicidal. That meant this army would have to go around the woods, circling around for miles and miles, just to avoid the jaws and the claws of the dark beasts that dwelled in the Sleeping Woodlands, which meant Yojimbo’s much smaller band would be virtually undetectable—so long as they stuck to the edges of the woods, far from the Magical Beasts. “That’s… Are you sure you’ll want to set up ambushes in that place? I don’t doubt your men, but there’re thousands of Magical Beasts dwelling there. And more than a few of them are capable of wiping out entire armies if provoked.”
Yojimbo nodded. “I’ve kept an eye on that place for the last two years. Magical Beast activity dwindled away as soon as that Wendigo thing showed up and made a mess of things. For now, it’s safe enough that my boys can strafe through the sides of the woods, without fear of getting attacked by something with more than one head or breathes something other than air.”
“Very well, I’ll defer to your judgement.” Jin smiled. He and Yojimbo were similar. Neither would leave anything to chance. So when the man said it was probably safe then it was probably safe. Jin did not exactly have the resources to perform a safety check on the Sleeping Woods and, if he was being honest with himself, he wasn’t really inclined to do so. Werewolves roamed that place and, despite all his powers, Jin didn’t want to be anywhere near those things if he could help it.
