Rise of the Sword Saint: A Reincarnation Epic Fantasy Saga (Kensei Book 2)

by DB King

  Jin sighed and ruffled the boy’s hair. “If I don’t return, you will have to lead you people without me, Ebisu. Can you do that? Do you have the strength to do that?”

  Oh, Jin was confident in his return, but it was always a good idea to instill into people the gravity of the situation should the worst actually come to pass. In Ebisu’s case, the boy would have to lead an entire village on his own.

  Ebisu gulped, but otherwise nodded—a fire in his eyes that Jin had not yet seen before. “Yes, I… I will try! I don’t know how, but… I will do my best!”

  Jin smiled. “Good answer, my student.”

  And then Jin turned and sighed, his grip over Agito’s handle tightening as he sighed. “I’ll be leaving shortly. Keep the people safe. That is your priority, Ebisu—keep them safe.”

  “I will, master,” Came his protégé’s reply. “You can count on me!”

  Jin walked out of the tent and released a long, heavy breath. Something about this whole thing didn’t feel quite right, but in war one had to take risks. Rushing to the enemy camp and killing their commander, who happened to be a mage, was a very bad idea. But if he could actually pull it off, they’d win. No Moyatani army, without the aid of a mage, could ever defeat his walls and his siege weapons and the discipline of his warriors. The town even had Ebisu to defend it in his absence and the boy’s power was immense.

  If he could kill the enemy mage, Hirata would be safe from harm even if they all marched upon the village and washed over them like water upon rock.

  His mind steeled, Jin walked over to the nearest section of the walls and leapt over it, shocking the guards, who’d stood watch on the battlements. “My lord!”

  Jin paid them no heed as he fell onto the other side, landing on a patch of wet earth and a patch of rice. The men leaned over the wall, looking down at him. “My lord, are you alright?!”

  Jin turned over his shoulder and looked up to meet their frightened and concerned gazes. “Don’t worry about me! Tell the people to expect an easy victory! I go out to ensure that!”

  The guards seemed confused, but otherwise nodded at his words. Jin smiled and nodded back before bursting across the rice fields, leaving furrows in his wake. Jin, however, took great care in ensuring he didn’t destroy any rice. Food was valuable, after all.

  An hour passed and Jin had just entered the tree line of the Sleeping Woods, a vast expanse of forested lands, where numerous Magical Beasts dwelled—well, not as much as before the Wendigo incident, but still quite a lot that most sane people refused to enter the place.

  Smirking, Jin leapt to the tops of the trees and resumed moving across the woodlands. It was always much safer to move above ground. The Sleeping Woods was likely still crawling with Werewolves and Earth-Shaker Boars, Shadow Wolves and Blood Fiends—all of which he really had no time to be fighting.

  Jin ran across the forest, ignoring the few Magical Beasts that’d roared and raged at his presence, moving as fast as he could and breaking the thick Red Wood branches at his feet with each leap forward. It took nearly two hours of constant movement to reach the edge of the northern tree line of the Sleeping Woodlands. By then, the host of Magical Beasts that’d begun chasing him through the forest had given up and returned to the deep woods, far from the eyes of man, where the soil was rich with magic and death. Still, a chorus of howls and roars by dark creatures announced Jin’s arrival.

  And there he saw it, a large encampment in the distance: hundreds and hundreds of tents, surrounding a large, highly-decorated tent at the center. That must be where the mage is staying, Jin thought. They couldn’t be any more obvious. Then again, if I was a mage in the company of mortals, I’d probably want to stand out.

  Jin shook his head and closed his eyes. His magical senses exploded outward, reaching out to the tent in the distance. Jin thinned out his magic, making it as weak and as unassuming as possible as to minimize the chances of detection. It wasn’t a spotless idea, but it should be enough for his purpose. True to his prediction, there was a single mage in there. Though, given the range, Jin couldn’t be certain of anything more than their presence. Still, it did confirm the scout’s report—there was a mage in the enemy army, and he needed to be killed immediately.

  With that in mind, Jin’s eyes snapped open. The muscles of his legs contracted, hardening and strengthening immensely. Grunting, Jin leapt forward and soared across the wind, momentarily ripping through sound itself on his approach. Thunderous booms echoed across the land as Jin’s form crashed hard against the dry soil, scattering dirt and dust in every direction.

  Jin spared a moment to eye his surroundings.

  There was no one here.

  He froze.

  Glowing runes, arrays, and symbols suddenly revealed themselves, surrounding him. They appeared on the ground and in the air, shimmering. Jin stood at the very center of something that was definitely of magical origin—a ritual circle of some kind. He could feel the energies charging the air with its intensity.

  He couldn’t move, no matter how much he struggled.

  Ten people in black robes materialized around him. Each of them stood on smaller circles, glimmering with magical energies that fed into the magical array he’d stood at the center of. Their faces were shrouded in unnatural shadows. Jin couldn’t even feel their presence as they stood there, clearly using magic. What the—

  Jin gritted his teeth, but found that he couldn’t even move his mouth.

  “So, this is the vessel?” One of the robed figures spoke with clear disdain. “He’s just a kid. I’m having second thoughts about this.”

  “Be silent and do as you’re told,” Another one barked out, before addressing the others. “Unleash your energies at once. He must be destroyed immediately and without mercy.”

  “But he’s just a child…” It was an old woman’s voice. She sounded distraught, but Jin couldn’t be sure. “This isn’t right.”

  “It doesn’t matter,” the voice said with a harsh finality. “We all took our vows: the vessel must be destroyed.”

  What the hell is going on?! Jin struggled, sending his magic coursing into the tattoos of his left hand and his right hand. Fire and lightning raged around him as his magic ran wild.

  Who were these people?

  The figures extended their right arms, fingers pointing toward him.

  Something surged around him, flying colors and dazzling shapes. Magic filled the air. For a moment, everything seemed so quiet, as though the world had paused and fallen asleep.

  And then there was light, blinding and painful. Jin lost his senses. He felt nothing.

  There was only darkness and the cackling of a dreadful voice at the back of it all.

  End of Book 2

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  Dragon Magus Chapter 1

  A loud, strong wail echoed across the cavernous stone arches of the Crescent Moon Abbey’s chapel. Sister Amalia froze, dropping her broom. Her gaze snapped toward the main entrance. The enormous double wooden doors should have been closed after sunset. But they now stood open. A bag of tools gleamed beside the left door.

  There was something else there, too: a bundle.

  Sister Amalia edged forward through the dimly lit chapel. The bundle shifted, and she froze. A tiny hand thrust out from the bundle of rags.

  A baby? she thought. A baby! Another sharp wail shot through the Crescent Moon abbey.

  She knelt down and glanced out of the door. No sign of whoever had left him. She picked up the child and held it close. Bright blue eyes shone against dirt-smudged cheeks, returning her gaze. A small mouth opened and let loose another wail—one of indignation at being left alone, of a desire for warmth and comfort.

  Sister Amalia was a young nun, having taken her vows not two days after she’d turned eighteen. She knew very li
ttle about most things, but she knew almost nothing about babies. Amalia began to coo, hoping to comfort the baby, but its cries only continued to grow louder.

  “Sister!” a man’s voice rang down the hallway. “Is… Is that a baby?”

  Sighing with relief, Amalia turned to the man. “Koshi! I found this baby here, just now! Right beside your tools! Did you see who—”

  Koshi stepped into the candlelight. He was an old man, as craggy and ragged as Amalia was young and fresh. He wore a laborer’s tunic and trousers of roughly spun wool. A pronounced limp punctuated his every step. Koshi knuckled the gray-brown bristle under his chin and shook his head.

  “I stepped away for a moment,” he said. He walked up to Amalia and looked down at the baby. “Someone must have left this little one here while I was away.”

  Koshi wagged a dirty finger in the baby’s face, and the child clutched it.

  “Oh my!” Koshi chuckled. “We have a strong little one here.”

  “He’s… he’s stopped crying.” Amalia blinked. “I think he likes you, Koshi.”

  “Everyone likes me, Sister. But is it a ‘he’?” Koshi asked. “Well, let’s find out.”

  A quick glance confirmed Amalia’s guess that the baby was, indeed, a ‘he.’

  “Amalia! What’s going on? I thought I heard a child crying,” a woman’s voice called. Another nun strode into the chapel, carrying a bucket and mop in her hands.

  “Sister Superior Sofia!” Amalia bowed hastily and nodded at the bundle in her arms. “Someone left this little boy here. Neither of us saw who.”

  Sofia put down her bucket, leaned her mop against a pew, and walked over to Amalia. “Oh my. Whoever could have done something like that?”

  She cooed to the baby. He gurgled back.

  “He’s adorable!” Sofia said.

  ‘What should we do, Sister Superior?” Amalia asked.

  Sofia sighed and smoothed out her wimple. “It’s not the first time the Crescent Moon Abbey has taken in foundlings. There are orphans aplenty in these troubled times. We can only be one of the places where they are fortunate to wash up at.”

  “Will you take him in, then, Sisters?” Koshi asked.

  The older nun grunted as she took the baby from Amalia. “Yes. I will inform the High Abbess in the morning, and he will be placed among the orphans we care for. In the meantime, we have to find him a wet nurse. Amalia, could you have a word with Mrs. Balotelli? Her house is not far. It’s…”

  “I know where it is, Sister Superior.” Amalia bowed and walked out of the chapel. The dark tones of her robed and wimpled form disappeared into the night.

  “It’s sad for a child to be abandoned like this,” Koshi said, sighing, “but it’s a relief that you are there for him, Sister.”

  “We are sworn to provide what succor we can to those who suffer, Koshi.” Sofia glanced at the chapel doors. “Your work is done, then?”

  “Yes, it is. I just have to gather your tools and return them to the chapel’s storeroom.”

  “Thank you. The Abbey truly appreciates all the times you’ve helped us.”

  “It’s my pleasure, Sister. You and the other Sisters have helped so many people, saved so many lives. I only wish I could do more.” Koshi tapped his thigh gently. “And I would, if not for my bad legs.”

  “A hero’s injury, taken in defense of others.” Sofia clutched the baby closer with one hand and patted Koshi on the shoulder. “You deserve better, good man, you really do. It’s a disgrace how you’ve been treated.”

  “Ah, it’s all in the past, now.” Koshi waved at the baby, who gurgled happily in response and reached for him with tiny hands.

  “The child needs a wash,” Sofia declared. “I hate to ask this of you, Koshi, since it’s already so late, but would you carry that bucket to the fireplace beside the confessional? I’m sure Father Cosimo won’t mind us using his basin to heat up some soapy water.”

  “Of course, Sister.” Koshi picked the bucket up with a grunt and followed the nun.

  There was a small wooden table by the fireplace, laden with Father Cosimo’s notes and books. Koshi gathered and stacked them neatly on a wooden pew, clearing the space for Sofia to lay out some cleaning rags Sister Amalia had left in the chapel.

  Sofia emptied her bucket of soapy water into Father Cosimo’s baptismal copper basin and set it near the fireplace to heat up.

  “Are you still staying in that old shed on the city outskirts, Koshi?” Sofia asked.

  “Yes, Sister.” Koshi pulled his hands from his face and waggled his tongue at the baby. The child gurgled in delight and reached for him. Koshi let the baby hold on to his fingers.

  “That must be lonely. Why don’t you stay with the Abbey’s commune? We have several rooms available, and if you’re worried about earning your keep, you’re more than capable of doing so, with how handy you’ve proven yourself to be.”

  It wasn’t the first time the Sisters had made that invitation, and each time, Koshi had to fight off the temptation. Human warmth, community, smiles and conversations: he’d allowed himself small doses of such things every time he attended the services or helped out with small repairs at the Abbey.

  But it was too dangerous. They might find him before his time was up, and if they did, everyone around him would suffer. That’s why he lived where he did, beside the garbage dump, where no other living soul would choose to dwell.

  Sometimes, in his most guilt-wracked moments, he wondered if even the occasional human contact he allowed himself was too risky. By all rights, he should have never come here, never gotten close to human dwellings, never attended that first service in the Crescent Moon Abbey.

  Koshi hated many things about himself, but he hated his selfish need to be close to humanity the most. He forced a smile onto his face. “I will give it some thought, Sister. By the way, did you hear about Mr. Ferri’s most recent success with his rhubarb patch?”

  Sofia chuckled. “Typical. Say you’ll consider it and then change the subject.” She shook her head, smiling softly. “I’ll say no more about you joining the commune. For now.”

  Koshi bowed to the Sister. “I think the water’s warm enough, now.”

  “Good. Bring the baby here.”

  The child would have burst out into tears as Sofia toweled him down if Koshi had not kept up a barrage of funny faces.

  “What’s his name going to be, Sister?”

  “That’s a good question. I haven’t given it much thought yet. This has all been so sudden, you see.” Sofia washed the rag she’d been using in the basin, wrung it out, and resumed her work, this time clearing out the grime from the baby’s legs and feet. She smiled at Koshi.

  “Perhaps you should name him,” she said.

  “What? No, I could never presume to…”

  “The two of you seem to be getting along famously already. I can just about see the two of you, years from now, keeping the Abbey in tiptop shape.”

  Koshi didn’t want to mention he didn’t know how many years he did have left, so he just focused on keeping his forced smile on his face. “Begging your pardon, Sister, but naming a child is holy work, only for parents, and failing them, well, it falls to you and your Sisters.”

  “That is true, Koshi. You have been paying attention to Father Cosimo’s sermons.”

  “Every word, Sister. Every word.”

  Sofia washed and wrung out her rag again. Holding the baby’s chest up in one hand, she angled his body so she could reach his back. She hummed as she wiped away the grime at his ears, but her voice cut off into a strangled gasp as her rag made its way down his back.

  “Is something wrong, Sister?” Koshi asked, coming closer.

  “This… this…” Sofia made a few more tentative wipes with her rag. Her eyes grew wider, and her breathing became ragged.

  And then Koshi saw it too. He couldn’t believe his eyes. At the center of the baby’s back, there was a golden triangle, pointing downward, open at its base. The triangl
e was accompanied by four golden lines, two reaching upwards from its heart, the other two running parallel to its sides.

  A Dragon Sigil. Koshi clutched the side of the table to steady himself.

  Sofia’s reaction was far more extreme. She shrieked in abject horror and let go of the baby. Koshi caught him before he could fall more than an inch.

  “Sister! What…” But he knew why the nun was reacting like this, why she was backing away, clutching the sides of her face. He knew why tears of horror had begun to brim in the corner of her eyes.

  Sofia turned and ran. Her slippered footsteps echoed throughout the chapel. As she disappeared from view, Koshi steadied his own breathing and calmed the frantic hammering of his heart. He looked down at the child he held in his arms.

  “Praise Namakhut!” His first tribute in decades to the God of Dragons escaped his lips as a fierce whisper. He knew now what he had to do, what lay ahead for him in the remaining years of his life. Koshi wiped the baby dry, wrapped him in rags, and held him close as he hobbled out of the chapel.

  He cast one last look at the chapel and the nearby Abbey as he hastened from its grounds. The Sisters’ dormitory was several minutes’ away on foot, and it would take even more time for Sofia to raise the others and bring them here. Koshi and the baby would be long gone by then.

  And he could never return again, not with the responsibility he now bore. He said his mental goodbyes as he walked down the dirt path leading away from the Abbey and into the city.

  The baby began crying again.

  “Oh, right.” Koshi nodded. Didn’t Amalia go to fetch Mrs. Balotelli? The Balotelli household wasn’t far away, and the baby could definitely use a wet nurse right now. The money the Sisters had paid him for repairing the chapel doors would be more than sufficient for her services.

  Another thought struck him as he made his way there: the child still didn’t have a name, yet. Koshi smiled. When he’d been walking out of the chapel, he’d passed by a weathered stone statue of the Archangel Raphael, Healer and Guardian of the suffering and afflicted.