A voice unknown to Ryusei reached his hearing. “How will those pieces be affixed to the blade?”
Another voice replied, and its sound made Ryusei’s hear soar with hope: “Through brass pins, lord daimyo.”
“It’s Kain!” he exclaimed.
“Where?” asked Naginata.
“Towards the end of the castle, he seems to be forging something!”
“Then we must waste no time in reaching him. I can sense you are weak, Ryusei, but I must beg one final effort from you.”
“Nagi, I don’t know if I can.”
“Yes you can, and I will help you: Sink me into the tree, and channel your will through me, focus on drawing the life off of the plant.”
“But you will be diminished!”
“That doesn’t matter. You will receive enough sustenance for us to reach Kain!”
Ryusei saw no other option. He held Naginata with both hands and plunged her into the tree of the trunk. He closed his eyes and focused on the blade’s metal, trying and failing to feel its essence. “Nagi, I can’t!”
“Of course you can! Focus, Ryusei, see me not as a tool, but as an extension of yourself.”
Ryusei tried to see Naginata as instructed, but he was no warrior like Kain, and he was not bound to the weapon. He couldn’t tap into Naginata’s core, he couldn’t… “Wait, I feel something inside you, something... empty?”
“Yes, that’s the part of me which must be diminished to accommodate a wielder’s will.”
“But I don’t understand, are you incomplete?”
“No, Ryusei, I’m not. Every being has a missing piece in their being which awaits the proper complement. But now, pour your intent into it, and will life away from the tree and into you.”
Ryusei did as told, injecting his intention into Naginata. The incantation’s effect was immediate, and he could feel as the tree’s energy went through the blade and into him. He couldn’t hold the effect for more than a few seconds, but it had been enough to recover some of his drained energy. “It worked, Nagi! I channeled through… Nagi? Are you okay?”
He saw the sword’s blade had corroded tremendously. Pieces of its length were flaking off, and its edges looked brittle and ready to break at a moment’s notice. “I am... drained, Ryusei. I am not bound to you, so you channeling your will through me took a lot out of my being.”
“Nagi, I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to.”
“It doesn’t matter, Ryusei. Now I will enhance your legs, and you must reach Kain!”
“I will,” Ryusei promised as Naginata’s energy seeped into him. Though his legs ached momentarily as his muscles were strengthened by the weapon, he felt stronger and faster than he had ever felt; in one motion, he leapt from the branch and onto the loamy floor beneath the willow, barely feeling any impact as his powerful legs absorbed the fall. He lifted his head and started running towards the castle.
The tremendous speed his enhanced legs gave him made him oblivious to the drop of blood seeping from his nose.
***
The oblong shape of the Zweihänder’s grip was nearly finished. He had carefully shaved away pieces of wood from a block of oak, giving the grip the form he wanted; when he was satisfied with the shape, Kain used the drill he had taken to pierce a slot through the middle of the wooden piece, making it wide enough to fit the tang.
When the grip’s slot was ready, he took the tongs and pulled the blade from the forge a few centimeters, until the tang was fully out. With one hand clamped on the tongs, he held the metal in place, and with the other hand, he plunged the tang into the slot. Smoke emanated from the wooden piece as its insides were burnt into the exact shape of the tang; he removed the grip before it burst into flames, and turned it in his hand to judge its shape. The oaken shape fit comfortably in his hands – the grip was ready.
Time to quench and assemble the weapon, he thought, grinning proudly as he envisioned the Zweihänder’s final shape. The oil he had requested from Ishida had arrived, and the trough was full with it. Kain removed the blade from the furnace and released the enchantment on it; he placed the tongs on its middle section, where the ricasso would be placed, and balanced its weight before deftly plunging it into the oil. The contents of the trough sizzled and bubbled, emitting white smoke as the metal was cooled inside. After little over two minutes, Kain removed the blade and placed it on the anvil to shift the position of his tongs. He held the metal by the tang at arm’s length, and checked the blade for any chinks or bends; to his delight, the blade was straight, and properly quenched.
“The blade is ready,” he declared as he placed it back on the anvil. Kain took the crossguard and used the drill to bore a slot through it, and then he removed a file from the tool rack to refine its shape. When he judged it ready, he ran the tang through the guard’s block, smiling as the blade’s lower end rested perfectly on the crossguard. Kain proceeded by drilling a similar but thinner slot in the pommel, perfecting its shape with the file before threading the tang through the wooden grip, and then affixing the pommel.
The four pieces of the weapon fit perfectly, and Kain judged them ready to be locked in position. He used the drill to bore three holes through the crossguard and blade, then three holes through the grip and tang, and one hole through the base of the pommel and into the lower end of the tang. When he finished drilling, he took a fistful of brass rivets and hammered them into each hole, perpetually fixing the pieces in place.
When the weapon was ready, he held it with both hands, feeling its weight and balance. He swung the Zweihänder in a wide, sweeping arc before bringing it close to his body and thrusting it forward. From that position, he returned the weapon, twirled it in his hands and moved it in an upper swing. The weapon’s balance was perfect, and though it weighted roughly twice what a katana would, the Zweihänder felt nimble in his hands.
Kain turned towards Ishida and said, “Lord daimyo, this weapon is a Zweihänder, a word which means two-hander. As you can see, it’s almost as long as an oodachi, but it weighs less and is meant to be used in its entirety; the blade is yet unsharpened, but it’s meant to have a double-edge for backhanded swings. This part here,” he said, placing his hand above the crossguard, “Won’t be sharpened, it’s called the ricasso and it can be used to increase the strength of a forward thrust to penetrate through armor. This piece is the crossguard, and the lateral protrusions are named quillons; their primary function is to protect the wielder’s hand in case an enemy blade slides down the weapon, but they can also be used to hammer into armor, and…”
“Wait, Kain Smith, how can this be done?” Ishida asked, leaning forward on his seat.
“Like so,” Kain replied, grabbing the weapon by its length and swinging it as a hammer. “Even when sharpened, gripping the Zweihänder this way won’t cut the user because of the amount of skin in contact with the blade; this way, the wielder can penetrate through thick helmets and armor plate. Now,” said he, correcting his grip, “This part down here is called the pommel, it’s meant to balance the weapon’s weight; unlike a katana, the Zweihänder is balanced at its middle rather than top-heavy. A warrior may also use the pommel to strike an opponent. The pommel itself may be shaped like a spike for puncturing, but in this case I opted for a stylized shape. This is a versatile weapon, lord: You can slash,” he said, swinging the weapon to and fro, “Thrust,” he added, using his whole body to project the weapon forwards, “Chop,” he continued with a violent overhead motion, “Half-sword,” he followed by gripping the ricasso and thrusting again, “And pommel ram,” he injected, lifting the sword and thrusting its pommel forward. He finished the exercise by planting the sword tip-first into the ground, and placing his hands on its quillons. “Are you satisfied, lord?”
“Very,” Ishida replied. “I can see the value in your western smithing, Kain Smith,” he smiled, “And I understand why Zwaihan chose such a weapon to name herself. Now, sharpen the blade so you can—”
“L
ord Ishida!” A voice screamed from the hallway leading to the courtyard. “Lord Ishida, LORD ISHIDA!” Bellowed the daimyo’s terrified herald as he ran as quickly as his legs could carry him. The man’s stamina failed him, and he stopped at the end of the hall, trying to regain his breath and wheezing, “Lord... Ishida... Please, you must…” A sickening gurgling noise escaped the man as the tip of a katana erupted from his midriff. The herald stared dumbly at the metal protruding from his abdomen, and winced as the blade was cruelly twisted inside of him and swung laterally, shearing him in half.
The formerly silent women—princess Yumei, Ren and Yuki—cried as they saw the gruesome spectacle. Kain held the still blunt Zweihänder defensively as he studied the interloper. The man was covered from head to toe in black and crimson lacquered armor; layers of metal were stacked on top of one another in each of the armor’s heavy pieces, and the figure’s helmet held a ceremonial battle mask shaped like a grinning demon. Blood spatters smeared every square inch of the armor; the intruder had unleashed tremendous violence within the daimyo’s castle.
The interloper swung his katana, wiping away the remaining ropes of flesh and viscera on its length, and slowly removed his mask. Kain felt a pit forming in his stomach, and his teeth grinding painfully as the face underneath was revealed.
A twisted snarl curled Ryokawa Hanataro’s features as he pointed his katana at the daimyo and bellowed, “YORUNOKENSHI ISHIDA!”
Kain took a deep breath, steeling himself for battle.
Chapter XIX: Pride and Retribution
“No matter the stature, no matter the rank, no matter the skill – only an absolute imbecile would underestimate a man with a weapon, even when holding a weapon of his own.”
-Nipponese proverb
“Hurry up, Ryusei!” Naginata said, feeling worry growing inside of her.
“I’m going as fast as I can!”
But not fast enough, the blade thought as she tried to remain calm. Being bound to a shape which precluded mobility wasn’t something she minded—she had been created that way, and would remain so until the end of reality. Betimes, however, Naginata felt a deep, immitigable frustration, especially when separated from Kain.
I should have been with him, she thought, feeling another pang of guilt coursing through her length. Ryusei likely had the right of it – it had been Kain who left her in his quarters, as he didn’t deem it necessary to bring her with him, that much she could understand. Kain hadn’t expected to be attacked in his own home, and she couldn’t fault him over that.
Just as she couldn’t fault Ryusei over his speed as he climbed the castle’s outer wall. He’s too tired, she reasoned as she heard the kid’s strained breathing. He’s not bound to me, I can’t help him the way I could aid Kain. She disliked pushing Ryusei to his limits, but there was no other choice: Either they reached Kain, or he would die.
And she would not allow that to happen.
***
At that moment, there was nothing Kain wanted more than to skewer Hanataro’s flesh with the weapon he was holding. He didn’t want to kill him immediately; that would have been too trite and too merciful an ending for the samurai. No, he thought, barely managing to contain the seething anger within himself, I want him to suffer the way he deserves. I want him to feel the pain he inflicted to Ren, to Yuki, to Ryusei, to my father, he closed his eyes, breathed deeply, and glared at the oblivious samurai. I want him to feel the pain he has inflicted on me.
Despite the wrath he felt, Kain’s warrior instincts precluded him from charging at the man. The weapon he held, though functional, was unfinished; it lacked its edges and would be unable to rend Hanataro’s flesh. Regardless, Kain reasoned that in the worst case scenario—which seemed more likely the closer Hanataro came to Ishida—the newly forged Zweihänder was serviceable.
Hanataro stared dead ahead, and Kain could see his eyes locked on the daimyo as he advanced, his sword held at arm’s length. As Kain gazed towards Ishida, he couldn’t help but respect the man. His expression was diametrically opposed to Hanataro’s: Where the samurai’s countenance was intemperate, Ishida merely watched him unfazed.
“Hanataro-bushi,” Ishida said calmly, “I don’t believe I have summoned you yet. To what do I owe the pleasure of your visit?”
Hanataro scoffed. “Ishida, there is no need to be snide,” he said with unexpected calmness. “I have come, under my right as a nobleman of the Ryokawa family, as a samurai appointed by Lord Shogun Yorunokenshi Ichiro, and as a man whose honor has been besmirched to demand satisfaction from you, Yorunokenshi Ishida. I demand my right to singular combat!”
Is he fucking insane? Kain thought as he heard the proclamation. The rite of singular combat was a tradition as ancient as Nippon itself, but it had fallen into disuse generations before Hanataro drew his first, mewling breath. Yet here he is, demanding something so asinine!
Ishida tilted his head and derisively said, “I deny you.”
Hanataro’s figure stiffened. “What did you say?”
“I said,” Ishida retorted firmly, “I deny you. I won’t countenance a petulant buffoon’s masturbatory demands, even less so when coming from an individual as execrable as you are. Now,” he said with an edge of danger in his voice. “Remove yourself from my estate while you can.”
The rage churning wildly within the samurai was palpable as Kain observed him; Hanataro took deep, heaving breaths, struggling to remain under control of himself. A low mumbling coming from the samurai reached Kain’s ears: “You won’t deny me, you won’t deny me, you won’t deny me...”
SHIT! Kain hefted the Zweihänder and surged forward. Just as Hanataro lifted his face and bellowed, “YOU WON’T DENY ME!” and launched himself towards Ishida, his sword firmly gripped in his hands.
Numbness spread through Kain’s arms as he intercepted Hanataro’s katana; he twirled his blade along the length of Hanataro’s weapon, deflecting his blow and staggering him. Kain seized Hanataro’s imbalance and quickly reversed his grip to jab the pommel of his sword into Hanataro’s stomach, and though his thick cuirass absorbed the damage, the samurai toppled backwards, falling down the dais and tumbling into a prone position.
Kain held the Zweihänder defensively, locking his elbows close to his sides as he flexed his fingers on the wooden grip. Such strength belongs to no man, how could he… Ah, hell, his katana is an ikiteiruken! “Damn it,” he muttered before glancing over his shoulder at the daimyo. “Ishida, are you hurt?”
Ishida smiled. “I am fine, Kain, thanks to you. I must say I am not disappointed: You both acted as Zwaihan predicted.”
“How so?”
“Simple, Hanataro charged dishonorably, and you intercepted the attack. The weapon you created is an excellent judge of character, Kain Smith.”
Kain grinned after receiving the compliment, but his attention was caught by a manic cackle coming from Hanataro. Slowly, the samurai climbed to his feet, his fingers tightly clamped around his ikiteiruken. He glared at Kain, sneering as he said, “Kajiya Senshi, the fucking filthy assistant! How have you not yet been executed? Have you become Ishida’s lapdog?”
“Kajiya Senshi is gone,” Ishida said calmly. “And this man is no lapdog, unlike you are to Ichiro, Hanataro. This is Kain Smith, a warrior, a blacksmith, a heretic,” he chuckled. “And if he accepts the charge, my champion.”
Without missing a beat, Kain uttered, “I accept.”
“What?” Hanataro wheezed incredulously. “This... lowly... unspeakable... disgusting human waste? THIS is your champion, Ishida? You chose him over ME?”
“I chose a man of intellect, integrity and honor, Hanataro, qualities which elude you.” Slowly, Ishida stood up and said, “Kain Smith will face you in singular combat, Hanataro. If you manage to defeat him, I shall then duel you, but in the meantime,” he took a deep, steadying breath, and dangerously added, “Do not dare speak to me.”
Kain kept holding his sword at the ready as he slowl
y descended the dais to stand at the same level as the samurai. His gaze was locked on Hanataro as he retreated thirty paces, putting distance between himself and his opponent. He loosened his shoulders, and felt the weight of the Zweihänder in his hands. It’s not sharp, and it’s not awakened, he thought as he sighed. But there is something I can do. “I’m sorry,” he muttered as he removed the weapon’s kotodama, turning it into a vessel blade, “But I cannot afford to die.”
He took another deep breath and stared at his opponent as a thought crept into his mind: I wish I had Naginata with me.
***
Hanataro’s patience had reached its limits. Whatever the deplorable individual before him had muttered under his breath held no meaning to him. All he wanted was to be done with the charade to exact his righteous vengeance upon Ishida. Contemptuously, he exclaimed, “Hey, assistant! Are you done praying to the gods of piss and feces who watch over you?” The man’s expression remained unperturbed as he stared at him. Hanataro forced a rictus and uttered, “I never took you for a warrior, especially after you failed to do anything to defend Munesuke!” Again, his enemy remained silent. The samurai sneered, “HEY ASSHOLE, I AM TALKING TO YOU!”
For the third time, Hanataro received no answer. Insolent son of a whore, he thought, feeling his stomach burning with acid rage. He held his katana at the ready, and placed a leg in front of the other, ready to charge at his enemy.
“Shinokage,” he licked his lips as he savored the weight of the command he was about to issue his weapon: “Full power.”
The blade, feeling its master’s eagerness simple replied: “Yes.”
And Hanataro surged forward.
***
He barely managed to tumble away from the attack. Its speed and viciousness had been blinding, and only his trained warrior’s instincts prevented him from being shorn in half. Kain jumped back on his feet as Hanataro charged at him again, but this time he was ready: Kain lowered his weapon’s tip, catching the samurai’s blade and deflecting it downwards, opening Hanataro for a counterattack; he quickly angled his weapon further down, and jammed its pommel into Hanataro’s nose.
Heretic's Forge: A Crafting Fantasy Adventure (The Warrior Blacksmith Book 1) Page 25
