Clash of Men

by Damon Glatz

  This edition published in 2018 by Burning Willow Press, LLC

  3724 Cowpens Pacolet Rd. Spartanburg, SC 29307

  (USA)

  All rights reserved.

  Without limiting the rights under copyright reserved above, no part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in, or introduced into a retrieval system, or transmitted, in any form or by any means (electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise) without the prior written permission of both the copyright owner and the above publisher of this book.

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  Internet or via any other means without the permission of the publisher is illegal and punishable by law. Please purchase only authorized electronic editions and do not participate in or encourage piracy of copyrighted materials. Your support of the authors’ right is appreciated.

  The persons, places, and events of this novel are works of fiction. Any coincidence with individual’s past or present, is merely that, coincidence.

  © Burning Willow Press, 2018

  © Damon Glatz, author 2018

  © James Master, editor 2018

  © Formatting

  © Mayhem Designs, Cover art design, 2018

  ISBN-13: 978-1-947584-41-9

  ISBN-10: 1-947584-41-3

  This one is for my mom.

  Table of Contents

  Prologue:

  Dawn of a New Age

  Chapter One:

  The Boy from the Plains

  Chapter Two:

  One Last Meal

  Chapter Three:

  The Vision Quest

  Chapter Four:

  Survival

  Chapter Five:

  The Brute

  Chapter Six:

  Payback

  Chapter Seven:

  Clean Slate

  Chapter Eight:

  The Tale of Nicholas

  Chapter Nine:

  New Beginnings

  Chapter Ten:

  Red

  Chapter Eleven:

  Unanswered Questions

  Chapter Twelve:

  Fate

  Chapter Thirteen:

  An Arrangement

  Chapter Fourteen:

  Collaboration

  Chapter Fifteen:

  Welcome Home

  Chapter Sixteen:

  New Plans

  Chapter Seventeen:

  The Soul of a Warrior

  Chapter Eighteen:

  Identity Thieves

  Chapter Nineteen:

  The Wall

  Chapter Twenty:

  A Hard Bargain

  Chapter Twenty-One:

  Change of Course

  Chapter Twenty-Two:

  Divine Intervention

  Chapter Twenty-Three:

  Trust

  Chapter Twenty-Four:

  Desperate Times

  Chapter Twenty-Five:

  Siege of Shinra Castle

  Chapter Twenty-Six:

  The Western Wall

  Chapter Twenty-Seven:

  The Vatnic Isles

  Chapter Twenty-Eight:

  The Bone-Breaker

  Chapter Twenty-Nine:

  The Blue Demon

  Chapter Thirty:

  Fall from Grace

  Chapter Thirty-One:

  The Beginning

  Epilogue:

  Dawn of an Empire

  About the Author

  Acknowledgements

  About the Publisher

  Prologue:

  Dawn of a New Age

  The flaming crimson sun made its early appearance on the horizon, eager to rise. Its intense heat rippled as if small scarlet waves were rolling up a golden shore. Through the mirage of the morning warmth, glistening on the wide plain in front of him, the Shogun could see the dotted black line begin to grow where the earth met the sky. Through the sweat under his chafing helmet he could see the dark row become more defined, emboldened against the blinding backdrop of the morning light. Soon he could identify the red banners embroidered with the traditional black dragon crest waving among the horsemen. The entire might of the Ashland kingdom was marching to his home, and the sun was on their side.

  Shogun Daisuke, however, had the wind on his side. It blew strong to the east, kicking up dust into the horse’s eyes, stinging and disorienting them. They marched on in defiance of this, ready for an all-or-nothing war.

  The Shogun reared his white horse around and rode down the steep steps of The Great Wall. The Wall was the massive barrier between the Feng Dynasty and the rest of the world, the longest and one of the tallest structures ever constructed by man, stretching across the entire border of the northern empire. On his side stood his army of samurai warriors. What Daisuke lacked in numbers, he knew he made up for with the skill of his men. He had seen to their training personally for decades, their minds and bodies as sharp as their blades. Even in the times of peace, they were always battle ready, and now more than ever. Ashland was in for much more than they bargained for.

  The shadow of The Wall retreated to the edge of the emerald grass at its base. The sun positioned itself at the perfect angle to enjoy the inevitable bloodshed. The Shogun commanded his men to mount their horses and prepare for the attacking charge. If he ordered it, his men would do anything. If he ordered it, they would all take their own lives without hesitation.

  Shogun Daisuke was the highest-ranking military commander in the dynasty, second only to the Emperor in authority. Being Shogun was his birthright; his whole life was trained and focused on this moment, this battle.

  "Open the gate," he commanded. The giant wooden doors slowly opened, letting in the blinding heat of the sun before them. The massive enemy army spread across the entire horizon, their armor shimmering like a line of jewels in the golden sunrise. The army of knights marched behind their advancing cavalry, raising their banners high.

  Daisuke rode beyond The Wall on his horse, followed only by his personal guard. He ordered his archers to span the entire eastern Wall and take their positions. The Dynasty archers of the North were revered in skill and accuracy, perhaps only matched by the tribesmen of the plains, who relied on the bow for hunting. Daisuke sat on his horse, watching the enemy lines advance toward his homeland. They were more detailed now. He could see the heavy metal plating that defended the horses in the front of their formation. The Shogun could identify the knights who fought with thick iron swords marching behind their cavalry, weapons all inferior to the samurai steel blades. He scowled at their archers who were armed with crossbows, a dishonorable weapon compared to the noble longbow.

  Daisuke’s armor was his usual scarlet breastplate, paired with a gold helmet, looking much more elaborate than his lower ranked samurai. Each of them wore artfully woven iron and bamboo plates that moved with their bodies, unlike the Ashland knights’ bulky suits that only weighed them down. Although the Shogun was usually allowed more intimidating armor, Daisuke preferred to keep his simple and humbler than his Shogun predecessors. He turned around and studied his own defense. The Wall stretched as far as the eye could see in either direction. His archers stood at attention at the top, prepared to fire at a moment’s notice. His ground forces were prepared behind the wall, unseen, in the event of a breach. He had his battle strategy for this day prepared years ago, the looming threat of an invasion forced him to plan ahead and brace for the unthinkable.

  Ashland and the Feng Dynasty had been enemies since the dawn of time, yet it seemed this would be the last battle between them, winner take all. None of the remaining three nations had decided to join this conflict. The tribes of the central plains, loosely allied groups of savages that nomadically roamed the span of grasslands to the south, had no alliance with
either side. They were not expected to enter the battle. The Orbis Republic, a grand nation of intellectuals to the far south, were anticipated to join sides with Ashland, but evidently never sent forces.

  The Vatnic Isles, a kingdom of sailors and vagabonds, were long enemies of Ashland. Although their navy would serve no use in this battle either way, they showed some alliance to the dynasty. However, they were still not expected to fight today. When the promised day approached them, it came down to only Daisuke and his men standing against the full might of Ashland. Of course, there were other armies of samurai in the nation. They were on their way to reinforce Daisuke or guard the emperor’s palace, in the entirely possible event of failure at The Wall. Although their arrival could prove too late to make a difference in this battle, Daisuke’s stand had to be made now.

  Daisuke turned and rode back through the gate; he had gathered the information he needed. Their masses seemed to be focused in regiments that spread out in one wide line. Daisuke expected no flanking attacks. That was good to know. He could focus his defense on just the eastern Wall, and the single gateway he was now entering. The gargantuan wooden doors glided to a close behind him. Beyond the usual barricade to the doors to keep them sealed, additional heavy locks were lowered and secured to add a stronger defense, in case the army came close enough for a battering ram to be used. All variables were being accounted for.

  As the opposing army marched closer, their ranks were clear, their commanders could be seen, and their sun was higher in the sky. The Ashland trebuchets towered high above the men and were being rolled into loading position. The Shogun rode back up the tall steps to the top of the wall. From this altitude he could see over the ranks of the entire army; their every formation could be detailed.

  The Shogun gave a signal to his head general, Ashikaga. Ashikaga was in charge of the ground units should the wall be breached. The general ordered his Ashigaru, warriors similar in style to the Ashland pikemen, to organize behind The Wall’s protection and to prepare for battle. They were the first line of defense in case of a breach. Behind them, the samurai swordsmen organized to cut down any knights who managed to make it that far. Ashikaga looked prepared, his men focused. The General and the Shogun had fought side by side many times before, there was no one else Daisuke would want helping him lead. Ashikaga looked up and gave a nod, he was ready.

  The archers took their final positions, three lines spreading down the length of The Wall. If the archers did their job well, the rest of his army would not be needed at all. Daisuke sat on his horse directly above the gate. The gate would be the focal point of the attack, the target each and every trebuchet was currently taking aim on. Clearly, the gate was the most dangerous position to be holding, the highly honorable position each and every samurai would kill to be chosen for. Over the gate was the position the Shogun reserved for himself and his handpicked archers. Sitting on his horse, Daisuke drew his bow first. The rest followed. The stretch of the wood being bent as the bow was drawn back could be heard like a wave moving in both directions down The Wall. Every man followed his wordless command without hesitation.

  The Shogun breathed steadily. He was a leader. He could show no fear. A victory here would go down in history. With success, he would be renowned as one of the best military minds of all time. Failure would surely lead to seppuku, a self-inflicted death to retain at least some of his honor, let alone the destruction of his entire empire. Failure was not an option. Daisuke dared not show any fear. Instead, he showed only determination. The officers under him often spoke of him having an unchanging face, only showing his focus in any situation. Their leader would analyze and calculate the way to victory in any circumstance and never let his emotions cloud his judgment or actions. Daisuke was already well-known as a military genius. However, his pride never got in the way of his decisions. He was always quiet, though when he seldom did speak, he was never wrong.

  "Focus on their trebuchets, make them fear to load them." Daisuke’s order was spread down the line. He had studied Ashland battle tactics used over the last hundred years. They would open with trebuchet fire until they found a weakness in the defending position, then attack, focusing on that weakness. If Daisuke could bring their numbers down before that attack, it would be a more even ground battle. The range of the Ashland trebuchets were almost equal to that of a samurai’s bow.

  The trebuchets were the least of his fears for this battle. There were whispers of a more horrific weapon, and he prayed they would prove false. He refused even to entertain the idea of the rumors, and forbid his men speak of it, for even just the thought may somehow breathe life to the stories. However, for now, the sky remained clear.

  The knights began to load the first volley, stones wrapped in burning pitch that would be ignited before launching. This would be a test fire, to see if the trebuchets were within range. Now was the time to test the archer’s range as well. Daisuke let loose his first arrow, followed by hundreds of thousands of others. A shadow moved across the plains as the arrows flew through the sky. All shots were perfect, they had to be.

  Daisuke was trained well enough to follow his exact arrow through the air and watched it strike an officer off his horse. The first lines of men fell to the ground in unison, the dead men struck the earth all at once, laying in perfect battle formation on the ground.

  The back row of survivors scrambled their ranks forward over their brothers and answered back with a volley of great flaming stones. The boulders screamed across the open sky and struck the ground, shaking the earth. The black craters in the ground before the wall proved they were still out of range. They began to push forward.

  "Do not let them take another step!" The Shogun’s volume surprised his commanders. Daisuke fired an arrow, and another. All across The Great Wall, an unending barrage of arrows whistled across the open field. Ashland’s numbers were vast, almost uncountable. With each man down, two more took his place. They began to fire their trebuchets at will.

  Stone after burning stone exploded into the earth before them, steadily moving closer to The Wall, as if a great invisible beast was stomping forward. The Shogun’s training began to echo in his mind.

  Fight for the emperor, die for the emperor, at all costs.

  Every man on the wall was firing rapidly and flawlessly, not a shot wasted. They had no other choice.

  The Wind guided the northern arrows to the weaknesses in the Ashland armor and made it harder to fire the trebuchets accurately. The sun glared in the archer’s eyes, making it hard to trace an arrow. The gods had made the sides they chose obvious.

  Daisuke watched a burning stone arc over the heavens. This was it. The flaming boulder crashed clean into the wall on Daisuke’s right, moving straight through it. Blood and rubble were sent in all directions. A segment of the wall crumbled to the earth, the rest of the wall now divided. This was the weakness Ashland was waiting for.

  Ashikaga knew what to do without further command. The general led his men swiftly over the collapsed rubble and lined up in ranks on the outside of The Wall, just as Daisuke had planned. They drew their weapons and formed a tight defense.

  The Ashland commanders gave the signal and sent a wave of knights charging forward. A wing of the army rushed to the dust that was once solid stone, as if an entire sea of men crashed against the cliffs of the North. The samurai stayed on their horses and braced themselves for the clash. The archers on The Wall continued to fire at the charging army, thinning them as they advanced. Daisuke could not help but focus on the battle to his right, so much so that it distracted him from bracing as another boulder struck The Wall to his left. The impact shook the length of The Wall and destroyed the stone staircase leading to the top. This explosion was much closer than he anticipated, and the blast knocked him off his horse. The Shogun quickly scrambled to his feet to assess the situation. He was left stranded with his surviving men at the top. It was not the right time to discuss how to get down yet, first he had to survive the battle. He threw his br
oken helmet off, the blood streaming into his eyes made it hard to see his enemies.

  The armies on the ground clashed to Daisuke’s left and right. The knights charged straight into the samurai ranks. The screams and clangs of metal grew to a terrifying level. As the samurai used their speed and training to slice through weaknesses, the knights equally used their strength and armor to take and give heavy blows.

  There were several explosions further down. More trebuchet fire was destroying the magnificence of The Wall, creating openings for the Ashland army to invade. The battle waged along the width of the border between countries in both directions. Two great cultures met on the fields of their brother’s blood to discuss their differences the way they knew best.

  The archers fired down into the battle, backing up the samurai battling on foot. Daisuke could tell from the patterns beginning to emerge that the samurai still had the upper hand. Despite the destruction of the wall, no ground was lost behind it. The Ashland armies were thinning and perhaps the war could be ended here. Within a week of this victory he could mass a counter invasion force and conquer the Ashland kingdom, ending the wars forever. Their entire army was in battle right now, and losing. This could be the end.

  Daisuke looked up at the Sun in defiance of it. The Sun had chosen the wrong side this time.

  His face transitioned from pride to horror as he saw it. Suddenly the whispers were true, all his greatest fears realized. The battle was lost and it was now painfully obvious. The archers froze their volleys so they could determine if their eyes were playing tricks. The battle slowed down to a halt as the men on both sides gazed into the heavens.

  Brann Mytiske, The Great Eastern Dragon, Hand of the Sun God, The Mythic of Fire. Its broad scarlet wings glided high across the open sky, eclipsing the Sun. Its horrific cries echoed across the battlefield and shook each man to his core.

  Somehow, through impossible means, the Ashland kingdom had gained its allegiance. The monster left from its volcanic home near Castle Magnus and was on its way here to turn all of the Empire to ash.