Nightblade's Honor

  ALSO BY RYAN KIRK

  Blades of the Fallen

  Nightblade’s Vengeance

  The Nightblade Series

  Nightblade

  World’s Edge

  The Wind and the Void

  The Primal Series

  Primal Dawn

  Primal Darkness

  Primal Destiny

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, organizations, places, events, and incidents are either products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental.

  Text copyright © 2018 by Waterstone Media

  All rights reserved.

  No part of this book may be reproduced, or stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise, without express written permission of the publisher.

  Published by 47North, Seattle

  www.apub.com

  Amazon, the Amazon logo, and 47North are trademarks of Amazon.com, Inc., or its affiliates.

  ISBN-13: 9781503953154

  ISBN-10: 1503953157

  Cover design by Zlatina Zareva

  For Mackenzie

  CONTENTS

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Chapter 21

  Chapter 22

  Chapter 23

  Chapter 24

  Chapter 25

  Chapter 26

  Chapter 27

  ACKNOWLEDGMENTS

  ABOUT THE AUTHOR

  Chapter 1

  Koji’s sword cut down, its song clear to his ears in the crisp early morning air. The cut was close to perfect, the melody of the steel reflecting none of the indecision that plagued him.

  What did it mean to be honorable in a world that seemed to care so little for honor?

  A simple question, but one that Koji struggled with from sunrise to sunset.

  His blade cut sideways as he executed a sharp quarter turn, his imagination creating enemies and their attacks.

  Those acquainted with Koji often first believed his thoughts came slow. He heard the whispers, saw the sympathy in their eyes, even if no one dared speak the sentiment to his face.

  He was a ponderous thinker—that much was true—but not stupid. He worked on problems one step at a time, making sure each step was perfect before moving on, just like the stonemasons made sure each stone fit perfectly with its neighbors before building any higher. His master, Minori, was entirely the opposite, his mind leaping forward and making connections far before others.

  Koji took his time to work through problems. Once people got to know him well enough, they saw the process for themselves and gave him the time he needed.

  With a sword in hand, however, he was an entirely different person. Fighting was something he understood. He was sense-gifted, able to feel an incoming strike moments before it happened, but his skill went deeper than that, an intuition for combat not shared even by other nightblades. Koji hadn’t been beaten in a duel for many cycles.

  Sometimes he tried to clarify his thinking by practicing with his sword. He took a problem, like that of honor in a dishonorable world, and held it in his mind as he began practicing. Sometimes the method worked, and when his morning routine was done, he had an answer in his head. Other times the method failed, but Koji had learned patience, a necessary skill for a man often considered slow.

  Koji was camped in a small grove of trees several leagues away from the emergency shelters that had been set up for the residents fleeing from Haven. Though it was early in the season, the trees were already changing colors, and a thin layer of snow covered patches of exposed grass. Although he was tempted to approach the shelters, wisdom dictated he keep to himself. Blamed for the burning of Haven and the attempted murder of King Shin, both nightblade warriors and dayblade healers were being hunted by roving groups of citizens and soldiers.

  So he practiced in a clearing in the grove, largely hidden from the rest of the world, trying to solve the problems that confronted him.

  The one he was most focused on was the problem of his master, Minori.

  Was Minori still his master?

  The question was the first Koji needed to answer, and as his blade sliced through the morning air, his mind worked on the solution.

  Minori had offered to release Koji from his service, but Koji had never given an official answer. Instead, he continued serving Minori, burning down the king’s palace and killing Lord Juro.

  With an upward cut, Koji understood that he was asking the wrong question. Whether or not Minori was his master didn’t matter. What mattered was that Koji owed the elder blade a life debt. Koji had been scheduled to be executed when Minori broke him out of prison. Master or not, Koji didn’t believe he had repaid his debt yet.

  One piece of the puzzle settled into place. His body was starting to warm up from his practice, his breath visible in the sunlight.

  Koji had donned the clothes of a peasant to watch Minori’s trial. The old nightblade, deeply wounded and barely able to walk without assistance, faced a litany of charges: the burning of the palace, the burning of Haven, the attempted murder of King Shin. Perhaps most serious, he was charged with leading a coup to overthrow the rightful government of the Kingdom and replace it with one led by blades.

  The trial had been held outdoors in a large depression, the ground sunken as though the bottom had fallen out from below, less than a league away from the ruins of Haven. The natural amphitheater held thousands, which suited King Shin’s plans perfectly. Many of the displaced and homeless had come to attend the trial and let their anger be known.

  From Koji’s perspective, the proceedings had been a fascinating mixture of truth and lies. As Minori’s closest aide, Koji, perhaps better than anyone else, knew what had actually happened. Some of the accusations were true. Minori had burned the palace, but on Shin’s orders. That detail didn’t make the trial, and Koji often wondered why Minori didn’t protest more strongly against the lies told of him.

  Koji wasn’t sure about the burning of Haven. He had been outside the city when the event happened, but the action didn’t seem like one Minori would take. Koji had little doubt his master had tried to kill the king. Minori had served Shin when the politician was still a lord, only to be betrayed once the lord became king. Revenge was a reasonable response.

  The heart of the problem, though, was the supposed coup. Koji knew Minori worked toward the strengthening of the blades. He had admitted as much directly to Koji. But there had been no coup attempt. If there had been, Koji would have been one of the first to know.

  Minori had been sentenced to death, the execution scheduled for the next morning. No one in the streets or tent city doubted the verdict. Only the method of punishment had been open to speculation, and as Koji had walked through the crowds of humanity gathered for the trial, he heard decent citizens discussing punishments so heinous his stomach churned.

  If Koji still owed Minori, the next question was how to repay his debt. Two responsibilities conflicted with one another. Koji struck downward with his sword, trying to find some way to untangle the issue. He was a nightblade, sworn to protect the Kingdom even if the Kingdom didn’t want his protection. Shin was
the king, and doing anything to disobey the king was dishonorable and thus detestable to Koji.

  But Koji owed this exact debt to Minori. He, too, had been sentenced to death by the previous monarch, and Minori had rescued him. Koji’s honor hadn’t mattered much to him when he had been wrongfully accused, as Minori was now.

  Koji spun in the shallow layer of snow that covered the ground, the remnant of an early autumn snowstorm. With one final cut, he sheathed his sword, sweat streaming down his face. Honor to the man who had saved his life or honor to the Kingdom?

  A thought wiggled into his mind. To the best of his knowledge, Minori had never lied to him. The older man had certainly withheld information, but Koji couldn’t think of a single deception.

  Shin lied, as did the Kingdom by extension. Minori hadn’t launched a coup. Perhaps the blade was guilty of some crimes, but justice could never be served by liars.

  The next step of his reasoning fell into place. Honor was due to one who acted with honor, and Minori’s case was clearly superior.

  Koji tested his conclusion. He owed Minori, and Minori’s honor was less tarnished than that of Shin and the Kingdom. The chain of thought was short but solid, every link acceptable to Koji.

  His decision was clear. He would save Minori’s life, no matter the cost.

  Rescuing Minori turned out to be more challenging than Koji expected. The young blade knew he had only until the following morning to find and free his master, but the task was proving impossible. Minori’s place of imprisonment was the best-kept secret in the Kingdom, and every method Koji tried to determine his location was met with blank stares and dead ends.

  Koji tried drinking with a group of off-duty soldiers, but even with their tongues loosened by alcohol, they said nothing about the traitorous nightblade. He wandered as close as he dared to the barracks, but his sense couldn’t find another blade anywhere nearby. By the time the sun began to set, Koji despaired of ever finding his master.

  Then it occurred to him that he didn’t need to search. He knew where the sentence was going to be carried out in the morning. They had built a platform for the execution halfway between the encampment of Shin’s army and the refugee camp, about two leagues from the smoldering remains of Haven. The location was ideal, the ground flat prairie for hundreds of paces in all directions, not even a single tree present to block line of sight. Shin intended to make the execution a spectacle.

  Koji could arrive early and allow the soldiers to bring Minori to him. The escape would be difficult, but he had already accepted that his mission would be almost impossible. His attempt was less about success and more about satisfying his honor. He couldn’t think of a reason why the rescue needed to happen that moment. Tomorrow would work just as well.

  Koji retired for the evening, determined to get his rest for a challenging day ahead.

  He rose before the morning sun and went through his traditional practice, the sword barely visible in the soft glow of the moon. Koji felt, rather than saw, the quality of his cuts. He would never be more ready. To pass unnoticed, he strapped his sword to his back and covered himself with the rags of a poor man. He emptied his mind of thoughts and went to the location of the execution.

  Koji was surprised to find he wasn’t among the first to arrive. Minori’s execution was at dawn, and though only the first pinks of sunrise were casting dim light on the proceedings, a significant crowd had already gathered. A ring of soldiers maintained a perimeter around the platform where the execution would occur.

  The citizens milled about, and Koji could feel the simmering rage, barely contained even in the peaceful early morning stillness. He tried to understand their perspective. So many had lost everything to the fires. Minori, through Shin’s manipulations, had become the target of all that anger. Koji heard snippets of conversation as he moved closer to the platform.

  “. . . kill all the nightblades in the city . . .”

  “Any death is too kind for a man so evil . . .”

  “. . . heard that Shin actually defeated him in single combat . . .”

  Koji soaked in the conversations, allowing himself to feel the mood of the crowd without allowing the comments to affect him. His purpose was clear, the conversations nothing but empty noise.

  He was distracted by the smell of those gathered. Several days had passed since Haven burned, and water was a scarce resource. No one wasted it on bathing. In small groups the smell died in the cold autumn air, but with all the warm bodies pressed together, the stench of unwashed flesh was overwhelming.

  The smell wasn’t just from the bodies. He saw that several citizens had come prepared for the day. Some were carrying manure, others rotten food, and some held stones loosely in their hands. Many seemed ready to inflict additional suffering on Minori if the opportunity was presented. Koji frowned. Minori was far from perfect, but he didn’t deserve the level of hatred heaped upon him.

  In time, Koji worked his way close to the front of the crowd, his progress halted by a line of guards. He took their measure in a moment. Their dark red uniforms indicated they were members of Shin’s armies, but Koji didn’t see any individual threat. The danger would only come when they swarmed him.

  Soon, Koji got his first glimpse of his master, and his plans, simple as they were, were thrown into disarray. A ragged cheer came up from the edges of the crowd, a roar full of anger and loss. Only Minori would deserve such a greeting. But a cheer? Koji’s unspoken question was answered when his master came into view, already nailed to a post and being carried none too gently by a group of eight guards.

  Koji recognized the number instantly, his instincts confirmed by the spears strapped to their backs. Minori was being carried by the nightblade hunting unit that had first captured him.

  Koji’s plan, such as it was, had been to kill the guards before they could begin the execution and then attempt an escape. That plan was no longer feasible. Minori was already a living dead man. Even if the younger blade killed the guards, the two would never be able to escape. Minori couldn’t run, and Koji couldn’t carry him fast enough. Add to that complication a unit of men specifically trained to kill blades, and his mission had become even more of a suicide than before.

  Another cheer rose from the crowd, as different from the first as night was to day. This was the cheer given to a savior. In a few moments, Koji saw the shout was for Shin, the new king.

  Koji’s hand immediately went to his sword. More than anyone present, Shin was the one guilty of the pain and suffering the populace had experienced. He had ordered the palace burned, and Koji suspected he was the one who had ordered the burning of Haven. If one knew Minori wasn’t the culprit, few other likely candidates offered themselves. Shin deserved Minori’s fate far more than Minori did.

  Koji heard a cry of agony, the sound coming from a throat that had known nothing but screams in the past few days. Koji’s attention focused on Minori once again. The anguish lasted for a few heartbeats and then died with a long, low croaking sound. The post had been placed in a hole in the platform designed to accept it, and Minori now hung vertically on the wooden device. Koji wanted to turn away, but he forced himself to watch. Minori deserved at least one person who would witness his suffering with pity in his eyes.

  Koji had never seen an execution before. The punishment wasn’t levied often, reserved only for those criminals for whom labor or confinement was considered too lenient. He would have been happy never seeing such an act.

  Shin stepped up to the platform, and the crowd quieted to listen to their king, the man who held their hopes in his hand.

  “Friends. Today we take the first step in pursuing the justice the Kingdom requires. For too long we have lived in fear of the blades. Once, perhaps, they were our protectors, but now they seek to rule us. Today I have given the order that all blades turn themselves in to the local authorities. If they don’t, they shall be executed immediately for their treason!”

  The crowd cheered again, but Koji was already losing
interest in the speech. Shin continued, and Koji watched as the crowd responded with excitement to every word he uttered.

  Nothing was right. Minori didn’t deserve the suffering that burned through his body as Koji debated his actions. Even worse was Shin, basking in the adulation of the crowd only paces away.

  Something inside Koji broke. The part of him responsible for self-preservation went silent, and Koji’s determination to right the wrongs he saw took control. He scanned the scene in front of him with new eyes.

  Most of the soldiers he could safely ignore. One-on-one they stood no chance against him, and he wouldn’t stay still long enough for any of them to gather and pose a threat. The true threat were the eight guards who’d carried Minori in. They now surrounded Shin, protecting their liege and dooming anyone who got caught within their circle. But Koji saw a weakness in their positioning, for they were spread too thin around the platform.

  Koji didn’t put any more thought into his actions. His course wasn’t rational, but it was correct, and that mattered far more to him. He shoved forward, every sense he possessed coming fully alive as he leapt toward the guards at the front line.

  To their credit, the soldiers reacted quickly, spotting him even as he approached. Their swift reactions didn’t matter. Koji’s sword jumped from its sheath, cutting through the two closest guards with lightning-fast cuts. He walked through the perimeter.

  Koji’s actions sparked a wildfire of chaos. The young man’s sense, open to the world, felt everything. He felt Minori’s attention focus on him, a distraction from the unrelenting pain. He sensed Shin start to look for an escape. The guards around Koji reacted, each in a different way. Some drew swords, the aggression clear in their intent. Others hesitated, confused as to why guard duty had suddenly become more than crowd control.

  Behind Koji, a ripple ran through the assembly. They had come to see an execution, not a fight. Those within reach of the blade stepped backward, trying to find a safe distance. Those farther away pulled back their arms, ready to throw their stones and protect their king.