Nightblade Page 3

  “Your name is Ryuu.” The stranger mentioned this matter-of-factly, confusing the boy even further. From a literal perspective, the man was wrong, but there was some quality in the name that seemed so right. The boy nodded, implicit agreement with a new reality defined by his new name.

  The stranger sat down, calm and unmoving. Ryuu watched Shigeru as he pulled out dried fruit and ate. He offered some calmly to Ryuu, who took it without saying a word. The food tasted wonderful to the boy, who hadn’t realized how hungry he was until he started eating. He realized as he ate he didn’t recognize all the fruits he tasted. He filed the information away. Wherever Shigeru had come from, it wasn’t near here.

  Seeing that Shigeru wasn’t moving, Ryuu turned to his parents. They lay unmoving on the snow, and for the first time the reality of what had happened started to sink into Ryuu. The grief rose over him and crested like a wave, almost knocking him to his knees. He stood through it, pondering his next move. The first was clear. He needed to take care of his parents.

  Shigeru watched without speaking as Ryuu brought his parents together over some straw from the caravan. The work was slow and his parents were heavy, but Shigeru did not offer help and Ryuu didn’t ask. He laid them in repose and quickly said a prayer to the Cycle. He took a moment to reflect on all that his parents had given him. Grateful, he took the embers from the caravan’s forgotten fire, stoked them back to life, lit a torch, and then carefully touched the flame to his parents’ pyre, which was slowly consumed by the fire.

  Ryuu watched them burn, but could not bring himself to cry. Not yet.

  After the bodies were fully consumed, Shigeru stood up. He re-arranged his limited clothing. Without a word, he turned around and started walking away. Ryuu understood. After one last glance at his parents, Ryuu followed him.

  CHAPTER THREE

  The sounds of battle died away, leaving behind an eerie silence, a natural honoring of the dead. But the smells lingered, impossible to forget. It was the smells that haunted him day in and day out. If he wasn’t watched like a hawk by so many, he would have thrown up. But that was not a possibility here.

  Prince Akira sat on a horse, his balance and poise reflecting the cycles of training he’d already accumulated despite having only seen ten cycles. He followed his father as they inspected the troops recovering from the battle. They were trying to retake the Three Sisters, the single large pass that exited the south of the Kingdom. To hear his father tell the stories, this battle was just one of a much larger cycle. Ever since the collapse of the Great Kingdom over a thousand cycles ago this pass had been controlled by the Southern Kingdom. It was only in the past fifty cycles that it had become a site of contention between the Southern Kingdom and Azaria, the people to the south of the mountains.

  Akira would have loved to see an actual Azarian. The one people, although divided into three kingdoms now, were all the same heritage. Azarians were different. They were supposed to be taller and darker skinned. Every man and woman of their people was said to be equal in battle skill to three of the Southern Kingdom troops. Akira had quizzed his father on the Azarians relentlessly when he had been younger, but his father had always pushed aside his questions. It wasn’t until two moons ago he realized it was because his father hadn’t known the answers. They only ever encountered the warrior class, and neither nation had managed to push far into the other, due in large part to the Three Sisters.

  The Three Sisters was so named because of the triple peaks that rose almost exactly in the middle of the pass, which was a three days journey for an army. The pass was the sole route wide enough to march an army through, but it was still narrow. It was easy to defend and hard to take, which made it a target of prime importance both for the Azarians and for the Southern Kingdom.

  According to his father, Lord Azuma, the pass had belonged to the Southern Kingdom for as long as their records lasted. The Southern Kingdom had never pushed south beyond the mountains. The mountains were a natural defense, and the land to the south was desolate. They hadn’t even known the Azarians existed until they took the pass for the first time. It kicked off an endless pattern of violence. One side would spend an enormous amount of troops to retake the pass. It was always brutal and slow, and often it would take entire cycles. There was never enough time to establish more than a foothold on the other side of the pass before winter would set in and the pass would close down.

  The rulers of each nation had come to realize this, and major offensives in the pass were now rare. There was an unspoken agreement between the two nations, an understanding that the pass could be the death of either nation. The Southern Kingdom faced constant, unrelenting pressure from the Northern and Western Kingdoms, and couldn’t spare enough troops to retake the pass and launch a major offensive into Azaria. Besides that, no one was sure Azaria was even worth conquering. No spy or scout had returned yet, another mystery that needed solving someday.

  This lack of knowledge intrigued Akira, who was relentless about acquiring knowledge of his world. He knew that someday he would be the Lord of the Southern Kingdom, but even at the age of ten, the idea didn’t interest him in the least. He wanted to understand this world, know the people and the places, and see it all.

  Azuma had inconveniently interpreted his son’s curiosity about the Azarians as the battle dreams of a future Lord. Akira’s father had been made on the battlefield and he expected the same from his son. Every day Akira trained in the use of the sword and already was well known for his skill even though he never wished to use it in battle. He had already decided, although he never told his father, that if he did become Lord he would be a diplomatic Lord.

  Despite his gentle protests, Akira landed here at the front line of the largest campaign the Southern Kingdom had seen in a generation. The Azarians had held the pass now for almost thirty cycles, defending it against the force which was sent against it every year. But Azuma was passionate about retaking the pass. It had been many cycles in the preparation, but the day had come at last.

  Every step they took was bloody, harried by archers and ambushes, but their progress was relentless. The sheer number of troops Akira’s father was pouring into the pass was terrifying, and the Azarians were retreating, step by blood-soaked step. Akira’s father predicted that within the next quarter moon the Azarians would abandon the pass.

  But that was a quarter-moon more to sit through this experience. Akira found that there were parts of battles that were beautiful. The flight of arrows through the air was mesmerizing if one could ignore their intended destination. The order and sound of an army on the march was also thrilling if their steps didn’t end at the steel points of their enemies.

  Akira maintained a brave face. Even at ten his father had well drilled into him the importance of appearance. He mimicked the same stern expression that was his father’s face, and did not allow himself to display any of the emotions that were coursing through his mind. When he and his father were alone, they could talk and speak with refreshing honesty, but if even a servant was nearby the masks fell into place. At ten, Akira couldn’t imagine any other way of living.

  They finished their inspection even though there wasn’t much to inspect. Azuma’s army was always in perfect condition. The real purpose was to be out among the troops, build their morale. Lord Azuma was held in mixed regard by the people. Order ruled the Southern Kingdom, but it was a harsh order which rankled many who saw their lifetimes as a time of peace. They were removed from the fighting at the pass and didn’t realize the full extent of the effort that went into taking and holding the pass and protecting their borders.

  While the civilians had doubts, the army did not. Azuma wasn’t just a Lord, but was one of the top generals in the Three Kingdoms. While he was stern he was also fair and kind to his troops. After every major battle or skirmish he was out among them, spreading an encouraging word here, a compliment there. While the people of the Southern Kingdom may have mixed feelings about their Lord, the troops adored him, a
nd Azuma taught Akira it was the troops who kept any ruler in power. Akira could recite the lesson from memory.

  Arriving back at the tent was a relief. Akira could shut out a small part of the smell of the battlefield. Incense was lit in the tent, and Akira welcomed its pungent scent.

  Akira’s father dismissed everyone, including the servants. He finished preparing the tea that had been started for them and served himself and his son. “How are you, son?”

  Akira never lied to his father, a lesson he had learned at an early age. His father was a hard man, but a man who believed in truth. Akira had always been punished for lying. He had been punished at times for telling the truth as well, but to a much lesser degree. “It’s hard, father.”

  Akira’s father nodded, and Akira was relieved. “It can be, yes. Do you know why we are fighting for this pass?”

  Every day, always a test. Ten cycles and he was already sick of it. But Akira answered, “Because then we control the flow of troops. If we control the pass, we take an important step in defending the Southern Kingdom.”

  Akira’s father leaned in. “Yes, but do you get it?”

  He didn’t.

  The Lord of the Southern Kingdom leaned back. “You’re not wrong. We need to control the pass to protect our kingdom. But you see only the blood of the soldiers in front of you. That’s good. You should always know the cost of what you do. But try to understand the greater implications. The Azarians have held the pass for many cycles, and every cycle we have to launch a bloody campaign to keep them from establishing a sizable foothold. If we can control the pass, we can save hundreds, if not thousands, of lives which are lost every year. Defending the pass is much simpler than taking it. What could you do with thousands of extra troops every year?”

  He paused, to make sure his son understood. “So it may cost us many lives to retake this pass, but it costs far less over the cycles, and that gives us an advantage in this world. It’s hard for me to see good men die as well, but their sacrifice means safety and opportunity for us all. Even though there is a part of me that hates it, I will continue to send men to their deaths as long as I live, so long as it means the safety of those in my Kingdom. Do you understand now?”

  Akira couldn’t do anything but nod. He had never thought of it in that way, but it made sense.

  “Good. It’s only through death that we can keep this kingdom alive, son. Remember that, because some day you too will be called on to send men to their graves.”

  CHAPTER FOUR

  The first time Ryuu laid his head down in the same place two nights in a row was almost a half-moon later. He had never journeyed like this. Every day they walked further than Ryuu’s little legs had ever been. Though he had been raised in the fields, his feet grew even more calloused and he stopped asking when they would rest for the night. They walked as long as the sun was up and sometimes longer. Ryuu wanted to complain but wanted Shigeru’s respect even more. Every time he formed the thought, he reminded himself that he was traveling with a nightblade! He shut his mouth and focused on putting one foot in front of the other until Shigeru would tell him to stop.

  After the first few days Ryuu adapted to the pace. He had never been a heavy child, farm work and little food guaranteed that, but he could feel himself getting lighter and stronger every day. Each day it was just a little easier to keep up with Shigeru. With his parents he had complained about bedtime, but with Shigeru falling asleep was sweet relief.

  Every morning was the same routine. Shigeru would shake Ryuu awake, unaware of how strong the shaking was. While Ryuu wiped the sleep from his eyes Shigeru went through his morning movements. The movements were beautiful in a way Ryuu found hard to describe. In some movements he held his sword. Others were empty handed. Ryuu had never seen movements like these before. He had watched the militia guards train, but Shigeru’s practice seemed something else entirely. His cuts were quick and blended together into one flawless blur of movement. Ryuu knew it was combat practice, but how it applied to real world combat was beyond him. Whenever he heard Shigeru moving in the morning he would watch through slitted eyelids.

  Shigeru never talked about his practice or what the movements meant. Ryuu was burning up with questions, but Shigeru’s demeanor restrained him. Shigeru was private and quiet. He was a man you didn’t disturb no matter how important your question was. But Ryuu’s unwillingness to ask questions fueled his imagination. Coupled with what he had already seen, he was convinced that Shigeru could destroy an army by himself. Sometimes to distract his mind from the relentless walking he would imagine an army over the next rise. His imagination painted vivid scenes of battle in which Shigeru emerged victorious.

  Somewhat to his disappointment, danger never materialized. If it did Ryuu wasn’t old enough to recognize it. All he knew was that when he was in the company of Shigeru, he felt safe, even from his imaginary armies. He did not worry about food or bandits or any of the dangers of the trail his parents had impressed into him. In his young eyes, Shigeru could do no wrong.

  The impression was only strengthened by the types of conversation Shigeru held. He was private but when he spoke he used imagery that Ryuu was unable to process. He would talk as if he wasn’t sure what he was supposed to say next. It was as if he had never spoken to a child. On the fifth morning of their journey, Shigeru said, “Our lives are like water, always flowing forward in the streams of time. When we encounter what is unexpected, our best choice is to flow around the obstacle.” Then he looked at Ryuu as if he expected a response.

  Ryuu, unable to decipher the Shigeru’s meaning, nodded his head enthusiastically, hoping that it would pass as comprehension. It had often worked with his parents. Shigeru gave him a knowing smile and let the subject drop. Though he didn’t understand, Ryuu would repeat the words to himself over and over, committing them to memory. He was certain that there was wisdom in his words and wanted to be able to understand them one day.

  The days cycled in a routine that Ryuu soon relaxed into. They would walk all day, keeping the same pace, stopping only when the sun began to set. They avoided all towns and ate on the move. When the sun began to dip, Shigeru would motion them to a halt. If they were near some trees or brush they would start a small fire. Otherwise they would simply settle down, eat some food, and be asleep by the time the sun went below the horizon.

  The days passed in silence, which Ryuu found himself comfortable with. He believed Shigeru did not like to talk, and that was fine. Try as he might, he couldn’t stop thinking about what had happened, but he couldn’t bring himself to talk about it. The scenes replayed themselves over and over in his head, and his fear of the visions mounted. But then he would glance at Shigeru and the fear would be replaced by anger. Anger at himself. He should have done more to protect his parents, especially his mother. He visualized himself picking up a sword and slaying the bandits by himself. But every time he did, he remembered what had happened to the merchant’s son. He had seen firsthand what became of boys who thought they were warriors. But he believed the merchant’s boy had died an honorable death and was now relaxing with his parents in the afterlife. Ryuu wondered at times if it would be better if he was dead as well.

  After three more days of walking his thoughts turned again, replaced by comforting thoughts of Shigeru and the future. He realized that he was learning a lot from Shigeru just by walking with him. Often they would stop so Shigeru could point to something interesting about the world they were passing through. It was the beginning of Ryuu’s education under Shigeru, but it was also the beginning of his healing. He was relearning there was more in the world than death.

  Shigeru would point to a flower that if chewed would bring quick relief from minor pains. He could tell where animals were before Ryuu could see them, and the two of them delighted in sneaking up on unsuspecting deer. They weren’t successful at it when they started. Ryuu couldn’t move without sound like Shigeru could, but by the time they reached Shigeru’s hut, Ryuu could make it within twe
nty paces before the deer would startle. It was some of the most fun he could ever remember having. He loved moving silently, but even though he could sneak up on a deer, he could never get close to Shigeru.

  Ryuu realized that Shigeru knew about an entire world he had never known about. It was more than just plants and animals. Shigeru knew the cycles of the stars, and at night he would tell stories about the constellations. Ryuu had heard some stories from his father, but Shigeru’s stories were different. They were stories of loss and heroic deeds and hope that transcended life. Even the constellations he pointed out were different. When Ryuu asked why he hadn’t heard any of Shigeru’s stories, Shigeru replied that his were old stories not told in the Three Kingdoms anymore.

  When Shigeru spoke like that, Ryuu wondered where they were going. Shigeru often spoke of the Three Kingdoms as something less than the whole. Ryuu had never heard about anyplace besides the Three Kingdoms, and his mind would flash back to the fruit Shigeru carried. Were they leaving the Three Kingdoms?

  As they traveled, the land began to change. Ryuu had grown up farming and knew the land around the farm. The trip to New Haven had been the furthest he had been from home, but the land was much the same, rolling plains that stretched on as far as the eye could see. His young mind imagined all the Southern Kingdom the same, but he found out he was wrong. The plains gave way to dotted woods until they were traveling among young cottonwoods and elms. Ryuu had never seen a forest before, but he felt comfortable in the confined spaces and the trees which muffled the sounds of their footsteps.

  Food was never an issue. Almost every day Shigeru would motion them to a halt and pull out a throwing blade. Ryuu noticed that every time he drew a throwing blade, he would dip it in a small hide that was tied into one of the myriad knots of his belt. Ryuu didn’t know what was in the bag, but he knew every time Shigeru hit his target, which was every time he threw, the animal stopped moving. He also discovered when he tried to touch the blades that Shigeru wouldn’t let him near the blades until he had wiped them clean.