Nightblade's Honor Page 4

  Yet, she would be lying if she claimed she wasn’t afraid. She didn’t consider herself delicate, but she feared watching the battle would test her mettle. What if she found herself wanting?

  Mari vehemently pushed the thoughts from her mind. There couldn’t be any room for doubt. Only strength and action. She certainly couldn’t show any weakness in front of the assembled generals.

  Mari, Hiromi, and their generals and attendants settled on a rise overlooking the site of the battle between Lord Isamu’s House Fujita and Lord Katashi’s House Amari. In the past few days, the armies had crept closer, today’s battle inevitable.

  Mari’s shadows had been able to provide some information about the prelude to the battle, but it was far too little for her liking. She couldn’t understand why this battle needed to happen. Her shadows indicated neither side wanted to fight, but both seemed committed to their course of action. Mari felt as though the Great Cycle itself was in control, as if a giant boulder had been pushed down a hill and now couldn’t be stopped.

  Both parties were guilty and stubborn. After Shin’s death, the throne technically passed to Katashi, but the boy had only seen nineteen cycles, and Shin had only been king for less than a moon. Neither Isamu nor Hiromi had acknowledged the boy’s claim. Katashi seemed willing to settle the matter by force, and if Mari’s reports were any indication, his well-trained troops would easily overrun Isamu’s disorganized forces.

  Isamu had also claimed the throne after Shin’s death. He argued that since he was the most experienced and longest serving lord, he was the obvious choice. His claim had been greeted by silence from the other two houses.

  If Hiromi had allied with either of the other houses, the matter might have been settled. But he had no interest in bowing to another lord. Mari had considered the matter carefully, and although her heart desired peace, she couldn’t bring herself to support anyone besides Hiromi. Isamu was a weak leader, evidenced by the quality of his forces. Katashi had potential, but he was even younger and more inexperienced than Hiromi. In the limited exchanges Mari had with Shin’s son, she had distrusted him. Thus she had counseled that diplomacy begin with the other lords accepting Hiromi as king.

  If the circumstances or leaders had been different, perhaps they might have been able to negotiate. Instead, civil war loomed on the horizon.

  They had learned from their shadows that Katashi planned on attacking this morning, and Hiromi had insisted on observing “to better understand the nature of the opponents they faced.”

  The reason was a thin one, but no one acknowledged the truth. Like Mari, Hiromi had never seen two full armies meet in combat. Unlike her, he felt little trepidation. He believed wars to be glorious and honorable, a time when men tested their skill against one another. When he had been a boy, he devoured stories of heroes and blades, and while he had never shown Juro’s martial mastery, it didn’t make the pull of warfare any less attractive to him.

  Mari feared the impending fight would only whet his appetite further. The sensations she experienced were hard to understand. She and her brother were safe and at a distance. House Kita banners flew proudly in the early morning breeze, and no army would dare attack them. Hiromi would see the battle and the maneuvers but wouldn’t witness the blood and suffering. Their servants even carried a picnic lunch for the day.

  The party came to their vantage point and dismounted. Mari looked over the battlefield as the sun rose. The prairie here wasn’t completely flat, but gently rolling, providing some troops the illusion of safety. As Mari looked over the field, she saw the battle would be everything she had feared. There was no cover and little protection. This would be a battle of force against force. Flanking maneuvers would be seen far in the distance, and the terrain offered little in terms of strategic advantage for either side.

  She suspected that had been Katashi’s intention all along. All their reports said his troops were better trained and disciplined. By eliminating terrain advantages, he had reduced the chance of a brilliant but lucky maneuver by one of Isamu’s generals succeeding. The strategy would be costly in terms of lives but, if her understanding was correct, virtually guaranteed a victory.

  There was a beauty to the stillness before the charge. Mari was impressed by the organization and the courage shown by everyone present. Banners snapped in the wind as it picked up, and Mari held her clothes tighter. She had worn heavy blue robes over her daily silk ones, but still she shivered. The weather had insisted on being surprisingly cold this past moon.

  Part of Mari urged her to run down onto the battlefield, to stand between the two lines and make a heroic plea for peace. She silenced her foolishness.

  A yell erupted from one of the lines, and Katashi’s forces began to advance. Mari wasn’t overly familiar with military strategy, but she saw that the lines stayed organized as they advanced, and once they were in range, they let loose with flights of arrows that darkened the sky.

  From a distance it was easy to get entranced by the beautiful arcing flights of the shafts, shot up hundreds at a time. If one could ignore the death that marked the end of their flight, Mari would have almost called the display one of the most impressive sights she had seen.

  Here the first difference between the forces became apparent. Katashi’s launched wave after wave of arrows, an endless rain of horror on an enemy whose return fire was sporadic at best.

  She glanced over at her younger brother, almost enraptured by the sight in front of him. More than any other behavior, that look on his face scared her. He was a smart man, but his childhood fascination with war could lead him to make horrible decisions.

  The lines met with a roar and the cold clanging of steel on steel. From the outset the battle was a rout. As soon as the lines met, Isamu’s forces seemed to disintegrate as though they were paper placed in a rushing stream. Even at a distance Mari could see how Katashi’s forces remained coherent, piercing through the thin shell of order that held together Isamu’s army.

  Her heart sank as she watched the calm precision Katashi’s army maintained. Their own military was well trained, and in the mountainous lands of their house, no force was better. But she had never seen the order of Katashi’s forces.

  The morning wore on, and Mari forced herself to watch the entire ordeal. From her perspective the battle had been over almost as soon as it began, but there were still thousands of men on the battlefield. Even a rout took time. Hiromi was fascinated throughout, holding hushed discussions with his generals as they ate an early lunch. Mari found herself without an appetite.

  For a while, when the sun was highest in the sky, Isamu’s forces looked as though they might be rallying. They had gathered around one of their last remaining banners and pushed the opposing army back dozens of paces.

  The surge was too little too late. Katashi’s forces bent but never came close to breaking. They pressed harder, and not long after, the fight was over.

  Mari watched as soldiers roamed the battlefield, swords stabbing into those enemies still alive but wounded. Healers carried off and tried to save those they could of their own forces. She wanted to look away but couldn’t tear her eyes away from the efficiency with which Katashi’s men worked, even after the battle. Bile rose in her throat, but she kept it down. Never in front of her brother and his advisers.

  As they rode back, Hiromi was as gleeful as she had ever seen him. He kept discussing moments with his commanders, sounding more and more like he had watched an epic battle, a titanic struggle between two noble forces. All that Mari heard was that he wished he had been there, in the heart of the conflict. She couldn’t bring herself to respond, but she understood her future task would be that much harder.

  Mari agreed with her brother on one thing: she didn’t think the battle would be remembered because of how well the opposing sides had fought. The entire affair had been one-sided from the beginning. But the battle would be remembered as the start of the Kingdom’s civil war.

  Chapter 4

 
; Koji’s escape had been easier than he expected. The guards immediately surrounding Shin had been strong, but those farther away from the platform had fallen to his sword, a series of single cuts dispatching an entire unit. He had sown enough confusion and fear that he was easily able to slip into the crowd gathered to watch the execution and disappear.

  He had almost been disappointed. Shin was the king, and if even two nightblades had been present, Koji never would have gotten to him in time. Shin wanted to see what the Kingdom was like without the protection of the blades and had been the first to find out.

  Koji’s path was clear to him. His personal vendetta and honor had been satisfied. His next task was to see how he stood among the blades. He would have to be careful. Officially, he was still under a death sentence from Kiyoshi’s judgment made many moons ago. Minori had hidden him, but with both of the old men now gone, Koji wasn’t sure if the judgment still held any weight.

  He also wasn’t sure how his killing of Shin would affect his future with his people. If the situation was as bad as Shin claimed, Koji might be welcomed as a hero for killing the blades’ greatest enemy. If the dead king had been exaggerating for political gain, Koji would be sentenced to death again by his own.

  Either way, the easiest way to find out was to journey to the nearest way station for blades. Given the nomadic life most blades lived, a system of way stations had been established that served both as a hub for messages and a place to stay. Most were simple single buildings with a few places to put a bedroll and train. With Haven burned to the ground, he believed the nearest one was a village called River’s End, about a nine days’ walk away. Koji was already carrying all his belongings, so he had immediately left.

  The road was packed with people trying to escape the chaos they knew was coming. Koji let himself be carried along the wave of humanity, halting the use of his sense so as not to be overwhelmed by the refugees or detected by any blades who might be searching for him. Giving up his gift, even for a while, made him feel as vulnerable as a child, but his rational mind suspected he was safer without it among the crowds.

  The fear felt palpable to him. Many families didn’t know where to find food, shelter, or safety. Koji, who was competent in finding all three no matter his circumstances, had a difficult time understanding the waves of panic that swept over the line of people escaping the ruins of Haven.

  At times Koji stopped to help where he could. He held a cart while a farmer replaced a wheel. He picked up a young child who was about to be trampled by people unaware of their surroundings in the rush to leave. The blade found the grateful mother a few moments later. His duty, as he saw it, was still to the people of the Kingdom.

  At night Koji left the road and wandered far afield until he was certain he was alone. His sense would protect him while he slept, warning him of anyone coming near.

  Koji slept under the stars, his heavy robes and training enough to keep him warm through the increasingly frosty nights. If the weather continued getting colder, he would soon be forced to find shelter or risk nightly fires.

  The next day the crowds along the road were even more agitated. Meals were scarce, shelter even more so. Rumors were spreading about an impending civil war, and Koji saw more violence as citizens fought one another for food or tents. He saw one man punch another for nothing more than a bite of an apple. The outbursts were occasional, but if something wasn’t done soon, the road wouldn’t be safe even for one as strong as he.

  That night Koji wondered for the first time whether his actions had been correct. His honor and duty had been satisfied, but he hadn’t considered that Shin might be the very person holding the Kingdom together.

  Koji wrestled with the problem. He was trapped in a web of conflicting duties. Duty to Minori and his memory. Duty to the blades and duty to the Kingdom. How did he decide which duty took precedence when they warred with one another? The question was troubling, and Koji didn’t have an answer by the time he drifted off.

  The next day dawned like any other. Koji woke and practiced his forms empty-handed. After a light breakfast he went back to the road, where he immediately knew something was wrong. Koji didn’t bother asking anyone; he simply continued walking, listening to the conversations as he passed. The same word was on everybody’s lips.

  War.

  He wasn’t sure how much credence to give the news, but the panic on the road became almost physical in its overwhelming hold on the people. Families jogged, fathers holding their children in their arms. Farmers tried to push their animals faster, and those who couldn’t move faster watched warily as people charged by them. Koji briefly debated trying to help somehow, but every idea he had involved him revealing that he was a nightblade. Instead, he left the road, feeling guilty that he was running away from the problems and people he was supposed to protect.

  Koji wasn’t the only person who had the idea to leave the road, but there weren’t many who left the illusion of safety the road provided. He typically found that those who left the path were those who had the skills to survive on their own. Men who made their living by hunting and trapping. Former soldiers and their families.

  Off the road there seemed to be an unspoken agreement. Everyone gave others safe distance, and for two days Koji didn’t speak with another living soul. He didn’t mind the opportunity to reflect on his actions, but he wouldn’t have minded a friendly face.

  He thought he was only about two days away from the way station when his sense alerted him to the presence of two other blades off in the distance. Cautious, Koji crept toward them, discovering the gift was coming from a small farmhouse.

  Koji observed the structure from a distance before approaching. He wasn’t sure where he stood with the blades and didn’t understand why there would be blades in a farmhouse in the middle of nowhere.

  He waited for most of a day, watching the farm and studying the terrain. The house wasn’t very defensible. He didn’t understand why blades were here, of all places. The only worthwhile quality it possessed was that there was no way to approach the house without being spotted.

  There were more than two people in the farmhouse, but Koji was far enough away that he couldn’t make out the individual lives. The only reason he’d even noticed the farmhouse was the distinct sense of other gifted ones. Koji looked in the direction of the way station, then in the direction of the farmhouse. With an almost imperceptible shrug of his shoulders, he walked toward the farmhouse.

  His reasoning wasn’t complicated. The way station would still be present later, but an opportunity to speak with two blades away from many civilians was too good to pass up. With luck he’d get an idea of what was happening in the world of the blades and see where he stood.

  As Koji approached the house, the two nightblades he had sensed stepped out, taking up positions side by side about twenty paces in front of the door. One, who Koji decided was the leader, was smaller, one corner of his mouth turned up in a perpetual grin. The other was a large man, head shaved bald. They stood guard, still as any statue, giving the house an almost menacing appearance.

  Koji stopped fifteen paces away. He didn’t want to present any threat. He kept his arms hanging loosely at his sides, away from the sword on his back. The two blades were dressed in their traditional garb, heavy black robes rustling gently in the breeze. Koji noted the detail. These two weren’t afraid of being identified as nightblades.

  He tried to gauge their strength, a habit he had picked up many cycles ago, a process almost as automatic as breathing for him. They both appeared to be strong, their stances solid. Koji was confident enough to fight two nightblades if the situation required, and he didn’t see anything that alarmed him here. The other warriors would undoubtedly be skilled, but not invincible.

  He was sure they were doing the same evaluation, confident their numerical advantage would lead them to underestimating him.

  The nightblade on Koji’s right spoke first. “Greetings, brother. You are welcome here.”


  Koji gave a slight bow. “Your hospitality is appreciated.”

  The blades shifted their weight, and the moment of tension between strangers in a chaotic world passed. Koji also relaxed, although his sense was active, prepared for any surprise. The blade who spoke turned and led the way, while the bald man waited to follow Koji in.

  Koji hadn’t been in a farmhouse for cycles, and this one was large. From his glances around, little seemed out of the ordinary. He noticed a small, tasteful shrine to the Great Cycle, the traditional three concentric circles drawn by a confident hand, a well-equipped kitchen, one large room for dining and gathering, and what appeared to be plenty of bedrooms. The home was well maintained and clean, both the wooden floors and tatami mats spotless.

  The furniture was old and clearly used frequently but taken care of. There were no holes in the paper walls, and the doors slid open and closed with ease. Not a rich family, perhaps, but one that took pride in their living quarters. Koji noticed it all but said nothing.

  He could sense the other lives in the building, but they weren’t to be seen. He thought about asking about them, but an internal warning held him back. Koji hadn’t observed anything that worried him, but still, something didn’t feel right.

  The young nightblade’s silence didn’t bother his two hosts. They finished their tour in the living room. The space was large, clearly intended to be the center of activity in the house. Today it was empty except for the three blades.

  Koji was invited to sit. The nightblade who had done all the speaking on the tour, the one who had greeted him outside, rang a small bell. Moments later Koji heard the sounds of footsteps approaching. A young woman came in and bowed demurely.

  “We have a guest. Would you be kind enough to prepare us some tea?”