Takeo's Chronicles, page 130
With his other foot, Ralph kicked, striking Cyrus hard. The boy crumpled, and Ralph grabbed him by the neck again.
“You stupid boy,” Ralph snarled. “No one wants you. Not this clan, not me, not your father. Not even your mother, since she keeps trying to send you away. The only reason you get to stay here is thanks to my goodwill. You’d be dead without me. Don’t you understand? You think you can protect this family, huh? You can’t even protect yourself.”
Cyrus had been trying to grab Ralph’s hand again when another fist came barreling into his stomach. Cyrus’ chest caved in and refused to expand. Blood dripped from his open mouth, and he gasped, but no air came in. Ralph tossed him to the ground and straddled him again.
“You want to be a man, huh?” Ralph asked. “I’ll treat you like a man. I’m going to give you a beating you won’t ever forget.”
As the next fist fell, Cyrus cried out, but his tears stopped coming. He could hear his mother sobbing in the background, but the pain wasn’t so bad anymore. He could take it. He could. Just so long as she didn’t have to.
At least, that’s what he told himself.
World of Myth XI
Battle for Redemption
Prologue
Sir Gavin Shaw of the Knight’s Order hadn’t been called so in a long time. He had many other names now in this foreign land, surrounded by foreign people, fighting a foreign war. They called him sellsword, outlander, goldy, or simply knight. The worst nickname he’d earned, though, was traitor.
But earned it he had. Gavin had knowingly turned his back on the very man who’d brought him to Juatwa. Gavin could argue it was Takeo who’d turned his back first, yet no one seemed to see it that way. Takeo, despite all his terrible qualities and horrid reputation, was at least given the benefit of the doubt because he was a Juatwa native. Gavin, though? He was a foreigner. Always was, always would be, and so no one ever called him Sir Gavin Shaw of the Knight’s Order.
Except for Lord Botan Katsu.
“Sir Gavin,” the lord said now as they rode along, motioning with his hand. “Won’t you please join me?”
There were a good two dozen of them riding through the Juatwa flower fields, all Lord Botan’s personal guard minus Gavin. Like any trip outside his room, Lord Botan was dressed for war in his regal blue Katsu colors, hair and mustache cut to sharp corners, and his mount and all his guard were so adorned that no one would mistake their importance. Not that Botan would be mistaken anyway, for the man had about him a confident and commanding aura, yet not unkind. His smile was warm, fatherly almost, and Gavin saw in him the type of commander he’d always wanted to be.
Perhaps, Gavin thought, that was why I took the deal at all.
Gavin did as he was told and spurred his mount, trotting ahead of the throng to join Botan in the front. They were traveling at a meandering pace, in no hurry as far as anyone could tell, though Botan had yet to tell Gavin where they were headed or why. None of his guards would say, either; in fact, none had mentioned it for the entire day’s ride.
“Yes, my lord?” Gavin said, pulling alongside the shogun.
“I want to apologize for my aloofness of late. We spoke much when you first came to me, but I’ve since been a rare figure, haven’t I?”
“No apology is needed, my lord,” Gavin replied. “I understand the urgency of battle. The Hanu army approaches, and you needed to gather your forces. I have to ask, though, wouldn’t it be better to let them come to our walls? Why meet them on the battlefield so far from the city?”
Gavin did his best to sound like a Juatwa native. He’d dropped much of his conversational tone that was so well received in Lucifan and instead adopted the more cowed words of a lowly peasant speaking to a lord or lady whose existence was worth so much more than his. He wasn’t happy about this, but he had a daughter to think about now, and a wife, and two friends, and he couldn’t afford to offend anyone. Sir Gavin Shaw of the Knight’s Order, who once served the Angels of Lucifan, was now just Gavin of the Shaw family, and he served a mortal lord.
Better than a dirty ronin, right?
There was no conviction behind the thought. Gavin called Takeo many things, but dirty wasn’t one of them. He’d only thought those words because that’s what everyone else said, often.
“We are out here for a purpose, I assure you,” Botan said. “Although Takeo has outsmarted a rakshasa, that doesn’t mean I need be afraid. Last time we fought, he had a thick wall to hide behind and an enchanted sword to swing. He has neither now.”
Gavin’s eyes cast down to Botan’s hip, where Takeo’s family blade, the Karaoshi sword, bounced along with the sway of the komainu. Just the look of it was enough to unsettle Gavin, for one glance brought to mind the history of that weapon. Forged in an unknown land, it had slayed so many souls, and would slay countless more. Gavin wondered at the number of dead it had made, the sheer volume of blood that had stained its metal. Some weapons were just tools, no more responsible for the harm they caused than the blacksmith that forged them. The Karaoshi sword, however? Gavin wasn’t so sure.
“Do you ever regret leaving him?” Botan asked.
There was no mention of who him was, and there was no need.
“Sometimes,” Gavin admitted, hanging his head. He wouldn’t admit so to anyone else, but Botan had a disarming aura. “He was like a brother to me, in some ways, before the war. We saved each other's lives more than once, and also almost killed each other more than once. That’s how we met, actually. On our first encounter, he nearly killed me. Only an angel’s touch saved my life.”
Botan nodded but did not drop his gaze from the forest ahead. They left the flowers behind and entered the woods where the noise from their clanking armor echoed off the trees. The komainu were silent, though, ever the hunters seeking prey.
“Yes, I remember,” the shogun said. “You’ve told me much about Takeo, and how he thinks, and I appreciate that. I want you to know this, Sir Gavin, that I really do appreciate you. I know that can be hard to see in this land, surrounded by people you don’t know or understand.”
“Oh, I understand them just fine,” Gavin replied. “They’d understand me, too, if they’d just stop thinking about where I was born. It’s not like I had a choice in the matter.”
“A komainu can’t change its nature any more than a man,” Botan answered. “It’s simply who we are. One’s upbringing commands much in a person’s life, and we people of Juatwa understand that.”
Yes, Gavin thought with a sigh, I know. Hence why you have royalty, and you think status has anything to do with blood. You think men and women are given the right to rule at birth, and peasants must stay peasants because they were born that way. You have no idea I was once a lowly peasant, too, but raised a knight on my own merit. Such a concept is unthinkable to you. I see now what Takeo means when he says this land looks beautiful but hides so much ugliness.
“Can I ask again, my lord,” Gavin pressed, “why we’ve left the army and ventured out here? Isn’t it dangerous, with the Hanu forces approaching? And such a slow pace, Takeo is sure to find us. He’ll have word that I am with you, too. You know he’s sure to come?”
“I’m counting on it.”
Gavin didn’t ask for more. Botan’s tone made it clear none would be given.
They made some distance through the forest, ever still at a meandering pace, until they came upon the outskirts of a small village.
There were a few dozen huts scattered about the place, hidden among the woods, littered with villagers. Upon seeing Lord Botan and his entourage, they understandably went into a panic. Parents looked for their children, farmers and workers dropped their tools, two or three children even screamed or gasped. Upon realizing these warriors were dressed in the regal colors of the Katsu, though, they stopped fleeing and flung themselves to their knees to bow before their lord.
Botan flicked his head to the side, and his warriors rode out before him to inspect the village. Botan stayed, and so did Gavin because the knight was smart enough to know that he didn’t move until told to do so.
“Tell me again, Sir Gavin, how Takeo enchanted his sword,” he said.
“As I explained, I didn’t hear the deal,” Gavin replied. “The jinni spoke to Takeo through his mind while the rest of us were fighting Qadir. Afterwards, though, Takeo said he'd asked for the power to defeat his enemies, all of them, and that he’d traded his soul for it.”
“Doesn’t that strike you as odd? Soul, soul, what did the jinni mean, you think? It clearly didn’t mean soul as in life, for Takeo still lives. He didn’t trade his consciousness, or attitude, apparently. In fact, you say that Takeo was very much unchanged after the ordeal. It’s as if the jinni took nothing at all.”
Gavin looked from the lord to the sword, to that black sheath, so simple and efficient, yet unmistakable and not to be underestimated. His eyes rose to Botan’s right hand, his sword hand, which wore a single glove, and the arm that was covered in a long sleeve. The left arm had no such glove or covering.
“You’ve been asking a lot of questions about Takeo’s sword, lately,” Gavin said.
Botan was fixated on something ahead, devoid of emotion. This was telling, as Gavin had known the lord long enough to see Botan smile easily and often, or at least he used to. Nowadays, with Takeo and his army approaching, smiles grew rarer by the day.
"Things have grown tense in my home, Sir Gavin," Botan said. "My wife, you see, never wanted me to try for the throne. She said it would only endanger our family. My counterpoint was that we were already in danger and that it was my destiny to help the good people of Juatwa. She'd quieted down when things looked to be well secured, but now, with the infamous ronin at our doorstep, she is scared. No, that's not the right word: terrified. We argue frequently."
"Nothing to be ashamed of there," Gavin ventured. "My wife and I argue plenty, too. That's the mark of a strong woman, I'd say."
The knight forced a chuckle. Botan did not share in it.
"Out last argument grew heated," he said, voice dropping to a whisper, and he flexed his gloved hand. "I . . . I struck her, for the first time in our marriage. I was so stunned that I fled our chambers. I haven't spoken to her since. The memory haunts me.
"When Takeo asked for the power to defeat his enemies, I don't think it was strength and speed the jinni had in mind. I think this sword gives less than it takes, petty abilities in exchange for something far more human. I tell my subjects all the time to be grateful they are not in my position because they will never be forced to choose between what is right and what will win. They will never have their families threatened for power. They will never decide the fate of an entire countryside with only a moment's notice. They'll never issue an order to slaughter innocent people. Those are decisions that I must make, and they weigh heavy upon me, or at least, they did."
He flexed his gloved hand again. Gavin swallowed.
"Destroy it, my lord," the knight said. "That sword is a plague."
"I can't," he replied. "Not yet."
"Why?"
"There is one more life to take."
Botan sighed and nudged his mount forward. Gavin followed. They strode into the village, where so many people lay bowed on their knees with faces to the dirt. Many more looked out from the shelter of their homes. Arrayed about the place was Botan's guard, with expressions Gavin could only describe as eager.
"You see, Gavin," Botan continued. "It's not this sword that's a plague; it's the creator. Takeo Karaoshi has slayed a shogun in her own throne room, held a crumbling fortress against overwhelming odds, and outsmarted a rakshasa. He's done all of this in such a short time that more than a few have begun to wonder if he's made of more than flesh and bone. They say he's called a lord in some Hanu circles. They say there are many under his command who would die for him. Do you understand what I'm saying? Do you understand what I'm up against?"
"I'd argue I understand more than most," Gavin answered.
"If I fail, Juatwa will be ruled by either a ronin or a rakshasa, and I can't decide which is worse. Not to mention I will die, along with all my family."
Gavin wanted to say Takeo wouldn't do that. He wouldn't kill a man's wife and children simply because the man had been an enemy. Then Gavin remembered the ninja clan and stayed silent.
"In this battle, Sir Gavin, I must show no mercy," Botan said. "For the good of humanity, I must win, or there will be no one left to stop him."
They came to halt outside a small, aged hut that looked like it hadn't been repaired in decades. In fact, before they stopped, Gavin had assumed it was abandoned, for there were no windows and the door hung crooked in the opening. The village took a collective breath.
"My lord, what is inside this hut?" Gavin asked, his nervousness showing in his tone.
"Redemption," Botan replied.
"What? I don't understand."
"You will," he said. "I have spent nearly all my wealth finding this hut. Rumors abound that it didn't even exist, but I had faith. I persevered where others gave up, and all my efforts have been rewarded. In this tent lies the power to defeat a monster."
He paused, and Gavin was about to say something when a multitude of hands grabbed hold of him. The knight shouted as he was hauled off his mount and flung to the ground by Botan's guards. His sword and shield were torn away as they surrounded and held him down, faces grim and determined. Gavin fought until a fist slammed into his stomach and a foot cracked against his jaw. He tasted blood and the world spun.
"Please, don't fight," Botan asked. "I promise, no harm will come to your family."
Gavin spat blood. His vision came back to him slowly, enough for him to hear the crackle of a fire. He glanced around, seeing only a handful of guards still holding him. The rest stood at the ready, forming a shield between him, Botan, and the villagers. Several of the peasants had screamed and tried to run when Gavin had been assaulted, but the guards had stopped them with a word. The villagers drifted back to their spots.
He wants an audience.
It was then that Gavin noticed the guard by the fire. The woman had taken a large flat blade from one of the villagers, a tool to cut trees and brush, and had thrust it into the flames. The broad span of metal grew red in the embers.
"What are you doing?" the knight shouted. "I swore to help you!"
"And you will," Botan answered, still sitting comfortably atop his mount. "In fact, you've already helped me immensely. Wasn't it you who told me that Takeo only has two rules: to remain calm and never let go of his weapon? He's already broken one of those rules. I must make him break the other, and I have you to thank for that."
Gavin pushed against the guards, but they were many, and he was but one. A palm slapped onto his forehead and forced him down, head twisted to one side. The dirt ground into his beard, his teeth, and fear rose within him. He thought of Yeira, and Pleaides, and Krunk, and Emy. He thought of Takeo and regret welled in his stomach. Tears that he’d held back for months flowed free.
"Please, my lord, I'm begging you. I don't know what you're thinking, but don't play his game," Gavin begged. "You're better than him. Please, be better than him."
Botan frowned, his brows sitting heavy at the bottom of his wrinkled forehead. He seemed to have aged ten years in a flash. His face wasn't so warm and welcoming anymore.
"Thank you for saying that," Botan whispered.
The shogun nodded to the woman with the red-hot farmer's tool. She stepped forward, close enough that Gavin could feel the heat. Another guard came over and drew his sword. It shined bright in the daylight, as if it'd been sharpened just that morning.
"Wait, wait, please!" Gavin begged.
But they weren't listening. They tightened their grip until it hurt so bad he could scream. He watched helplessly as they took his left arm and stretched it out. The guard stood over him and raised his sword.
"No," the knight yelled. "NO!"
Chapter 1
Nicholas took a deep breath in through his nostrils, dragging along a load of phlegm in that loud, annoying fashion of his that made his throat sound like it was sawing a log. Once he'd done this for a few solid seconds, the viking held his breath, arched his back, and spit a disgusting combination of mucus and saliva onto the nearest tree. Afterwards, he smiled and admired his handiwork until the komainu he rode passed it by. Then he turned to Takeo.
"Okay, you're turn," he said.
"Nicholas, I already told you I’m not playing this game."
“Oh, come on! By Valhalla are you a poor stand in for Krunk. You’re as boring as you are thin, and I can assure you neither is a complement. I’ve seen babies born heavier than you. I’m surprised you've traveled by sea because, I swear, you’d blow away in the wind. One storm, that’s all it would take and off you’d go, like a wimpy flag cut loose for the good of the crew. You know, in your current state, you stand a good chance of playing dead on any battlefield. If you ever find yourself on the losing side, just throw yourself down and stay still. I can hear the enemy approaching already, saying something like, hey, you think that poor fellow is dead? Course he is! Just look at him. Half-starved corpse is what he is, probably collapsed before the fight even started. They’d just sweep you to the side, wouldn’t even pick you up. I mean, why bother? You’re already dead. Just be careful a light breeze doesn’t kick up and roll you over or—”
“Nicholas.”
“Hm?”
“That’s enough.”
Nicholas sighed. “Boring. Just plain old boring.”
Takeo glanced over his shoulder and then to either side. He and Nicholas rode as a pair, but spread out across the forest was a small army. He’d brought the full gambit out for this trip, including Kuniko, Ping, Qing, and more than a handful of his followers. Kuniko took his right flank, while Ping took his left, and each of them had a strong number of warriors in tow. He’d have brought more, but there were only so many komainu the main army had on hand with such short notice, and he dared not do this on foot. Mobility was their best bet against what might lie in wait.
“You stupid boy,” Ralph snarled. “No one wants you. Not this clan, not me, not your father. Not even your mother, since she keeps trying to send you away. The only reason you get to stay here is thanks to my goodwill. You’d be dead without me. Don’t you understand? You think you can protect this family, huh? You can’t even protect yourself.”
Cyrus had been trying to grab Ralph’s hand again when another fist came barreling into his stomach. Cyrus’ chest caved in and refused to expand. Blood dripped from his open mouth, and he gasped, but no air came in. Ralph tossed him to the ground and straddled him again.
“You want to be a man, huh?” Ralph asked. “I’ll treat you like a man. I’m going to give you a beating you won’t ever forget.”
As the next fist fell, Cyrus cried out, but his tears stopped coming. He could hear his mother sobbing in the background, but the pain wasn’t so bad anymore. He could take it. He could. Just so long as she didn’t have to.
At least, that’s what he told himself.
World of Myth XI
Battle for Redemption
Prologue
Sir Gavin Shaw of the Knight’s Order hadn’t been called so in a long time. He had many other names now in this foreign land, surrounded by foreign people, fighting a foreign war. They called him sellsword, outlander, goldy, or simply knight. The worst nickname he’d earned, though, was traitor.
But earned it he had. Gavin had knowingly turned his back on the very man who’d brought him to Juatwa. Gavin could argue it was Takeo who’d turned his back first, yet no one seemed to see it that way. Takeo, despite all his terrible qualities and horrid reputation, was at least given the benefit of the doubt because he was a Juatwa native. Gavin, though? He was a foreigner. Always was, always would be, and so no one ever called him Sir Gavin Shaw of the Knight’s Order.
Except for Lord Botan Katsu.
“Sir Gavin,” the lord said now as they rode along, motioning with his hand. “Won’t you please join me?”
There were a good two dozen of them riding through the Juatwa flower fields, all Lord Botan’s personal guard minus Gavin. Like any trip outside his room, Lord Botan was dressed for war in his regal blue Katsu colors, hair and mustache cut to sharp corners, and his mount and all his guard were so adorned that no one would mistake their importance. Not that Botan would be mistaken anyway, for the man had about him a confident and commanding aura, yet not unkind. His smile was warm, fatherly almost, and Gavin saw in him the type of commander he’d always wanted to be.
Perhaps, Gavin thought, that was why I took the deal at all.
Gavin did as he was told and spurred his mount, trotting ahead of the throng to join Botan in the front. They were traveling at a meandering pace, in no hurry as far as anyone could tell, though Botan had yet to tell Gavin where they were headed or why. None of his guards would say, either; in fact, none had mentioned it for the entire day’s ride.
“Yes, my lord?” Gavin said, pulling alongside the shogun.
“I want to apologize for my aloofness of late. We spoke much when you first came to me, but I’ve since been a rare figure, haven’t I?”
“No apology is needed, my lord,” Gavin replied. “I understand the urgency of battle. The Hanu army approaches, and you needed to gather your forces. I have to ask, though, wouldn’t it be better to let them come to our walls? Why meet them on the battlefield so far from the city?”
Gavin did his best to sound like a Juatwa native. He’d dropped much of his conversational tone that was so well received in Lucifan and instead adopted the more cowed words of a lowly peasant speaking to a lord or lady whose existence was worth so much more than his. He wasn’t happy about this, but he had a daughter to think about now, and a wife, and two friends, and he couldn’t afford to offend anyone. Sir Gavin Shaw of the Knight’s Order, who once served the Angels of Lucifan, was now just Gavin of the Shaw family, and he served a mortal lord.
Better than a dirty ronin, right?
There was no conviction behind the thought. Gavin called Takeo many things, but dirty wasn’t one of them. He’d only thought those words because that’s what everyone else said, often.
“We are out here for a purpose, I assure you,” Botan said. “Although Takeo has outsmarted a rakshasa, that doesn’t mean I need be afraid. Last time we fought, he had a thick wall to hide behind and an enchanted sword to swing. He has neither now.”
Gavin’s eyes cast down to Botan’s hip, where Takeo’s family blade, the Karaoshi sword, bounced along with the sway of the komainu. Just the look of it was enough to unsettle Gavin, for one glance brought to mind the history of that weapon. Forged in an unknown land, it had slayed so many souls, and would slay countless more. Gavin wondered at the number of dead it had made, the sheer volume of blood that had stained its metal. Some weapons were just tools, no more responsible for the harm they caused than the blacksmith that forged them. The Karaoshi sword, however? Gavin wasn’t so sure.
“Do you ever regret leaving him?” Botan asked.
There was no mention of who him was, and there was no need.
“Sometimes,” Gavin admitted, hanging his head. He wouldn’t admit so to anyone else, but Botan had a disarming aura. “He was like a brother to me, in some ways, before the war. We saved each other's lives more than once, and also almost killed each other more than once. That’s how we met, actually. On our first encounter, he nearly killed me. Only an angel’s touch saved my life.”
Botan nodded but did not drop his gaze from the forest ahead. They left the flowers behind and entered the woods where the noise from their clanking armor echoed off the trees. The komainu were silent, though, ever the hunters seeking prey.
“Yes, I remember,” the shogun said. “You’ve told me much about Takeo, and how he thinks, and I appreciate that. I want you to know this, Sir Gavin, that I really do appreciate you. I know that can be hard to see in this land, surrounded by people you don’t know or understand.”
“Oh, I understand them just fine,” Gavin replied. “They’d understand me, too, if they’d just stop thinking about where I was born. It’s not like I had a choice in the matter.”
“A komainu can’t change its nature any more than a man,” Botan answered. “It’s simply who we are. One’s upbringing commands much in a person’s life, and we people of Juatwa understand that.”
Yes, Gavin thought with a sigh, I know. Hence why you have royalty, and you think status has anything to do with blood. You think men and women are given the right to rule at birth, and peasants must stay peasants because they were born that way. You have no idea I was once a lowly peasant, too, but raised a knight on my own merit. Such a concept is unthinkable to you. I see now what Takeo means when he says this land looks beautiful but hides so much ugliness.
“Can I ask again, my lord,” Gavin pressed, “why we’ve left the army and ventured out here? Isn’t it dangerous, with the Hanu forces approaching? And such a slow pace, Takeo is sure to find us. He’ll have word that I am with you, too. You know he’s sure to come?”
“I’m counting on it.”
Gavin didn’t ask for more. Botan’s tone made it clear none would be given.
They made some distance through the forest, ever still at a meandering pace, until they came upon the outskirts of a small village.
There were a few dozen huts scattered about the place, hidden among the woods, littered with villagers. Upon seeing Lord Botan and his entourage, they understandably went into a panic. Parents looked for their children, farmers and workers dropped their tools, two or three children even screamed or gasped. Upon realizing these warriors were dressed in the regal colors of the Katsu, though, they stopped fleeing and flung themselves to their knees to bow before their lord.
Botan flicked his head to the side, and his warriors rode out before him to inspect the village. Botan stayed, and so did Gavin because the knight was smart enough to know that he didn’t move until told to do so.
“Tell me again, Sir Gavin, how Takeo enchanted his sword,” he said.
“As I explained, I didn’t hear the deal,” Gavin replied. “The jinni spoke to Takeo through his mind while the rest of us were fighting Qadir. Afterwards, though, Takeo said he'd asked for the power to defeat his enemies, all of them, and that he’d traded his soul for it.”
“Doesn’t that strike you as odd? Soul, soul, what did the jinni mean, you think? It clearly didn’t mean soul as in life, for Takeo still lives. He didn’t trade his consciousness, or attitude, apparently. In fact, you say that Takeo was very much unchanged after the ordeal. It’s as if the jinni took nothing at all.”
Gavin looked from the lord to the sword, to that black sheath, so simple and efficient, yet unmistakable and not to be underestimated. His eyes rose to Botan’s right hand, his sword hand, which wore a single glove, and the arm that was covered in a long sleeve. The left arm had no such glove or covering.
“You’ve been asking a lot of questions about Takeo’s sword, lately,” Gavin said.
Botan was fixated on something ahead, devoid of emotion. This was telling, as Gavin had known the lord long enough to see Botan smile easily and often, or at least he used to. Nowadays, with Takeo and his army approaching, smiles grew rarer by the day.
"Things have grown tense in my home, Sir Gavin," Botan said. "My wife, you see, never wanted me to try for the throne. She said it would only endanger our family. My counterpoint was that we were already in danger and that it was my destiny to help the good people of Juatwa. She'd quieted down when things looked to be well secured, but now, with the infamous ronin at our doorstep, she is scared. No, that's not the right word: terrified. We argue frequently."
"Nothing to be ashamed of there," Gavin ventured. "My wife and I argue plenty, too. That's the mark of a strong woman, I'd say."
The knight forced a chuckle. Botan did not share in it.
"Out last argument grew heated," he said, voice dropping to a whisper, and he flexed his gloved hand. "I . . . I struck her, for the first time in our marriage. I was so stunned that I fled our chambers. I haven't spoken to her since. The memory haunts me.
"When Takeo asked for the power to defeat his enemies, I don't think it was strength and speed the jinni had in mind. I think this sword gives less than it takes, petty abilities in exchange for something far more human. I tell my subjects all the time to be grateful they are not in my position because they will never be forced to choose between what is right and what will win. They will never have their families threatened for power. They will never decide the fate of an entire countryside with only a moment's notice. They'll never issue an order to slaughter innocent people. Those are decisions that I must make, and they weigh heavy upon me, or at least, they did."
He flexed his gloved hand again. Gavin swallowed.
"Destroy it, my lord," the knight said. "That sword is a plague."
"I can't," he replied. "Not yet."
"Why?"
"There is one more life to take."
Botan sighed and nudged his mount forward. Gavin followed. They strode into the village, where so many people lay bowed on their knees with faces to the dirt. Many more looked out from the shelter of their homes. Arrayed about the place was Botan's guard, with expressions Gavin could only describe as eager.
"You see, Gavin," Botan continued. "It's not this sword that's a plague; it's the creator. Takeo Karaoshi has slayed a shogun in her own throne room, held a crumbling fortress against overwhelming odds, and outsmarted a rakshasa. He's done all of this in such a short time that more than a few have begun to wonder if he's made of more than flesh and bone. They say he's called a lord in some Hanu circles. They say there are many under his command who would die for him. Do you understand what I'm saying? Do you understand what I'm up against?"
"I'd argue I understand more than most," Gavin answered.
"If I fail, Juatwa will be ruled by either a ronin or a rakshasa, and I can't decide which is worse. Not to mention I will die, along with all my family."
Gavin wanted to say Takeo wouldn't do that. He wouldn't kill a man's wife and children simply because the man had been an enemy. Then Gavin remembered the ninja clan and stayed silent.
"In this battle, Sir Gavin, I must show no mercy," Botan said. "For the good of humanity, I must win, or there will be no one left to stop him."
They came to halt outside a small, aged hut that looked like it hadn't been repaired in decades. In fact, before they stopped, Gavin had assumed it was abandoned, for there were no windows and the door hung crooked in the opening. The village took a collective breath.
"My lord, what is inside this hut?" Gavin asked, his nervousness showing in his tone.
"Redemption," Botan replied.
"What? I don't understand."
"You will," he said. "I have spent nearly all my wealth finding this hut. Rumors abound that it didn't even exist, but I had faith. I persevered where others gave up, and all my efforts have been rewarded. In this tent lies the power to defeat a monster."
He paused, and Gavin was about to say something when a multitude of hands grabbed hold of him. The knight shouted as he was hauled off his mount and flung to the ground by Botan's guards. His sword and shield were torn away as they surrounded and held him down, faces grim and determined. Gavin fought until a fist slammed into his stomach and a foot cracked against his jaw. He tasted blood and the world spun.
"Please, don't fight," Botan asked. "I promise, no harm will come to your family."
Gavin spat blood. His vision came back to him slowly, enough for him to hear the crackle of a fire. He glanced around, seeing only a handful of guards still holding him. The rest stood at the ready, forming a shield between him, Botan, and the villagers. Several of the peasants had screamed and tried to run when Gavin had been assaulted, but the guards had stopped them with a word. The villagers drifted back to their spots.
He wants an audience.
It was then that Gavin noticed the guard by the fire. The woman had taken a large flat blade from one of the villagers, a tool to cut trees and brush, and had thrust it into the flames. The broad span of metal grew red in the embers.
"What are you doing?" the knight shouted. "I swore to help you!"
"And you will," Botan answered, still sitting comfortably atop his mount. "In fact, you've already helped me immensely. Wasn't it you who told me that Takeo only has two rules: to remain calm and never let go of his weapon? He's already broken one of those rules. I must make him break the other, and I have you to thank for that."
Gavin pushed against the guards, but they were many, and he was but one. A palm slapped onto his forehead and forced him down, head twisted to one side. The dirt ground into his beard, his teeth, and fear rose within him. He thought of Yeira, and Pleaides, and Krunk, and Emy. He thought of Takeo and regret welled in his stomach. Tears that he’d held back for months flowed free.
"Please, my lord, I'm begging you. I don't know what you're thinking, but don't play his game," Gavin begged. "You're better than him. Please, be better than him."
Botan frowned, his brows sitting heavy at the bottom of his wrinkled forehead. He seemed to have aged ten years in a flash. His face wasn't so warm and welcoming anymore.
"Thank you for saying that," Botan whispered.
The shogun nodded to the woman with the red-hot farmer's tool. She stepped forward, close enough that Gavin could feel the heat. Another guard came over and drew his sword. It shined bright in the daylight, as if it'd been sharpened just that morning.
"Wait, wait, please!" Gavin begged.
But they weren't listening. They tightened their grip until it hurt so bad he could scream. He watched helplessly as they took his left arm and stretched it out. The guard stood over him and raised his sword.
"No," the knight yelled. "NO!"
Chapter 1
Nicholas took a deep breath in through his nostrils, dragging along a load of phlegm in that loud, annoying fashion of his that made his throat sound like it was sawing a log. Once he'd done this for a few solid seconds, the viking held his breath, arched his back, and spit a disgusting combination of mucus and saliva onto the nearest tree. Afterwards, he smiled and admired his handiwork until the komainu he rode passed it by. Then he turned to Takeo.
"Okay, you're turn," he said.
"Nicholas, I already told you I’m not playing this game."
“Oh, come on! By Valhalla are you a poor stand in for Krunk. You’re as boring as you are thin, and I can assure you neither is a complement. I’ve seen babies born heavier than you. I’m surprised you've traveled by sea because, I swear, you’d blow away in the wind. One storm, that’s all it would take and off you’d go, like a wimpy flag cut loose for the good of the crew. You know, in your current state, you stand a good chance of playing dead on any battlefield. If you ever find yourself on the losing side, just throw yourself down and stay still. I can hear the enemy approaching already, saying something like, hey, you think that poor fellow is dead? Course he is! Just look at him. Half-starved corpse is what he is, probably collapsed before the fight even started. They’d just sweep you to the side, wouldn’t even pick you up. I mean, why bother? You’re already dead. Just be careful a light breeze doesn’t kick up and roll you over or—”
“Nicholas.”
“Hm?”
“That’s enough.”
Nicholas sighed. “Boring. Just plain old boring.”
Takeo glanced over his shoulder and then to either side. He and Nicholas rode as a pair, but spread out across the forest was a small army. He’d brought the full gambit out for this trip, including Kuniko, Ping, Qing, and more than a handful of his followers. Kuniko took his right flank, while Ping took his left, and each of them had a strong number of warriors in tow. He’d have brought more, but there were only so many komainu the main army had on hand with such short notice, and he dared not do this on foot. Mobility was their best bet against what might lie in wait.
