Takeo's Chronicles, page 131
“So, is this what you and Gavin did all those times you left Krunk and I alone?” Nicholas asked.
“What do you mean?”
“I mean is this what you two did? Walk blindly into traps?”
Takeo snorted. “Firstly, we’re not blind. Qing is scouting ahead, and my sword did not grant any supernatural abilities related to stealth. If Botan and his men are still there, she’ll know. Secondly, trap or not, we’re going. Gavin was seen.”
“That’s not the rumors we heard. Word is there was a golden-haired man—that’s different. Anyone with a bit of dye can turn a man blond. This is a trap, Takeo, and you know it. Our armies are a day from meeting on the battlefield, and what does Botan do? He makes a personal trip out to this no-man’s land between us and is certain that you know about it. Tell me where the smart part in all of this is?”
“It’s simple,” Takeo said. “I will take any risk to get my sword and Gavin back.”
“And Botan knows it.”
Takeo didn’t deny it. He also didn’t respond because, true to form, Nicholas couldn’t stay silent for long. He’d change the subject rather than let silence reign. Nicholas looked around, eyeing Kuniko and Ping in the distance to make sure they were just out of earshot.
“So that elf is stuck to us?” the viking asked.
“Between Zhenzhen believing I need protection and Virote wanting to keep an eye on me, yes,” Takeo confirmed. “That’s okay, though, because I want things that way. With Emy gone, I could use some uncanny hearing and eyesight about. Any edge I can get I will take. Lord Botan has too many advantages on me already.”
“Like a turncoat knight who knows you inside and out?”
Takeo gritted his teeth.
“Subtlety isn’t your strong suit, is it, Nicholas?”
“You ever met a viking who exuded subtlety? Here, hang on, let me try being subtle. How is the Lady Zhenzhen in bed? Does she let you lead, or does she enjoy controlling the infamously uncontrollable ronin?”
Takeo turned his head slowly in Nicholas’ direction. The viking gulped.
“I mean, come on,” Nicholas said with a shrug. “You didn’t think that would stay a secret for long, did you?”
The ronin sighed and dropped his warning gaze.
“No, I suppose not,” he said. “How’d you find out?”
“Soldiers talk, and people gossip. It might have started just as a salacious rumor, but then someone said they could confirm it. Whether or not they could is irrelevant. Besides, I bet all the really important people knew already.”
“But does the prince know?”
Nicholas shook his head and said, “Your guess is as good as mine. What would you do if he did?”
“It’s not me I’m worried about. It’s him. I have no idea how he'd react, or the oni for that matter. What do you think about that whole situation, anyway? Him and the oni?”
“I prefer not to.”
Takeo didn’t say so, but he agreed. The tangled web of lies, deceit, and subterfuge that surrounded the oni’s dealings with the Hanu family unsettled someone even as grounded as Takeo. Once upon a time, he’d thought knowing the dark secrets of his shogun would benefit him, but now he wasn’t so sure. The thought of working towards a future ruled by an oni was a terrifying one, yet Takeo couldn’t find a way to cut the cord just yet. The oni were indispensable allies, in a time where Takeo needed all the help he could get, and the problems only started there. The real issue was that Lord Nobu, the prince, the soon-to-be emperor if Takeo was successful, was a complete and total failure. He was weak, emotional, dimwitted, and wouldn’t last a month on the throne of the world. Takeo could hardly justify fighting to unite the world under such a man—no, boy—for surely the world would only plunge back into darkness upon his death. Takeo wanted to create something strong and enduring, and neither of those words applied to the child who was supposed to be in charge of this army. However, were he an oni, that would be different story. But was it worth the risk?
Yes, Nicholas is right. Best to think on that later, after Lord Botan is defeated.
“So, before we get to this village, I’ve been wanting to talk about something,” Nicholas said. “I’ve tried before, but it’s hard to get you alone these days.”
“Tell me about it.”
“It’s about Gavin, and you, apparently. Why did you lie to me?”
Takeo sighed. He’d been dreading this conversation.
“I didn’t lie, Nicholas. I just didn’t tell you. There’s a difference.”
“Not to me. I didn’t like getting caught off guard when Gavin started spilling his guts out in Kuniko’s personal gardens. What in the world, Takeo? You promised never to lie to me. You said I wasn’t important enough to be lied to. How could you keep a literal death pact a secret from me?”
“It's not a death pact,” Takeo replied, darting his eyes at Nicholas. “It's an ominous prophecy. There’s a difference.”
“That sennin on the mountain didn’t say one of you would die, did it? It said you two would kill each other, or that one of you would kill the other, and neither of you said a damn word to Krunk or me. Which, the ogre, I get. He’d have wanted to stop right then and there, but me? Why not me?”
“It wasn’t just you, Nicholas,” Takeo said. “We didn’t tell anyone. We didn’t even talk to each other about it, not often. That was until Yeira came along.”
“Don’t blame her. It wasn’t her decision to keep me in the dark. That was all you.”
“Now you’re starting to sound like Gavin.”
“And you sound like a prissy milk maid all caught up in the technicalities of the swill she’s been serving at her father’s inn. Damn it, woman, we just got back from a long trip out to sea! Bring out the good mead and let us have at it!”
“You’re just jealous because that prophecy would make for a really great end to your legendary tale.”
“You’re damned right it would!”
Nicholas’ voice boomed out, and Takeo gritted his teeth and shut his eyes. At least Gavin knew a thing or two about being quiet.
Meanwhile, up ahead, a frail looking girl stepped into view, only she wasn’t a girl, or at least not a human one. Her name was Qing, and she was an elf, though only a few people knew that, or so he assumed. For all he knew, Emy had spilled the beans to Botan and the whole world knew.
Takeo hoped Emy hadn't turned. Gavin was bad enough, but as knowledgeable as the knight thought he was, Takeo understood that Emy knew more. She was a rakshasa, and that meant she might know things about Takeo even he did not. And to think she was with his enemy now, an enemy who carried his enchanted sword, and had nearly destroyed him once already. It was enough to unnerve anyone.
Qing raised her chin as the pair approached. In the distance, Kuniko and Ping paused along with their warriors. They looked to Takeo for their next command.
“You don’t have to keep them spread out,” Qing said. “Botan left some time ago. I don’t think he’s coming back, either. Rumors are he left in a hurry.”
“Not worth the risk,” Takeo replied. “They stay far apart, just in case. We’ll be harder to ambush that way. What did you find?”
Qing grimaced and cast her gaze to the ground. Takeo’s stomach dipped.
“Gavin,” he whispered. “Please, tell me you didn’t find him.”
“Well,” Qing said, pausing. “Not all of him.”
Takeo dug his heels into his mount, and his komainu responded with lightning swiftness, snarling and leaping into the air over Qing’s head. A chorus of cries came up behind him, but he bent forward and spurred his beast to greater speed. It responded with equal fervor, glad to take to a full gallop. Takeo could feel its bloodlust rise, and he did nothing to quell the instinct. He couldn’t breathe, or think, or hardly see, so blaring was the dread that rose within him.
Not his head. Please, please don’t let it be his head. I'll kill Botan with my bare hands, I swear on Her soul.
Takeo’s mount burst into the village, scaring the people there so badly they screamed in horror and ran in all directions, likely thinking a wild komainu had found them. However, seeing a rider on its back dressed in the red laminar armor of a Hanu samurai did nothing to suppress their terror. They screamed anew and fled to their homes or off into the woods, disappearing so fast that the place looked deserted by the time the rest of Takeo’s group caught up. Nicholas was first on scene, with Qing sharing the saddle. To have caught up with him so quickly, she must have grabbed Nicholas as he rode by and flung herself onto the mount's back. Kuniko, Ping, and the others weren’t far behind, and they stormed upon the place like the small raiding party they were, and that's when the villagers truly fled.
"Damn it all,” Nicholas shouted over the screams. “Didn't we just talk about this being a trap?"
"Just because I said Lord Botan isn't here, doesn't mean you can just charge off, you idiotic ronin!" Qing screeched. "That's exactly the sort of thing-"
She stopped. In fact, they all did. Takeo's gaze hadn't moved since he'd burst into the village, and as the group followed his gaze, what they saw brought a stillness to the air. Across the way, nestled on the village's outer ring, sat a small, decrepit hut that could have been abandoned. What stuck out, though, was not its derelict appearance, but the severed hand nailed to the door with golden locks of hair intertwined in its fingers.
It could be someone else, Takeo thought, yet no hope came to him. He knew in his heart it was Gavin's, and his throat swelled.
The ronin dismounted, his komainu whined because its violent charge had been curbed. That was the only sound, though, as Takeo paced toward the severed hand, until he heard the slide of leather on fur followed by a heavy thud. Nicholas followed.
"Looks like his, I'd say," Nicholas commented.
Takeo cut a hand through the air, swift and short. The viking stopped and didn't say another word. Takeo approached alone.
The hand was freshly cut, judging by its immaculate condition and the blood that ran down the door of the hut. Whoever had hammered a nail through Gavin's hand hadn't done a good job, as they'd missed the bone and drove only through the flesh. Such a thing would fall off, given time and rot. They'd taken his left hand, and although the skin was changing color, Takeo had seen that hand enough times to leave no doubt to its owner.
Takeo swore.
"I warned him," he whispered. "I should have tried harder. I should have forced him to stay."
"Yes, you should have," Qing replied.
Takeo glared at her. Nicholas grimaced.
"At least they didn't take his sword hand," the viking offered. "That would have been cruel."
"No, they did worse," Takeo replied. "They took his shield hand."
He reached for the limb, paused, then grabbed a cloth first. He pulled the hand free from the nail, ignoring how the flesh slid across the metal and dripped blood down the shaft, and then wrapped it up. He wasn't sure what to do with it. He couldn't keep it. The thing would just rot and become a carrier for disease, not to mention the smell would excite their mounts. It didn't feel right to just leave it, though. He looked about and noticed a campfire nearby, or at least what had once been a fire. It was just hot embers now, but that was enough. He nodded to the fire.
"Are you sure?" the viking said, approaching and taking the hand.
"No, but do it anyway."
Nicholas strode over and set the limb into the bed of ash and embers, and the cloth it was wrapped in went up in flames. The fire crackled with the new fuel. Takeo ignored the smell of burning flesh.
"Idiot Gavin. You should have stayed with us," Nicholas muttered. "I hope Krunk's okay."
The silence was solemn, dignified, and Takeo appreciated that. He didn’t want to watch the flames, so he kept his gaze on the bloody nail and the trail of red that ran down the crooked door. He looked over the entire hut, actually, and couldn't help but feel a twinge of nostalgia. He'd lived in a village like this once, before his brother had them both conscripted into Lord Ichiro's army. It was one of the few times Takeo had gotten to be a child, if even for a short while, playing with Mako, and his friend, Lei. He even learned a thing or two about the simple life, one outside war, torture, and death.
"Botan could have placed Gavin's hand anywhere. Why here?” he muttered. “Kuniko."
"My lord?"
"Gather the villagers. Find out what happened here and what's so special about this hut."
"Sir!" she shouted.
"I'm not sure if there's anyone left, Takeo," Nicholas said.
At the mention of the ronin's name, a muffled cry came from inside the hut. The sound was so unexpected that it cut short the flurry of activity Kuniko and the others were about to commence. They all went still, and Takeo fixated on the door. He paused, listening, but the hut had gone silent again. Cautiously, he raised a hand and knocked. No one answered.
"Tiny place," Nicholas whispered, scratching the back of his neck where his maul rested. "Surely whoever is inside heard that."
"My lord?" Kuniko asked.
“Do as I said.”
Kuniko nodded and then motioned to the other samurai. They hesitated before dismounting and dispersing about the place. Meanwhile, Takeo rested his right hand on the pommel of his katana and reached with his left to open the door.
It wasn’t locked, or even latched. The door hung so crooked that the bottom dragged in the dirt, and Takeo had to exert some effort to wrench it open. From inside, he heard a gasp, but he could see nothing but darkness at first. As his eyes adjusted, the thin frame of an older woman materialized in the small hut. She sat on the floor, atop an old mat made of large leaves and thin sticks. There was little else in the place, minus a topless chest filled with a small array of cooking and pottery tools. Takeo scanned once again to be sure no one else was inside before taking the woman in.
She was dressed simply, in what Takeo could only describe as an old dress long past its allotted time in this world. Her hair was straight, long, and unbound, with mostly black strands broken by rivers of silver. Her lips were thin, and she was short of stature, which Takeo could tell even though she was sitting down. Her eyes were dark in the low light.
As his eyes fell on the woman, her lips parted, and she stared back at him unblinking. She seemed poised yet frozen, as if she could up and dash away at any moment, yet also might collapse if she tried. She wasn’t breathing, or even moving, as Takeo eyed her. He didn’t know what to expect when he opened the door, but somehow this wasn’t it.
He scanned the room one more time to be sure he hadn’t missed anything. Botan had chosen this hut for a reason. Gavin only had two hands. There lay a message here somewhere, or an assassin.
“Do you know who I am?” Takeo asked, eyes still darting about the place.
“Yes,” she replied breathlessly, then hastily added, “I mean, everyone knows who you are.”
“There was a lord who came by here,” he went on, “Lord Botan Katsu to be specific, the shogun of these lands until I rip them from his cold, dead fingers. Do you know what happened here, just outside your door?”
She nodded. She was breathing now, if in shallow waves.
“He . . . he came with his guard, and a handsome foreigner,” she said. “I caught a glimpse of them before I shut the door. I heard screams and hissing flesh, and then they nailed something to my door. I didn’t know that it was a hand until I heard the others talking about it outside. I was terrified, to be honest, but not as scared as I was when he opened my door and came inside.”
Takeo, satisfied that nothing was inside the hut, stepped in. His head brushed the top of the shallow hut, and from outside Nicholas peered in like a cyclops outside a goblin’s cave. Takeo knelt down to stare at the woman, and he noted that as his eyes adjusted, nothing about her brightened. Her features remained dark, untouched by the light. He also noticed there was a musty, shut-in smell to place, like something left to die in an ocean of self-loathing.
“Lord Botan spoke to you?” he asked.
She nodded.
Most commoners, most people in general, couldn’t hold a gaze with Takeo. His reputation preceded him, and his presence was enough to make hardened veterans avert their eyes. This woman though, could not get enough of him. No matter the gaze he put on her, she stared right back, unfazed.
“What did he say?” he asked. “Why you? Did he give you anything?”
“We had tea,” she said. “His guards tried to bring in a chair, but he shooed them off and sat on the floor with me. He was actually quite friendly, even if he didn’t say much. Mostly he just asked me questions about myself.”
“Such as? Answer them as you did for him.”
“He asked me my name, and how long I’ve lived in this village. I answered as best I could, telling him my name was Dhyana, and that I’d been here ever since I’d had my son. He asked me what happened to my son, and I told him that I lost him at a young age. He gave his condolences, and only then introduced himself. He told me that you would be coming soon, and that was all. After the tea was finished, he left.”
“You knew I was coming, and you didn’t run?”
“Of course not,” she said. “Actually, I thought he was you when I first saw him, as I’d never seen this lord, but then I realized he was too old.”
Takeo looked back at Nicholas. The viking shrugged.
“Why?” Takeo asked. “Why would you think he was me? Wouldn’t you recognize his blue Katsu colors? Wouldn’t you notice his hair wasn’t cut like a ronin’s? The age difference?”
“I was willing to overlook all those things, at first,” she said, “because of the sword he carried.”
Takeo’s heart skipped. Whatever attention he had directed elsewhere fell away as he focused in on the old woman. She met gaze with equal intensity. She blinked once.
“What would you, a poor commoner who’s never seen her own shogun, know of the sword he carried?” Takeo asked.
“He never drew the blade, but I would recognize that sheath anywhere. Black, smooth, simple and efficient, untouched by time. I think most have heard rumors of what the Karaoshi family sword looks like, but I think precious few know what it’s made of. In fact, I got the impression even Lord Botan didn’t know. After all, hardly anyone has ever heard of treantwood.”
