Takeo's Chronicles, page 149
“I found him like this, alone,” Takeo said, leaving the small brazier and taking a stand next to the daimyo. “Qing, Nicholas, and the oni did, too, shortly after. Tokhta and the other oni immediately left, saying the deal is broken.”
Outside, the ever-chatty Nicholas started up a conversation with the guards. The man’s boisterous voice was an annoyance that broke Yoshida from his trance. He took a step towards Nobu but then stopped again, thinking better. He turned a hesitant look towards Takeo.
“I’ve checked for marks,” the ronin answered unprompted. “Qing scouted the tent. No signs of a struggle. No signs that there was anyone in here but Nobu. There’s a tanto on the bed, the ceremonial dagger flecked with just one touch of blood on its tip. We think Nobu tried to seppuku first but couldn’t follow through, so he strung himself up, probably sometime this morning.”
Lord Yoshida could only stand in horror and shock for so long before the clock-like inner workings of his mind went to work, turning and twisting away as hundreds of possibilities flashed before him. His eyes went wider still, and he took in a quick breath.
“The oni are gone,” Yoshida started, whispering.
“My lord, what was that?” Lady Xie asked.
Nicholas was now arguing with the guards outside, something about the army needing to retreat and how vikings would never do such a cowardly thing, followed by some counter from the guards about how Nicholas would run to his ship after raiding a pathetic village.
“Will you shut that man up?” Yoshida demanded. “I can hardly think.”
“Nicholas is making noise on my orders,” Takeo explained. “You don’t want any of the guards, or perhaps anyone else, to overhear our conversation, do you?”
Yoshida paused as his anger slipped away.
“You're right,” the lord said. “As tragic as this is, there’s no time to waste. The oni are gone, and thus the akki, too. We’re in retreat, and our shogun will appear vulnerable. She’s likely to lose more status at this point and bleed further allegiances to our enemies. My little ninja friend, you must agree some drastic countermeasure is needed.”
“Let me guess,” Qing said, arms folded across her chest. “A marriage with you?”
“Precisely,” Yoshida replied, nodding. “That's why you've brought me here, isn't it? Between losing her heir and this battle, our lady will struggle to hold the daimyo to her, all but the most loyal. There needs to be a perceived change in leadership, one most desperately needed, even if—”
Yoshida paused and gestured to Takeo.
“Even if,” he continued, “the leadership stays mostly unchanged. You’ll still lead these armies to victory, Takeo, and no longer will you have to worry about seating either an immature boy or a tyrannical oni on the throne. It can be a capable, knowledgeable individual—me. This way everyone wins. This changes everything.”
“It most certainly does,” Takeo replied.
In the span of two heartbeats, the ronin dropped his arms, drew his sword, and rammed it into Lord Sing’s side. The blade punctured both lungs, judging by how Lord Sing let loose nothing more than a moan before blood gurgled up from his throat. Less than a blink behind, Qing drew a dagger and thrust it point up into Lady Xie’s mouth, nailing her jaw shut before a scream could let loose, the sound instead deadening into her enclosed lips.
Yoshida bellowed a low shout for his guards, but his cry was muffled by the sudden violence, the tent’s thick fabric, and Nicholas’ horrendous shouting just outside. Before Yoshida could scream again, louder this time, Takeo dropped his blade and sprung atop the surviving lord.
Takeo was lightning fast, strong despite his recent injuries, driving one knee into Yoshida’s stomach while a fist connected with his temple. Yoshida’s lungs expunged their air, his sight darkened, and he fell back on the ground. Before he could suck in a breath, Takeo pinned the lord down and wrapped his fingers about Yoshida’s neck. The ronin squeezed.
“I’m sorry, my lord,” Takeo said, gritting his teeth as he strangled Yoshida. “We can’t get any blood on that outfit of yours, so you’ll have to die slowly.”
The daimyo fought for air, clawed at Takeo’s hands, then tried to push the ronin away. No attempt seemed to have any effect. The ronin outright ignored the struggles and continued to squeeze the life from the old man. Yoshida mouthed any word he could think of, “Stop, no, wait, please, why?”
“Don’t make this harder than it has to be,” Takeo replied. “You brought this on yourself. I would have gladly served you, or any lord or lady, if only for one stinking moment they would appreciate all I’ve sacrificed to help them. My love, my friends, now even my family, just once I wished someone would look down and realize all I could mean to them. I thought that could be you, my lord, I really did, but then you had to go and stab me in the back. Say what you will of Lady Zhenzhen, but at least she’s never tried to sabotage me. In her own, strange way, she loves me.”
Consciousness faded in and out for Yoshida, which at this point seemed a blessing considering the pain that wracked his throat and mind as he was deprived of life-giving oxygen. He couldn’t fight Takeo anymore. He hadn’t the strength. Takeo’s last words were barely comprehensible, as was Nicholas’ loathsome shouting growing ever fainter. Lord Yoshida’s eyes rolled back, dropping Takeo to the bottom of his vision and bringing into view the tent’s roof flickering in orange light.
Then another person came into view as darkness blurred the edges of his vision, an older man with a commanding aura that took but half a second for Yoshida to recognize as himself. While his body went numb, he was struck by a dim curiosity. Was Takeo truly so cruel as to hold a mirror over the lord’s head as he died? The thought was never finished, however, as things went dark and the pain faded away.
Takeo kept his grip on Yoshida’s neck until he was absolutely sure the lord had passed. During the ordeal, Qing had to pull the two bodies away lest their wounds pool blood on the old daimyo. They needed his clothing as immaculate as when the lord came in. The dirt from the floor could be brushed off. Blood would be too obvious.
In the meantime, Emy stood over Yoshida and concentrated, adjusting her disguise to match the lord in every way. She changed the hair color once, twice, adjusted the follicles, lengthened, then shrunk her nose, and even matched the lips where they had cracked. Takeo thought to tell her that such complexity wouldn’t be noticed on this dark night, but then thought better. Nothing could be left to chance.
Once Yoshida was dead, they stripped his corpse, and Emy donned the clothing.
“Any questions?” Takeo asked.
“None,” Emy said, mimicking Yoshida’s voice with bone-chilling accuracy.
“Get to it, then. By the sounds of it, Nicholas is about to start a fight with the guards.”
The arguing outside was indeed growing rambunctious. Nicholas’ shouts were barely audible over the others, and Takeo feared the viking had gone too far, rousing suspicion. Emy put an end to that, though, slipping through the tent’s exit and demanding an explanation for all the noise. The guards instantly went silent, except for one that dared indicate Nicholas’ rude insults, but Emy only replied that she expected better from those who served the Yoshida family. She then rattled off a sharp demand to send messages to all the daimyo in the camp. She needed parchment, ink, and the Yoshida wax seal immediately, as she needed to distribute orders that dared not be defied.
One guard asked where the other daimyo were, and Emy replied simply with, “Did I stutter?”
Silence followed, minus the pounding footsteps of several guards sprinting off.
Takeo smiled.
“Have Nicholas dispose of the bodies,” he said to Qing. “He won’t like it, but there’s no one else. Dig some shallow graves right here in this tent. We need only to keep this a secret for tonight. It won’t matter after that. You’ll be ready by morning?”
“Of course,” Qing said.
“Don’t fail me.”
Qing looked down at the three dead bodies, each in turn, before turning her cold gaze back on Takeo.
“I can't. There’s no other path to victory now,” she said. “You’ve made sure of that.”
“We, elf,” Takeo corrected. “We made sure.”
Chapter 19
The dead space between the Hanu camp and the Katsu keep was the perfect landscape for skulking about, especially at night. The tall grass, despite being trampled under a ladder assault, still provided ample cover. Add to this the boulders and bodies strewn about; it was difficult for Takeo to follow Emy’s movements when she was right in front of his face, let alone what the guards atop the high Katsu walls were trying to see. Having served up there more than once in his life, Takeo knew the guards were doing little but acting as a deterrent. The walls were doing most of the work all on their own, while the swift flowing moat took care of the rest. Even with the Hanu camp so close at hand, most everyone knew that attempting to cross into the Katsu keep was a suicide attempt for any normal person.
Hence Lord Botan had taken extra precautions.
“He’s added spikes to the lower embankment,” Emy explained as she and Takeo crossed from one boulder to the next, edging closer to the moat. “There’s nowhere to stand or hide, and the rocks have been cleared away, so there’s little to grab, assuming you can fight the current.”
“None of that matters,” Takeo answered, pausing to wince as one of his fresh wounds stabbed him with pain, protesting the way he crouched in the grass. “Just tell me how you get inside.”
“I don’t know if you can follow me. It’s tough, even for a rakshasa.”
Takeo didn’t reply. Emy sighed.
“The guards have a permanent posting at the moat’s entrance and exit,” she explained, “leaving the middle section guarded on a pacing schedule, so there’s a small gap if I time it right. I cross at the dead center, near the drawbridge. The wood is easier to climb than the stone, and there is a small chain sticking out in the crack between the wall and the drawbridge about halfway up. I watch the guards for the right moment, dash across the moat, pick through the spikes, scale the drawbridge to the chain, then vault up to the ledge. One time, I got lucky and was fast enough to clear the distance before a guard came. The next time, I had to disguise myself as a drunken woman who’d lost her way. Even then, the guard must have thought I was a ninja, as he went to yell, and I had to snap his neck and toss him over before anyone else arrived. I don’t think they found his body, but Botan’s paranoia takes no chances. He doubled the guard after that. Time will be impossibly short.”
“Lead the way,” Takeo replied.
Emy blinked. She knew better than to question him, yet she couldn’t stop herself from wanting to. It must have bothered her rakshasa mind to no end that a mere human could baffle her, so she instead refocused her efforts. Takeo could see the way her attention pulled away as she thought for one, two seconds, then twitched her whiskers.
She nodded, indicating she understood.
“It doesn’t matter if they see us,” she said.
“The gatehouse,” Takeo continued. “Get us there. Leave the bodies in our wake if need be.”
“Are you strong enough to hold on?”
Takeo scoffed. “I’ll choke you if I have to.”
Emy smiled, her canines shining white in the low light. They slipped into the darkness and made their way to the moat.
Takeo’s stomach churned as they passed the spot where he and Botan had fought. The komainu corpses lay untouched, though now they were marred with the bloat and stench of death. Their carcasses oozed onto the plains, yet also provided excellent cover, so neither Takeo nor Emy hesitated to skirt the edges of those masses of flesh. Takeo briefly caught sight of the area where Botan might have ended him, if not for the diabolical cleverness of one lone jinni.
It occurred to Takeo that immunity to his sword had not been a part of his wish. For a moment, he wondered what that meant. Was that ability part of the curse, perhaps? No, it couldn’t be, could it?
But that was all the attention he had to spare. That simple distraction cost him dearly as his foot caught a dried weed in the darkness and crunched it. Doubtful though it was that the sound would carry over the moat and up the walls, Takeo and Emy instinctively dove into the grass, and Takeo cursed himself. As usual in times of error, he thought of his brother and how a mistake like that would have earned Takeo a severe beating.
Well, he couldn’t really call it severe. Severe implied a beating more violent than normal. To Okamoto, severe was normal.
Emy’s tail flicked, indicating her annoyance, but she had sense enough not to look back. Takeo gathered himself, and when she set off again, he followed with all his attention on the task at hand. They reached the edge of the moat soon after.
In one way, this was the most dangerous part of their journey. The ground over here had been pounded flat by the opening and closing of the drawbridge for a lifetime. Plus, the weeds and grass had been cleared away to make a more royal entrance that led into the fortress. Hence there was little cover, yet they had to stay here awhile for Emy to scan the walls above, timing the guards.
“Soon,” she whispered.
Takeo climbed onto her back, hooking one arm around her neck and the other about her shoulder. His gaze slipped down to the swift moving moat mere feet from their hiding place, and he began to regulate his breathing so that he was ready to hold his breath in an instant.
There was no need for him to scan the walls. There was nothing he could see that she would not.
Without warning, Emy dove from the grass and into the water. Half of Takeo’s prepared air was forced from his lungs as chilly saltwater slammed into his eyes, ears, nose, and wounds, and Emy’s hair instantly became matted and slick to his grip. She dove deep, so that they traveled in total darkness while the current pulled at them with unrelenting strength. Takeo’s lower body drifted away, which he allowed so as not to interfere with the rakshasa’s powerful strokes. His lost air turned out to be of no concern as Emy turned upwards and breached the night air in half the time Takeo had expected.
Not a moment was lost. Before Takeo took a refreshing breath, Emy scampered up the shore and into the pike nest. Takeo wrapped his legs and arms about her body, but even this proved a problem as Emy was now wider than usual. Fresh cuts adorned Takeo’s legs as rusted spear tips marred their path, but this too was over quickly. Emy only went half-through before leaping onto the walls.
Her rakshasa claws extended and dug into the ancient wood as the two slammed up against the solid surface. The ronin’s head struck one of Emy’s shoulder blades. His legs slipped from around her matted fur and clothing, but a dire need and a strong sense of survival kept his arms locked like iron bars. He could feel his forearm digging into Emy’s neck, cutting off her air, but not a word was uttered from either of them.
Emy did not wait for Takeo to steady himself before climbing.
Claws dug into timber, and she hauled both herself and Takeo into the night sky. Occasionally they struck an old nail, a rusted hinge, or even a large metal brace, but although things these slowed her progress, she did not stop. Her hind legs added to the ascent, climbing until the ground below was a mass of shadows.
The scene shifted again, and without warning, Emy came away from the wall, causing Takeo’s stomach to lurch as they were flung out over the abyss, raining saltwater, and it took a half-second pause for Takeo to realize Emy had reached the chain. When they swung back to the wall, her feet softened their impact, and she began to climb twice as fast, hauling their combined weight with ease. Takeo dangled down, choking Emy further. He used his left arm to yank on her shoulder and swing his lower body up, wrapping his legs about her waist and interlocking his feet. His arm eased off her throat, and Emy took a deep breath of air.
They propelled themselves towards the wall’s lip, or so it appeared as the combination of wood, stone, and darkness drifted by them. Takeo scanned the edge, spying a torch’s light radiating against the parapet some short distance to their right and lazily approaching. He resisted the urge to grab his sword, instead tightening his grip on the rakshasa for the final vault that would take them into the Katsu fortress.
Emy let loose a tiny growl as she summoned strength, then yanked on the chain and kicked with her feet in a single motion. Takeo was yanked like he was riding atop a komainu that had broken into a sprint, hair streaming through the air while he gritted his teeth, until Emy’s claws scraped against the stone edge. They came to a brief stop, heralded by a soldier making an alarmed shout. The second Emy was over the wall, Takeo released her, dropping to the walkway while she dashed with inhuman speed. The soldier didn’t have time for a second shout as rakshasa claws tore out his throat. The torch clattered to the ground.
From behind, another voice called out into the darkness, wondering what the first had been about.
“Let’s go,” Takeo commanded, picking himself up and drawing his blade.
There was no need for a direction. Takeo understood this fortress like the curve of his sword, and Emy had spent a fair bit of time getting acquainted with the place, too. They dashed to the nearest set of stone steps that would take them down to the gatehouse.
And that’s when their luck ran out.
Inside the fortress, the place was lit in strategic locations with sconce torchlight, the two nearest being one at the top of the stairs and one at the bottom. As Emy and Takeo reached the open staircase that would take them down to the courtyard, they found themselves bathed in light just as two soldiers were beginning their ascent from the bottom. All four paused only so long as it took to blink before the soldiers pulled their weapons free and began to charge up the stairs, shouting at the intruders so loud their voices echoed about the courtyard like a gong.
