Takeo's Chronicles, page 169
And what would he say then? That he gave up his chance at victory, at peace, at a unity worthy of Emily’s memory, and for what? For the reluctant tolerance of an ex-knight and a wayward viking? For a fancy sword that kept him alive just one day longer? For a forced marriage to his rapist?
And in the end, Qadir would go on living while all those who died would have done so for nothing. All who were lost would count for nothing because the ronin had turned into a coward at the last moment.
They would say that he could not do what needed to be done.
Takeo’s hands steadied. He retracted his nails from his skin and looked at his sword, lying inert before him. Calm, cold confidence washed over him, and he knew what he had to do—what he would do.
He grabbed the blade, sheathed it, and left the tent.
Chapter 14
Takeo walked rather than rode back to the trees. He went alone, needing nothing more than a short command to keep his temporary guards stationed at the camp’s edge. He did not fear an ambush, or that is to say, he didn’t fear dying in one. His spirits were so low that he thought death at the hands of a dozen oni would be a welcome sight. After all, what choice would he have? If the oni had changed their minds at the last second, then Takeo was hopeless, and he’d rather die to assassination than live in the shame of defeat. Perhaps he’d be remembered as a martyr rather than a pretender.
He didn’t mind going in broad daylight with the warm afternoon sun beating down on him. Doubtless his lone venture would attract attention, but so what? There was nothing secret between him and Qadir any longer. The rakshasa had played his hand, and it would be clear to the beast’s clever mind that Aiguo had turned traitor, what with the ronin still alive.
Takeo didn’t even mind going alone. Gavin had gone off to find his family. Nicholas and the Pranav boy couldn’t be found soon enough. Aiguo was gone, or unable to be found, but that didn’t surprise Takeo, nor did he care. Aiguo and his forgetful face would always be a pain to locate unless he wanted to be found. Perhaps he’d gone back to Qadir to grovel for forgiveness? That wouldn’t change Takeo’s situation. He hadn’t even bothered to check on Emy before he left.
Takeo just didn’t care anymore.
All those people and all their stupid, distracting lives would cease to matter very, very soon. Takeo would put his future in oni hands. It would be like trying to stab an enemy by holding a knife by the blade.
“There’s no going back from this,” he whispered to himself, feeling his heartbeat slow as he paced through the tall grass. “Not for anyone.”
Takeo entered the treeline, and there his eyes caught flashes of red among the brown-green flora. Tokhta was sitting among the woods, and as the wind’s strength broke against the trees, the oni’s heavy breathing could be heard. Takeo paced to the creature, his feet snapping dead twigs as he walked.
“Well then,” Tokhta murmured, eyes closed and trunk-like arms folded across his massive chest. “That was fast. I didn't expect you back until tomorrow, or perhaps the day after.”
Takeo took in the oni with a new perspective. He’d always examined them as one would an enemy, or a pest, looking for weaknesses and faults. Now he looked at Tokhta as a general would look at a soldier, measuring capability.
In many ways, oni could come off as large, red ogres, just as ogres could be seen as large, purple vikings. While Krunk had been a head or two taller than Nicholas, Tokhta had been a head or two taller than Krunk. And with that increased height came increased mass, for oni were bulky and wide, insinuating a strength that either rivaled or surpassed that of a minotaur. Horns protruding from their head, jagged teeth and canines, and hands that ended in red claws helped complete their look as some strange predator caught between an animal and humanoid form.
As to what they could do with this form, Takeo was all too familiar.
Although they appeared lazy and slow, oni were capable of great bursts of speed. Wielding those massive kanabo clubs, an oni had an effective reach in combat unlike any other opponent Takeo had faced besides a hydra. Being immortal, they were absurdly hard to kill, and even then, that was only temporary. An oni wasn’t killed, per se, only banished until it could find a way back from whatever plane of existence it spawned from.
Takeo had seen an oni take an arrow in the neck and walk away. He’d seen one take a hammer blow to the skull and be nothing more than annoyed. He’d seen them kill a dozen men with one swing, ram a komainu to the ground, and a half dozen other feats unthinkable for anything but these anointed effigies of brutality.
To see the havoc a couple dozen of them could do as a concentrated force? As a human, Takeo feared to see it. As a general, he longed for it.
“Qadir’s attack was more coordinated than I ever could have imagined,” Takeo replied. “His planning was so meticulous that each attack carried out across the land was done so at just the right time for every message to find me on the same day. Qadir made sure that I’d have no time to counter any of his plans, and he also made sure I felt the weight of every attack all at once. But it wasn’t just me he was after. This will shatter the army’s morale. If you’d carried out your part of the deal and killed me, the entire Hanu force would have disintegrated overnight when the remaining generals received those messages.
“Even if I mounted one final assault on the fortress, my men would be so distraught that I don’t doubt all but the strongest would break and run, assuming they didn’t desert before the fight. Afterwards, the sheer cost would be so substantial that I’d lose the war, despite reigning victorious over the fortresses—if I won at all.”
“Ah, the fragility of the human body and spirit. And you think akki are unreliable.”
“They are,” Takeo bit back. “Don’t compare my kind to those things. At least humans only give up when they have good reason.”
“Like you’re doing now?”
Takeo balked and his next words caught in his throat. Tokhta’s lips twisted up in a smile, spilling out jagged teeth the length of Takeo’s forearm.
“Before we begin,” the oni continued, “I’d be curious to know what broke you. You were so vehemently opposed to my offer, yet you seem so defeated now. I can’t help but feel there’s more to this than Qadir’s plan. I’ve seen you defeated before, Takeo, seen your anger and resourcefulness in those desolate times. The cloud of failure that hangs over you now is new. It looks self-imposed.”
Takeo didn’t have the strength to fight that observation. He hung his head and let his shoulders droop just a hair lower. His insides felt hollowed out, a great void consuming his heart and mind in the vain attempt to block out the pain. Not a shred of happiness could be found in this moment.
“It hurts you, doesn’t it?” Tokhta said with his smile. “To ask for help? To admit that you can’t do it alone? I’ve noticed you aren’t used to bargaining. It’s either serve or be served in your mind. If you are given an order by a superior, you obey without question, and when you lead, you expect the same. Bartering doesn’t suit you. You’ll make a great emperor.”
The praise hurt more than any insult could. To hear an oni vouch for him drove a spike into Takeo’s mind, and his head bowed low with the weight of his shame. When next he spoke, it was as much to himself as it was to Tokhta.
“Some men can’t avoid destiny,” he said. “The course of their entire lives is determined before they’re born, and the only way out is to die. That’s what Nobu did. Unfortunately, I’m not that strong.
“You see, I could give up. It would be so easy. I have no lands that would be burned upon my defeat or family that would be put to the sword to end my lineage. If I left Juatwa, it’s unlikely anyone would follow me. Admittedly, a number of peasants and soldiers would be disappointed in the decision, but what of it? They’ll have long forgotten about me by this time next year, assuming another war or famine doesn’t strike first. Even my friends, those closest to me, would be relieved to see me put this all aside.
“Yet I can’t do it. If I do that, then everyone died for nothing. Emily died for nothing. And people will continue to die for nothing. This war will end, sure, but another will take its place. Then the suffering will never stop, and I can’t let that happen.
“Before I strangled Lord Yoshida in front of Nobu’s corpse, he asked me why I did this to myself. Why place so much burden on my shoulders? Who made me the chosen one? I never replied, but I know the answer now: I did.”
Takeo raised his head and drew his sword. He held it in both hands, vertically an inch from his nose, and closed his eyes. The flames spread through his skin and into his veins, filling his body with power and raw energy. So much potential, so much might—just not enough.
Useless, he thought, and cast it to the ground.
His body went cold as ash.
“Let’s get this over with,” Takeo said. “I want command of the oni, all of them, without question. I want the Nguyen fortress crushed in humiliating defeat. You want my soul. Take it. I never liked that jinni anyway.”
“This will be the deal, yes.”
“So, what do you need? My word?”
Tokhta breathed deep.
“The bond requires a bit more than that,” he replied. “You may have cast your sword down too early. It must be covered in your blood, given willingly.”
“Well that won’t work,” Takeo said. “That blade won’t cut me.”
“Truly?” Tokhta said, cocking an eyebrow.
“Yes. I’m not sure if that was the jinni’s intention or an unintended side effect. Who knows, perhaps it was protection against just this sort of deal? But not to worry, I still bleed.”
Takeo drew a dagger and ran the blade through the palm of his left hand, eyes fluttering through the pain. Then he held his hand out and squeezed until red droplets were wrung out, dripping onto the Karaoshi sword with quiet splatters. Unlike all other blood that touched this sword, his did not burn when it touched the blade.
“That will do,” Tokhta said.
Takeo drew his hand back and released the pressure. The thin wound did not stop bleeding, but the flow slowed. He pressed it to his clothes. In silence, following the oni’s lead, the two of them waited.
Takeo wasn’t sure what was going to happen next, until his feet started to tingle. But then the feeling intensified, and he realized it wasn’t him. The ground shook, growing in strength. The sensation grew rapidly until the trees rumbled and the wood cracked. Takeo had to widen his stance to keep from falling over. He resisted backing away only because he couldn’t identify the source. Tokhta stood firm as always, ignoring how the entire world was thundering until the ground split.
The oni jumped back then, and Takeo, too, as a thin line cracked in a jagged path along the sword’s length, spitting dirt but also steam, then fire, then snow. Takeo gaped in wonder as the land opened up, pulling apart around the sword in a vivid display. The dirt gave way to an alien world of fire and ice, split evenly upon each side of the blade. On Tokhta’s side, fire and magma burst out, starting small grass fires. On Takeo’s side, white-blue snow and shards of ice whirled in a blizzard, freezing the ground dead in a web of cold.
The sword fell into the mix, handle first, then sunk like a ship until the bloodied tip was swallowed whole. Then the ground snapped shut, and total silence returned. The only evidence left behind was a ring of grass, half of it burnt to a crisp, the other half frozen solid.
Takeo gaped, sweat forming on his brow despite the icy winds that had blanketed him moments before. He hadn’t moved. He kept his wide stance, waiting for the world to shake again, but it held still. He looked around, looked at himself, and waited. Nothing felt different. He expected something to feel different.
Tokhta closed his eyes, raised his chin, and let loose a blood curdling roar.
“Is it over?” Takeo asked when the oni finished. “What happens now?”
“Now, my lord,” Tokhta replied, “we fulfill our end of the bargain.”
The ground began to tremble again, and Takeo feared the world would split once more, but this was different. Takeo knew this. He looked around and saw they weren’t alone anymore.
All the oni had come.
* * *
The approaching oni horde sent the Hanu camp into an uproar. Horns sounded, sentries went running, and troops were roused. They managed to comb together a strong defensive line until people noticed that Takeo Karaoshi was at the head of the oni column. Even then, they didn’t relent, thinking their eyes deceived them until Takeo’s callous voice commanded them to make way.
It took time, but they did. Reluctantly at first, but then with vigor as they hurried to avoid being trampled. The oni did not slow. Thus, the Hanu defensive line became a crowd of spectators as two dozen oni marched in ranks behind the ronin, weapons resting on their shoulders and crazed eyes focused on the mountain ahead.
Takeo was glad the mistake had been made. The horns would rouse the entire camp, and the more witnesses the better.
The faces that watched them wore jumbled expressions of confusion, shock, and fear. Never before had so many oni been gathered in one spot, and never before had they acted with such determination. They didn’t march in step or follow each other at an even pace, but to see them walk in any sort of lazy formation at all was impressive. The ground trembled at their combined weight, but the air was otherwise deathly still at their passing.
Takeo did not spare a look at his common troops. He could not risk a glimmer of doubt or regret slipping through his aura of confidence. Of all the things Takeo had done, he knew this would shake the foundation of his soldiers’ loyalty. It was possible that they would not see these oni as welcomed comrades, but instead as unwanted replacements that stained their honor and sacrifice. However, total victory and a show of utter confidence would see them through the turmoil, just as the Hanu lords and ladies of old had done.
Above all else, soldiers loved to win.
The oni column reached the inner edge of the Hanu ring surrounding the Nguyen fortress and kept on marching through the plains, over low hills, and into the burned-out ruins of the old village that used to sit in the mountain’s shadow. Horns were ringing out from the Nguyen fortress now, followed by short cries and unintelligible commands.
Takeo looked up the narrow pathway that spiraled around the mountain to the top, broken by three standalone gates before one finally reached the fortress’ walls and the last entryway into the place. He took in the lack of cover, the thick stone barriers, the steep ground, the number of vantage points for the defenders, and the sheer impossibility of assaulting this impregnable monument.
Then he took a breath and gave the command to destroy it.
“Now.”
Behind and to Takeo’s right, Tokhta roared, and the oni charged. They broke into a burst of speed that would rival a komainu as they thundered passed Takeo. Their stampede shook the ground until the burned-out ruins around them crumbled, and the red oni feet sent up a cloud of dust. The Nguyen defenders broke from their trance as someone gave the command to loose defenses, and a hundred arrows rained down from the mountainside. Each human-killing shaft that struck an oni might as well have missed for all the good it did as the oni never so much as flinched until they reached the first gate at the mountain’s base.
Layers upon layers of thick stone shook in place as a horde of oni muscle mass and bone rocked into it. The human defenders atop the walls screamed and scrambled to man their defenses. The thick gate, sealed shut with several iron bars locked in place, was utterly useless as the oni were nearly as tall as the walls themselves. The first oni to hit the walls leapt up to catch the stony lip, and the oni below shoved their brethren up into the air. The first impenetrable defense was breached in moments, and the oni began to lay waste to structures and defenders alike.
Nguyen soldiers screamed as oni weapons cleared the walls, sending green-armored men flying in several directions and spraying red blood into the air. The first few oni over the wall jumped down to the other side and shattered the gate’s locks, bashing the doors open as if they were made of paper. Arrows poured down from above, but the oni kept their heads down, and the shafts broke uselessly into the wide, fleshy parts of their backs and shoulders.
The oni horde roared and charged up the hill. Burning oil, meant to be poured on normal human attackers, spilled out over the scene, setting the gate’s remains aflame.
Takeo raised his chin and walked unarmed through the destruction.
The path ahead narrowed and grew steep. The oni rounded the next bend and came into sight of the ballistae on the fortress walls. Huge crossbows manned by several soldiers, these devices hurled massive spears like an arrow from a bow. Although cumbersome and slow to reload, these weapons could hold a choke point unlike any other.
The first oni in line took a spear the size of a man’s leg through the stomach.
Black blood shot out its back, spraying the ground and those behind the oni. The creature stumbled and hit the ground, but miraculously pushed itself to its feet before a second bolt took it in the shoulder, spinning the oni about and sending the creature careening over the mountainside. It howled before it hit the rocks, its neck snapping under its own gargantuan weight.
The oni behind never paused.
Two bolts that would have killed a dozen men and stopped the assault did nothing but slow the oni by a single body length. They continued charging upwards, eating up the distance faster than the ballistae atop the next gate could reload. Two more bolts shot out, as well as four more from up top that rained down. Another oni was impaled and knocked over, taking a third with him, but not every spear hit, and suddenly the next gate was under assault and fared no better than the first.
