Takeo's Chronicles, page 29
The crowd booed, but Takeo ignored them. Behind him, he heard Gavin begin yelling at them to wander off or the ogre would dance with one of them next. They wisely listened, and although a few more jeers and insults flew, they began to disperse.
“By Valhalla, Krunk,” Nicholas said between gasps. “How long were you going to hold me down there?”
“Krunk sorry. Krunk forgot,” the ogre muttered, shuffling his fingers and looking down. “Krunk didn’t mean to.”
“Hey, don’t blame him,” Gavin said. “You wanted to fight; you knew the risks. Sometimes he doesn’t know the difference between practicing and the real thing. You should have waited until we got back. You’re lucky we arrived when we did.”
Nicholas pushed himself up to a seated position and took a few deep breaths. He tried to brush the sand off himself but had no luck because his hands were just as dirty as the rest of him. Takeo cringed, knowing the tiny grains were already working themselves into uncomfortable places. Nicholas looked to the samurai and smiled, revealing a mouth just as sand-covered as his skin.
“I’m getting better,” the viking said.
“Yes,” Takeo admitted begrudgingly. “Yes, you are.”
Nicholas and Krunk had joined Takeo and Gavin at the same time three years ago. Krunk had been from the same orphanage as Gavin and had at that time been homeless, unemployed, and ostracized by his own kind. The ogre had joined up with them because he’d had nowhere to go and Gavin was his only friend.
Nicholas, though, had joined for glory.
His life goal was to become the greatest legend of all time in viking lore. Either that, or he would die trying, and Takeo would have bet on the latter. Nicholas had a vision of himself as this ultimate warrior of unstoppable power, capable of slaughtering legions of foes, yet he still took his lessons from a disgraced ronin. Takeo wondered if this fateful dreaming was innate in the Stout family blood or if Nicholas was just jealous of the legendary status his older sister had achieved. Either way, what Nicholas needed was training. He needed to be a better fighter, a stronger warrior, and a smarter tactician. He needed a teacher who could hone and shape him. Three years ago, Takeo had beat Nicholas in a fair fight and had promised to be that teacher so long as Nicholas followed him.
And Takeo had fulfilled that promise. He’d taught Nicholas as much as he could, training him to be not only stronger but also faster, to anticipate his opponents and to learn quickly from his mistakes. Nicholas wasn’t quite the prodigy his sister had been, but he was still a quick learner, and it was telling that, when he fought an ogre, the ogre was tired at the end.
Takeo was training them all, actually. He needed the best warriors for what he intended to do, and they were all three improving remarkably.
“You’re definitely getting better,” Takeo said, “both of you. However, in the future, please wait until Gavin or I are present before you challenge Krunk. You know how he forgets himself.”
“Well, sorry,” Nicholas said and shrugged, clearly not sorry. “I got bored. And how else am I going to maintain my form? There aren’t any rocks to lift in this land, and I can only push and pull my own body weight so many times before I lose my mind. Is it really my fault that wrestling an ogre is the best challenge I can find out here?”
“You want a challenge?” Gavin asked. “We’ll see if you’re saying that when we find a rakshasa.”
“Krunk is sorry,” the ogre repeated.
“You did nothing wrong, Krunk,” Takeo said. “Did you two enjoy yourselves?”
Nicholas and Krunk glanced at each other and nodded.
“Excellent,” Takeo said and forced a smile. “Now, pack your gear. Hyun’s messenger came, and we leave tomorrow morning.”
Chapter 3
In the morning, Takeo and his companions said goodbye to the place they’d called home for several weeks. They’d used the last of Lady Xuan’s coin to rent a sorry excuse for a room in the rough version of an inn this town provided. Between the dirt floor, barren mud-brick walls, lack of windows, and cloth-sheet-of-a-door, one might have thought they’d been scammed, but Takeo was already beginning to miss the little hollow. The room had all the essentials he could ever want: shelter and affordability.
They’d had to forgo the luxury of space, though, and things had been a bit cramped the first night with three men and one ogre wedged inside. Thankfully, Nicholas stopped sleeping with them by the second night, as the viking had found another bed to fill—that of a handsome young man with a pleasant smile and wavy hair who lived just down the road. Takeo found it curious that, as tough as Nicholas tried to appear, he always fell hard for gentle souls. It was also pleasant for Takeo to see that, as their group departed, Nicholas and his temporary lover shared a tinder kiss and a soft touch. Normally, Nicholas would rather piss glass than appear soft of heart, and Takeo had expected the viking to act more like Gavin, eager to leave the sheets before his companion awoke. It seemed that Nicholas was moving on and had not lost his sentimental side, despite losing a loved one, a man named Fritjof. Takeo’s mood brightened at the sight but then soured as he realized he was being a hypocrite.
I’m praising Nicholas for doing what I will not. I’m pathetic.
Takeo didn’t wallow in his self-pity, though. Self-pity was allowed, but not the wallowing. Such things were unnecessary distractions, and he did as his brother had taught him and buried the emotion deep inside his icy heart. Misery would have much company there, in that place where no light dared touch. Then Takeo set his mind to more immediate matters by double-checking his companions’ gear before leaving. The desert, being what it was, meant there was no such thing as a simple walk, for even a short journey could end in death without careful planning and thought. Mostly, it came down to water. It always came down to water.
They filled every container to the brim from the local well, then shut the lids and stuffed the corks as tightly as possible to limit the amount of sand that would inevitably get inside. They calculated the length of time they could travel on this amount of water and then referenced their map to note the locations of any towns and oases they would need to visit to restock. Reliable maps were worth more than weapons in Savara because no warrior or beast killed as often or as painfully as the desert. Towns were normally given preference on maps because, unlike oases, towns had wells that weren’t as prone to drying up. Also, oases weren’t as safe. Sometimes they were home to deadly creatures that would see wandering humans as easy meals. Not to mention that while towns rarely had their water poisoned, one could never be sure if the water of an oasis was safe to drink.
However, thanks to the recent wars, things had changed.
Visiting towns marked on a map was becoming just as much of a gamble as visiting an oasis. Savara was steeped in chaos, torn asunder by a power vacuum that would not be filled, no matter how much blood was spilled. Towns were hotbeds of activity that looked like appealing targets to marauder bands, greedy warlords, and hordes of vengeful, escaped slaves. Those towns that were once safe were now hostile to foreigners, being that the reigning rulers were dreadfully cautious about whom they allowed entrance. Such was life in Savara these past few years after Jabbar’s conquest and subsequent death had upended the region.
So, when Takeo, Gavin, Nicholas, and Krunk met up with Qjang, they all agreed that the safest route to Hyun led along the path with the least amount of human contact.
“You’re probably wondering why I’m traveling alone,” Qjang said as they made for the town’s edge. “What with the reputation of this land. You see, the thing is, one traveler attracts less attention than two in Savara, and two alone aren’t enough to ward off danger. I’m nearly as vulnerable by myself as I am with one other. Actually, I’m not sure why I’m telling you this. You don’t seem surprised.”
Takeo, who indeed hadn’t been surprised, turned to Qjang and blinked his confusion. He hadn’t expected to be read so quickly and easily. He blurted out, “What gave it away?”
“That boredom in your eye.” Qjang gave a curt nod, which Takeo interpreted as an apology. “It only just dawned on me that you grew up in Savara. Or at least that’s what the rumors say.”
“The rumors are true,” Takeo replied, “or at least those. I don’t know what other rumors you’ve heard. Nothing pleasant, I’m sure.”
Qjang went silent, and Takeo felt a flash of regret.
“So, you’re traveling on your own,” he said, pressing on. “Understandable, but it’s still dangerous as you don’t have someone to keep watch when you sleep. I have to ask, is Lady Xuan truly so pressed she can’t send one more samurai with you?”
“I go alone on my own insistence,” Qjang replied, lifting her chin. “Even if my lady sent another with me, that person would stay with Hyun the moment I returned. Hyun can’t spare to send two messengers. There are only twenty of us—”
“Twenty?” Takeo interrupted. “You’ve lost some? Lady Xuan said she sent twenty-five samurai.”
“That’s not surprising either, is it?” Qjang’s pride evaporated into embarrassment, and Takeo wondered at how quickly this woman’s mood changed. She continued, saying, “We’ve been lucky, actually. We’ve only lost three samurai to combat, one to an olgoi-khorkhoi, and one more to illness. We’ve been fortunate, considering the sheer amount of fighting we’ve encountered. Hyun thought twenty-five samurai would be the perfect number—large enough to discourage attacks from bandits, yet small enough not to be a threat to commanders—but unfortunately, the bandits here are foolhardier than we expected, and the commanders threaten too easily. We’re lucky Savara has so many poor fighters. We’ve found their ilk lacks the discipline ingrained within most samurai. Most fights we get into end in a rout on the enemy side.”
“Mercenaries, marauders, and freed slaves aren’t known for their years of training,” Takeo said. “If you’ve only lost three to combat, you haven’t fought any Kshatriya. Those warriors are the samurai equivalent of this land. Like us, they view combat as an art. Unlike us, though, they tend to travel alone or in small groups. They live by a strict code of honor few warlords abide by.”
“Well, if we have fought any, I wouldn’t know. We don’t stop to ask our enemies why they fight us. Besides, those first three deaths of ours happened over seven months ago. Hyun learns quickly, and we’ve avoided encounters since then.”
“Well,” Gavin said, huffing, “that’s the first good thing I’ve heard all day.”
Takeo and Qjang glanced at Gavin walking behind them, with Qjang balking as if she’d forgotten he was there at all. Gavin tensed, apparently not expecting to become the center of attention with that comment. Behind him, Nicholas and Krunk walked side-by-side and shared a confused look with each other.
“Huh?” Nicholas spoke up. “What? I wasn’t listening. Did someone ask me something?”
“Krunk heard someone say, ‘good thing,’ so probably no one talking about you,” the ogre answered.
Nicholas elbowed Krunk in the ribs.
“Well, uh, I’m just saying its good Hyun learns his lessons,” Gavin said, finally finding his voice. “All I know of this Hyun-person is what Takeo has told me. By reputation, Hyun is the most zealous follower in Xuan’s service, so I worried he was only promoted to this task for his loyalty. Sometimes, men and women are given command not because they’re good leaders, but because they kiss the boss’ arse the nicest. This obviously isn’t the case for Hyun, so yeah, that was a compliment. My version of one. Just ignore me. I’ll shut up.”
Gavin clenched his teeth and swore under his breath. Nicholas glanced at the knight and held up a finger.
“Hey, hey,” he said to Qjang, “now that I’m listening, and before this awkward moment ends, I really have to ask a question. I’m going to regret it, but uh, how old are you?”
Takeo groaned, and Qjang furrowed her brows and shook her head. She let her eyes linger on Nicholas before turning back to Takeo, and when she did, an obvious question passed silently between them.
Yes, I keep strange company, he tried to answer with a sigh. With his eyes he tried to say, Gavin is actually quite the gentleman, but it’s been awhile since he tried to court a woman. He doesn’t have much of a shot with you, but you can’t blame him for trying, right? We are samurai, self-isolated people. It’s something he wouldn’t understand. And Nicholas, well, he never learned proper manners anyway. His mother tried to teach him, but he has a—how should I say this—selective memory.
When he obviously failed to communicate all of that with a look alone, he went with an apologetic shrug.
“I mean, come on,” Nicholas pressed. “Your hair is grey! What are you? A grandmother?”
“Nicholas!” Takeo said and then spoke to Qjang. “I’m so sorry. Ignore him, too. He’ll shut up.”
“It’s alright,” she replied. “I’ve been called worse. If you must know, my hair started turning grey when I was twenty. It’s been a little less than a decade since then. It’s just a thing that happens to some people. I’m a mother, not a grandmother.”
“A mother? So where are your children? Did they die?”
“Nicholas!” Takeo stopped in his tracks and whirled on the man.
The viking shrunk back and threw up his hands in defense, but Takeo did not strike. Quickly, Nicholas tried to backpedal.
“I’m sorry!” he said. “It just came out.”
“Your mouth is moving. Fix it.”
Takeo clenched his teeth and gave Nicholas a scathing look. The big man hunched and frowned, then looked at the sand at his feet. Krunk was staring wide-eyed at the exchange, and Gavin was cringing hard enough to appear physically pained. Fortunately, Qjang appeared more shocked than hurt.
“My children are alive and well, last I saw them,” she said. “They’re at home with their father, training to be loyal samurai like their mother.”
“Let’s pretend this never happened, please,” Takeo said. “I’ll be sure to add proper manners to the list of things I’m teaching my companions.”
He let his gaze linger on Nicholas to be sure no more idiotic comments would tumble out and then continued walking. The group moved with him, and a moment of tense silence passed between them. Takeo let it linger for a while, but then he cleared his throat because there was a lot more to discuss.
“Back to Gavin’s comment,” he said. “Yes, it’s good to hear Hyun learns fast. It’s especially good because I have much more to teach him. Now that we’re on our way, I want to tell you what’s in the letter. It’s not private or secret information, so there’s no harm in telling you. Lady Xuan has sent me to offer advice on capturing a rakshasa. Last Lady Xuan had heard, Hyun still hadn’t captured two—or even one. Is that still the case?”
Qjang pursed her lips and heaved a sigh.
“Regretfully, yes. I was surprised to see you yesterday, but by this morning, I’d guessed why our lady sent you. And it hurts to admit we could use the help. We’ve had no luck capturing or even finding one of the illusive creatures. Hyun hasn’t voiced any concern—he’s superb at keeping up our morale—but I’m starting to doubt there are any rakshasas left in Savara. We should have come here sooner.”
As if to demonstrate her point, the five of them passed the edge of town and into the vast expanse of the Savara desert. At the dividing line between civilization and endless sand dunes was a row of nine spears driven into the ground with skulls perched atop them. The skulls weren’t human, as anyone could tell by the set of vicious teeth that adorned the large mouths. They were rakshasa skulls, picked clean by time and bleached white in the sun.
Every major town Takeo had passed through since returning to this land had an arrangement of severed rakshasa heads outside its walls. It was a clear sign that the warlord who controlled this particular speck of land paid rakshasa bounties, which Takeo figured served several purposes. Firstly, it kept living rakshasas away, thus making the warlord feel safer; he or she wouldn’t end up dead and replaced by another Jabbar. Secondly, it was a sign of wealth. This warlord could afford to pay for killed rakshasas, and that meant this warlord had power. He or she would attract more fighters, marauders, and mercenaries to their banner, thanks to these rakshasa heads. They were status symbols that said, Do not take me lightly. I am the hunter, not the hunted.
As they passed along between the severed heads, Takeo couldn’t help but feel that justice had been served. The rakshasas had never done anything good for humanity, and it was about time their kind was wiped from existence.
Odd then, that he was only here because he was contracted to capture two of the beasts for breeding. The irony tasted bitter, that despite his thoughts, it might be him who saved the rakshasa race. Yet his feet kept shuffling forwards and his lips parted to continue the conversation where they’d left off.
“There are still some left out there,” Takeo said. “Hiding somewhere, I’m sure. They can disguise themselves well, shapeshifting into nearly any humanoid form. They’ve experienced genocide once before and survived that. We’ll find two.”
“I hope so,” Qjang said, “for my lady.”
It took a full day to reach their destination. Hyun was expecting Qjang’s return, so he and his men camped out near an oasis at a predetermined location and lit fires so their messenger could find them. Takeo saw the light in the distance as the sun slipped below the horizon on their arrival. There were five fires in all, small and faint in a way that showed the modesty of their camp. At the sight of it, Qjang picked up her pace and called out, letting the camp know it was her who was approaching and that she’d brought company. Some of the darkened figures took notice of her approach and roused others, and four samurai came out from the camp to greet their arrival.
The strangers’ faces became discernable once they were within charging distance, and Takeo noted how not a single one appeared younger than twenty, which piqued his interest. War was considered a young man’s game, as was fetching messengers, so Takeo had expected to see Hyun’s youngest members sent out to greet Qjang. If these four were Hyun’s youngest, then Hyun was a man who preferred older company. Takeo scanned the faces and thought he recognized one of the men with dull brown eyes, but then dismissed the thought instantly. He’d never seen the man before in his life.
