Takeo's Chronicles, page 68
However, if there was one good thing about having an oni, it was the lack of having to take watch. Every night, the mortals slept uninterrupted from dusk to dawn, knowing there was an alert set of eyes nearby that didn’t mind sitting still for hours at a time. They took full advantage and were well rested by the time they made contact with the samurai army.
The canyons had lessened in height and number slowly over time, giving way to the churning, cutting power of water and the ever thirsty forest. Each day brought less traveled ground, more flowery trees, and fewer changes in elevation. By the time they reached the coastal marshes of Juatwa’s fabled southwestern region, one might assume they’d entered a more tranquil version of the Forest of Angor, what with its lush landscape and impeding terrain. They ran into a village or two along the way, but they were all burned out hallows of corpses and ashen remains. The last one was where Borota said they were supposed to stay, and so they waited in the pyre’s aftermath.
“The first victims of the viking raids, I’ll bet,” Takeo said, standing over a pile of small bones. “They must have had no warning.”
“How can you tell?” Gavin said, walking over and them grimacing. “By the angels, is that a child?”
“What?” Nicholas said, standing erect. “No. Vikings don’t kill children.”
“Well, maybe this was a dwarf then,” Takeo replied sarcastically. “And to answer your question, I know they had no warning because they are dead. Remember, Juatwa is a place of constant war. Peasants don’t put down roots in this land like they do in Lucifan. Anyone not surrounded by stone walls and an army makes certain they can pack up and leave at any moment, and Juatwa is bountiful enough to make relocating easy. If this village had heard the vikings come, they would have fled like the wind. Chances are word has spread and there aren’t any populated villages within miles anymore. It’s a wonder the vikings haven’t left yet. Who are they raiding now?”
“Us,” came a voice from the woods.
All but Borota whirled on the voice, drawing weapons. Two young samurai in red laminar armor stepped out from behind cover, weapons sheathed. They looked no older than Kuniko, yet battle weary and tried all the same. The two stood at attention and bowed deep. Takeo and the others lowered their weapons, and Takeo and Kuniko bowed in return.
“Borota,” one of the samurai said. “We had word Lady Zhenzhen was sending assistance. Who are these sellswords, and where are the reinforcements?”
The oni grumbled and jerked his horned head at Takeo. The two samurai looked about at the mixed group and then shared a bewildered look.
“This can’t be them,” the other said, voice pitching with the sounds of youth. It made Takeo cringe. “We need more, at least one hundred more. This is just a couple of mercenaries. What good is that? And who are you two?”
He nodded at Takeo and Kuniko, and Takeo sighed, sheathing his weapon. He stepped forward, dodging charred wood and piles of ashen bone. The two young samurai got a closer look at him, their eyes going wide as they caught sight of his shoulder-length hair.
“I’m the only reinforcements you’ll be getting,” Takeo said. “I’m Takeo Karaoshi. Please, take me to Lord Eun.”
* * *
As expected, they didn’t believe him at first. It took a short-winded confirmation from Borota and then Kuniko to confirm what sounded farfetched for the two youths. Just before Takeo ran out of patience, they agreed to take him to the camp.
The group trudged into the forest, forming a single line as they stepped over blossoming flowers, small streams, and around old trees. The moss covering everything in sight made their steps soft, like walking on plush rugs, and the smells of scented flowers and crisp coastal air did all within its power to set them at ease.
Takeo kept one hand firmly attached to his katana.
As it turned out, Eun had chosen a terrible place to set up camp as far as Takeo was concerned. The two youngsters led them deep into the forest and they came upon a small clearing with not nearly enough space between the tents and surroundings trees. The place could have been an horribly organized ninja camp for all Takeo’s eyes saw, as row after row of small tents were erected east to west, with a larger central tent in the center that drew attention. Due to the clearing’s small size, the tents were forced together, making small walkways between them, and there wasn’t more than two paces from the nearest tree to the furthest tent, which would make defending the place an absolute nightmare if the vikings ever got bold enough.
And this camp wasn’t silent or mobile like a ninja one. Takeo could hear the sounds of banging pots and laughter far in the distance, and the tents were held up by strong poles and heavy stakes as if they planned on staying there a long time. Not to mention the place was a mess.
Between empty barrels, laundry hanging out to dry, and the stench of men and women too long between baths, Takeo could see in a flash that Lord Eun had either a laissez-faire attitude or worse, a severely weak grasp on those under his command. Soldiers were people, too, and like people, they tended toward a lazy attitude whenever they could get away with it, especially the young.
And these samurai were most certainly young.
Between the lack of facial hair and height, Takeo could have entered a recruiting barracks with all the high-pitched voices he was hearing. Usually the shorter one in a group, Takeo now towered over most of the samurai wandering around, and their lack of hygiene didn’t do enough to hide their smooth, youthful skin. They laughed loudly, sat in circles segregated by sex, and looked bashfully at each other when they caught another’s eye. Everyone walked with a light-heartedness that one expected from immortals, or at least those who thought themselves immortal, and Takeo grimaced as he remembered the samurai caste was considered partial royalty in Juatwa, or at least a level above the ordinary peasant. It took blood and experience to be named a samurai, but in place of that, blood and wealth worked just as well.
As Takeo and the others entered the clearing, they were challenged far too late. The two samurai spoke for them, and as Takeo’s full name was announced, a silence swept over the camp. Passage was granted, but suspicious eyes and whispering voices accompanied their progress. They made straight for the central tent, and behind them, a crowd began to form.
The command tent was large enough to stand up and walk around in. Under Juatwa’s warm afternoon sun, the tent flaps had been rolled up in the front and back for airflow, and inside sat an old man playing dice with a young woman. He had thin arms and legs, but still sported a gut that protruded out at the waist, and he looked as old as all the years of the people around him combined. Time had not been good to him, judging by the white hair, deep wrinkles, and sun-spotted skin, but he seemed to be enjoying himself otherwise until he realized a throng had gathered outside his tent.
The two guides stepped up and bowed deeply, gaining the old man’s attention briefly. He looked straight past them and eyed Takeo and his entourage as if he was certain this was all a bad dream.
“Lord Eun,” one of the samurai said. “The reinforcements from Lady Zhenzhen have arrived.”
The youngster stood back up and went slack. Eun didn’t move, other than to cast his gaze down the line of non-samurai, pausing to squint at Takeo’s haircut and shake his head.
“Well,” he said. “Where are they?”
“This is them, Lord,” came the answer. A finger was raised and directed at Takeo, which made him take a deep breath of preparation. “This is Takeo Karaoshi. He’s here to . . . to relieve you of command.”
The silence following those words was so complete that it mocked the dead. Takeo could hear his own heartbeat, and he was actually impressed. This is how the camp should sound all the time, he thought. These people are supposed to be at war, not lounging around during guard duty.
“That,” Eun stammered, taking a breath. “That can’t be. Takeo Karaoshi? It can’t be. No, that’s not possible. Lady Zhenzhen would never.” He was cut off as Borota grumbled and nodded. Some of the color drained from Eun’s face, and he looked to Takeo, who nodded as well. “Over my dead body,” Eun said.
“That can be arranged,” Takeo replied.
He marched out from his group, pushing aside the two young samurai to stand at the front of the tent’s entrance. He turned his back on Eun and addressed the growing throng, most of whom had mouths agape.
“Listen up,” Takeo said. “If you want to question Lady Zhenzhen’s judgement or state of mind, you can either do it in private or take it up with her directly. I simply don’t care. If any of you would like to question my loyalty, you can direct those questions to Lady Xuan Nguyen. I’ll arrange the meeting. Lady Zhenzhen has sent me here because word is that this viking problem hasn’t been resolved yet, and she’s tired of waiting. I’m sure you all have plenty of excuses, and I honestly want to hear them all, but before we can do that, we’ll have to make sure it’s firmly understood that I’m in charge now.”
The crowd swung to Borota, clearly still in disbelief, but the oni did nothing more than give a slow, disinterested blink. Meanwhile, Takeo’s eyes fell on Kuniko. He didn’t know what this particular group of samurai thought of him, but Kuniko’s attitude was his best guess and he acted on it.
“Now, a lot of you have probably heard stories about me,” Takeo said, folding his arms behind his back and walking parallel to the crowd. “I know the old guard is fond of slandering my name, calling me ruthless, undeserving of respect. They probably tell you about how I came up from the gutter with no honor to my name, and that I once served a shogun faithfully, only to turn on him and bring about his demise. You’ve probably heard stories about me traveling with the Angels’ Vassal, and how she was found dead in my arms. If not, then you’ve most certainly heard about Lady’s Xuan death, and the rumors that I killed her personally. They say I’m a ronin, and that death follows me like a plague. As to all of these rumors, I’d like to clear them up here and now—they’re all true.”
He let the words descend on the group like thick, thickening the air and laying down a blanket of silence. He stopped at the edge of the tent, turned, and walked the other direction. His every step was slow and deliberate.
“Now, a lot of you will think this makes me unworthy to lead,” Takeo said. “That you can ignore my commands and get away with it. I look forward to finding out which of you will attempt such foolish so I can make an example out of you. If you truly want me gone, then you’ll do as I say, because I leave when the vikings are dead, and I truly want them dead. Don’t worry, I won’t make you do anything you’re not comfortable with, like call me ‘lord’ or even ‘sir.’ Titles are meaningless drivel anyway. I don’t even expect you to follow me if you’re truly better than me. I mean that.”
He paused again, coming to the other end of the tent. The air was perfectly still in this little clearing, and the relentless silence of all those around him spoke volumes more than any shouting would ever do. Takeo turned and paced back.
“I’ll make a promise,” he said. “Unlike any lord or lady who might lead you, I will never command a man or woman I cannot defeat. In my army, if you best me, if you kill me in fair one-on-one combat, you are granted the right to lead. That stands true whether it’s you, Eun, a ninja, or some random farm boy with a pitchfork. When you serve under me, I want you to know that you’re lead by the greatest warrior who earned it, not the luckiest born soul with a fancy title.
“So, before I get underway ordering you all about,” he said, coming to a stop at the center of the tent. “Are there any takers?”
Takeo scanned the crowd and, as expected, all heads slowly turned to one individual. Takeo had fought enough wars by now that he knew every small division carried at least one talented man or woman, someone with natural born ability to swing a sword, axe, or fist like they were a born veteran. Such talent was often honed and encouraged, leading that individual to stand out amongst their peers. They became a beacon in the turmoil of combat, a symbol of whether their side was winning or retreating. If that man or woman died, morale was sure to plummet. However if that talented individual braved on and advanced, their forces were sure to follow. These people weren’t given titles for carrying the company’s spirit, but it was known all the same. Whenever a terrible situation arose, the common soldier was as likely to look at them as they were the commander, and wise leaders made good use of these elite warriors by promoting and empowering them. Some armies were even lucky enough to have multiple such individuals, but all had at least one, including this ramble.
And now Takeo knew his face.
The boy was tall, yet stalky and with broad shoulders. His face was shaved clean, with the occasional razor burn and red blip marking his inexperience with a razor. His queue was loose and tied slightly off center, and he put most of his weight on his left foot with arms crossed. As the heads of the crowd rotated slowly to face him, he seemed to withdraw, and take deeper breaths. Clearly, he wasn’t ready to have all the attention focused on him, which told Takeo this boy hadn’t been promoted yet.
Such a shame. It would seem Eun isn’t adept at choosing natural leaders either.
Someone whispered to the tall boy, and he began whispering back. More voices joined in, but Takeo only heard words here or there, all of which told him it was only a matter of time before this individual caved to the pressure. Even Lord Eun was staring at the boy intently, and Takeo decided to look elsewhere so as not to intimidate him.
Takeo looked to Gavin, who was glaring with head cocked and teeth gritted. The knight mouthed the word idiot, but Takeo just gave him a shrug. Behind them, the boy finally cleared his throat.
“Is it to the death?” he asked, voice pitching.
“I won’t kill you,” Takeo replied. “However, you may kill me.”
The boy licked his lips and swallowed. He looked to his friends, who nodded and grinned. Then he turned back to Takeo and nodded.
“I accept,” he said.
Ah, good, Takeo thought. Hopefully you’re not a rakshasa in disguise.
Chapter 8
The crowd formed a wide circle about the two. Some tents had to be dismantled and moved aside, as there was not enough room for any sort of duel otherwise. Takeo asked Kuniko for her sword, unsheathed it, and gave it a few practice swings to test its make. Unsurprising given her Zhao name, the katana was of excellent design and balance, though a tad light for Takeo’s taste. He could still work with it, though. Ever since he’d enchanted his family blade, all other weapons felt slow and sluggish to him.
Meanwhile, the boy paced off opposite of him, surrounded by a small group who whispered and cheered for him. Lord Eun was among them, walking up and grabbing the boy by his kimono to drag him down. Judging by the old man’s face, it sounded like a threat was issued, but perhaps that was just Takeo’s bias. He paid more attention to those who weren’t cheering. They were the ones more apt to change, and would be his go-to force for getting out of this marsh as quickly as possible.
As he practiced, Gavin approached him.
“What in the world are you doing?” the knight said through clenched teeth. “Have you forgotten the last time you dueled someone you didn’t know?”
“I most certainly have not,” Takeo replied, whispering. “Hence why I’m keeping my sword at my hip. Should this boy prove more than a mortal, I’ll deal with it.”
“And if he kills you before that?” Gavin said. “This is an unnecessary risk, and I don’t see the point of it at all. Tell me what purpose this serves. I know you have one.”
Takeo stopped and nodded to Eun. The knight glanced.
“Look at him,” Takeo said. “He’s passed up the perfect opportunity to give a vocal speech, demanding not to accept this. With a good sermon, he might have inspired a lot of rebellion in his troops, even if I won the argument. But now? He’s a part of this. He’s cast his lot in with others, all weighted on this young boy here who has little idea of what he’s up against. The same could be said of me, but we both know I’m prepared to cheat.” Takeo tapped the Karaoshi sword at his side. “Secondly, and this is important, I’m setting this up for you.”
“Me?” Gavin balked.
“Remember what that senin said?” Takeo replied, nodding. “There’s only man who can kill me, and that’s you. If you do so, if you want to complete our vision of unifying this world, you’ll need whatever swords I muster. This is going to be my standard for leading. No one can challenge my right to rule, or yours, because it won’t be based on blood. It will be based on skill.”
Gavin sighed and shook his head. “Takeo, this is a really bad idea. It’s only a matter of time until someone beats you. You’re not invincible. This is a setup for failure.”
“All in due time,” Takeo conceded. “But for now, I need to beat the piss out of this boy and silence any dissent. Do me a favor and watch Eun for me. We need to keep an eye on him in more ways than one.”
Takeo turned his back on Gavin, letting him know the discussion was over. Not that Gavin ever cared about Takeo’s commands, but the knight stepped away this time. Takeo took a deep breath to calm his nerves and faced down the boy who, in another world, might have been him.
“Before we begin, what’s your name?” Takeo asked.
The chatter in the air went silent as he spoke. The people around the boy fell back, except for Lord Eun, and the boy looked to his former commander for guidance.
