Takeo's Chronicles, page 72
Takeo’s sword may have been sheathed, but his hand never left the handle. Emy finally broke her gaze with him.
“I’m sorry, Father,” she stuttered. “I was just curious. I wanted to have fun and see if he’d hear me.”
Krunk stopped and eyed her. “Well, he did. Next time, warn him. Now, what do we say?”
Emy looked at her feet and put her hands behind her back, squirming in place. Krunk gave her a pat on the back.
“Sorry,” she muttered.
Krunk grumbled.
“I’m sorry, Takeo,” she tried again. Her voice sounded like someone in their second decade to his ears, far too coordinated for a child, especially something only a year old at most. “I shouldn’t have followed you without your knowledge.”
He could already hear the deep strength in her voice, and it sent a pulse down his neck. And what was with that speed? She ran like the wind, and he’d had to push his limits to catch her despite having a step twice her gait. Not to mention how long she’d stayed hidden, how close she’d gotten. He began to wonder just how much she’d heard, how long she’d been in wait, and just how much she understood.
Everything. I must assume everything. Damn this rakshasa. She’s too dangerous to be kept alive at this rate.
Krunk grumbled, and Takeo blinked. He realized everyone was staring at him, except for Emy, who stared at her feet. Gavin and Krunk were giving him looks like he was supposed to do something, and Takeo furrowed his brows, looking to Nicholas for help. The viking rolled his eyes and then nodded to the rakshasa. Takeo looked down at her, and only then did it dawn on him.
She just apologized. They expect me to accept it.
Gavin glared at him. Takeo sighed and took his hand off his sword.
“Just don’t do it again,” he mumbled. Gavin’s gaze intensified. Takeo sighed. “You’re forgiven, for now,” he forced out.
Gavin smiled.
“Takeo, sir!” a voice yelled out from across the camp, frantic and shrill.
The awkward tension permeating the group shattered, and attention shifted to the call. Takeo’s sight was blocked by tents, so he cast a warning glance to Emy and took off a brisk pace toward the sound. Samurai flocked to him in an instant, partly out of duty, mostly out of curiosity. It seemed the whole camp was awake by now, likely stirred by all the shouting over Emy, and now encouraged to rise as the sounds of mayhem grew. Takeo passed rows of tents until he found a throng of samurai surrounding something on the camp’s opposite edge. He darted toward it, a wave of warriors in his wake. Heads turned as he approached and the throng parted like a wave before him.
In the center of the group was a wooden, single-axel cart of modest size. He’d seen its like before, as this was the standard cart most armies used to haul supply to far flung armies in lesser regions. If arranged properly, such a cart could stock a fair bit of food, and if pulled by a trained komainu, could support an immense weight. However, this cart carried no such supplies and was pulled by no beast of burden.
Upon the cart were three bodies, long dead and bloated, their flesh rotting in the warm sun. Their blood soaked the wood, leaked into the axel, and even spilled out of every crevice, creating a swirling pattern of red across the wheel. Two of the bodies were young, similar in age to the samurai army, while the third was an older man. To Takeo’s eyes, the bodies appeared mutilated and covered in their own excrement. The stench was horrible.
As Takeo took in the scene, the living went deathly silent. The group looked between Takeo and the horrors before them, a few reeling, more than a few sick to their stomachs.
“Sir, it was the vikings,” someone whispered. “We found them in the forest, like this, when we went to fetch water. They—”
Takeo raised a hand, sending them back into silence. He stepped forward, breaking out from the crowd, and let the stench of death cling to him.
“Bury them,” he commanded. “Inspect their wounds, confirm it was done by weapons and nothing else. Everyone else, don your armor and prepare for war. We’re marching again today.”
Chapter 11
“You’re a fool! A damned fool! I warned you, I specifically warned you,” Eun shouted as he followed Takeo about.
They were in full earshot of everyone in the camp, and although everyone was darting left and right to collect their gear, there wasn’t enough noise to drown out Lord Eun’s scratchy old voice. Chances were even the vikings on the other side of the forest could hear him, and Eun seemed determined to make it so.
He’s getting bold, Takeo thought. It shouldn’t be long now. Things are coming to a head faster than I thought.
“You took the guards away and the supply lines crumbled,” Eun pressed. “We should have received three of those caravans by now, yet only one is here, and it’s nothing but a taunting message aimed directly at you. Even the vikings can sense your weakness, and how you respond will tell them exactly how easily you can be goaded. Now you want to march everyone into the forest again? Do you really think you’ll find anyone? Hey, wait! Where are you going?”
Takeo slipped through his tent, picking up a waterskin and a spare knife, and then burst out of the other side. He made a direct line for Krunk’s shiny head bobbing just above a nearby a tent.
“If you leave the camp unguarded again, you’ll ensure a torturous death upon us all. Our remaining supplies will be plundered, traps set, possibly even an ambush,” Eun rattled off, skating around the tent to Takeo’s side again. “Isn’t it clear how close the vikings got to us? They left this cart nearby! They’re taunting you! Won’t you listen to me, you damned ronin? I know a thing or two about planning, about leading, and ignoring me is only going to get us all killed. You can’t do this without me.”
Takeo turned the corner and spied Krunk with Kuniko, for some reason. The girl was talking to him, but Takeo was in too much of a hurry to be concerned with that at the moment. He spied what he was interested in anyway; Emy wrapped about one of the ogre’s tree-trunk legs.
“You know what, Lord Eun,” Takeo said, pausing. “You’re right. Gather five of your most trusted men and have them guard the camp.”
“Really?” Eun stammered, and then balked. “Wait, only five? You can’t be serious. We’ll be slaughtered.”
Takeo winked. “Only if the vikings come. And before you ask again, yes, I’m serious. You can be the ones to bury the family.”
Eun went stark white, and Takeo had to turn quickly before the old man saw him smile. He paced to Krunk and cleared his throat, making Kuniko go silent. The young samurai went stiff, standing at attention, but Takeo ignored her.
“Krunk,” he said. “I need to speak with Emy alone.”
“Hm?” the ogre raised an eyebrow. He glanced down at the rakshasa, who gasped and hid behind his leg. Even Takeo could see her start to quiver. Krunk didn’t look so sure.
“You can trust me,” Takeo said. “This is important.”
Krunk frowned, but Takeo had a way giving off an aura of urgency that few could resist, especially those of a more trusting nature. Krunk wiped the saliva from his lips and nodded.
“Emy, go,” he grumbled.
“But father—”
“Have Gavin assemble the forces like before,” Takeo said to both Kuniko and Krunk, cutting the rakshasa off. “Start without me, head for the last village that was destroyed. I’ll catch up. As for you, little one, follow me.”
He turned toward the forest and didn’t check to see if Emy was following. A hierarchy of superiority was inherent in all rakshasa, and he needed to establish himself as one over her as soon as possible. Her recent stunt proved she could no longer be ignored, and Takeo was determined to make up for lost time. Some samurai came to him as he marched across the camp, but he ordered them to find Gavin and received their orders. They veered off, and as Takeo passed into the cover of the trees, he finally looked back.
A little ogre child followed a half pace behind with her head cowed.
“Sit,” he ordered, pointing to an overgrown tree root popping out of the ground.
Emy did as she was told, taking a seat and folding her arms over her knees. Takeo began to pace in front of her. He had the need to keep moving, scanning the forest around him to make sure they weren’t being watched. In the distance, he could hear Gavin shouting at the troops to form into a line. He imagined the sheer amount of groaning to follow, and not to mention the irritation all the samurai would feel at being ordered around by a foreigner. If Takeo didn’t implement his plan soon, he might face a full scale mutiny at this rate. His deadly prowess on the battlefield could only subdue for so long.
Satisfied they were alone, Takeo broke the silence.
“How long were you following me?” he spoke sharply.
Emy swallowed and rocked on her heels. “From the beginning,” she whispered, voice full of regret. Takeo didn’t buy it, though. “I was awake, and I heard you get up. I just wanted to see where you were going, at first, but—”
She cut herself off, the words catching in her throat.
“How much did you hear?” he asked. “All of it, didn’t you?”
Emy sniffed and nodded meekly.
He wasn’t surprised. Rakshasa were keen creatures, capable of superior hearing, sight, smell, intelligence, strength, and speed. They lacked only in empathy, modesty, and tranquility. The fact that this creature had mastered speech in such a short time told him her other senses were surely maturing just as fast. She’d be able to hear the marching army through the forest long after such sounds had faded from Takeo’s earshot. The fact that she heard him get up over Nicholas’ snoring was further proof.
“Have you told anyone?” he said. “I’ll know if you lie. I’ll find out soon enough.”
Emy shook her head. He decided to believe her.
“I can’t begin to describe what a difficult situation you’ve put me in,” Takeo continued. “I’ve killed men, women, even children for far less reason than I have to kill you now. You might look like a child, but I know better. You’re smart enough to understand what you heard, but are you smart enough to understand their implications?”
The cub lifted her head to meet his gaze, and Takeo got a good look at the fear in her eyes. It gave him pause. He hadn’t expected to see that look in a rakshasa, ever. He wondered at it.
“You’re not going to kill me, are you?” she whispered, then sucked in a quick breath.
What was that? Is she about to cry? Is that even possible for their kind?
“No,” he said, sighing. “That’s not what I meant. I’m just trying to say this isn’t something light that you overheard. This is important, so important that I’ve dragged you out here. Now, tell me, why did you follow me?”
Emy squirmed in place, like she was trying to draw herself in and appear smaller. Her eyes kept darting off to the side as if looking for an escape. She shrugged.
“No, there was a reason,” he said. “Why? Did you want leverage over me?”
“Leverage?” Emy repeated the word, blinking.
“You know what leverage is. Don’t play coy. Out with it. You followed me for a reason. What is it? What did you hope to find out?”
Emy looked down at her feet and shuffled them. She seemed to be playing a game, trying to make one climb over the other. In that moment, she looked very much the child, one caught by an adult and shamed for an act of curiosity. He had to imagine her as the rakshasa she was to strip the feeling away. He’d never dealt with a cub before.
“I,” she stumbled on the next words, stopped, and tried again. “I wanted to find out why you hate me.”
She sniffed again. A tear dropped and landed on feet. Takeo froze.
“What?” he mumbled.
“I don’t know why you don’t like me,” Emy started again, voice thick and struggling. “Father says that’s just how you are, but I can feel it. You hate me, and only me, and I don’t know why. No one will tell me.” Takeo swallowed, lips parting. Emy shuddered and dropped her head into her forearms. She started to cry, bawl actually, the leash on her emotions shattered and the sounds muffling into her purple skin. “I don’t know what I did wrong,” she said, words hardly discernable. Whatever she had to say next got lost as she gasped for air, and the little cub heaved and shook in place. Takeo looked away from her and closed his eyes.
She’s not a human child, he said to himself. You don’t know if this is real. Stick to the plan. Make a deal.
“Stop crying,” he said. “Stop, now.”
Emy fought to stop, and Takeo had to wait as her cries slowly subsided. She pulled her head away from her arms, eyes red and cheeks wet. Her nose was running. She wiped her face and had to breathe through her mouth in ragged attempts. Takeo kept his distance. Her eyes flew to his, but she seemed incapable of holding the gaze and looked to his feet.
And so they stood in silence.
He didn’t know what to say. He wasn’t about to lie and tell her he didn’t hate her, yet if she truly didn’t know the truth by now, there was no way he was about to tell her. What could be said anyway? Where to start? Would he explain the most recent events and speak in generalities, that Emy’s kind were a greedy, bloodthirsty race that plotted and schemed to make all of humanity their slaves? Perhaps he’d be more specific, and tell her how one of her own had personally raised an army and killed the only woman he’d ever loved. Worse yet, he could tell her that he was not alone in his hatred for her, and that just a short trip overseas to a land of sand and blood, he could cut off her head and receive a small fortune, so hated was she by all. Did she know of this? Of any of this? Likely not, as she’d been kept hidden from civilization since capture, but that was the case no longer. She’d learn things soon enough. She was too smart not to. That was the problem.
“Who told you this?” he finally said.
Emy shrugged. She did that a lot, apparently. It annoyed Takeo.
“No one,” she said. “I just know.”
“How do you know?”
She shrugged again. “The way you look at me. I don’t think Yeira likes me very much either.”
You’re probably right about that. Her hatred is more cultural though, I’d imagine. Mine is personal.
Takeo sighed and knelt down, squatting to her level. He looked her in the eye and hoped he was about to make the right choice.
“Some people are more trusting than others,” Takeo said. “I can’t speak for Yeira, but I’m not a person who extends trust easily, and you don’t seem to trust people much either. I don’t see you trying to talk to anyone but Krunk. I don’t see you following anyone else. Why did you single me out?” Emy deflected her gaze, and Takeo’s eyes widen. He tilted to catch her attention again. “Have you been following the others? Without their knowledge?”
She looked away again. Takeo snapped his fingers, signaling her back. A flash of anger pulsed through him. “Who, how often?” he asked.
“Everyone,” she blurted out. “Gavin, Nicholas, Yeira, even father. It was just a game at first. It was supposed to be fun.”
“Yet you continued,” Takeo pressed.
“I heard them say things, private things,” she muttered. “And I got curious. And they never saw me. I just kept following them. It’s fun. That’s all. I didn’t tell anyone. I didn’t want to hurt anyone, I swear.”
“How many times have you followed me?”
“That was the first time,” she said. “I never tried to follow you before.”
“Are you lying to me?” he demanded.
“No!” she whimpered. “You . . . you scare me.”
Takeo heard the fear in her voice. It was a sound he was well acquainted with, and he needed no other convincing. He stood up and looked up to the trees. Emy started to tremble.
I knew this would happen, he thought. I just didn’t think it would happen so soon.
At their most basic level, rakshasa were nocturnal hunters. For all their strength, speed, and intellect, they still relied heavily on stealth to close the distance with their prey. It was one of the few things Takeo admired in rakshasas. Most deadly things in the world had a weakness of some kind. Gashadokuro were terrifying but blind. Ninja were stealthy but combatively inferior to samurai. Oni were immortal but limited in numbers. Ogres were powerful but simpletons for most of their lives. Rakshasa though? Not a chance. They were everything from excellent stalkers to powerful warriors to excellent tacticians, and everything in between. They could breed armies if given the chance. They could enslave humanity, and had done so at least once before in the past. They could change their appearance at will and then rip out a throat the next. They lived for hundreds of years and could heal in moments from near any injury. If Takeo were ever given a chance to design the perfect killer, the perfect warrior, he would design a rakshasa.
Takeo hated the fact that he needed such perfection.
What was that Virote had said? Ah yes, war and necessity make for strange bedfellows.
“Emy, do you love Krunk?” he asked.
“Hm?” she blinked, caught off guard. “Father? Yes.”
“Do you want to protect him, and gain my trust at the same time?” he asked.
She hesitated but then nodded, shaking her ogre tusks. Takeo noticed she never drooled like a real ogre, which told Takeo that Krunk’s drooling had less to do with his physicality and more to do with his mannerisms. It seemed rakshasa disguises weren’t perfect. He’d have to watch Emy more carefully and learn from her. Who knows what other flaws in the rakshasa design he might find.
“Alright,” he said and knelt down. “Then here’s what I need you to do.”
* * *
Takeo met back up with Gavin and the others before long. The group hadn’t made it far, as he predicted, and he was immediately challenged by Krunk, which he also predicted.
“Where is Emy?” the ogre said. “Why are you alone?”
“I left her at the camp,” Takeo replied.
“Alone?” Nicholas butted in from nearby. He darted over and dropped his voice to a whisper. “Haven’t you been warning us against doing that for ages now? What in Valhalla are you thinking?”
