Takeo's Chronicles, page 75
The knight grinned, but Takeo was distracted as a few lines on the parchment popped out at him.
“There’s one mention of title amongst all this rambling,” he said. “Here, Eun talks about the shogun.”
“You’ll want to convince the shogun to dispose of this nuisance immediately,” Gavin read. “Sounds like Eun knows someone close to Lady Zhenzhen.”
“Someone not Lady Ki then,” Takeo said. “The two hate each other, but Eun seems to think this receiver can convince the shogun.”
“A general perhaps?” Gavin said. “Another relative?”
“Virote is both,” Takeo replied, “but that’s absurd. Why would he send me to investigate his own man? Qing would fit the bill more appropriately in my mind. She’s a ninja after all, and this is exactly the kind of shifty writing I’d expect from a ninja.”
“There must be others,” Gavin pressed. “We don’t know everyone in Lady Zhenzhen’s court after all.”
Takeo mulled over the names that he could remember, but they were too few, and also only relevant over a decade ago when Takeo knew Lord Jiro and his father, not Lady Zhenzhen. He couldn’t reliably trust such old knowledge. He sighed and folded the letter, burying it in his clothes.
“At least this is something,” he said. “But let’s get some sleep for now.”
The knight glanced back to the crowded ranks of snoozing soldiers. Takeo noticed the man’s soft green eyes pick out a particularly beautiful woman with dark hair lying on her side. She was still dressed in her armor, concealing a bulging figure only Takeo could picture. Gavin swallowed and nodded.
“I guess I’ll just find somewhere to sleep then,” he whispered.
Gavin slunk off into the darkness, and Takeo didn’t say a word.
* * *
No one said it directly, but it was well known there was something truly different about these vikings. Lord Eun had alluded to it, Nicholas had pondered on it, and even the young samurai recruits felt a sort of discontent as the legends they’d been told seemed not to match with reality. Vikings avoiding a fight to raid villages instead? That was what pirates did, and even then not much, because these were poor villages with little to offer. Lord Eun never even found the vikings ship, let alone their camp, despite all his searching.
And now Takeo knew why. There was no ship to speak of.
The viking camp was quite a ways down from where Takeo was, nestled into a deep slot canyon carved out by a huge waterfall that emptied into the ocean. The camp was mostly covered from sight by the thick foliage, but with Emy’s watchful eyes, Takeo was able to spot the tale-tell signs of a human camp.
“They’re right along the river,” the rakshasa explained. “They don’t have anyone keeping watch. There are maybe fifteen of them? I couldn’t seem them all, but I could smell them.”
“How did they get there?” Takeo wondered.
The camp was only a short jaunt from the ocean shores. The vikings had actually chosen a place of unparalleled beauty to set up their butcher’s market. The beach was wide, sandy, and deep, and the forests surrounding it lush and tranquil. The sounds from the cascading waterfall masked all other noise and lulled one to sleep in the afternoon sun. The vantage point gave Takeo sweeping views, and Eun—who’d since joined the war band—swore he’d had that place searched multiple times, yet he’d never thoroughly because there was no viking ship on the waters.
No ship. How can they have no ship? How did they get here?
“Maybe they’ve pulled it up on shore,” Nicholas offered, chewing his bottom lip. “Viking ships are made light and shallow for a reason. They could have pulled it up onto land and into the trees.”
“Into these shallow trees?” Takeo said, pointing at Juatwa’s plethora of weeping willows. “This isn’t the Forest of Angor. Could these trees hide the whole ship?”
“Not these ones, no.” Nicholas dropped his head. “But somewhere else maybe?”
“They would have had to hide it well,” Gavin chimed in.
“Maybe the samurai soldiers missed it?” Nicholas offered.
Takeo looked back. He and those few he’d selected were perched atop a large boulder, lying prone so as to avoid being seen, while beneath them the whole rest of the group waited, staring up at them with eager, youthful faces. Takeo grimaced and turned back.
“Well, I’m tired of guessing,” he said. “Let’s go down and ask them.”
Takeo and the others crawled down the boulder and formulated a plan. It was a pretty simple endeavor, so it seemed. His army had the element of surprise, overwhelming numbers, and with Takeo and an oni on their side, devastating power. Takeo couldn’t imagine the remaining vikings surviving the coming onslaught unless one of them was a jinni or a sentient banshee. Yet still, he chose to error on the side of caution and put his talents to use.
He divided them into three groups, each of which would attack from one side, leaving any fleeing vikings nowhere to run but toward the waterfall. He made sure to put one group under his command, which would be the first to charge, and another under Eun, and the last under Kuniko. He then divided his entourage into ‘advisory rolls’ assisting those commanders. Gavin and Krunk went with Eun, Yeira and Nicholas with Kuniko. Takeo decided to keep Ping close by, and he didn’t bother giving Borota an order. The oni hung on him like a massive, unpleasant shadow. As for Emy, Takeo decided he’d kept her separated long enough. The rakshasa gravitated towards Krunk, and he didn’t say a word. He did notice how she didn’t grip the ogre’s leg, though, which he interpreted as a sign of her rapidly growing independence. He briefly wondered if these short missions had boosted her confidence.
I’m treading ice thin enough to see through.
The groups split off, and Takeo made his samurai follow in a long, single file line with at least two paces between each soldier. He’d chosen to command the clumsiest ones, because if they slipped up, they’d need Takeo and Borota more than anyone else.
His worries proved unfounded, however, as they descended upon the camp and found the whole place to be in quite an uproar.
The sounds could be heard clearly over the gentle breeze of a typical afternoon in Juatwa. Feet and armor shuffling, heavy loads thrown about, weapons grinding, and more than a few voices raised; all combined to give Takeo pause as came within charging distance of the camp. He crept closer, thankful that Borota had taken Takeo’s insistence to stay in the rear. Oni were simply too large and red to be much good at stealth.
If there was any place to do so though, Juatwa was that place.
The trees in this land had vines for branches that fell down like soft curtains around a royal bed. Moss covered everything from the soft, moist ground that deadened footsteps to the rounded-smooth stones perfectly sized to be a low stool for any wandering passerby. Every tree had shallow roots, as there was no lack of water here and no heavy storms to knock the beauties over. They existed in perfect tranquility, and their roots provided more purchase than hazard. Combined with the lovely smells of opening flowers and the warm blanket of air, Juatwa was a place that dulled the senses and made sneaking about easy. Takeo, being more well-traveled than most, understood why ninjas excelled here.
“We should have left a month ago,” one of the vikings roared from a distance.
Takeo heard it only faintly despite its volume, for he was still too far off to see anything. The response was much softer and therefore undiscernible. He pushed on, climbing over roots, skirting around trees, and avoiding shrubs that might snag his clothes. He took everything in with a single glance and stepped with careful balance and poise. It was almost too easy, what with all the shouting up ahead. Takeo had once sunk up on Emily in a stone alleyway while wearing geta—a formal, Juatwa shoe notorious for its clip-clopping sound. In his naivety of the time, he’d wrongly assumed Lucifan to be a peaceful place of lords and ladies, and so had worn such terrible footgear.
After so much fighting though, and being subsequently being sold into slavery, Takeo had decided there was no need for a ronin to wear silly shoes.
“Damn her to hell then!” the same voice shouted, clearer this time.
Takeo was getting closer, yet still the response was too muffled by distance to make it out. He was close enough to make the charge and set off the ambush, but his curiosity got the better of him. He needed to get closer, and soon, but one glance at those following him said that moving any faster would be a mistake. They were making enough ruckus as it was, as their swords caught branches and their heels dragged along. Takeo decided to risk it anyway, though. The vikings were being awfully loud.
“You want me to say it again? Huh?” a voice said, this one different, deeper, as Takeo scrambled onwards. “Fine. Look at me. She has our ship, or rather he does now. Did you get that, you dumb troll? Our ship! Not with us! He has it!”
A thud echoed through the forest, then shouting and more thuds, and Takeo recognized the sounds of a fistfight, or as vikings liked to call it, negotiating terms. Men and women were roaring, and between the cheering, he heard the occasional dead impact of knuckles striking flesh, preceded and followed by grunts and groans. Takeo took the opportunity to shuffle forward, even making a bit of noise himself, though the continued cheering told him it went unnoticed. The fight went on for a short while, but then the thuds became rhythmic, and Takeo knew one person had gotten the better of the other.
Takeo slowed to a normal pace. He was close enough to hear the sound of someone spitting. He was less than a stone’s throw away. Through the small gaps in the vegetation, Takeo caught glimpses of dark leather and the flash of steel. The smell of entrenched humanity wafted into his nostrils.
“And that’s why I’m the jarl,” one of the voices said. “Anyone else got a problem with that?”
“You can’t be a jarl without a ship,” a new voice rang out. “And our real jarl might still be alive.”
“Don’t be stupid. He’s dead.” Another new voice scoffed. “I saw that samurai standing over him. Don’t know how, but he died without any of us knowing. The valkyries took him, but not his son. I saw that bastard get stabbed in the back of the neck, running, like a coward.”
Some grumbling arose, alongside a few cheers, which told Takeo that although this new jarl's reign was doomed to be short, it would be a popular one at least.
“Which means I’m jarl now,” the original voice said. “And I’ll get our ship back. I’m sick of worthless fights and waiting. No more waiting! The pixiu was sent yesterday, so he'll be here soon, and we can get off this forsaken shore.”
“But what if they find us first?” a voice whispered.
And then the most terrible thing that could have happened, happened. The vikings went silent.
Takeo froze solid just as fast, turning into a rigid statue before the vikings’ last word were uttered. He didn't even breathe, so ingrained were his survival instincts. He should have heard nothing but the waterfall in the distance and the gentle sway of branches in Juatwa's ocean breeze. Instead, the creak of laminar armor and the clang of a scabbard striking a tree root sounded out for a full two seconds before all behind Takeo went quiet.
The vikings didn't begin talking again. A sudden tension filled the air so thick that it raised the temperature. Takeo closed his eyes and gritted his teeth, waiting and hoping, yet sliding his hand to his sword. Among the sounds of the waterfall and breeze, he heard weapons sliding from the viking camp. Through the gaps, he saw tall, muscular bodies shifting to look in his direction.
If I ever find out which one of mine did that, I'll kill them.
Then he charged.
Chapter 14
There was no finesse or mercy to the butchery that occurred next. The battle, if one could call it that, became a rout within moments. Takeo was the first on his feet, as always, drawing his sword and leaping into a terrifying sprint that would shock a minotaur. The samurai behind him were a heartbeat behind, dashing up and yelling out, thus giving the signal to the other groups who, as luck would have it, were in position.
Not that there was a need. Takeo could have slaughtered the entire group on his own.
He felled three of the giant men before any weapon was swung in his direction, and felled two more before reinforcements arrived. At the sight of Borota, the vikings retreated toward the beaches in an orderly fashion, only to find another samurai group emerging from the trees. The vikings' numbers were halved in a blink, yet also one cocky samurai went down, the mere mortal attempting to mimic Takeo by charging first and alone. She unfortunately met a man with arms covered in trophy rings, and the difference in experience was demonstrated swiftly, though he died soon after because his axe got caught in the dying samurai's chest. He refused to part with it, and paid the ultimate price as three swords speared him at once. The surviving vikings went for the opposite forest next, where the last group closed in, and only two vikings were able to escape alive by fleeing in a dead sprint toward the waterfall. Takeo gave the honor of pursuit to Eun's group, which included Gavin and Krunk, as the way along the river was far too narrow for everyone to give chase. The dozen or so samurai took off, their voices lost to the waterfall's constant drone. Takeo wiped his blade on the clothes of a corpse while the blood from the dead was either absorbed by the sandy shores or ran into the water, creating red streamers in the tropical blue. Takeo took a deep breath and gently scratched away the charred blood that had melted to the metal's enchantment. His pulse hadn't risen above a resting beat, so quick and decisive was the fight.
Around him, the rest of the troops stood shocked. The victory they’d been chasing for months was finally won, and they seemed struck by the finality of it. A few stood over their fallen comrade, quietly mourning without expression, as such was the samurai way. They’d likely start cheering, if Takeo had allowed it.
“Listen up,” Takeo said calmly, and he noted how everyone snapped to attention. “Something was happening here that we interrupted. These vikings gave their ship to someone else, and I want to know who, perhaps even why. We'll get those two survivors' testimonies soon enough, but for now we search the dead and search the camp. Look for writing. I heard one of the vikings say they sent a letter. Perhaps there were more.”
“Sir!” came a chorus of voices.
The strength and unison in that response made Takeo straighten. The ranks broke with urgency, and the samurai army dashed to comply with Takeo's orders. Viking corpses were stripped in moments and their personal effects emptied onto the sands for inspection. Crates were cracked open, barrels unhinged, and tents slashed apart. After being stripped, the corpses were hauled off into the treeline and arranged in a perfect row. The flurry of activity set Takeo on edge, and his first reaction, admittedly, was to be annoyed that he hadn’t seen such diligent behavior from these men and women until now. If he’d known they were capable of such efficiency, he wouldn’t have let them mill about when they were searching corpses in burned out villages.
Voices called out to him left and right, always with a sharp and respectful, “Sir!” that he quietly ignored. It was such a foreign word to him, a strange title that neglected to account for the ronin blood in his veins. Generals, lords, even ladies, were worthy of such a title, and he’d called out that word plenty in time long ago. To be called such now, after all he’d done, didn’t sit quite right with him, and yet he couldn’t find reason enough to speak against it.
Everything the army found, they brought to him, and lo and behold the vikings had plenty of trinkets to go through. From common weapons and armor to more useful things such as antitoxins, griffin’s claws, maps, shaving tools, hunting traps, and tinderboxes, to useless items like a mummified goblin hand, a dragon’s scale, a vial of some purple liquid unknown to Takeo, an artist half-used sketchbook, and a curious game of halatafl where the pieces were carved from human bones. Worse yet, that wasn’t even half of it, as it seemed the vikings had emptied the entire contents of their ship on these shores, and then burdened themselves further with all the numerous odds and ends they’d scavenged from the surrounding villages. Takeo had always suspected that vikings were hoarders. Now he had proof.
There was simply too much to look through on his own. His samurai were bringing things to his attention faster than he could inspect them, and so he recruited Nicholas to help him search over the uncovered contents. He considered asking Yeira, as well, but one look at her made him pause. In the hurry of activity, he hadn’t noticed, but she was sitting down off to the side, her back against a tree. She was breathing hard, sweating, and a bit red in the face. He decided to let her sit undisturbed. Only just a moment later, and Gavin and Eun returned with the other soldiers. They trudged slowly along the river’s sandy shores, their heads hung, and Takeo quickly noted there were no vikings with them.
“What happened?” he asked, approaching.
Eun hesitated, and Gavin took the lead.
“They wouldn’t surrender,” the knight said. “One was killed, which we didn’t think a problem at the time, but then the other retreated toward the waterfall. Turns out there was a steep drop-off lurking in the water, and well, you know vikings. He wouldn’t let go of his weapon and sank. He floated back up a corpse.”
Takeo swore. Gavin had nothing else to say and looked away, catching sight of Yeira out of breath. The knight strode over to her, ignoring her earlier command to give her space. Gavin must have feared her rage less than Takeo’s. As for the other soldiers, they stood rigid and forlorn, Eun included. Takeo clinched a fist but otherwise kept his emotions bottled, though the aura about him was undeniably tense. He set his gaze on Eun, letting the old man feel the anger in his eyes. Takeo was a commander now, he remembered, and no commander stayed in power long if failure went unpunished. He didn’t relish the thought, but he knew of no other way to command.
