Takeo's Chronicles, page 84
The first ladder came into view in no time, and Takeo didn’t miss a beat. He shattered the base to pieces in the same sweeping strike that slayed the three soldiers in his way. The ladder, weighed down by men above, crumbled into twigs and fell on the soldiers below. Gravity did the rest, as the falling soldiers crushed their own allies or were impaled on weapons. Takeo was two paces beyond the carnage, though, before the dirt had even settled, felling more men and women with the hesitation of an oni.
Takeo rounded a corner and, blessedly, stepped into a group of samurai that never saw him coming. Before the enemy could put together why they were facing an individual drenched in blood and crazed in the eye, three had died, and then two more as they came to their senses and leveled their weapons. Two parries, one dodge, and four strokes later, and the graveyard was extended, and suddenly the most treacherous place was at Takeo’s back as the enemy attempted to keep pace with him.
Shouts to kill him, or at least stop him, fell harmlessly on Takeo’s ears as he parried attacks from behind while cleaving through the unaware in the front. He reached another ladder and swung at it, but turned his blade flat at the last second, his speed and strength so inhuman that the impact burst the wood to dust, and the ladder crumbled. Screams and bodies rained down, and Takeo pressed on, his arms never stopping as they swept about him like a whirlwind.
A blade rammed into his back, the tip pushing through his skin, while another sliced up his thigh. He couldn’t tell from where the attacks came, so many were the faces, swords, and spears that lunged at him from all directions. He was bleeding, he knew it, but he couldn’t tell from where, nor why his hair was so wet because he was certain he wasn’t sweating—his body was devoid moisture. As he swept around, red droplets flew from his black haired tips. Left, right, left, forward, back, Takeo never stopped because he couldn’t stop. A moment’s pause and he would die, he knew, and yet the thought never came to his mind because he simply understood, and his limbs acted accordingly.
Another ladder appeared, which soon became another thunder of bodies that rained down, and then another ladder and another, and suddenly Takeo ran out of people who didn’t see him coming. He went to dive into another crowd and fell them like all the others, when they all thrust in unison to slice him down. Takeo’s blade cut only one man, and yet three blades slammed into his shoulder, chest, and stomach. The air snatched from his lungs, and he stumbled back, pausing only a second to slap a hand to his chest.
He felt that one. He couldn’t believe it. Pain so deep that it broke his fury.
Worse, his moment’s pause cost him dearly, as the enemy roared and charged. Takeo swept his sword again, cutting three down but taking another sword blade to his face, which raked across his cheek bone and pushed him back. Takeo slammed against stone and his heart skipped a beat. He was up against another wall.
“That’s it, men!” came a voice above the thunderous roar. “Again, on my mark. Cut him down!”
The voice bellowed from a faceless leader in the crowd, and samurai all around Takeo answered the call, attacking all at once. Countless blades fell, and Takeo swept his sword in wide arcs to counter all he could, twisted to dodge the others, and yet still sharpened steel ran down his shredded armor. Stabbing pains echoed throughout his body.
“Again!” came the disembodied voice. “We’ve got him now.”
A heavy shout signaled the death coming for Takeo, and spears and sword came for him on all sides. Again only a couple making purchase, and being one too many.
Takeo cried out and attacked, slaying three men in two blows, and yet the ranks only filled in, unperturbed. The hidden commander shouted again, and the swords came in unison, and Takeo was forced back against the wall again.
Something was wrong. He could feel it. The strength was fading, the fire dying, and cold seeping through. In the back of his mind, he made a desperate hope that his death wouldn't be for naught, and he truly wished he’d told Gavin about the child.
A rough, gnarled thing slapped Takeo gently in the face, and he balked because he hadn’t heard the enemy commander give the signal to attack. Takeo stumbled, thinking he’d been struck so hard that he could no longer sense the impact, when a brown, twisted fabric danced in front of his face.
Rope?
He looked up.
“Grab it!” Gavin was shouting, hands cupped over his mouth. “Takeo! Grab the rope!”
Beside the knight was Nicholas, leaning over the parapet with both hands ready to pull with all his might. Takeo’s jaw dropped while his eyes fell back to the enemy, all of whom mimicked the motion by looking up and then back to Takeo.
“Now!” screamed the faceless commander.
Takeo grabbed the rope and jumped, and a dozen swords and spears skewered the spot where he’d stood not a second before.
“Attack, attack!” the commander yelled. “Kill him.”
Nicholas heaved, and Takeo was lifted a full body’s length into the air. Blades thrust at him from below, and Takeo swung, danced, and parried all at once to keep death from claiming his body. Another haul from Nicholas, and Takeo was another length ahead, out of reach, and yet still the enemy wouldn’t release him.
“Throw! Kill him!” the man below was shouting, and men below hefted their spears like javelins.
Takeo dodged one and parried another, but a spear caught him in the wrist and pierced through his armor, tearing open his skin and getting caught in the clothing. Takeo’s arm fell with the weight, his sword hand, and he dangled like meat on a hook as Nicholas hauled him up again. Below, five more soldiers readied their spears.
“Throw!” the man yelled.
Three hands took hold of Takeo and hauled him over the wall, and a heartbeat later, countless metal tips clanged against the stone on the other side. Takeo went limp with relief.
Rough hands shoved him into the corner, and Takeo collapsed. His vision swirled, everything a blur, yet he didn’t feel weak.
“You crazy, stupid, ronin,” a disembodied Gavin yelled, and a hard slap hit Takeo’s face. The samurai’s vision cleared as adrenaline rushed through him, and he saw Gavin kneeling over him, teeth gritted, with one hand gripping Takeo by the collar of his armor. “Don’t you dare,” Gavin said, hand raised for another strike. “You’re not passing out again. The fight’s not over. Get up or give me the sword.”
Takeo grumbled and shoved Gavin away. The knight was covered in blood, and Takeo looked down to see he was, too. He took a deep breath and then pushed himself to his feet, using the wall as leverage, then looked around.
“What’s happening?” he asked.
“Your idiotic stunt almost cost your life,” Gavin shouted, “but at least you saved ours. We managed to set the battering-ram on fire, and they’re only coming up ladders on two sides now. We’ve concentrated our forces there. We might just get through this without any more casualties, at least until Nicholas dies from jealousy. I can’t spare anyone to watch you, Takeo. Either get back in the fight or get off the roof.”
“I can fight,” Takeo replied forcibly, convincing Gavin more than himself.
“Then follow me,” the knight said, and darted into the crowd.
Takeo went slowly, picking his way over mounds of bodies. More than once he had to stop and steady himself by thrusting his sword tip down into a corpse. A few deep breaths and he could move again. His eyes started to blur, but not before he took in the scene.
Takeo had managed to destroy all the ladders on two sides of the fort. They enemy had tried to supplement this loss with grappling hooks, but the lines had been cut, and now the fort was only taking on invaders from a few places. There, all of the defenders had forced an absurd choke point, stuffing the area with so many blades that not a heartbeat went by without a swing at an invader’s head. From the front of the fort, smoke and ash billowed up, littering the sky and obscuring sight, but Takeo could see beyond that the assault lines on the ground weren’t as thick as they once more. The invaders couldn’t get a foothold anymore, not with one of Takeo’s champion permanently fixed to the remaining ladders. He heard deafening shouts which held a hint of panic that hadn't been there before. He made it to the edge of the crowd, long after Gavin had disappeared into the throng, and realized he wouldn’t be of much use anymore. Takeo stopped, suddenly too tired to stand, and collapsed.
As he did so, though, two sets of arms looped his waist and propped him up. He shook his head to see two of his men had taken hold of him, their eyes wide and attentive.
“Sir!” they both shouted. “Are you alright? Do you need anything?”
Takeo searched his memory for their faces. He realized he needed to improve his facial recognition skills, especially if Emy rejoined them.
“No, just keep fighting,” Takeo replied. “Spare no one.”
“Sir!” they yelled at the top of their lungs, but then hesitated because they didn't want to drop their commander.
However, a long, drawn out horn sounded out, and Takeo recognized it immediately. That was the horn of retreat echoing across the battlefield, and Takeo shudder in relief. He leaned into the arms of his supporters and stared into the sky.
“Sir,” one of the two samurai said, out of breath with disbelief. “Sir, they’re retreating. We did it. We did it!”
“Yes, we did,” Takeo agreed, but then whispered, “for now.”
Chapter 22
“How many dead?” Takeo asked.
Gavin startled at the question. The knight glanced back at all the living within earshot, which was almost everyone at the fort because Takeo had summoned all but Yeira to help strip and pile the dead. Both friend and foe were to be discarded over the side, because their corpses would soon become carriers for disease with no regard for former allegiances. All the bodies needed to burn.
As to Takeo’s question, however, Gavin raised an eyebrow. Takeo didn’t miss a beat.
“Everyone knows it’s bad, my Gavin,” he said. “You’re not saving morale by keeping the number a secret. How many of us are left?”
Gavin sighed and whispered, “Half.”
A hushed silence fell over the living, one closely aligned to that of the dead. A kinship formed there, where the former didn’t feel so separated from the latter, and Takeo said nothing to dismiss it. A part of him wanted to, knowing that, as the commander, he was responsible for keeping his men from falling into despair. He understood that a true leader was also a master con artist, capable of conjuring hope in the darkest of times. There would be time for that enough soon, though. For now, the full weight of reality needed to be felt and accepted by everyone, no matter the consequences.
As expected, some took it better than others.
“Half,” Lord Eun whispered in horror. “Half! How are we to survive with only half? Another attack and they’ll overwhelm us for sure. Did you truly fare so poorly up here without me? We can’t defend all the walls now. We’re doomed, Karaoshi. I don’t mean to force your hand by pointing out the obvious, but I think you know what you have to do.”
Takeo ignored the man and turned towards the line of corpses. He’d had them stacked along the walls to be dumped in different locations, his hope being that the living enemy still watching them wouldn’t be able to count numbers easily. Takeo grabbed a torch from the fire they’d used to boil the komainu blood and set a purposeful stride to the first line. He had to be careful not to let the flames get to close to his own bandages. He looked terrible, but then again, so did everyone else.
“Everyone form into pairs,” he commanded. “One person grab a stick of burning wood, light a body on fire, and then dump it with your partner. Try to push it out as far as you can, away from the fort. Move fast. I don't us staying up here for long. Don't worry about starting a grass fire. The ground is soaked in blood.”
Takeo noted who was quickest to respond. To his surprise, Kuniko and Ping moved before his entourage, and a good half the samurai along with them. They divided as he specified, leaving a lonely group of four surrounding Lord Eun. The men in question being Chet and a few of his closest friends. Lord Eun, he appeared to be in a mixed emotional state, varying somewhere between flabbergast and anger.
“Takeo,” the old man said, taking a few steps forward. “Did you hear me?”
Gavin helped Takeo lift the first corpse onto the parapet, and Takeo didn’t look at the face. He put the torch to the body’s remaining undergarments, waited until the flames were properly stoked, and then they pushed the body over the side. They grabbed another.
“Takeo, we can’t fight any more,” Eun repeated. “We can’t—will you just listen to me for once? Just one time, that’s all I ask.”
Takeo and Gavin dumped another corpse, then lifted a third. Takeo never paused, but he did turn his head ever so slowly to meet Eun’s gaze, all while holding the torch to the dead body.
“You have to surrender,” Eun said. “It’s our only way out. I know the temptation to resist can be strong, especially following a narrow victory when you’ve sacrificed so much, but you must see the truth. You might have won this battle by charging over the wall, which is something I’d never believe without so many witnesses, but such foolish bravado won’t save any more lives. You claim to be a man who accepts reality, and so I implore you. Please accept that we won’t survive another attack.”
Gavin pushed the flaming corpse over the wall. Takeo helped the knight haul another one up top and set the torch to it. All around, the sound of rushing flames in the wind was followed by loud, solid thuds. Takeo’s heart beat steadily through every heavy drop of a lifeless, burning body. He held his gaze with Eun, the torch light reflecting in his dark eyes.
“It’s true,” Takeo said. “Are numbers are drastically reduced. We can’t properly defend this fort from another attack.”
Lord Eun’s shoulders slumped a full finger’s width, and the old man seemed more elated that Takeo could ever remember. Eun was in such high spirits that he clapped his wrinkled hands together. He went to speak, but Takeo cut him off.
“Fortunately,” Takeo said. “Lord Botan doesn’t know that, and I intend to keep it that way. We will never surrender.”
They pushed the corpse over the wall and grabbed another. All of Eun’s relief fell away, and the old man snarled.
“Your insolence is going to kill us all, you filthy ronin,” Eun spit. “I swear, if we survive, I’ll be certain the prince—”
“Hears of this,” Takeo jumped in. “Yes, I know. You’ve made it quite clear your love of spreading rumors and gossip over doing anything productive. I understand. Now either grab a torch or get off this roof. I’m not in the mood to entertain your unoriginal mix of contempt and melancholy.”
Lord Eun’s jaw dropped, yet Takeo and Gavin continued to plod away, burning and dumping bodies, moving down the line when necessary. The rush of flames and dead thuds soon became a rhythmic thing, almost therapeutic in a twisted sense. Eun took a deep breath to launch into a loud, lengthy speech, but Takeo headed him off.
“If my command bothers you,” Takeo said, “then do something about it. I meant what I said on that first day I arrived. All my power transfers to the person who kills me. Either challenge me to a duel or be gone, Lord Eun. If you speak one more word to me today, just one, no matter what that word is, I will take it as such a challenge. We’ll fight to the death. Then, if you win, you can surrender just as you please. Is that your desire?”
Takeo paused for the first time and turned his full body toward Eun. He put one hand on his sword and watched the color drain from Lord Eun's face. The old man's jaw snapped shut, and the look of disdain on his face turned horribly pronounced. Eun swallowed and marched away, trying as much as he could to continue holding his head up. The rest of the samurai watched him go.
“You’re playing a dangerous game with this challenge thing,” Gavin whispered as they reach down for the next body. “You’re going to get a knife in the back while you sleep, I swear it.”
“And I’d agree with you, if I didn’t have someone so trustworthy watching out for me,” Takeo replied.
Gavin paused, clearly touched, but then shook his head. “I can’t be present all the time, Takeo. There will be gaps, and if I’m not mistake, there are these things called ninjas living in this land. I think someone rather intelligent told me about them.”
“Ninjas won't care about my challenge,” Takeo said.
“Takeo Karaoshi!” came a booming voice from beyond the fort.
Everyone on the roof snapped to attention. All eyes turned on Takeo, but he froze, momentarily in disbelief that someone was calling for him.
“Karaoshi!” came the shout again. “You there! Where is your commander?”
Takeo passed the torch to Gavin and march across the roof at a brisk pace. The soldier previously addressed stepped out of the way so Takeo could press up against the stone and peer over the edge.
On the grass below, just a few paces back from the burning corpses, was Lord Botan Katsu, mounted on his regal komainu. Flanking him were two other such warriors, their eyes darting along the parapet walls in rapid order, no doubt searching for any incoming projectiles. They seemed on edge, and their komainu mounts felt it. The massive creatures whined at the burning bodies, the close proximity to flames making their instincts uneasy. The mounts swayed and dipped, and so too did Lord Botan. At the sight of Takeo, he gave a shallow bow.
“Ah, there you are,” the shogun said. “Amazing. I’m shocked to see you standing so well.”
“I’m shocked to see you so close to our walls,” Takeo replied. “You’re a brave man, Lord Botan. Haven’t you heard we have a viking in our ranks well versed in spear-throwing?”
“Is that a threat?” Botan asked.
Takeo turned to see Nicholas was indeed rushing to grab a spear, but Takeo waved him down. Nicholas scowled but complied.
