Takeo's Chronicles, page 90
Not a single mouth lay closed. The speed with which Takeo had crossed the room and put Chet into submission shocked the breath out of all who hadn’t blinked and missed it. Chet dropped his sword, the clatter of steel on stone echoing about their small enclave.
Takeo had every intention of stopping there. The fight was over. All he needed to do was cut the rations again as punishment, and this issue would resolve itself. Unfortunately for Chet, Takeo glanced up and locked eyes with Lord Eun Choi.
The old man didn’t seem remorseful in the slightest. Quite the opposite, with parted lips, he was grinning. The smugness of that smile spoke a thousand words, none of which Takeo liked.
You wanted this, Eun? Truly? You pressed my own soldiers to rebel against me. You will pay for this, I swear it, and all those who follow you.
Takeo scanned the crowd until he found Chet’s friends, those companions who he spent so much time with. They looked frightened, especially so when Takeo gazed upon them.
“If any of you wish to take his place, now’s your chance,” he said.
Chet stammered, but Takeo pressed his sword tight to the boy’s throat, cutting off the airflow. Chet’s friends swallowed and shrank back.
“I thought not,” Takeo replied, and slit Chet’s throat.
A shocked gasp swept through the crowd as blood spilled out and ran down Chet’s skin, soaking his clothes and shooing out in spurts. Chet tried to scream but the sound was garbled as his windpipe filled with red, and the force of the yells only sprayed out drops of red to splatter on the floor. Those closest stepped back, repulsed as Chet gasped for air and struggled to get free. He fought against Takeo’s grip, but the samurai held strong, and Chet clawed at Takeo’s hands. His strength faded fast as the pumping continued, and Chet’s eyes rolled back in his head. Takeo held tight until all the life had gone out, looking forever with disdain at such a useless waste of life. When finally Chet went still, Takeo looked up to Lord Eun again.
The old man wasn't smiling anymore. He was pale and aghast. Takeo held the gaze and released Chet’s body, letting the fresh corpse splash into the pool of his own blood. Takeo never blinked.
Across the way, Takeo noticed the first movement in the room. Gavin had turned away and slowly shook his head.
“I warned him,” Takeo said with a level tone. “If he continued, I would take that as a sign of treason. This is the fate that awaits all who try me. All because he said he was hungry. I can tell you now, he wasn’t hungry.” Takeo paused to bend down and wipe his blade clean on the back of Chet’s clothing. Then he stood up and sheathed the katana, making sure it clicked loudly into place. “In fact, none of you are hungry. Do you know how I know this? I’ve just served up a fresh meal, and none of you seem eager to claim it.”
Cold shivers ran through the crowd. More than a few made faces of disgust. Takeo stepped away from Chet’s corpse and closed to the nearest soul, who inched away ever so slightly.
“I’ve been sold into slavery three times in my life,” Takeo said. “The first by my brother to a shogun in Juatwa, the second by that shogun to a rakshasa in Savara, and the third by that rakshasa to a clan of orcs in the Mountains of Khaz Mal. Each time was worse than the last, and that third time … well, that was true slavery.
“Most of you are too naïve to know of any world beyond Juatwa. This land is paradise in comparison to most, being constantly warm and plentiful in water and food. Khaz Mal has no such luxuries. A land of towering rock and snow, food is forever an unknown, as is any concept of comfort. Try to imagine being so cold that you can’t feel, that you can’t breathe, and everything hurts despite lacking a sense of touch. I only saw fire from a distance for months, and the orcs made us huddle together to survive. They didn’t feed us, not in the normal sense. We had only one food source—each other.
“They picked out the fattest one and killed him, leaving his corpse at our feet. That was it. No command, no orders, no indication. They simply brought the body along with them, making us carry it, the meat forever preserved by winter’s chill. What happened next was simply nature at its worst. When we got hungry, truly hungry, we ate that dead man. I went first, and I didn’t hesitate. I knew what it meant to survive.” He paused again, waiting to see if anyone dared usher a challenge, to dare say that he’d gone too far. When he was satisfied, he paced back to Chet’s corpse and looked down on it. “He’s to stay here,” Takeo said. “This will serve as a reminder that none of you are truly hungry. For if you were, you wouldn’t hesitate. Now go. No rations today, for anyone.”
He left first, in full confidence that his order would be obeyed. Takeo had once again bought time, but from his own people instead of Lord Botan. He could be sure his murder of Chet would have a cooling effect on most of the troops, but he’s wasn’t sure it would outlast the hunger pains by more than a week. However, judging the siege equipment being assembled beyond the walls, a rough week was all they had.
Takeo wasn't worried about the legality of what he'd done. Executions weren’t unheard of in Juatwa, though they were rare. Usually the threat of dishonoring one’s lord or lady was enough to keep the vast majority of troops in line, whose family and friends waited back home and under the watchful eye of said daimyo. However, during trying times, traitorous actions did occur, and public execution was the most common way of dealing with such offenders. Those who escaped were branded as ronin and normally either left Juatwa, never to return, or gave up the samurai life. Some took to farming, others to joining the ninjas. It was the rare, exceptional ronin that was recruited into the regular army again.
And perhaps that’s why Takeo never worried about Chet's death. He’d already proven himself above the normal laws that governed most men.
Not that Takeo believed that, but it was beneficial to keep up appearances.
Meanwhile, things continued to take a turn for the worst in the fort. Word soon got out that Lord Botan was building siege equipment, and the entire force received a well-deserved shock to its system as they realized that they weren’t going to die of hunger, but instead die much sooner. It was expected that Takeo would increase the rations for the first time since they’d entered the fort, but only then did Takeo reveal the worst of the news.
“We’re out of food,” he announced a few days later. “We have enough for one day, maybe two if we cut rations again.”
This was met with nothing more than a bleak hush, which Takeo reasoned more than appropriate. He might have left things off there, but the look of despair in the eyes of many forced him to go on.
“I’ve been trying to keep this from you,” he said. “Hence why I’ve been handing out the food personally, but it’s inevitable now. As many of you have noticed, the Katsu army is building siege equipment. The bad news is that they may be terrible at it. After they build the equipment, they'll test them by flinging rocks at our fort. We’re in a difficult situation. On one hand, they might not break through and slaughter us all before we starve. On the other, they will. Either way, our goal remains the same. We’ll hold out as long as possible.”
Lord Botan came to the walls one last time, expecting to hear a voice of surrender from Takeo, but received a spear throw from Nicholas instead. It only just missed, and the Lord ran full speed back to his camp. Takeo thought that rather settled the matter.
Over the next few days, the fort held suspended in a precarious situation. As the siege equipment went up, the sounds of hammers and nails, ropes and lashing, echoed over the fort at all times. Combined with the horrid sickness of malnutrition, the samurai troops were both alight with adrenaline yet slowly dying from within. It was not uncommon to find a man unblinking, lying awake all day, and yet so unmovable that he collected dust. Some people stayed still for so long that when they moved, they left visible dents in the dirt on the ground, as sawdust from the Katsu camps came floating in on the Juatwa breeze.
It was the strangest sort of despair, like watching an argument rage between a lord and his wife over how to execute a prisoner. Takeo did his best to hide such thoughts, trying to put on a show of determination for his troops. He hoped it worked, but some saw right through him.
One day, Takeo heard grunting sounds coming from somewhere below the fort. He staggered to stand and hobbled down the hallways towards the noise, and to his dismay, found Nicholas in a dark room, digging a hole with his bare hands.
“Nicholas,” Takeo croaked, stomach shooting out constant pain. “What are you doing?”
The viking didn’t answer. He was sitting on his knees in a section where they’d pried up the stone floor, digging furiously in the dirt with energy he shouldn’t have. Yet then he stopped, out of breath, and slumped, heaving in ragged gasps. He was filthy.
“Nicholas, stop,” Takeo repeated. “What’s going on?”
“I can’t die this way,” Nicholas whispered, then sniffed and whipped tears from his face, smearing dirt. “I fell asleep yesterday morning, and I didn’t wake up until just now. How long was I out? I'm not sure. I can feel it, Takeo. I’m dying. What if I go to sleep again and don’t wake up? I’ll never reach Valhalla. I have to get out of here.”
Nicholas took a deep breath and started to dig again. Takeo raised his voice, commanding the viking to stop, but he was ignored. Takeo hobbled forward and grabbed Nicholas by the wrist. Both of them were so weak that a struggle didn’t even occur. Takeo collapsed next to the viking, and they leaned on each other.
“Nicholas, don’t do this,” he said. “You’ll only tire yourself out and die faster. Just hang in there. Save your energy for the final battle.”
“And how do you know there will be one?” Nicholas replied, sniffing again. Tears ran freely down his face. “How do you know we’ll make it?”
“We won’t die for at least another week, I promise,” Takeo said. “And Lord Botan will come before then.”
Nicholas nodded, by tiny streams still flowed from his eyes. He didn’t seem capable of stopping them, nor did he seem to care. Small splatters dripped into his beard. Nicholas frowned. “And what if you’re wrong? What if I don’t make it? I mean, look at me. I look like I did in Carlito’s dungeon. I can’t die like this, Takeo. I must get to Valhalla. I have to see her.”
Nicholas paused to suck in air. Takeo turned his head ever so slightly to glance at his huge friend.
“Her?” the samurai whispered, his heart skipping. “Her who?”
“You know who,” Nicholas answered. “She’s there, Takeo. I’ve seen her in my dreams. They took her bow, but gave her a sword—a giant two-handed one that’s an awe to look at, and black wings, so strange. Have you seen her, Takeo?”
The samurai struggled to breathe. His heart was racing, yet his throat was thick, and he had to cough to regain his composure.
“No, Nicholas,” he replied. “I don’t dream much anymore, of anything.”
“She asks about you,” the viking went on. “All the time, she asks about you. She says she can’t find you anymore, that all she sees is what you leave behind, and she’s worried about you. She says she still loves you. She wanted me to tell you that.”
Takeo’s vision began to blur, and he closed his eyes to fight the tears back. He knew that in his current state, if he started crying, he might not stop.
“Thank you,” Takeo replied. “Next time you see her, tell her I love her, too.”
Takeo pushed himself to a stand and left the room. He couldn’t take anymore, as now there was a new pain in his chest that outweighed the one in his stomach, and he was certain it would kill him. Nicholas fell onto his back as Takeo left. The samurai walked down the hallway until he was out of sight and slammed a shoulder against the stone to keep himself from falling over. He clutched a hand to his heart and gritted his teeth, willing the deep, dark pain to leave. It felt like his chest would explode.
“What’s happening to me?” he whispered. “Damn it, stop. Please, stop.”
Without thinking, his other hand fell to his waist, and his fingers brushed his sword. Warmth trickled into the tips and up to his heart. The pain numbed, if only for a moment, and Takeo quickly clutched the sword with his hand. The warmth became a rush of fire that spread throughout his body, and the pain disappeared. In its place, strength took over, and Takeo took a breath to lean off the wall. He stood steadily and kept his grip on his weapon.
“One week at a time,” he whispered. “You can do this.”
A violent thud shattered the silence as something heavy and fast slammed against the fort. Everything rumbled and shook, nearly tripping Takeo, as dust burst free from countless cracks to fill the air. The small earthquake ended as soon as it began, and Takeo found he’d taken a readied stance.
As silence returned, Takeo heard muffled shouts through the walls. He picked up a few key words such Katsu, boulder, and flung.
Takeo sighed. “Never mind. Weeks be damned. Only a few more days to go.”
He strolled casually down the hall as a barrage of boulders began to fall heavily against the fort, shaking their stone tomb every half second.
Chapter 28
Takeo had no issues with lying. Unlike some people, he didn’t consider the very act immoral in any way, but quite the opposite, and that in some cases lying was the only humane thing to do. Therefore, when he decided to tell his troops there was no food left, what he really meant was that there was no food left for them. There were only enough rations for Yeira, or more specifically, Gavin’s unborn child.
He told them this out of concern for their safety, because if any protested, he might have to kill them prematurely.
It was a secret only two others were trusted to keep—three if the prime beneficiary could be included in the count. Takeo met with them at least once a day, or sometimes only Gavin, because Yeira rarely left the room that her and the few remaining rations had been confined to. Takeo tried his best to arrive at the same time every day, so Gavin would know who’s footsteps were echoing down the hallway, and if they should quiet any sounds of chewing or swallowing.
Not that they had to worry about that anymore. Not with entire fort shaking every so often as a new boulder came crashing down.
Takeo approached the door to Yeira’s room, waited for a brief pause in the siege assault, and then knocked on the wooden door. A moment later, Gavin let him in and closed the door. The knight still twitched every time the fort shuddered.
“What is it?” Gavin said in between the thundering strikes.
“Up top,” Takeo replied. “We need to talk.”
Gavin didn’t argue. There wasn’t enough time in between collisions, and so submitted to following Takeo through the shaking tunnels with only the occasional pause to steady themselves as the ground shook from heavy impacts.
Takeo passed through the fort’s center where the majority of his samurai troops had taken up residence. Not only was it in a place furthest from any point of impact, but it also was the largest room, and they had decided to turn it into a communal home once the siege began. They sat in quiet, meditated poses with eyes closed, seemingly unperturbed by the near-constant shaking of the fort. In the center of the group sat Kuniko, the de facto leader of this arrangement, as Takeo had surely never ordered such a thing. It didn’t bother Takeo particularly, except it was also the room where Chet’s body still lay, and the smell was quite bad. He didn’t say anything, though.
As they climbed up the ladders, Gavin paused to glance down at the group.
“I didn’t tell you this before, but you ought to know,” Gavin shouted as he and Takeo climbed. “I felt bad,” he paused as a boulder soared through the air and crashed into the fort's wall. “I felt bad about hoarding the rest of the food, so I brought a ration to Kuniko and them below, saying it was the last I had and to split it among themselves.”
Takeo paused at the top of the ladder to glance around, making sure no one else was on the roof, and also to let a group of boulders crash into all sides of the fort at once, nearly making them deaf. They were alone, as they should be, as Takeo had decreed that no one was allowed up here without his permission. It’d become too dangerous, and everyone was too tired to argue.
“And?” Takeo shouted back.
“You’re not going to believe this, but they refused it,” Gavin said. “Outright refused it, saying they weren’t hungry enough. Something’s wrong with them, Takeo. You need to check on them.”
“If we weren’t all going to die soon, I might,” Takeo replied. “But we’ve got bigger problems right now, and they’re raining down on us as we speak.”
He climbed onto the roof and pulled Gavin up, and then gestured to the Katsu camps beyond.
Lord Botan had constructed upwards of fifty catapults in quick order, which was absurdly impressive, each with a dedicated team to make sure it continued to lob destruction into the distance day and night. Besides that, a good half the army seemed in a perpetual readied state to assault, while the other half was set to task dragging carts full of boulders from the canyon walls to the siege engines. None of this was unusual, per se, except for perhaps the efficiency with which everything was executed, but it was the arrangement that caught Gavin’s eye.
Instead of having all the siege weapons aimed at one particular point in the fort, Lord Botan had divided his equipment up evenly into a perfect circle about the entire fort, so that each lobbed stone hit a different side, at a different point, and at a different time. Gavin’s jaw dropped open as he watch boulders come crashing down from all around, slamming at such odd moments and in odd places as to confuse him to no end. One particular throw aimed just a tad too high, and the boulder bounced on the parapet, skidded across the roof top, then slammed and twirled over the opposite wall. Gavin nudged close to the ladder and shook his head.
“What is he doing?” the knight asked.
“As far as I can tell, practicing,” Takeo replied. “He’s intentionally drawing this out, letting his engineers practice on us for as long as they can, fine tuning their equipment for the real battle against the Hanu keep.”
