Takeo's Chronicles, page 93
And then a smile slipped across Gavin's face. Tears pooled in his eyes, and he looked to Takeo first.
“She’s alive,” the knight whispered, the movement of his lips more than readable.
Takeo expected to feel a rush of relief, perhaps a soar of emotion, or even a plunge into exhaustion. Yet, he felt nothing, perhaps beyond shock. Nicholas and Krunk, however, openly sighed and collapsed back.
Gavin held the baby girl close, so tiny and small, her skin so thin it was translucent. There were little tiny hairs all over her body, and as far as Takeo could understand, she was absolutely hideous. Her frailty was terrifying in a certain light, yet Gavin didn’t mind. He held her close and cooed, crying tears of joy. He looked to Yeira with a deep and loving gaze. He stretched out the newborn to her mother.
Yeira recoiled and turned away.
“Get that thing away from me,” she snapped.
The four others balked, and Yeira turned over on her side and curled into a ball. She moaned and started to shutter again. Takeo looked to Gavin, but the knight was serious and attentive once again. He grabbed Nicholas by the collar and dragged him over, then placed the infant in the viking’s arms—or rather his palm.
“Hold her,” he shouted. “Yeira’s going to deliver the rest of it. I have to help. Krunk, keep holding her legs. Takeo!”
As the knight shouted the samurai’s name, the thunderous pounding ended in a violent boom that shook them all so violently they tumbled. The siege came to a stop, and for the first time in what seemed ages, complete silence fell over them. Each was breathing heavy, sweating even, and looked to each other in ominous apprehension. Only Yeira’s quiet, painful murmurs interrupted them.
Then there was a loud bang on the door, followed by a second when the first wasn’t answered. Takeo went to it, putting his fluid-sticky hand on the handle and pulling. Borota filled the other side, a look of apathy staining his ugly, red face.
“You should know they broke through on the northern side,” the oni said, lips twisting into an eager smirk. “They’re coming.”
In the wake of the oni’s deep voice, Takeo heard the muffled roar of a charging crowd in the far distance. He looked back at Gavin and the others still sitting in place, with Nicholas holding the new born child in his massive hands.
As far as he could tell, there was only one thing to do.
“Help her deliver, and then get Yeira and yourselves to safety,” Takeo said. “Find a place to hide and stay there. Don’t come out until someone finds you. I’ll buy you time.” He stepped out and slammed the door shut. Then he looked to Borota. “Take me to the breach. And don’t leave, or I’ll make you my first kill of the day.”
Borota snarled but obeyed. The oni took off down the darkened halls, the roar of the Katsu army growing stronger as they marched closer. They turned the corner, and Takeo saw the damage that had been wrought.
A massive, gaping hole had been torn into the side of the fort. Broken stonework and rock lay scattered about in a wide mound, cluttering the ground. The morning sun was bright, spreading across the grassy plains and filling the wide canyon beyond, giving a clear view to the charging sea of blue army that was streaming towards them.
Takeo climbed atop the rubble and surveyed the scene. Rising above the coming army were the collected arms of the siege weapons from before, now brought together to bear down on this particular part of the fort. Just outside, boulders half the size of people littered the ground, and stone dust chocked the air. Takeo tried to fill the hole with his body, but there simply wasn’t enough of him. The siege weapons had ripped a hole in the fort as wide as two bugbears across, and his heart skipped when he looked out at the charging army. Flashes of steel lit up like twinkling stars in the distance, and their roar of battlelust echoed louder the closer they came.
“They’ll be here soon,” Takeo called over his shoulder. “Borota, I need you to fetch the troops.”
He caught red out of the corner of his eye and turned completely around. Kuniko and all the others were standing in full armor with swords draw at the base of the debris. They looked determined, awake, and utterly fearless in the face of what was to come. However, that’s not what made Takeo pause.
Each and every one of them had a chin and throat covered in blood. Their lips, cheeks, and noses were smeared with the stuff, and those few that were grinning had teeth as red as their Hanu armor. Takeo’s lips parted, and he stared at Kuniko. They were all looking up at him, their faces seeking approval.
“My lord.” She bowed, as did the others. “Where do you want us?”
Takeo couldn’t think clearly. He couldn’t believe what his eyes were telling him.
“What did you do?” he said, and instantly wished he’d never asked.
“We’ve transcended,” she replied. “Like you did, in the snowy mountains of Khaz Mal. We are hungry no more, my lord.”
Chapter 30
Takeo felt the blood and warmth drain from his face. Despite the roar of a charging army at his back, he stood still for what seemed an eternity. He was certain he looked like a fool in that moment, gripped by indecision, but none of the blood-soaked faces before him lost their lust for approval. All but Borota, of course, who stood to the side looking just as shocked as Takeo, except his was closer to wonder, perhaps even envy, with a dash of relish. The oni’s twisted pre-battle insanity was taking hold, and his ugly face was mashed into something feral at its core.
Perhaps it’s best that we all die today, Takeo thought.
“My lord,” Kuniko repeated, and Takeo was transfixed by her bloodied lips moving. “Where do you want us?”
Takeo jerked his head to shake off the hesitation. He forced himself to turn towards the coming Katsu army and took hold of his enchanted blade. Fire pushed aside the cold, and confidence filled him however undeserved. He resolved to think no more on what he saw, at least not so far as to let him be distracted. He’d seen worse, surely. Hadn’t he?
It doesn’t matter anymore. I’m here for Gavin. I must buy time, all that I can.
“Step into the rubble, but only as far as you can find solid footing,” Takeo shouted, refusing to look back at his troops. “Use that to your advantage and kill them as they climb. When they began to die in droves, step back to turn their corpses into obstacles. Hold this line. Do not let them in.”
“Sir!” they shouted in unison, and the shuffle of armor and swords rang behind him as the troops flooded in to fill the gap. Kuniko shouted orders, commanding them in groups Takeo didn’t assign, which were obeyed without question. They filed in behind Takeo, and some came close enough that he could see their blood covered faces and necks in the corners of his vision. He stepped forward until he saw nothing but stone, grass, and samurai in blue.
“My lord,” Kuniko called out. “What will you do?”
The army was almost upon them. They were close enough that Takeo could see the whites in their eyes, the color of their teeth, and the scars on their bodies. He had but precious moments.
“I go to find Lord Botan,” Takeo said. “Do not follow me.”
Takeo ripped his sword free of its sheath and leapt from the stony pile to the grass below. He landed softly as a ninja and burst into a minotaur’s charge. His feet kicked up clods of dirt and grass, and his hair took to the wind behind him as he sprinted into the coming lines. The Katsu army didn’t stop—it couldn’t, not with such a flood of bodies in its wake—but he saw the hesitation, surprise, and then fear in those first few troops he met.
As Takeo crashed into the army, a wave of swords flooded down to skewer him, but he was a whirlwind of flame and fury, dodging, parrying, and then killing in a flash. Five were dead before he even had to adjust course, their bodies flung to the ground whilst still the others ran on, their ragged corpses flipping end over end before skidding to halt. They were left behind as tripping hazards to their allies, but Takeo immediately lost sight of what happened to the fort as he was engulfed in a maelstrom of blue laminar armor and gray steel that flashed white in the sun. At every turn, another katana came for his life, and Takeo fought back with the tide with his singular red, a color that stained both his armor and his sword as he reaped souls like a farmer come to harvest. Screams, howls, and cries preceded every dead thud as his katana dropped body after body to Juatwa’s gentle embrace. His sword was cutting through flesh so often that it was perpetually wreathed in flames, belching black smoke as he set fire to armor and flesh alike. His enchanted blade could not be stopped, not even as it struck lesser swords, which shattered under the impact of his might.
Within moments, Takeo had carved out a small graveyard. Stacks of men and women surrounded him as if he’d carefully placed each to construct a small fort for himself, and Takeo added to the pile by leaping onto the dead. He was granted height, a thing most coveted in the thick of battle, and he used it to the most efficient degree, parrying and slicing in blur of movement. He was perfection given life, death personified, a thing untouched by the bonds of reality. Those enemy swords that reached past his guard did nothing but slice his ankles and rake his shins as he climbed ever higher on the morbid stack of those who dared defy a god.
Yet Takeo did not do this for show. As in everything he did, there was a purpose.
When there were so many dead that Takeo stood above them all, he risked a glance out at the sea of laminar blue and flashing white blades, if only for a moment before another poor soul foolishly climbed the pile to die before him. It was worth it, as Takeo spied across the way a gathering of komainu mounts with riders of regal bearing. There were maybe ten of them or less, surrounding one who appeared most determined and interested in the fort itself. They weren’t close, but they were within viewing distance, and as Takeo rose from the blue on a wave a blood, so too did those komainu troops notice him. Takeo had eyes for none of them but the handsome, light eyed soul in the center, whose smile was not so warm on this day. Takeo put his cold, black gaze on the man.
“Spears!” someone shouted from nearby. “We need spears! We can’t get close to him.”
Takeo risked one more glance, this time back at the fort, but saw only the throng of blue choking the gaping hole in the stone wall. Takeo looked for only those precious few seconds to note that the army had stopped there, that they weren’t flooding inside just yet, and that Kuniko and the others kept the tide at bay for now. Then Takeo gave it no more thought and leapt from his pile of dead into the waters below.
He impaled a man as he landed, but ripped his sword free and slayed two more before the first fell. Takeo rolled under a rain of steel and raked in a circle that severed the legs of so many. A chorus of screams echoed out as they crumbled, and Takeo dashed on so that the blades coming for his back might miss. He made for the komainu procession, killing as he went with all the heartless furry his brother had beaten into him. A wake of blood marked his course, not just staining the ground, but the sky above as his blade flung charred bits of flesh into the air. His speed was unmatched by everything but his hair, which flowed wild and free like a shadow to his every move.
“Stop him!” a voice called out, full of command and honor, and another tone Takeo was far more acquainted with: horror. “Stop him, damn it!” Lord Botan yelled out over the clamor of his own troops. “Spears! Where are the spears? There! Over there. Go!”
Takeo cut through a section of samurai, parting their bodies like a curtain to reveal the foolish shogun who dared join his own men in the slaughter this day. Lord Botan was as royal as ever, what with his sharply cut hair and elegant battle armor, surrounded on all sides by elite troops mounted on armored komainus who turned on Takeo with ferocious snarls. In front of them, Lord Botan had finally received his spears, as a thin line of regulars with long spears stood shoulder-to-shoulder, the tips of their weapons reaching for Takeo’s tattered armor. Yet they lost an aura of confidence as they stared down at the dark ronin, covered in fresh blood running so thick that it dripped from his hair and stained the green grass at every step. He held his sword high, charred black yet burning still with fleshy embers.
Takeo’s gaze burned straight through to Lord Botan, and the shogun’s face turned a touch pale. It was almost as if he could hear the samurai's thoughts.
My last hope for Gavin and the Hanu keep lies with your death, Takeo thought, his eyes giving life to the words. This army will fall into disarray without your leadership, I’m certain. I will make my death worth it by sending you to the grave.
“Kill him!” Lord Botan shouted.
The spear line lunged for Takeo, and he batted the points aside whilst falling back. He went to cut the spears apart and charge, when one of the komainu troops jerked his reins, sending the creature into a frenzy. It roared and bounded over the spears, claws flying for Takeo in the small clearing he’d made in the Katsu army.
Takeo darted to the side, dodging the first attack, and the komainu landed with ease at his side. Claws and teeth came for him in equal measure while spear points lunged for him at the side, and Takeo parried one and dodged the other, before slashing his blade across the komainu’s snout. The beast roared, but recoiled for only a second, the pain breaking down its last barrier to sanity. It opened wide and went to swallow Takeo whole, and only a furry of slices and cuts kept the jaws at bay. Sharp teeth bit into the fringes of his armor and yanked him forward, and Takeo cut off his own garb rather than be sucked into the komainu’s jaws. As it clamped on his remains, Takeo dove to the ground beneath the beast, spinning in midair to land on his back, and thrust his blade up under its neck.
Blood flowed free from the wound, baptizing Takeo in red anew, but sending the komainu reeling on its hind legs, howling until blood filled its throat. Takeo rolled to his feet as the beast slammed back to the ground, and it made another swipe at him, but he severed the claws.
The beast collapsed, yet before it died, Takeo leapt onto the beasts’ head and decapitated the rider, all before another flurry of spear tips lashed out at him.
Takeo fell to the opposite side of the dead komainu, a thick wall of flesh providing cover between him and death. He was breathing hard, his sweat mixing with the blood, and he flung his head to keep the komainu stuff from dripping into his eyes. No respite could be found, though, as the other side was enemy territory as well, and a torrent of Katsu troops flung themselves at him, swinging swords and spears with ill regard for the madness of it all. Takeo slayed all he could, but with his back against a dying komainu, he lost half his movement—his only defense in this sea of steel, and a dozen blades came too close, cutting his thighs, arms, and missing his face and neck by mere slivers. Takeo got in one breath as another attack came, unperturbed by all the damage he’d done, and Takeo took a sword to the scalp that almost claimed his life. An involuntary cry escaped his lips, which only emboldened the enemy, but before they could come again, he vaulted the komainu and slid down the other side.
He landed rough. Something had caught his calf, he wasn’t sure what. He hadn’t the time as spears from all directions dashed for him like tiny arrows for every part of his body. He avoided half by spinning lift, parried a quarter, and took at least two spear tips into his body, though they were caught by his armor and stopped shallow.
They came for him again, and his blade slashed to cut the spears tips off. Those that struck him stayed impaled, one in his ribs, where the bones had stopped the tip from reaching his heart, and another in his thigh, held in place by what remained of his armor. Takeo lashed out at the spear-bearers, but they were too far away, and Takeo killed only one before another barrage came for him. He miraculously survived, but only for a second, and in that moment he realized Lord Botan was getting away. The shogun had retreated, putting all his komainu guards in Takeo’s path, and a hoard of spears had come now, clogging the way, and Takeo could hardly get through the first line at all. Cold, calculated, brutal reality took hold of him and spoke in no uncertain terms that all Takeo had done was to be for not.
He would die a failure.
The line of spears, now two rows thick, went to end Takeo’s life when a terrifying howl split the air. Deep and inhuman, it echoed out just prior to a flood of screams and crashes, as literal human bodies fell from the sky encased in blue and yet leaking red. The ground quaked with a thud, and another roar made Takeo’s knees shake. A huge crash preceded the flinging of yet more Katsu men into the air, and they rained down heavy to slam into their fellows, snapping bones. Takeo stood against the dead komainu and risked a glance over his shoulder.
A massive club encased in metal studs ripped through a line of men to reveal Borota in all his brutal glory. Red skin marred further by black and red blood, he swung his kanabo in raking motions side to side. His strength was such that it barreled through any that dared fall in his path. Around him, swords fell and stabbed, ripping into his immortal body and slicing open his flesh, ripping out the oni's black blood. One of the white horns on his head had a body on it, impaled and flapping with his movements as he charged down the line, headed straight for Takeo.
The line of spearmen facing the samurai made a quick lunge to end the samurai's life, but Takeo leapt onto of the komainu, dodging most and then parried the others. Borota trampled the few remaining forces in his way and reached the corpse-fort Takeo had claimed. His kanabo never stopped moving, swinging back and forth, driving the enemy away and killing those who dared come close.
“You crazy oni,” Takeo shouted, unable to contain his relief. “I never thought I’d be happy to see you. Hurry! We can catch him before he—”
Takeo was cut off as one of Borota’s swings turned in midair and caught Takeo square in the chest. At full force, the blow would have shattered his ribs and killed him instantly, if not for his inhuman speed letting him fall back at the last second. Yet still the metal studs slammed into him like a minotaur’s skull, and Takeo was lifted effortlessly into the air and flung like a ragdoll. His entire world exploded in white, and he lost consciousness for the half second it took for him to plummet to the ground again, flipping end over end and landing in a crippled mess, cushioned by so many dead.
