Archeologist Warlord: Book 2

by E. M. Hardy

  “That explains why there’s so much open ground between the Taiyo and Imperial cities,” mused Martin, nodding with his walker. “The cities there were probably razed to the ground, its peoples slain to fuel the blood-weapons.” The nod seemed forced, however, with the walker still clenching its fists.

  Ishida nodded back, thankful that Martin wasn’t lashing out at him. At least for the moment.

  “The Emperor at the time, Zi Li’s grandfather, rallied the peoples of the mainland together and defeated the second Shogun—Inagaki’s father—before taking his son hostage to ensure the cooperation of my people. My own grandfather returned after that campaign, broken inside from all the innocents he fed into his blade and the blades of others. He swore to himself that he would never do such a thing again, that he would fight with principle from that point on, shed his own blood for his blades and bows and arrows. Thus he began working on the principles of bushido, the way of the warrior, which was passed down to my father before he passed it down to me.”

  Ishida bit his lips hard enough to draw blood before committing himself on what needed to be done. He slowly took off his helmet, allowing the wind to carry away the fearful sweat drenching his head and hair. He then bowed stiffly to Martin’s walker, his gut clenching with shame through every single moment.

  “I have sworn loyalty to the Shogun, Martin Fuller. I must stand by those oaths, even if Inagaki wasn’t holding my family and the families of my liegemen hostage. This means that my blade and my bow will serve the Shogun until either he or death releases me. However, know that I do not wish such slaughter upon your people. I—”

  “Do not even TRY to hide behind excuses, Ishida Nagatoshi!” Martin roared aloud, interrupting Ishida and shocking him with the violence of his outburst.

  “You choose to serve a bastard that murders innocents, using their blood to make more of your fancy weapons. You choose to give him more power, to support him even as he points a blade at the people you call family. If you want me to accept your half-assed apology, then tell me what you can do to take down that psychopath!”

  Ishida straightened up, gawking at the vehemence of Martin’s demands. His shame, however, prevented him from saying anything at all.

  Venkati chuckled. It was forced and carried a trace of fear in it, but it was nonetheless enough to break through the tension and bring Martin’s focus to him. The walker didn’t outright bark out his displeasure at the Maharaja, but it gave away Martin’s irritation with the way it forcefully craned its neck in his direction.

  “I didn’t mean to offend, Martin Fuller, but I have to ask: do you even know what it is like to have a family?”

  The walker tensed, its ceramic fists grinding as he tightened into a ball of pure force. Then just like that, the walker deflated—slumping its shoulders and spreading its palms open in surrender.

  “You’re… you’re right, Venkati. I guess I wouldn’t be as defiant if someone were holding my parents and my little sister at knifepoint.”

  “You have a little sister?” Ishida blurted out, unable to control himself.

  “Yeah,” Martin replied, suddenly wistful. “Annoying little runt. Always loved playing pranks on me, though I got her right back with a few pranks of my own. It was all just fun and games though, no real tension or anything like that.” The walker’s shoulders fell even further, even drooping its neck as Martin lost himself in his thoughts.

  “I have a little sister as well,” answered Ishida, following Martin’s train of thought as he too lost himself in the memories of his own family. “She thinks the world of me, believing I can do anything and everything if I just put myself to it. I could do no wrong in her eyes, and she’s one of the reasons I push myself so hard. My mother was stern, but she always fussed over me as if I was still her baby and not a warrior in his prime. And my father… he was a good man. Strong, kind, courageous, and compassionate even in the face of death—which was exactly why Inagaki Shogun executed him.”

  “Damn. Been so busy spreading myself out, dedicating myself to what needs doing, that I haven’t remembered my own family for a long, long time.” The walker straightened up once more with a shake of its head.

  “You know something, Ishida? I’m watching a family similar to ours right now. The father and the elder son are waiting in line, spears pointed at them as those in front of them are executed by a band of samurai. It’ll be their turn next to feed the weapons that the samurai are binding with blood. The mother and youngest daughter of that family are being tossed around by five men, laughing and kicking them around as they have their way with them. They’ll join the line of the damned soon enough, once the footmen are done violating them. No battle wives, no comfort women, no slaves or camp followers. Just more blood for the blood-blades. There’s also another family that—”

  “Enough! Please… that’s enough.” Ishida clenched his stomach and turned away from the walker, fighting the shame that threatened to overwhelm him like it did before.

  Martin, for his part, remained silent and lost in thought. Everyone remained silent for a few more moments before Martin spoke up.

  “Ishida Daimyo. If the Shogun was to be drastically weakened somehow. If his forces were to be reduced in such a capacity that he would not be able to threaten your family or the families of your liegemen. If you could return home, free them from his clutches… would you be willing to abandon your oaths to him? Would you turn your blade against him if it meant saving the lives not just of your family but of countless families within the Empire and beyond?”

  Ishida hesitated for a moment, furrowing his brows in thought. “Three of the eight core tenets of bushido, the code of the warrior, involve honesty, loyalty, and self-control,” he replied slowly and deliberately, not wanting to rush his position. “I do what I say, and I say what I do. I am loyal to those I am responsible for and those that I have pledged to. I resist the allure of temptations so that I may achieve my goals. These three tenets bind me to serve and protect the Shogun who I pledged my oaths to.”

  Ishida inhaled deeply, trembling as he closed his eyes in focus. “However, the code of the warrior also binds me to honor, respect, compassion, courage, and righteousness. Honor, that I judge myself to the highest standards. Respect, not only in battle but in the way I treat with others. Compassion, in that my power must be used to help my fellow man at every opportunity. Courage, in that I must live my life fully, wonderfully, and heroically—even if it is a short one. Righteousness, in that I deliver justice instead of waiting for others to deliver it.”

  Ishida opened his eyes, steadying his breath. “Bushido tears me in both directions. But my heart… my heart tells me that serving Inagaki Shogun will not serve the greater good. He seeks to return to the old ways, the ways of savage bloodletting, and I can no longer turn a blind eye to this. And so I say yes, Martin Fuller: I would turn my blade upon the Shogun. No, I must turn my blade upon him… even if it means losing my family.” Ishida forced himself to stillness, but he could not control the single tear sliding down his cheek. “But I cannot do this alone. My men have families of their own, and not all of them adhere to bushido as much as I and my liegemen do. I cannot force them to follow me, not if they know it will only lead to folly.”

  Martin’s walker nodded for a moment before turning to Maharaja Venkati, its blank face staring into his. “Oh no,” the Maharaja said, chuckling as he began twirling the tips of his moustache once again. “Why do I get the feeling that you are going to rope me into some kind of elaborate plan?”

  The walker’s stance relaxed, shoulders dropped and chest heaving in light laughter. “Why Maharaja Venkati, the plan isn’t elaborate at all.” Ishida stepped back as a wave of something dark, something malicious, roiled off the walker. “It is, in fact, quite simple… and might even be beneficial for you and your people in the long run.”

  Chapter 12

  Fourteen thousand walkers against fifty thousand meat-sacks—two thousand samur
ai, forty-eight thousand ashigaru, most if not all armed with blood-bound weapons thanks to ‘culling’ the city of Yan Bao.

  Shogun Inagaki Nobumoto, formerly known as the Sage Ye Heng, was correct in assuming that he could goad his enemy into committing to an attack. Shen Feng fought Martin on his decision to stand and fight, but he could do so only half-heartedly. Martin’s walkers were all that remained between the Shogunate forces and the cities of Wu Er and Xiang Yi, not to mention countless villages and farming communities dotting the landscape. All were being evacuated at that very moment by Bai Yu and his troops, especially since quite a few of the rural folk simply ran from the terrifying orbs floating in the sky.

  Martin’s cow-boxes rushed toward these cities and villages, pulling wagons filled to the brim with refugees. The youth first, followed by the sick and the elderly as the healthy trudged along. That which could not be carried was set on fire. Those that refused to evacuate were bodily forced out of their homes by Bai Yu’s men. The Shogun’s army had finished visiting its depredations upon the former city of Yan Bao, now reduced to ashes, and was already marching deeper into Imperial territory. Shen Feng’s forces were still a month and a half away.

  Despite all this, however, some people still refused to believe what was going to happen to them. The more remote villages were populated by hardy people dedicated to holding their own no matter what. This gung-ho attitude made them stand their ground in the face of Martin’s eyeballs. The city of Wu Er was proving to be particularly stubborn. Many residents were already fleeing, but many more defied the Imperial guards. Some even barricaded themselves in their homes, threatening the guards with poles and makeshift weapons if they forced themselves in.

  The threat to civilians had shattered Martin’s plans to slowly whittle the Shogunate army down over time. The Shogun was rushing headlong to the nearest cities and villages, eager to arm even more of his troops with blood-bound weapons. The abundance of blood meant the deadly tools were no longer limited to his elite samurai. No, the blood of Yan Bao was enough for his samurai to temper thousands of spears with blood. Now, even the light foot, the ashigaru, posed a genuine threat to Martin’s walkers. They may not wield their weapons with the same skill and competence as their samurai counterparts, but even the slightest training allowed them to draw extra power from the imprisoned blood.

  This, more than the lives and livelihoods of her people, was what finally swayed the Empress to give Martin full reign over his walker army. Cold-blooded logic dictated that the Empire could not allow the Shogunate to stockpile blood-bound weapons, and Martin’s forces were the closest to prevent that from happening.

  Truth be told, a small part of Martin nagged at him that it would be a strategically superior idea to wage a guerrilla war. Harass Inagaki’s forces all day, all night; build tunnels and bunkers to leave nasty surprises; bait the samurai into expending their limited stock of blood-arrows while he threw an unending hail of javelins into the mass of flesh and bone. Avoid open engagements, keep running, and bleed the Shogunates to death. Soften them up so that Shen Feng could smash into a tired, depleted foe when his army arrived.

  That plan, however, would mean abandoning two major cities and countless villages to the Shogunates. Any attempt to play coy would only allow the Shogun to reach the cities, slaughter those within. This, more than anything else, was why Martin decided to pit the bulk of his troops directly against the Shogunate army. His walkers would buy time for Bai Yu to evacuate as many as he could out of harm’s way, and he was okay with that. His walkers were expendable, after all.

  But that didn’t mean he would throw his walkers away in one, suicidal charge. No, he still had enough time for a few more tricks to help slow down the Shogunates.

  ***

  Day 01

  Martin heaved with all the power he could muster, flinging the feathered javelin with precision. He ducked, avoiding two blood-arrows even as two other blood-arrows crashed into him. His shoulder disintegrated from the stored force within one of the arrows, while the other arrow blew his right leg off from the knee. Martin registered nothing except a mild sense of pressure from the hits. He instead cursed as the seeking arrows of the samurai found their marks, blasting that particular walker along with a hundred other walkers into rubble—all from two flights of blood-arrows.

  Martin watched through the eyes of other walkers as a thousand war darts soared in the air into the mass of marching men. The heavy javelins of steel and wood landed into the tightly-packed formation of heavy infantry marching forward. A hundred-odd men died instantly, with hundreds more soon to join them from their grievous injuries. Martin immediately lapped up the souls of the dead, channeling them into himself. Power, sweet and delicious, filled him with increased vigor. For their part, the Shogunates immediately hacked apart their dead and pulled their injured away before the shayateen could possess their soul-drained husks. This was a strategy Ye Heng copied from Shen Feng during his ill-advised sneak attack on Martin’s pyramid. The walkers in that line immediately backed up, putting space between themselves and the ashigaru steadily bearing down on them.

  But the souls. Ah, the souls were delicious, and Martin found himself aching for more as the battle dragged on.

  Martin lost another two hundred walkers from the samurai archers, who managed to pull off three more volleys before thousands of ashigaru closed the gap. More samurai were forming up in front of the ashigaru, called up from the Shogunate army reserves to apply even more pressure on Martin’s walkers. The light foot shouted their war cry as they finally charged in earnest, their blooded spears set low as the press of men pushed forward into the line of walkers at the bottom of two mounds.

  The surviving walkers braced the butts of their long spears into the ground, meeting the ashigaru charge with stoic silence. Clay and flesh broke apart as the two forces slammed into one another in a tremendous clash of violence. The blooded spears buried deeply into the bodies of the walkers instead of skidding on the tough ceramic as most sharpened edges did. The gathered blood within the shaft bolstered the strength of the wielder while the gathered blood within the spearhead amplified the piercing power of each impact. Martin lost another hundred walkers from the initial charge, their ceramic bodies crumbling from the mass of pikes bearing down on them. He would have lost more if the ashigaru weren’t winded from their forced march and charging uphill, toward the walkers formed up on the mounds.

  There was another rather significant difference between Martin and the men of the ashigaru: Martin didn’t fear death or injury. He only cared about inflicting the maximum amount of damage, even if it meant receiving injuries that normal men would shirk away from. The adrenaline of battle and the support of their peers were enough to carry the men to the fight, but they instinctively held back at the last second to avoid taking a spear into their fleshy bits. Martin, however, no longer found himself burdened by the animalistic fear of death or the primal instinct for self-preservation. He had learned to let go of that a long time ago, when elite raiders disguised as bandits trampled his walkers and bashed them apart in the sandy deserts of the Bashri. He had erased those instincts in another battle, when Imperial men and women surged into his pyramid under false orders.

  And besides, Martin really, really wanted to kill the bastards that slaughtered innocents for their blood.

  This was why Martin inflicted far more casualties in the initial charge than he took: three hundred ashigaru, dead or incapacitated against sixty eight neutralized walkers. The Shogunate casualties were negligible, however, as thousands upon thousands of other ashigaru were ready to take their place. There were simply too many footmen, pushing and pushing despite their losses, to the point where Martin’s walkers wouldn’t be able to hold for long.

  The soldiers on the front lines traded thrusts with the walkers and were just about to break through when a volley of thrown war darts skewered the front lines. Walkers climbed up to the top of the three mounds and pelted their dea
dly projectiles down below. Men went down screaming in pain as the ashigaru charge faltered. More javelins followed, causing more deaths. This discharge of javelins was followed up by a burst of force that shook the wall of men charging into his walkers. Martin took in both the ambient chi floating in the environment and the chi of the living men in the field to fuel this burst of force. The Shogunate soldiers didn’t produce as much as chi-attuned people of the Renese, but their collective life force along with the ambient energies was enough to power a simple blast of force.

  In response, the samurai unleashed their own volley of blood-arrows. These arrows, however, missed most of their targets. Martin’s eyeballs watched the battle from above, carefully looking out for action from the samurai. The walkers on top of the mounds retreated behind them the moment the samurai loosed their deadly arrows. Unable to see their intended targets, the samurai instead guided their arrows to land just behind the mounds. Martin lost a handful of walkers from unlucky strikes, but he glowed with pleasure as the samurai followed up the flight with another one, then another, and another.

  The samurai continued loosing blood-arrows, suppressing the walkers on the mound with volley after volley. Martin lost more walkers to the arrows, but he sent more to bend down and snap the arrows stuck to the ground. Their precious blood drained into the soil, losing their power in the process. This, more than anything, was why Martin had decided to fight here. He wanted the Shogunates to think he had a much larger force waiting in reserve. This was why he spread his lines out thinner than usual, all atop the mounds to make. The Shogun took the bait, ordering his samurai to blindly pepper the small hills with blood-arrows. In between volleys, Martin scrambled walkers over the top to throw down more javelins into the mass of flesh and clay fighting below. He kept this up despite losing more walkers to the barrage of blood-arrows. He wanted those arrows raining inaccurately down on his walkers. He wanted the Shogunates to empty their precious supply of deadly arrows—the greatest threat to a massed formation of infantry.