Nightblade's Honor (ARC)

by Ryan Kirk

  Koji woke up before the morning sun, as was his new custom. When he had been younger, he had never felt the need to be up early. He was often awake late into the night with his friends growing up, and he woke when he pleased.

  He had soon outpaced his friends in the development of his swordsmanship, and it wasn’t long before he wasn’t invited to their evening outings. The exclusion had hurt, but Koji had focused his efforts on his training, growing ever stronger, outdistancing them even more. But his nightly habits had remained until recently.

  He couldn’t say why exactly. Waking up early felt right, and being able to see the sunrise in the morning had become one of the favorite parts of his day. The morning was a time of silence and possibility, a new day that hadn’t yet unfolded.

  That didn’t mean Koji didn’t fight to get out of his bedroll. He awoke most mornings with the covers pulled high over his head, cozy compared to the brisk air of the tent. After overcoming that first hurdle, he still had to leave the tent and step out into the crisp winter air, air so frigid his lashes stuck together if he closed his eyes for too long.

  Koji dressed warmly and stepped outside his tent. Looking up, he saw no stars, but that had been true for the last three days. A soft breeze swept across the plains, but even that was cold enough to cut through the layers he wore.

  Passing the night’s watch, Koji wandered off away from the camp. What he was about to do was easier if no one was around.

  He found a place where the ground was slightly depressed, providing a slim protection from the wind. Koji didn’t necessarily seek comfort, but a little wouldn’t hurt. Satisfied, he sat down and crossed his legs. He started by focusing on his breath, breathing in deeply, exhaling half, breathing in deeply again, and repeating the process. The technique was one he had been taught when he was young. It helped warm the body during cold weather, working here as it always had for him.

  Once his breathing was settled, Koji attempted to meditate, to relax deeper into the gift he’d been given at birth. In training, he had never been a strong meditator, preferring action and movement. His ability with the sense was adequate, but as a nightblade, it was his greatest weakness. There were others who could sense much farther than he, others who could sense details in action he never could.

  But at River’s End, he had a revelation. The battle had started normally enough. He had killed the patrols as they had planned, but when he reached the center of the village, something had changed. He had fought at a level far beyond what he had thought he was capable of. Koji wasn’t one for false modesty. He knew he was an excellent sword, but he had never fought that well.

  Since the battle, Koji had been trying to recover that feeling, to understand what had happened. He had sparred with almost all the blades, often insisting they attack him in groups. The sensation never returned, causing him to question his memories of that day.

  Although he had no answers, he had suspicions. Battle, by its nature, sharpened one’s focus. Combined with the rage he had felt at those blades and their dishonorable behavior, he had fought in the perfect set of circumstances to maintain near-perfect focus. He hadn’t actually been faster or stronger; he had only felt that way because he had used his gift better than he ever had before.

  For more than a moon, he chased that suspicion, at times feeling tantalizingly close to the answers. There were moments when his reality shifted, when he knew what was going to happen long before he should have. Once he had known what cut to make against an opponent before the other blade even drew his weapon. He was on the right track, but every time he tasted success, he only wanted more.

  The nightblade wished he had spent more time paying attention when he had been younger and his masters had been trying to demonstrate mental training techniques. He remembered a few basic strategies, and some of the blades in the camp had shown him others, but he was out of practice. Rebuilding the skill was almost physically challenging.

  But Koji persisted. For a few moments he had experienced the next step in his evolution. Every morning, before the camp woke up, he would leave and meditate, seeking the new skill.

  Eventually Koji opened his eyes and normalized his breathing. There had been hints today he was getting close, heartbeats where everything seemed to come into sharper focus. Yet no breakthrough came.

  Koji stood up. He knew the sun had risen, but it was hard to tell. With the thick, ever-present clouds above, the only difference between dawn and daylight was how bright the gray clouds became. The weather was influencing the other blades as well. The camp atmosphere was quiet and somber. Mari would have to throw a celebration soon to keep spirits up.

  As he wandered back toward the group, Koji was surprised to run into Jun, meditating in much the same way. As he neared, the dayblade opened his eyes, clearly not succeeding in his practice.

  Driven by curiosity, Koji stopped. “Jun, when you meditate, what does it do for you?”

  Jun frowned. “What does it do for you?”

  Koji gave him a hint of a smile. “Not much, but my hope is that it makes me a better warrior.” He almost left it at that, but he felt compelled to say more. Perhaps Jun would have some wisdom.

  “When we fought at River’s End, my gift was different. I could sense my opponents’ moves farther in advance, and I could just sense more. I’ve been hoping that through meditation I can reconnect with that level of skill, but mostly I have failed.”

  Jun nodded thoughtfully. “Dayblades are similar. Our skill comes entirely from our use of the gift. We are always training to sense more intricate flows of energy inside the body. The better we do, the better we can manipulate those flows to heal others. I assume the same principle holds true for you as well.”

  Koji agreed. “I’ve never needed to worry before. I’ve always been strong enough and fast enough. But against other nightblades, skill with a sword is almost less important than being able to use my gift better than others.”

  Jun was thoughtful. “I will think on your problem, Koji. If anything comes to me, I will let you know.”

  Koji bowed slightly and left Jun in peace. Lost in thought, Koji meandered to his first task of the day: supervising training. After River’s End, he had been acknowledged by everyone to be the best sword in the group. As such, Koji had unofficially been given the role of supervising training. Like him, many blades focused on the development of their combat skills to the detriment of much else.

  Koji couldn’t have been put in charge of a more enthusiastic group. He had never taught anyone. Once he was granted the rank of master, he had much more interest in traveling the Kingdom and completing assignments than he did in teaching children how to fight. However, he was enjoying the process despite how much he stumbled and fell during his teaching.

  His role also gave him the advantage of being able to train himself every day. Koji always wanted to try out original techniques and ideas. He practiced with forms he had learned were weak to see if there were advantages his own teachers had overlooked. On the days where his awareness shifted and became sharper, he experimented with stringing together cuts that would have opened him up to fatal wounds without the foreknowledge he possessed. He wanted to see if all the meditation he’d completed would have any effect. Acting as a trainer gave him new opportunities.

  Their training area was nothing fancier than a small area outside the camp. When Koji arrived, Takahiro was in the circle with a nightblade who had recently been given the status of apprentice. A moon ago, Koji might have laughed. There were warriors, like Takahiro, who were convinced that even though they didn’t have the gift, they could defeat a blade in an honest duel. Usually the nightblades considered them delusional and worth mocking. At one point, Takahiro had been the subject of many jests whispered among the blades.

  For most nongifted warriors, a single severe beating was enough to teach them the foolishness of their beliefs. In rare cases, a second would have to be applied. Takahiro had been suffering daily beatings for more than a moon, and t
he soft mocking smiles had slowly become grunts of reluctant respect.

  Koji was no different. He had shaken his head the first time one of the inexperienced nightblades pummeled the former head of Mari’s guards. The blade had given no quarter, and none had been asked for. That was the way such lessons were taught. In a way, it was a mercy. Better that than suffer a delusion.

  Koji had been entertained the next day, too. And the day after that. Eventually, though, it stopped being funny. Takahiro was a humble swordsman, and he was willing to get beaten by anyone in the name of progress. Even Koji had to admit the warrior had gotten much more skilled. Takahiro had become a respectable opponent, even for a blade. He wouldn’t win, but that was an accident of birth, no fault of his own.

  Regular soldiers could kill nightblades through sheer force of numbers. A small group could potentially accomplish the feat as well. Shin’s nightblade-hunting groups of eight had been a good example.

  Because a nightblade could sense what was about to happen, the only way to defeat one was to take away all the blade’s options. So long as a single cut, block, or movement remained, a talented blade couldn’t be brought down by civilians. Remove those options, and it could be done.

  The lesson was one Takahiro had learned well. A single man fighting with only a sword had little chance of removing all options, but Takahiro did what he could. Koji watched with interest. The two were fighting with wooden swords, and Takahiro’s opponent was known to have a hot head. The fight was closer than Koji thought it should be.

  The nightblade launched an attack, all strong cuts. Takahiro danced back, and Koji fought the urge to shake his head. Against Takahiro, defense was a better idea. With the gift, the blade could have sensed any attack and responded immediately, ending the battle in one move. By attacking, the advantage was lost.

  Takahiro stabbed out with his sword. The attempt was nothing but a bid for space, and it worked. The youth halted his advance for just a moment, giving Takahiro a little room to move. The blade realized his mistake and followed it up with another one, attacking again with fury. Koji frowned. Had the guard angered the boy before they started? If the objective had been to make the blade attack wildly, it was working.

  Takahiro slid backward again, coming right up against the edge of the ring, marked by a pile of snow. Koji’s eyes narrowed as the blade came in yet again. This time, instead of dodging, Takahiro deflected the boy’s sword, redirecting his attacker toward the edge of the ring. The nightblade didn’t even seem to notice.

  Koji’s reality shifted, and he saw the moves he couldn’t believe were about to happen. But they did. Takahiro sliced at the blade. The blade’s instinct, which was correct, was to step back and to the side. But the blade wasn’t paying attention to his surroundings, and his foot slid into the pile of snow marking the edge.

  For just a moment, the blade was distracted, looking down at his foot. The moment lasted less than a heartbeat, all the time a warrior of Takahiro’s skill needed. One more move, and the blade went down, clutching his stomach as Mari’s guard drove his weapon into him.

  A shocked silence fell upon the ring. Takahiro had earned the blades’ respect, but he never should have beaten any of them. These blades were so proud of themselves, the idea of losing to a civilian was unimaginable. Everybody needed to focus less on self and more on the group.

  Koji broke the tension. He stepped into the ring and bowed deeply to Takahiro. The guard’s grin was as wide as his face. “Congratulations. It was well fought.”

  Takahiro bowed even deeper before helping the blade he had fought up. “Thank you. I have had good teachers these past moons.”

  The guard’s modesty resonated with the blades. Perhaps they were upset one of their own had lost, but Takahiro set an example. He trained as hard as the most dedicated among them.

  Koji picked up a wooden sword and swept open his hands. “Who shall it be today?”

  Three volunteers stepped forward, eager to best him. No matter how the fights turned out, there were always those who would try again.

  Koji tried to find the sensation, the feeling of being far ahead of everyone else. Every day he took a different approach. Today he tried remaining calm, steadying his breath and focus. He had to find the strength he had in River’s End.

  At his signal, the fight began. The three didn’t waste any time, coming in all at once, trying to close any avenue of escape he might have. Koji stepped to the side, making sure all three weren’t getting to him at once.

  Earlier in their association, Koji’s simple moves might have worked. The nightblade he stepped toward would have continued his attack. Koji would deal with him and then move on to the next. Now they knew one another well, and the blade on Koji’s right was no fool. She stepped back and away from Koji, avoiding a single duel in favor of a group effort.

  For a few moments they danced around the ring. Koji attempted to isolate one of them, and they refused to be singled out. When he was certain he wouldn’t catch one of them in a weak moment, Koji let them attack together.

  He was faster, but against three blades in a confined space, there was only so much he could do. He deflected and dodged their blows as much as he was able, but they soon broke his defense.

  Koji concentrated on remaining calm and focused. Suddenly everything shifted. Colors were just a bit more vibrant, the snow sparkling white, the wooden swords a rich brown. Koji sensed where the gap was going to be, the place where he could change the direction of the entire fight.

  Without hesitation, he followed his instincts. He stepped right behind a vicious cut, and suddenly, without warning, he was no longer hemmed in by swords. He was among his opponents instead of in front of them. One blade acted as a human shield from the third. With a single move, Koji cut down two of the three. The colors dimmed, and Koji’s sense returned to its normal state, but the temporary advantage was enough.

  Koji finished the battle in a few moves, absently bowing to his opponents afterward. This wasn’t the first time he had touched the altered state. He could brush against it, but he couldn’t seem to stay there. As he stepped out of the ring to hearty congratulations from the assembled blades, Koji felt that he had failed again.

  A few days later Takahiro summoned Koji into Mari’s tent. When he stepped inside, he was surprised by the chilliness. They carried plenty of wood for fires, but Mari’s was small, and Koji felt as though the interior was just barely warmer than outside.

  Mari noticed his discomfort, and her eyes twinkled. “You’re not from my house lands, are you?”

  Koji shook his head. “No, I was born in the lands of House Amari.”

  Mari’s grin faded as Koji named one of the now-enemies of her house. “If you had been born in the mountains, as I was, you would understand. This is pleasant to me. My brother, Juro, always told me that I was a child of winter. I much preferred the snow to the sun.”

  Koji’s gut twisted as Juro’s name came up, but Mari had another question on her mind.

  “Tell me, Koji, you were born in Amari lands. Do you feel any loyalty to their house?”

  Honestly, Koji had never really considered the question. He hadn’t lived in Amari lands for many cycles, not since he was six and had been given to the blades for training. “No, none in particular. I was quite young when I was taken for training, too early to develop any attachment to a house.”

  Mari’s eyes were unfocused as she considered the answer. “Do you think your other blades feel the same?”

  Koji shrugged. “Loyalties are problematic, my lady. There are so many to choose from. Lords, ladies”—he gave a pointed glance at her—“the Kingdom, friends, family. Who’s to say what causes one to choose any one over the other? I suspect there are almost as many loyalties among the blades as there are anywhere else.”

  “Hmm. Please don’t call me ‘my lady’ anymore. I was never comfortable with titles, and I’m sure my brother has disowned me by now.”

  Koji didn’t have anything to a
dd, so he stood silently, waiting for Mari to tell him why she had summoned him. When she came out of her reverie, she looked him straight in the eye.

  “I’ve decided to split up the party.”

  Koji approved of her decision but said nothing.

  “The reason I’ve asked you here is because I’ve decided that my party, in particular, is going to be small. We’re gaining notoriety, and I think it’s best this way. If we’re captured, we don’t lose many people, and they’ll be searching for me specifically.”

  She handed him a piece of paper, a wanted poster for the Lady in White, as Mari had come to be known.

  He nodded appreciatively at the sum. “They do want your head. Traveling in a smaller group will be easier to conceal.”

  He was still surprised that for all the good they had done, the only reward Mari had received was a reward on her head. All for consorting with blades. The entire situation would be an entertaining story if Mari’s life wasn’t at risk.

  Although Koji approved of her idea, he still wasn’t sure why he had been summoned. Mari dispelled his confusion quickly.

  “Koji, I would like you to be part of my group. Right now, I’m thinking it will be only me, Takahiro, Jun, and you.”

  The nightblade frowned. A tiny force. He had expected seven or eight at least. If they were attacked, they would be at a great disadvantage. Koji was good but still just one blade. But another question was even more pronounced in his mind.

  “Why me, Mari? Wouldn’t I be better suited for working with a group of blades?”

  “Perhaps, but I have two simple reasons. The first is logistic. If I want to travel small but travel safe, I need the best, and from every account I’ve heard, that’s you. Second, I trust you.”

  Koji wouldn’t have felt more uncomfortable if Mari had thrown him in her tent’s fire and stabbed him repeatedly with a knife. He opened his mouth to speak, to tell her the truth, but nothing came forth.