Nightblade's Honor (ARC)

by Ryan Kirk

  Koji got to his feet and charged up the path. He was less than a hundred paces from the top, but every step was agonizingly slow. Running uphill after everything he had endured took almost all his strength. His legs were on fire as he crested the top and leapt into battle, already tired.

  Plenty of spears and swords waited for him. He sensed the strikes and the cuts, abandoning his shield as three spears pierced it in one moment. Sliding in the smallest of gaps, Koji lashed out with his wooden sword, his cuts as quick as he could make them. He had no time to do anything but cut and dodge, cut and dodge.

  He didn’t find the same clarity he had before, but he was still a powerful force, single-handedly pushing into the line of soldiers. One spear cut through his upper left arm. A sword gently caressed the outside of his thigh, drawing a trickle of hot blood in the cool evening air. He brought down soldier after soldier, but fighting alone, a cut would eventually get through that stopped his heart.

  Two other nightblades crested the ridge, aided by the distraction Koji had created. Immediately he could feel the pressure against him relent as the guards turned their attention to other threats.

  Koji was happy to remind his opponents of just how much of a threat he was. Now that he had aid, he pushed himself even harder, sowing as much confusion in the ranks as he could. The blades had taken losses, but he was certain he could turn this battle around.

  More nightblades crested the ridge. Slowly the tide of the battle was turning.

  Koji’s perspective changed again when two of his cuts were easily deflected by a third party. He spun to his side, expecting to find a skilled swordsman.

  He wasn’t expecting to face a nightblade, cold steel in hand.

  The woman’s face seemed somehow familiar, as though from moments half-remembered. Why did he recognize her?

  Her blade flickered in the moonlight, and his sense lit up with possibilities. Suddenly he remembered. Not her name, but where he had encountered her before.

  She had been a master back when he had been a student. He had watched her duel before he was allowed to do the same. She had been skilled.

  His memories were accurate. Her blade flashed all around him, testing his defense, forcing him to give up more ground than he desired. Much more, and she’d have him on the hillside, poor footing the end of him.

  She wasn’t fighting with a wooden sword.

  Koji earned a small reprieve when another blade, one fighting with Koji, rushed in. That duel was over in two moves, a long red line drawn across Koji’s rescuer’s chest. But the sacrifice gave Koji a chance to get grounded, to find his bearings in the middle of chaos.

  When she came at him again, he was ready. He shifted as he sensed her attacks, his own sword darting in whenever he felt he had a chance of striking her. He wanted to draw his real sword. The battle had already been unfair. She had been waiting at the top while boulders had killed Koji’s friends.

  So long as Mari lived, though, he had sworn his obedience. As much as he desired to draw and match steel against steel, he would not. He would not disappoint her.

  His legs and focus were tired, and she was almost as fast as anyone he’d ever met. Fresh, perhaps he was faster, but he hadn’t felt energized in some time.

  Koji’s foot slipped, and he fell, his opponent’s blade all around him. He didn’t have time to think. He just rolled, crashing into someone and bringing them to their knees.

  His entire world was a tangle of arms and legs and steel. He felt something pierce his abdomen, but it didn’t cut deeply, fortunately. Koji made it back to his feet somehow, coming face-to-face with his attacker.

  Her strike was fast, and Koji’s reality shifted. He could sense her attack, could see as her weight shifted, preparing for the cut she believed would be fatal. In his mind’s eye, every action and reaction unfolded, and he knew exactly where he needed to be.

  His response wasn’t perfect. Her strike sliced deep into his stomach, the side already wounded by the previous stab. Koji found himself inside her guard, his own sword snapping around and crashing against her skull. She had started to react, had started to move backward, but his blow still knocked her to the ground unconscious.

  Exhausted and bloody, Koji kept trudging forward. For a few moments his blades had lost momentum. More must have happened, but Koji had lost track of the fight in the midst of his own struggle for survival. The battle had turned again. He slapped away a final assailant as his group finally claimed control of the hilltop.

  By far, it had been their bloodiest encounter. Koji wasn’t sure, but he guessed at least a third of the blades who had started the mission weren’t present. Some might have been injured below but were still alive. Koji hoped that was the case.

  He slumped to the ground and closed his eyes to rest, bloody but victorious.

  After the dayblades had finished healing him, Koji turned his attention to the nightblade who had almost killed him. She was slim but had certainly been strong. She was older than him, maybe by almost twenty cycles.

  Koji took her weapons and waited for her to come to. When he got tired of waiting, he poured some water over her face. She sputtered and sat up, taking in her surroundings before acting.

  Her eyes fixed on his. “You didn’t kill me.”

  “We’re trying to avoid bloodshed.”

  Koji’s statement was laced with meaning. They had taken the hill without killing a single soldier. The nightblade who had attacked Koji had a younger blade under her wing, and even the boy hadn’t been killed. But Koji and the blades he traveled with had lost several friends. They were sure of eight so far, but the number would grow once the sun rose over the horizon.

  To her credit, the nightblade didn’t argue morality with him. She shifted her weight subtly, and Koji’s sword flashed to her throat faster than she could move. He wasn’t injured anymore, and while he was exhausted, he was still fast.

  Koji had decided not to restrain the nightblade in any way, trusting instead his own sense and speed. Without her weapons, he was fairly certain there wasn’t anything she could do against him. He saw that he had made his point. Her body relaxed.

  “What will you do with me?” she asked.

  “Nothing.”

  She raised a questioning eyebrow at that, clearly not trusting his answer. Her belief or disbelief didn’t bother him much.

  “Once we finish loading all the supplies, we’ll be off. If you really want to leave in a hurry, I suppose I can escort you out of here and return your weapons to you when I’m sure you won’t harm any of us. It makes no difference to me.”

  She eyed him warily. “Aren’t you afraid I’ll spread word of what happened here? That I’ll lead them to you?”

  He shrugged, too bone-weary to fight. “There’s a unit tasked with trying to hunt us down about a hard day’s ride behind us. I can’t give you a horse, unfortunately, but you’re welcome to join them if you wish. They’ve been following us for a while, and I expect you’d be able to find them easily enough.”

  Even though she didn’t seem to believe his answer, the blade didn’t challenge him anymore. She couldn’t provide any aid to the unit unless a battle was imminent, and the group of blades he was with was doing everything to avoid more conflict.

  Koji did have one question for her. “How could you do it?”

  “Do what? Plan the defense of the hill?”

  He looked at the warrior with fresh anger in his eyes. His mind spun as he realized a truth. She had told House Kita’s soldiers how to defend the depot, how to make the target the most costly to take. If anyone was responsible for the death of his friends, it was her.

  His voice, cold and hard, didn’t waver. “No. Betray your people. Betray the Kingdom.”

  The nightblade looked at him for a moment and then actually snickered. “You believe that, don’t you?”

  He was too angry to be confused.

  “Open your eyes. There’s no more Kingdom. There are three houses, and that’s it. And the
blades? Beyond the Lady in White, they aren’t doing anything. They’re hiding behind the walls of Starfall, Hajimi hoping that if they just lie low long enough, everything will blow over, and the world will return to normal. But that chance is long gone. It was gone the moment Shin died.”

  Koji felt the old familiar feeling of shame lodge deep in his gut. He didn’t accept the woman’s statement, but it was the deepest cut she could have made.

  “I was born and raised in the lands of House Kita. His general, Kyo, offered me a position, with land and servants. Who would I be to refuse such an offer? Better live and prosper than suffer and die.”

  Koji supposed that in a way, he understood what the other nightblade was saying. Every part of it made him sick, but he understood.

  He didn’t want to have this conversation any longer. He stood up, the disgust obvious in his eyes. “If you want to leave, let me know. Otherwise, don’t move. I will kill you without hesitation.”

  She saw the glare in his eyes and didn’t question his look. She seemed to sink inside herself as Koji stalked off, eager to do anything that would get his mind off the dishonorable blade.

  If fighting was the worst part of his mission, delivering the food and supplies they liberated was Koji’s favorite part. They rode into town proudly, black robes fluttering in the breeze of a beautiful spring day.

  They had been on the road so long it seemed like all the villages were the same. This one had its own flavor, of course, but was still so similar to all the rest. The houses were in need of repair, the healthy and robust men of the village recruited for the army and gone far too long. Koji took it all in: the roofs with tiles missing, the support beams bent or broken, the wood warped or cracked. Most of the homes had started their lives as glorified huts, and the harsh winter and heavy snows hadn’t done them any favors.

  As the blades rode in, they were greeted by women, children, and the elders of the village. Everyone was too skinny, without even the tiniest amount of fat. Skin hung from bones. The village, like so many before them, was dying.

  Koji was grateful he didn’t need to lead the way or converse with village elders. He was born a warrior, and being friendly to those who once sought his death didn’t come naturally.

  He knew that if not for Mari, they would still be hunted for wearing their black robes. They might have the better part of an army on their tail, but thanks to her, they didn’t have everyone trying to betray them or turn them in. These people seemed grateful to have the blades here.

  They should be. Koji and his group carried enough food to feed the villagers for an entire moon. Hopefully it would be enough to last until the earliest parts of the harvest could be gathered. Regardless, as was their custom, the blades planned to leave everything behind.

  After Ikko spoke a few words with a village elder, he gave them all the sign to dismount and begin unloading the food.

  Koji dismounted with all the rest, looking forward to a break from the saddle. One of the most problematic challenges of being pursued was saddle sores. He was certain that he’d soon have a permanent bend to his knees.

  The villagers started to crowd around, the emotion visible in their faces. Although Koji had watched this scene play out time and time again, he still got emotional. These were people who had been left to perish by their lords. The very people who were supposed to be protected were those who suffered the brunt of the indignities from the soldiers. Koji was continually disgusted.

  One old villager wept and told them it was the first time she’d eaten a full meal in two moons. A young woman, clearly with child, bowed her head all the way to the ground, not getting up until Koji gently lifted her. Children treasured every grain of rice, a tremendous departure from the natural wish to play with their food.

  Koji relaxed into the scene, breathing deeply and simply observing. This was as close as he ever came to believing that he had made the right choice in becoming a nightblade. This was what he had envisioned. He enjoyed the laughter of the children and the animated voices of the adults speaking with one another.

  Another woman approached him. She was attractive, and Koji was reminded again that he hadn’t been with anyone for many moons. She offered him a cup of sake, which he gratefully accepted.

  The liquor warmed his body even more than the spring sun. He struck up an easy conversation with the woman, who turned out to be married. Her husband had been called to war, and she was forced to tend to their farm on her own. She confessed that she thought she was going to die from starvation.

  Just before Koji fell into a state of pure bliss and relaxation, he sensed a slight disturbance. His mood immediately shifted. In every village, there always had to be one. Why?

  This one seemed fixated on him. Although he wasn’t taking a straight line, the villager was working his way to Koji. The nightblade cracked open his eyes. As he had suspected, it was a boy who had seen no more than twelve cycles. They were always the ones who fell prey to the propaganda, the ones who envisioned themselves as heroes for killing a nightblade. When Koji was feeling charitable, he could understand. After all, as a child he too had wanted to be a hero.

  But Koji wasn’t feeling charitable today. Not after the sacrifice that had been made on behalf of this village and this child. No one else seemed to notice. The nightblades, like Koji, were relaxed and unaware of the danger in their midst. Koji sensed the intent, sensed the boy with his hand behind his back.

  The boy covered the last five paces in a running leap. Koji lazily opened his eyes, grabbed the boy’s wrist, which held a long and wicked-looking knife, and twisted. He came close to breaking the youth’s arm but stopped just before.

  The woman sitting next to Koji had fallen backward off the bench, completely surprised by the attack.

  The boy yelled, not realizing the foolishness of his argument. “Let me go! You all deserve to die for killing the king!”

  Koji didn’t yell back but kept the pressure on the boy’s arm through his wrist, holding him to the ground. “My friends died to bring you this food, boy.”

  For a moment, a tense tableau reigned. The youth, angry and delusional as he was, wouldn’t listen to reason, and Koji needed a target for his frustration and loss.

  The blade gathered himself first, letting the boy go. It would do no good to lecture him. He was just another example of a much larger disease.

  The youth got to his feet, his eyes staring daggers into Koji’s. “I will kill you all.”

  With that, he ran off, although not very far. Koji could still sense the boy’s energetic presence when it stopped a few houses down.

  He turned and helped the woman back up. She was clearly ashamed and looked as though she was going to turn away.

  Koji, desperate for conversation, tried to reassure her. “It’s fine. He did a very good job of hiding what he was about to do until the last moment. I was almost surprised as well.”

  The woman didn’t seem to know what to say. “You are not what I expected you to be,” she finally muttered.

  Koji understood. He’d heard the sentiment before, but the woman continued. “You are all so . . . human.”

  Chapter 20

  Asa had always considered herself well traveled. As a nightblade, she had crossed the Kingdom countless times, and although there had certainly been places where she’d been far more often than others, she tended to think there wasn’t much she hadn’t experienced.

  One of those experiences she’d never had was seeing infantry on the move in wartime. She had come across encampments when the Kingdom was at peace, and while the sight was impressive, it paled in comparison to the army on the move with battle on its mind.

  The tents were everywhere, and the men patrolled with three times as much frequency as usual. Asa had thought at first that perhaps she and Mari could walk into the camp as followers, but that seemed particularly unlikely now. Even if they made it in, they would attract all sorts of attention, and they’d never make it very far.

  The
camp was a busy hive of activity, and Asa wasn’t sure how they were going to enter. Thanks to Mari, they had the blue uniforms of House Kita’s army, but they would need more than just uniforms. The patrol patterns of the guards were easy to predict, but there were so many it was unlikely that any single mistake would give the women entry into the camp.

  Even with Daisuke’s training, sneaking into the heart of the enclosure would be a challenge. That challenge was the very reason they had left Takahiro behind despite his strenuous objections.

  Mari’s guard had argued that the Lady in White was wanted, not Mari. She could still walk into camp safely and approach Hiromi.

  Mari had pushed back. Her brother had tried to have her assassinated. If she came in publicly, he would have no problem surrounding himself with appointments and guards and would likely set a bodyguard on her, not to protect her but to limit her movement.

  They would have to rely on some combination of stealth and deception to reach Hiromi and hope it was enough. Takahiro had acquiesced eventually but had then insisted he accompany them.

  Asa hadn’t budged for a moment. Sneaking the two of them in was enough of a challenge. She wouldn’t try with three.

  Cursing, Takahiro had eventually given in, forced to remain with the unit Mari had been traveling with.

  More than once, Asa doubted her decision to help the lady. She could be living on her own, surviving peacefully by hunting in the woods. What foolish sense of duty had led her to this point? Memories of Kiyoshi, Daisuke, Daiki, and Ayano were all that tied her to this idea of serving a cause.

  Despite her doubts, she remained. This was the path she had decided to walk. She couldn’t leave until she had at least made the attempt.

  The two hid in the rocks overlooking the encampment. One part of their task had been made easy: Mari’s supply raids had forced the camp to stay in one place for quite a few days. The women had made the journey faster than Asa had envisioned. Mari’s determination had played a role there, too. Whenever Asa thought to call a stop for the day, the lady pushed them harder.