Faces of Betrayal

Once Azuma jerked the Qiang out of the Captain’s chest, bloodlust ran through his eyes. Behind the two leaders, the Karus fought, attempting to form a protective circle around their Emperor .

  Saemon shook his head, his vision blurred.

  "Ah, the old man can't see very well, can he?" Azuma murmured, flicking a body away with his foot as he prepared to pounce. "How sad," he sneered. “The Dhul powder is a powerful thing, isn’t it?

  Saemon shuffled back, listening to his instincts that demanded he keep moving away from his enemy. Azuma followed, carefully moving one foot, then the next.

  "What you have in youth, you don't have in wisdom, Azuma. Folly will kill a man," Saemon said through gritted teeth. He sucked in long breaths of air, but it wasn't enough.

  He couldn't breathe.

  Azuma shrugged. "So says you, who is about to die."

  A bloodcurdling cry came from Saemon's left as a Nari charged straight through the circle of Karus right towards him.

  "No!" Azuma screamed.

  Saemon ducked behind his shield at the last moment. The soldier collided into it with a thud, but his weapon speared Saemon in the thigh. Saemon didn't feel the pain at first as he pushed the tip of his shield into the soldier's belly and ripped his leg away from the sharp blade.

  "You fool!" Azuma yelled, lifting his sword and driving it into the soldier’s neck. "He is mine to kill. Mine!"

  Saemon moved further away, blood pouring from his leg. He took a deep breath. He'd felt pain – and worse – before.

  "Stand, Emperor!" Azuma shrieked. "Stand before me and face me in your final fight. Or do you concede?"

  Saemon planted his hands on the slippery tile floor and pushed himself up. He fought off dizziness as he straightened in place.

  New resolve flowed through him as he focused on engaging each of his muscles. He would fight. And he might die.

  But he would fight.

  He lifted his katana, pink with his own blood now, from his side when he was fully erect.

  "You," he said to Azuma, "are mine to kill."

  Clutching his katana in both hands, Saemon lifted it above his head and advanced on Azuma with a warrior’s battle cry. Azuma fended off his first attack, and Saemon summoned up the strength to continue striking without pause.

  Azuma parried, ducked, and stumbled away. Then defended himself again. And again.

  Saemon fought on, and lived, for only one thing. Azuma. No one existed but Azuma. And taking his life.

  Saemon swung the katana up, but Azuma countered and spun, slamming into Saemon's chest with his shoulder. Then there was a sharp pain, a piercing pain that penetrated deep between Saemon's rib, and he gasped. Azuma sneered as he pulled his knife back out of Saemon's chest.

  Saemon dropped to his knees as Azuma spread out his arm.

  "Look at your throne room, Emperor. Every one of your precious Karu is going to die if they haven't already. All your soldiers. All your people."

  Only ten Karus still stood. The rest were lifeless on the ground.

  Unexpectedly, two Nari soldiers attacked an Ameya, driving swords into and through his neck from either side.

  The rest of the Naris began to strike everyone in sight who wasn’t one of their own as the Ameyas shrieked with rage.

  “Betrayed!” one screeched. “You’ve betrayed us!”

  In moments only a few Ameyas remained standing in the throne room, their backs to each other as they faced at least twenty advancing Nari soldiers.

  The betrayers had become the betrayed.

  The thought tumbled through Saemon’s mind like a leaf in a windstorm.

  Not even the Ameya clan would be left standing. Only the bloodthirsty Naris – willing to defile and betray anyone they wished – would pull through. Chaos ruled supreme now.

  The world spun before his eyes. A river of hot liquid ran down his arm.

  Saemon tried to take in another breath, but couldn’t.

  Azuma crouched down next to him with a triumphant sneer. "The mighty Emperor has fallen."

  Saemon tried to look beyond Azuma, but he was barely able to see his throne through the fog in his eyes. With a bloody hand, he reached forward, then began crawling.

  Azuma stood, furrowing his brow in puzzlement, but he did not interfere or strike Saemon again.

  On and on Saemon crawled….

  Over a fallen Nari.

  Past a shield.

  Beside and below the few Karus still standing.

  Darkness blurred at the edge of his vision when he reached the first step to the throne. Using the last of his strength, Saemon pulled himself to the second. Then the third.

  He collapsed at the very top, and rolled onto his back. Blood leaked beneath his weak body as he stared at the ceiling.

  "Sacred Triad," he murmured with the last of his breath. "you have taken my blood, my life, and all my days. In this last moment, I give you my soul. But spare Isao . . . save his life . . .."

  Darkness overtook him; he could no longer see.

  He could still discern the faint sounds of battle in the back of his mind.

  "Kill them all," Azuma yelled from far away, as if through water. "The Empire is ours!"

  The blackness beckoned yet again, and Saemon entered a place where there was no pain and no fear.

  Isao

  Isao nearly tripped over his own feet in in his haste to keep up with the General, who attempted to surpass him into the darkness.

  Here and there, water dripped down the walls. The musty scent of the earth was so thick, Isao nearly gagged.

  Nothing good will come of this night, Isao worried as he picked his way through the pitch black.

  The secret door in the pantry wall had led them into a space so narrow that Khalem and Isao had to turn sideways to fit their wide shoulders through. They scooted along, rats their only companions.

  An eternity passed before a distant sound caught Isao’s ear. He paused.

  That was no rat. That was . . . screaming. He gulped. His people…They were dying outside.

  The musty path now grew wide enough that the two men could move along side by side. Cool air poured in from a slit in the wall a hairsbreadth away.

  “Where are we?” Isao whispered.

  “Near the courtyard. The door over there leads toward the north wall. We will sneak out from there.”

  “Shouldn’t we wait it out here? No one will look for us here.”

  “They will eventually,” Khalem disagreed, his tone allowing no protest. “Standing water gains no ground. We move.”

  When it sounded as if there was a brief lull in the fracas outside, Khalem pushed against the door, opening it a sliver. Fresh air poured in, and Isao breathed in deeply.

  “Come,” Khalem urged. “Be swift.”

  They slipped out into the night, Khalem immediately darting off to the right. He concealed himself behind a large tree with a knotty trunk. Isao did the same, his mouth and throat dry.

  Isao peered over the edge of a branch in time to see a brief flash of emerald armor.

  Ameya.

  Only a few torches lit up the interior of the courtyard, but the light was enough to reveal that the Ameyas were slaughtering the Hiwan soldiers.

  Isao held in a gasp.

  The Ameya clan was attacking them! Traitors! It had only been hours since he’d sat across from them in the dining hall and celebrated his new life with them. They had looked him in the face while knowing they would be trying to kill his people later that same night.

  With great effort, Isao reigned in his rage. He would think on it later, once he was in a safe place. Isao opened his mouth to ask Khalem a question, but quickly snapped it shut.

  No. The sound of his voice might alert others to their presence.

  Isao remained silent and watched, as best he could, the slaughter.

  Why did the noble Hiwan soldiers seem so . . . disoriented? he wondered. They staggered, swinging their weapons as clumsily as children would, and they kept falling ove
r themselves in their haste.

  Pain took hold of his heart.

  These were not his soldiers. His people were proud warriors who trained hard.

  And now they were being slaughtered.

  “This way,” Khalem muttered, grabbing Isao by the upper arm.

  The general dragged Isao deep into the shadows near the high wall that ringed the courtyard. Trees and bushes dotted the landscape here.

  The two of them dodged from one bush to the next, taking cover as soon as they could find it. A branch snagged Isao in the face, and another one poked at his back, but he ignored the discomfort, silently and stoically following Khalem’s lead.

  A flash of light caught Isao’s eyes, and as he peered through the branches of a flowering bush, he spied tongues of yellow fire licking high toward the sky.

  Another flash of light came from the left. Then from the right.

  “The courtyard,” Isao whispered. “They’re setting it on fire.”

  As orange flames licked at the rooftops of homes nearby, even more people screamed, no doubt trapped and dying.

  “Horses,” Khalem whispered. “We need horses. We’ll never get far enough on foot. They outnumber us too much.”

  “Yes. The stables.”

  “We’ll borrow a few. If we can get horses, we’ll find freedom.”

  Isao swallowed his fears as he began crawling on his hands and knees behind Khalem through some thick undergrowth. While the Ameya soldiers focused on setting fire to anything they could pour oil on or touch a torch to – Hiwan soldiers included – the two of them snuck around the courtyard until they found an opening in the wall.

  Motioning for Isao to stay where he was, Khalem advanced a few steps, waited while he assessed the danger. Impatiently, he waved him forward. “Run!” he whispered urgently. “Now!”

  Isao dashed swiftly through the doorway and into the streets. Khalem was right at his side, and not a step behind despite his more advanced years.

  At one point Khalem nudged Isao to the right, where they hid in an abandoned rug seller’s store. As shouts rang out in the distance, Khalem’s eyes narrowed on the flames off in the distance that were threatening to consume the very city.

  “Isao, let’s go to the stables nearest to the outer wall.”

  “The ones by the slave auction?”

  “Yes. We go there. They won’t have bothered it yet, you think?”

  “I agree, it’s our safest bet. Not too far away, and poor enough to not have drawn attention of the intruders yet.”

  Sprinting out of the store, and being careful to avoid the pockets of fire springing up here and there, Khalem and Isao made their way through the streets. Khalem scanned the darkness constantly, convinced some Ameyas would leap out at any moment and attack them.

  Finally the two men spotted the stables.

  “There, Khalem! We’re upon it. There’s hope after all.”

  But now a chorus of high-pitched shrieks was filling the air.

  Terrified horses.

  “It’s on fire,” the general observed.

  “But not consumed! If we hurry, we may have a chance!”

  “Go,” Khalem ordered. “We must hurry.”

  After ensuring the coast was clear, they rushed over to the stables.

  A pile of something blocked the entrance to the doorway. Isao skidded to a stop just a few paces away, instinctively recoiling in disgust. An overweight man with a bulbous nose lay dead and sprawled on the ground, arms strewn wide. A bruise trailed down his face, beginning on his forehead, where his skull had been indented by something heavy. Buried half beneath him was a young boy, and on top of both lay a gutted horse, its innards still steaming.

  “No mercy is shown,” Isao hissed. “The Ameyas are slaughtering anything and everything. Vile fiends!”

  Khalem said nothing, just leapt over the heap of bodies. Isao maneuvered inside as well, only to recoil. Thick plumes of black smoke filled the air. He put an arm to his face. Flames were licking at the stables’ far wall, reaching all the way up to the ceiling.

  “Khalem! It’s going to fall apart!”

  “Horses! We need horses!” Khalem called back from somewhere in the smoke. “There might be time.”

  The screams of the horses made Isao’s hair stand on end, but he steeled himself to follow Khalem into the smoke. A female voice emerged from somewhere to his right and stopped him in his tracks.

  “Stupid piece of – “

  He cocked his head to the side. Someone else was in here?

  “Break, you damn boards, break! I have to get out of here!”

  The sound of someone kicking at wood followed.

  Isao rushed toward the sound, coughing as he moved through the heavy smoke. He advanced towards the back of the building, where flames licked the highest. There, a girl with long black hair and tied hands was flailing around a wooden pillar, trying without success to cut herself free using a splintered piece of wood. Flames crackled close to her, casting her in a strange, unusual light. Isao hurried forward.

  “Let me help you!”

  The girl’s head jerked around. When she spotted him, her eyes narrowed. Just as she opened her mouth to say something, Isao felt a hand on his shoulder.

  “Isao, we must go!” Khalem shouted over the roar of the flames. “I have the horses prepared and outside. If we don’t hurry, someone will steal them.”

  “No! I must help her. She’ll burn alive!”

  “She is not our problem.”

  “This entire attack IS my problem!”

  Shoving Khalem’s hand off his arm, Isao darted into the stall area where the girl had resumed her frantic attempts to free herself. But the roof of the stables was on fire, and the sparks it set off fell onto the top of the pole holding the girl captive. The pole too began to burn.

  Isao skidded onto the hay, stopping just short of the girl. He grabbed at her bonds, and began prying the knots apart with his fingers.

  The girl glanced to the flames overhead as sweat poured down her body.

  “So close,” Isao muttered, struggling with the thick rope. The heat was making his vision blurry. “So close to being free….”

  Only a few stalls away, a beam fell, crashing to the ground. The girl ducked, and Isao’s sweaty hands slipped on the rope.

  “Isao!” Khalem barked. “We’ll die in here! Let’s go!”

  Isao suddenly remembered he had his jiang blade. Sliding it free of its sheath, he placed it on the rope and sawed at the thick bonds. “Come on!” he cried. “Break!”

  Pieces of ceiling crashed down, setting the hay on fire.

  “The roof! It’s going to fall!” the girl yelled.

  An ominous crack sounded.

  Another square of the ceiling fell in bright, burning plumes around them.

  Burning cinders landed on Isao’s shoulders as the girl tugged frantically at her bonds. Khalem grabbed Isao just as the beam above the three of them dropped down.

  Hadjia

  Hadjia collapsed onto her bed.

  Her whole body shook, and her hands trembled. Despite her every attempt to redirect her thoughts, each thought constantly found its way back to…Mother Sigunta. The robed, masked man with a strange voice. Wide-eyed Kim shuffling forward for forgiveness, only to meet death.

  Not even Kaneko’s hushed warnings and promise of aid had calmed her fears.

  Hadjia thought she could hear Kim calling and calling out to her, “I was innocent!”

  She pulled her light coverlet over her, and clenched her eyes shut. They’d come looking for her soon, wondering what was wrong with her. She was never tardy, never late.

  Sick. She’d be too sick to go out there. Surely that wouldn’t be too difficult to believe.

  She gulped, hard, as sweat broke out on her forehead.

  Mother Sigunta – killing innocents.

  She couldn’t believe it. The Mother would never.

  But if it was true, then the people Renji had killed had done
no wrong. They were not evil ones!

  And with that thought, a horrible thought moved through Hadjia.

  Maybe they were the terrible ones: Renji. Kaneko. Mother Sigunta. They were the killers. The ones who arrived without a sound and left devastation in their wake.

  Immediately, Hadjia rejected this thought.

  No. Mother Sigunta cared about her.

  Hadjia flipped onto her other side, thrashing under the sheet. A thousand questions built up in her mind – but whom could she ask?

  Not Mother Sigunta. No other child in the school. They were all unaware, just like her. Not even Kaneko would know. No one!

  Perhaps that was the point…? Perhaps that was the reason the Red Moon school was located so deep in the marshlands. Tucked away. Far, far away, where no one could find them.

  “No,” Hadjia murmured out loud. “It’s not true. It’s not.”

  A deep ache built up in her chest, threatening to break free. For the first time that Hadjia could recall, tears welled up in her eyes. What could she do? Where could she turn? The burden of this knowledge was too great for her to bear!

  Perhaps Mother Sigunta didn’t really love them after all. Maybe she didn’t even care about them. Why else would she have killed innocent Kim so ruthlessly? Would she murder every single one of them if they were to do something wrong?

  Hadjia’s mind spun backwards in time. She remembered the other students who had died during her time here. Some of them had died from strange illnesses. Some of them had died suddenly, in the middle of the night.

  Had their deaths been due to Mother Sigunta as well?

  Hadjia blinked tears back, and forced herself to focus on Kaneko’s words. “Mother loves this school. She loves us. If she’s done something like that, there’s a reason for it.”

  Hadjia mulled those words over, but she simply couldn’t believe that Mother Sigunta had lied to them all this time. She just couldn’t.

  And what about the masked man…Who was he? What was he hiding beneath that hideous mask besides his identity?

  The unexpected thought struck Hadjia that he could be anyone. He could have nefarious intentions behind the things he did, and no one might know!