by Travis Bughi
“It’s that ninja who can clearly hear us whispering from this distance,” Gavin said.
“Qing,” Takeo spoke in a level tone, “please give me some good news.”
Unknown to most, Qing wasn’t just a ninja. She was an elf, and thus had supreme hearing. Even from this distance, she could hear the two of them perfectly.
Also, unknown to most, she’d tried to kill Takeo not so long ago.
“My lord,” Qing said, approaching and bowing.
Takeo did not return the bow or give her permission to rise. She did so anyway. Her upper lip curled a hair higher.
For good reason, Takeo did not normally permit people to make attempts on his life and survive. In fact, one might say that it was a prudent practice by strong leaders to be against that sort of thing. However, Qing was an exception for many reasons.
First off, she was incredibly useful. As an elf, Qing didn’t just have supernatural hearing. She was frightfully stealthy, fast, nimble, and accurate. She had a reputation among the ninja clans, which gave her a strong list of connections, and she was sharp and prudent, too. Takeo felt confident that Qing could complete nearly any task assigned to her, so long as she willed it.
Which brought up the second thing: she was easy to control.
Despite the attempt on his life, Qing was otherwise solidly predictable. Her unflinching loyalty to Lady Zhenzhen, spurred by a deadly mix of passion, lust, and love, meant that if Lady Zhenzhen commanded Qing to obey Takeo, the order would be carried out. Qing had only tried to kill Takeo because she’d assumed he would kill the lady. Not an incorrect assumption, per se, but that’s not how things had panned out. Now Qing was in true misery, however, as she did Zhenzhen’s bidding, obeying Takeo so that he could marry the woman Qing loved more than anything.
Which brought up reason number three: Takeo loved to watch Qing suffer.
It was nothing short of unnecessary cruelty, but Takeo couldn’t escape how much enjoyment he got watching Qing languish under her self-imposed oaths. Admittedly she was rude, if not downright hostile, but that alone didn’t explain the pleasurable feeling Takeo got out of crushing Qing’s spirit little by little, day after day. The other part was a bit more scientific, as Takeo constantly wondered just when—or if—Qing would finally break. The attempt on his life had merely been a game from his perspective, and Takeo wondered what the next move in their relationship would be.
Takeo had always been more comfortable around those who hated him; he both understood and agreed with their point of view.
“Any luck?” he asked.
“What do you think?”
“The sooner you answer me, the sooner I dismiss you, which means you can leave my sight and go sulk in a corner, or whatever is you like to do in your spare time when you’re not exuding useless passive aggression.”
Qing swallowed, and the snarl on her face fell.
“I made contact with every ninja clan I could, or would allow me,” she said. “I had a lot of past contacts, though none seemed to help me now. They won’t deal with you. It’s not just about that clan you slaughtered, unfortunately. They’re scared that you’re upsetting the balance of things, just like the daimyo are scared. You threaten to bring peace, and that threatens a ninja’s entire way of life. They’re worried that once you bring law to the land, you’ll come down on them, and there won’t be anywhere for them to hide in the cracks between warring royals.”
Takeo scoffed and muttered, “Well, they’re not wrong.”
“You can understand their refusal to help you put an end to their line of work.”
“I hope you impressed on them that I’d have need of their skills in the future? A standing army could make good use of their kind.”
“To them, your offer sounds like slavery. They like their freedom now.”
“I’ll bet they do, while it lasts. How did they respond to the threat?”
Qing shrugged before replying, “Not as well as you had hoped. You can only threaten people’s lives for so long before they become numb to that sort of thing. As you well know, sometimes death is the preferred outcome to passivity.”
Takeo took in a deep breath and let it out slowly. This was less than ideal, to put it mildly. He wasn’t afraid of ninjas, not with his sword at his side and an absurd number of personal guards, but Takeo’s empire was actively growing. His success now relied on far more people than just himself, and they would need equal protection. He couldn’t assume the ninjas would sit idly by as he assumed the long-empty throne over all of Juatwa.
“They’ll make another attempt on Lady Zhenzhen, then, for certain,” Takeo said. “Make sure she’s well protected. I can’t marry a corpse. I’ll make sure to warn Oiu, too, and Anagarika. So much of my power rests on them. That’s exactly whom I’d go for if I were them.”
“Thy will be done, my lord,” Qing answered and bowed. “And as much as I’d like to leave right now, I have something else to report. I came across another, unexpected contact while I was out there who wishes to arrange a private meeting.”
Takeo narrowed one eye.
“Privacy is a luxury I can ill afford these days. Who, where, and when?”
“In reverse order: whenever you are ready, at a place close by you’ll surely remember, and someone . . . red.”
* * *
When Takeo had murdered the late Lady Xuan Nguyen, he’d escaped out of the Nguyen keep and city by way of a secret tunnel. He crawled out drenched in blood some distance from the fortress where Gavin and the others had been lying in wait. Not far from them had been a lone tree on a hillside, low and scrawny, but just tall enough to provide shade and shelter for a single oni.
The same oni sat waiting again, Borota. Then, as now, Takeo approached with Gavin in tow.
Borota stood and swung his kanabo up to rest on his shoulders. Takeo and Gavin were mounted this time and brought their komainu to heel a short distance away. Takeo dismounted and strode forward, not wanting the oni to think that he was scared to leave the safety of his mount. Takeo was lord of these lands, or would be soon, and he needed to act like it. Even immortals needed to bow before his might.
“I’ll admit, I didn’t think you’d come,” Borota said.
“I almost didn’t,” Takeo replied, “but then I heard it was you who was waiting for me, and I couldn’t help but desire a rematch from our last fight. What do you say? Are ready to go a third round?”
Takeo rested a hand on his enchanted blade. Borota only slightly flinched, nearly imperceptible to the human eye, yet they both knew it happened. The oni steeled himself and took a solid stance.
“Tokhta was right, then,” the creature said. “Against my better judgment, he demanded I meet you. Slay me if you must. I’ll return someday.”
“Why would I do that when I can cripple you just as easily? Tell me, Borota, do the oni feel pain? How long would you last if I cut out your eyes, or your tongue, or severed your fingers? What would you do then? You couldn’t commit suicide, I presume, as there would be no murderer to bring you back to life. You’d have to wander to some village, some human, and beg for death with a mumbled voice. Or maybe crawl into the forest and wait to be consumed by wandering komainu. Wouldn’t that be humiliating, to say the least, and yet I feel no hesitation. It’s almost as if I consider it justice, or rather revenge, for being left to die in the middle of a battlefield. What do you say?”
Takeo paused. He’d said all that without reflecting, and only when he’d finished did he realize the brutality in it. Instinctively, he glanced back at Gavin. The knight shook his head.
“Honestly, Takeo, if you have to look at me after you said it, then you probably went too far,” Gavin said. “Not that I’m about to protect an oni.”
Takeo’s head snapped back to Borota.
“I am an oni. Don’t expect me to beg you for anything.”
“Oh, I wouldn’t,” Takeo answered. “It’s enough to watch you squirm. Now say what you came to say. I can’t imagin
e Tokhta requested this meeting without strong reason.”
Borota eased a hair, but his eyes fell upon Gavin with urgency. The knight didn’t move.
“What I have is an offer,” the oni said to Takeo. “One that should be for your ears only.”
“You’re in no position to make that sort of demand,” Takeo said. “I’d have thought by now that you’d know the place Gavin holds at my side. If you like, we can leave.”
“No,” Borota said quickly. “Fine then. You’ve forced our hand in this. Tokhta has a proposition for you. It’s not one all the oni agree with, but we have little choice after Nobu’s death. There is still a battle to be won in the afterlife, and our kind still needs a champion here on this plane of existence. That champion needs power over mankind, and right now, that champion is you.”
Takeo blinked, then he blinked again. Then he laughed.
“You can’t be serious,” the ronin said. “You're making the same offer you made to Nobu’s grandfather? You help me, and in exchange, I become an oni. In what world would I ever become one of you? I’d no sooner become an oni than I would a rakshasa, and there is nothing I need from your kind—nothing!”
Borota clenched his jaw and tensed but retained his calmness as a result.
“Tokhta is prepared to offer you better terms than those given to Nobu,” the oni went on. “Unlike that child, you are closer to your goal than he was. It is understandable that you require a more balanced deal in your favor. In exchange for our services, which I assure you are needed, you need only surrender your destination in the afterlife. For the most part, our goals and yours align on this plane of existence, and you need not alter your objectives by much.”
“I don’t think you heard me,” Takeo said. “Let me be perfectly clear: I don’t need you. More than that, I despise you. Your kind and your akki underlings have been a terror to mankind for ages, treating us like free-range meat, ripe for the picking. So now that you’re having issues, we’re supposed to drop everything and strike a deal with you? No, not by a long shot. I’ll make you the same deal I made the ninjas, and it’s the only deal you’ll get from me.
“Obey me. Give up your futile resistance to the future and submit to progress. In short time, I will rule this nation in a way others have only dreamed. When that happens, I will strike down all those who opposed me, and even those who didn’t if they have the power to oppose me. The forests and marshes of Juatwa—long a safe haven for your kind, ninjas, and the various creatures that roam these lands—will be brought into civilization by force. I’m making you the offer, which you can convey to Tokhta in whatever terms you like, that the time to bargain with me ended when Botan’s head went rolling. I do not have enemies, only willful victims standing in the way of change.”
Takeo spat at the oni’s feet as the urge overtook him to add some finality to his words. Without waiting for a response, Takeo turned and left, taking to his mount and spurring away. Borota never moved from the shadow of that tree, and Takeo had to wonder if Borota was really going to deliver his message at all. Tokhta gave the impression that he was not a merciful leader of his immortal brethren.
“Are you enjoying yourself these days?” Gavin asked as they rode along. “Is it your intention to piss everyone off? You know these aren’t individuals you are insulting anymore, but powerful entities with the means to stop you.”
“I can’t help it,” Takeo said. “All my life, these people have looked down on me, fought me, tried to snuff me out, and now they want a slice of the pie I’ve fought for. So what? Now that they have to acknowledge my existence, I’m supposed to be kind and merciful? No, and vindication doesn’t quite describe it. If I accept their pitiful, reluctant offers, it will only make me look weak. I will spare them when they are groveling at my feet, begging while I rest my blade against the side of their necks. Bastards. I should have spit in his face.”
“If Emily could see you now,” Gavin muttered.
Takeo yanked the reins on his mount, making the komainu squeal in pain as it was brought to a swift stop. He bore down on the knight, but Gavin was still as lake water at dawn.
“If she were around to give her opinion, I wouldn’t need to do these things,” Takeo said. “Not that it’s your fault she’s dead, as that’s my burden to bear. However, while you gave up her memory for the first pretty face to walk your way, I’ve stayed true, as best I could. You don’t get to dictate her opinion.”
“Funny,” Gavin said, “I don’t remember giving any opinions, whether good or bad. You did that all on your own.”
Takeo paused. In his anger, he’d forgotten that Gavin wasn’t like the normal riffraff he intimidated on a daily basis. The knight, as far as Takeo could remember, had never been scared of the ronin. It was one of Gavin’s finest qualities.
He dropped his head. Gavin smirked.
“Ah, sorry. That was harsh,” the knight said. “Why do we do this to each other?”
“I suppose things would get boring otherwise,” Takeo said, putting his heels to his mount.
Gavin flicked his reins and followed, muttering, “Now that’s a lie.”
Chapter 6
The Hanu army was divided into three parts and set to task readying to occupy three castles. Aided by a plethora of underlings, Takeo’s orders were carried out in due time, handling the various logistical issues such as establishing supply routes, dividing up cooks and messengers, finding sources of water, developing avenues of retreat, and laying the foundations for a thorough scouting of the entire region to ensure they weren’t walking into an ambush. Takeo would risk nothing. His opponent was a rakshasa, and that meant every move the enemy made could be defensive, offensive, and a feint all at once.
Hence Takeo had to inspect each fortress with his own eyes.
As planned, he headed to the lands of the Phan family first. Takeo couldn’t say that the name was unfamiliar to him, but he knew little about the Phan family beyond their place in the Nguyen power structure. Fortunately, as general of the army, he had advisors.
“The Phan family is what we like to call a bygone empire,” one daimyo explained, a chubby one who’d made it her mission to be an expert in lineage and thus make herself useful to the war effort without being directly involved in combat—or at least that’s how Takeo saw it. “Older and more established than many other families, the Phan have a strong legacy that has not stood the test of time. Their wealth has waned, their younger generations weakened themselves with infighting, and others more determined and powerful usurped their status. They almost conquered all of Juatwa ages ago, from my understanding, and thus they still hold a place of status at the Nguyen table. However, beyond the usual supply of troops and taxes, they bring little beyond legacy to their benefactors.”
“And yet Seiji chose to hide with them,” Takeo replied. “Any idea why?”
“If my lord will permit me to speculate, being a former shogun family, the Phan fortress is likely to be well fortified and easy to defend. With roots as deep as the Phan’s, Seiji will rest assured that he will not be betrayed.”
“We’ll see about that. And what about Seiji? What do you know of him, his personality?”
“If my lord will forgive my ignorance, I’ve never met him,” the lady went on. “I’m much more acquainted with his bloodline, but there are rumors. Lord Seiji is of a similar age as yourself, my lord, not too young or old, and with two young children and a third on the way. Gossip says he’s a devoted father, so I expect he’ll have his family with him; the word is that he’s also a handsome man—though surely not as handsome as my lord.”
Takeo darted a look at the daimyo that made her gulp.
“My apologies, Lord, if I offended you,” she said, bowing low in her saddle.
“I do not enjoy pointless compliments,” Takeo warned her. “They distract from the task at hand.”
“And I will be certain to remember your preference, my liege,” she replied.
The rest of the journey to the
Phan fortress was otherwise uneventful, which unnerved Takeo to his core. The complete lack of resistance was so wholly unexpected, especially for an invading army, that Takeo had trouble sleeping at night. If Qadir aimed to catch Takeo off guard with this unusual tactic, the exact opposite was the result. Takeo found himself so on edge he made a habit of riding along with one hand resting on his enchanted blade, just so that he’d be ready to fight at a moment’s notice. The constant surge of fiery adrenaline did nothing to ease his anxiety, but the more Takeo held his sword, the less he wanted to release it.
The greatest sense of impending doom came from the unknown. Takeo had battled with Qadir twice before, and he’d only been saved the first time by a jinni and the second time by a nearly successful assassination. He could not rely on a third miracle materializing at the appropriate time. That meant he couldn’t be caught off guard or leave anything to chance; both of which required a thorough knowledge of all parts of a war. Against his better judgment, he shared these misgivings with Anagarika. It was important that she understand the gravity of their opponent, even if it made Takeo look weak.
“Honestly, my lord,” she said. “Between what you’re telling me and what I’m seeing, it looks like we’re walking into a trap.”
“There’s always a trap with a rakshasa,” Takeo replied. “Traps within traps. This open invitation could just as easily be a mental game to get me to withdraw or make me hesitate on my next move. Unfortunately, I fear I’ve already made the first mistake by dividing up my army, but I see no other option. This is what it’s like to play against a rakshasa. They structure the game in such a way that your best move plays right into their hands. To do otherwise ends your life sooner, and yet in consequence, you become predictable.”
“If you aim to make me cautious, my lord, then you’ve succeeded. How did you win your previous games with this rakshasa?”
“I flipped the board over.”