Fated for War

by Travis Bughi

  “Takeo,” Gavin said.

  The concern in the knight’s voice broke through, and the samurai blinked and twitched, only just realizing he’d gone still.

  “Takeo,” Gavin repeated, leaning in. “Are you okay?”

  Something tickled Takeo’s cheek, and when he raised a finger up to scrape it away, it came away wet. Takeo drew back his hand and gave it a disbelieving stare.

  “Sorry,” he said, flicking the teardrop onto the street. “Just a memory. Go and find the ogre. You may not trust yourself, but I do. If he wants to join us, bring him along. We’ll meet you at Banshee’s Wail.”

  “What are you going to do?”

  “Meet you there,” Takeo said and shrugged. “I’ve had enough of Lucifan’s crowds for today.”

  * * *

  Ogres were a rare breed. Unlike the other brutes of the world, such as the orcs and minotaurs, the ogres rarely if ever left their home. Minotaurs traveled all the Great Plains while orcs raided in and out of The Khaz Mal Mountains, a stretch of territory spanning the length of the world. Perhaps the ogres’ short lifespans kept them grounded; rumor had it that an ogre over twenty was as rare as a vampire under fifty. It just didn’t happen.

  Takeo doubted the rumor, though, because ogres weren’t the only race bound to Lucifan. Pegasi, leprechauns, vampires, and angels all called this place, and only this place, home. No, Lucifan was probably just cursed. Takeo couldn’t wait to leave.

  Beyond that, he knew very little of ogres. To him, they all looked the same: purple, hairless skin, fingernails filed to points, humanoid, but with only four digits per extremity. Their sunken, yellow eyes appeared threatening in low light, but the two tusks that grew out from their lower jaws were what Takeo found most menacing. The tusks pushed back their lips, making them drool as if they suffered from a constant hunger. That their bodies were naturally bulky didn’t help. To anyone inexperienced with combat, the ogres looked downright terrifying.

  Takeo, though, pitied them. Not one would ever grow old and wise enough to understand why they were so hated.

  The one Gavin brought to the Banshee’s Wail seemed no different. If Gavin were to take this ogre away and bring back a different one the next day, Takeo was sure he wouldn’t be able to tell the difference. Yellow eyes, purple skin, tall and bulky body; the ogre wore dirty clothing, nearly in tatters, that appeared cheaply and quickly fashioned.

  Yep, that’s an ogre, he thought.

  Then he looked again, and something caught Takeo off guard: the ogre’s stance. Most ogres—most warriors, actually—carried themselves differently than ordinary villagers and farmers. To the untrained eye, it meant confidence, but to Takeo, it meant something else entirely. Warriors knew full well what they were capable of, how to balance their bodies, focus on a target, and execute a plan. The greater the control over oneself, the greater the fighter.

  This ogre had a supreme lack of control.

  He fidgeted and twitched, and though his head didn’t move, his eyes darted from Takeo to the floor to the ceiling then back to Gavin, who gave the huge creature a reassuring nod. These were all slight things, but to Takeo they were huge. He’d thought the ogre would come in snarling, flaring his elbows to make himself appear more threatening, a simple intimidation tactic that would work on most of the lowly citizens of Lucifan. Ogres were well practiced in it, yet this one did no such thing.

  If anything, it appeared hungry for guidance.

  I judged him wrongly before I ever gave him a chance, she’d said.

  “Krunk, this is Takeo Karaoshi and Nicholas Stout,” Gavin said. “Nicholas is Emily’s younger brother. Takeo knew Emily as well.”

  The ogre nodded, grumbled some sort of acknowledgement, and then said, “Sorry, for Emily. She nice to Krunk.”

  “She was nice to a lot of people,” Nicholas replied, not unkindly. “It’s nice to meet you, Krunk.”

  Krunk nodded.

  “We were raised in the same orphanage, by the same gnome,” Gavin explained and lifted a hand to place it on the ogre’s shoulder. “As I suspected, Krunk got let go from Lucifan’s army. I found him at Madam Sweeney’s—the orphanage.”

  “I remember the name,” Takeo said. “Why did the army release you, Krunk?”

  Yellow eyes shifted and huge shoulders shrugged. A massive forearm came up to wipe away a trail of drool seeping between tusks.

  “Krunk wanted to visit Emily,” he said. “Boss said no. Krunk went anyway. Boss said don’t come back.”

  Nicholas stood up from the bar and approached Krunk, his height reaching that of the ogre’s chin. The movement drew the attention of the tavern’s other patrons, particularly that of some amazons who were lingering on the other side of the tavern. The group of four had carved out a small place for themselves near a darkened corner, but it must have been strange to see a samurai, a knight, a viking, and an ogre all huddled together.

  “I don’t remember seeing you,” Nicholas said. “You came to see my sister’s grave?”

  “Didn’t make it,” Krunk admitted, eyes averting. “Krunk never left Lucifan before. Krunk heard screaming from banshee and got scared. Krunk went back.”

  Nicholas huffed, “I wish more had been like you. Ah, damn it!”

  “What?” Gavin asked.

  “I just realized that with Abe and me here, Mother and Father have no one there to scare off travelers. Damn it!”

  “You just realized that?” Takeo asked. “Looks like we have more than just your fighting to work on. Now relax, Nicholas. Your family is fine. Maybe you just realized this problem, but I’m sure Abraham and your parents knew the risks when you came here.”

  Takeo went to stand by Nicholas. There were now three humans surrounding the ogre, and it was clear by the way Krunk fidgeted and drew back from each of them how uncomfortable that made him. He towered over all of them and had arms as big as Takeo’s legs, and yet he cringed under Takeo’s fierce gaze.

  This interested Takeo to no end.

  “What happened to you?” he asked.

  “You noticed, too?” Gavin said.

  “How could I not? Look at him. What happened to you, Krunk?”

  Krunk avoided Takeo’s gaze and stared at the ground between Nicholas and Takeo. Gavin cleared his throat to draw attention away from the ogre.

  “I got the story through Madam Sweeney, or through her tears anyway,” Gavin said. “Unlike other ogres, Krunk wasn’t raised by his own. He was raised in the orphanage, away from their brutal culture. He met and hung out with other ogres for the first time after he joined the army when Sir Mark was recruiting. They were tougher than Krunk expected, but not too hostile because they were under orders from Sir Mark. Well, after Krunk was kicked out, he tried to join up with ogres again, only these ones weren’t held in check by the Knights’ Order. These ones were, well . . . for a lack of a better word, true ogres. They beat him badly, because they could, because they thought him weak. He came crawling back to Madam Sweeney, nearly dead.”

  As he listened, Takeo nodded and watched Krunk’s eyes. He saw the pain there, the pain of being rejected by one’s own kind. Takeo knew that pain well. He was a ronin.

  Emily’s voice spoke in Takeo’s memory. His name was Krunk, and he smiled a lot, always so eager to help.

  “Did you tell him where we’re going?” Takeo asked.

  “I told him.” Gavin nodded. “He’s eager to join us.”

  “I want to hear it from him.”

  Krunk paused a moment, though whether because he was unsure or just slow, Takeo couldn’t tell. Then the ogre nodded.

  “Krunk go,” he said, “with Emily’s friends.”

  Unexpectedly, Nicholas burst into laughter. Takeo, Krunk, and Gavin jumped in surprise, as did a good half of the tavern’s patrons. Nicholas reeled and stepped away, clutching his side.

  “What’s so funny?” Gavin shouted.

  “I just realized something. My damn sister,” Nicholas said through his howls. “She’
s been more than a year dead, and she’s still directing my life. Hahaha! By Valhalla, fate is inexorable.”

  Chapter 9

  It seemed a distant memory, the thought that Takeo would make this journey to Juatwa alone. He was now in a group four strong, which seemed a small army to him for he’d always been the lesser of a pair. There should have been comfort in that, but he quickly found that having additional allies came with additional baggage.

  For one, Krunk’s clothes were in tatters, and he was ill equipped to go anywhere or do anything. He lacked all the essentials from backpack to utensils, from flint and steel to blankets. Finding him shoes was the easiest task, as he had no need of them at all. Ogre feet were so rugged and calloused that they rivaled a behemoth’s hide. After that, it was a simple matter to arm Krunk with a sword as tall as Emily had been. Before the battle of Lucifan, a lot of huge, crude greatswords had been made for the ogre militia, but now that Sir Mark had dropped so many of those ogres from the Order, these hunks of metal were being sold for scrap. Beyond that, though, everything was a struggle. Takeo came to find that Krunk was of absolutely no help in knowing what he needed in order to leave Lucifan.

  “You’ve truly never left this city?” Takeo asked, stunned. “The outside is literally within a day’s walking distance, and you’ve never left but once?”

  “Give him a break,” Gavin interjected. “He’s only eight years old, roughly. Not everyone gets to see half the world before they’re ten, like you did.”

  Yet most have traveled more than a day’s walk, Takeo left unsaid. He did not take pleasure in seeing the ogre squirm from embarrassment. Between Takeo’s questions and Gavin pointing out his age, Krunk looked ready to puke.

  He’ll need to harden some to survive this trip.

  “Besides, I’ve hardly left either,” Gavin continued. “I’d never been to the Forest of Angor until I went with you, and I’ve never been north, or overseas. Why would I? Lucifan has everything one could need.”

  “You two,” Takeo said, smirking, “it’s like I’m traveling with Emily again.”

  “Uh,” Nicholas said, raising a hand from the back, “I’ve never seen the forest either—or Juatwa. I’ve only seen Savara from the sea, actually.”

  Finding allies, Krunk lifted his chin up the hair it took to look Takeo in the eyes. Gavin and Nicholas followed suit, bearing down on the samurai until he gave a sigh.

  “I guess I don’t have a right to speak either,” he admitted. “I hadn’t seen Angor until I went with you, too, Gavin. And I hadn’t seen Khaz Mal, or The North, or the Great Plains until Emily.”

  “Like I was saying. Leave Krunk alone.”

  But the ogre had already moved on to more pressing concerns.

  “Krunk hungry.”

  At least that problem was easily solved.

  They found a vendor and used more of Abraham’s money to purchase food. Takeo suspected the ogre would have a voracious appetite, and having seen Nicholas at meals, he knew for a fact that vikings did, too. However, Krunk put Nicholas to shame, shoveling piles of smoked behemoth meat through his tusks, chewing maybe once before inhaling the bits down his throat. The samurai watched in silent dismay as, between Nicholas and Krunk, a plate of food that could have lasted Gavin and Takeo all day was eviscerated within minutes.

  This trip just got a lot longer.

  For all the roaming Takeo had done in his life, he found it boiled down to three parts: traveling, foraging, and sleeping. Traveling was the easy part, the one everyone thought about. That was what you did to get from one point to another, but the inexperienced tended to forget the other two were just as important. On any long trip, one had to forage, whether that meant stopping at towns for food or streams for water. Where no civilizations existed, food would have to be hunted, picked, or scavenged. Sleeping, too, ate into a day’s travel time. In order to get from one point to another, all three must be performed regularly, and judging by Krunk’s and Nicholas’ appetites, they were going to be doing a lot more foraging than traveling.

  Takeo tried not to let it bother him. He’d have plenty of time to worry about that when supplies ran low and they began to starve to death.

  He was more annoyed with the waiting. As it turned out, when Nicholas realized he’d left his parents unguarded, it had somehow awakened in him the realization that when, or if, he returned home, his nephew would no longer be a baby. Now he seemed determined to spend as much time with Abraham and William as he could. This baffled Takeo. Last he remembered, after a year in slavery in The North, Nicholas had refused to return home until Emily had bullied him into doing it.

  “He picked a bad moment to decide to be an uncle,” Gavin whispered as he, Takeo, and Krunk watched Nicholas cradle little William from across the tavern.

  “I’ll give him the credit that it wasn’t his choice to choose when,” Takeo said. “He didn’t have the opportunity to be an uncle before. However, I agree with you. I wonder what changed. Emily’s death maybe?”

  “That’d be my guess.”

  “Can Krunk hold baby?” Krunk asked.

  “No,” Gavin sighed. “I told you before. The amazons won’t understand. Just leave it alone, okay? They don’t have a good past with ogres. Few do, actually.”

  Krunk frowned and looked into his large, open hands. Maybe he saw the baby there, but all Takeo could envision was an enemy’s head.

  Krunk could crush a man’s skull with ease. Given proper instruction, he could be a powerful friend.

  “Adelpha?” Krunk muttered.

  “I already asked her,” Gavin said. “She remembers you but doesn’t trust you with the baby. I’m sorry, Krunk. You can’t hold William. Just put it out of your mind.”

  “Krunk like babies,” the ogre whispered in his deep voice. “Sweeney let Krunk help.”

  Why did Gavin pick the only kindhearted ogre in the world to travel with us? Takeo mused. Between him and the whiny Nicholas, I’m going to yank out my hair. Those two had better harden up if they want to survive where we’re going. Gavin, too, actually.

  “Well, we have a week,” Takeo said, intentionally shifting the topic. “What do you two plan to do with it?”

  “Nothing productive, obviously,” Gavin replied, staring into his mug. “Kill time, I suppose. Revel in the stench of rum and shame a while longer? Compliment each other? I know we’ve built up a habit of insulting each other, Takeo, but you’re a nice guy for letting Nicholas stay. I thought you were going to deny him when he asked. Not that I would have stopped you.”

  “Krunk agrees.”

  Takeo’s back straightened and he blinked, caught off guard by Gavin’s candid words. The knight had offered them as if they’d meant nothing, not bothering to look at Takeo before or after and instead staring lazily into the distance. Krunk had nodded his chin roughly and then followed Gavin’s gaze. Neither of them seemed to notice that Takeo was stunned.

  “It,” Takeo stammered, trying to recover, “it just seemed like the thing to do.”

  He looked in the opposite direction and tried to regain his composure, draining the emotion from his face and burying it inside himself as all good samurai were taught to do.

  Yet in his mind, he dissected what it was that caught him off guard in the first place. It didn’t take long.

  Takeo had a strange relationship with compliments. He’d grown up never receiving one—never knowing what they were—under the guidance of his older brother. When, finally, he’d received one, it was from a dirty beggar in some unnamed Savara village.

  “Hey! Hey!” a raspy voice had called out.

  Takeo and Okamoto had turned to see a filthy woman in rags crawling through the sand towards them. She gave them both a big smile through all four of her teeth. Even downwind from them, her stench was so bad that Takeo’s had nose crinkled.

  “Come here, handsome. You’re a cute one, you are. I got something nice and juicy for you. Here! Look at these!”

  Her eyes on Takeo, she tore at h
er own clothes to bare her chest and shook with laughter. Takeo had gaped back, and that’s the part he regretted most.

  In one motion, Okamoto had drawn his sword and sliced across her throat. Her laughter had died with her as she’d lain choking on blood and writhing in the sand. To his shame, Takeo had only watched, stammering, until Okamoto had lifted a foot to kick his little brother in the chest. Takeo had crashed to the ground, falling face first into the blood-soaked sand. The beggar’s shocked face had stared back at him, and Takeo had barely stopped himself from yelping. If he’d done so, he’d have received another kick.

  “Never again let anyone dishonor you,” Okamoto had said, his voice colder than a northern winter.

  To this day, Takeo never learned whether his brother had meant the compliment, the laughter, or the nudity, and he’d been smart enough not to ask while Okamoto lived. Just to be sure though, he had avoided all three.

  It would seem that some lessons could never be unlearned.

  “What are you going to do?” Gavin asked, still staring out at nothing.

  “Hm?” Takeo mumbled.

  “Before we leave here? What are you going to do to pass the time?”

  “I hadn’t thought that far ahead, honestly,” Takeo admitted, looking down. “I’m not really sure. Perhaps I might join you in the rum and shame?”

  “Nah,” Gavin said, adding emphasis by blowing air through pressed lips. “I got that covered. No help needed. Besides, I have this feeling you’d make a terrible drinking partner.”

  “Is that a challenge?”

  “No, it most certainly is not. A terrifying opponent you may be, but I’m not blowing the rest of Abraham’s money to prove I’m better at making bad decisions. No, no, we need another plan to pass the time.”