by Ryan Kirk
The old man obliged, assuming his meditative posture on the ground. Nameless paced all around him, but the old man opened his eyes soon.
“Are we too late?”
The old man shook his head. “Not for a while yet. You should leave and give me some space. You can’t affect the outcome, and the presence of your energy so close does make this more challenging. Come back at mid-day.”
Nameless, lacking options, took the old man’s advice. To keep his mind occupied he went hunting, finding plentiful small game in the area. When he came back, the sun was high in the sky, and he had killed four rabbits. He was looking forward to the meat they would provide.
His companion was in his meditative state, so Nameless set about making a small fire at a distance. If he must wait, it was best he make himself useful. At the very least, they could have a good meal when this was over.
The rabbits were nearly finished roasting when the old man came and joined Nameless. “I’m glad you have found ways to make yourself useful.”
“What happened?”
The old man turned somber. “We’ve lost two more of our kind.”
Over bites of the rabbit, the old man told what he had sensed, how the demon-kind had attacked, but the boy who was the wind was there just moments later.
“He is strong, you know, and keeps getting stronger every time he fights. And I am sure the girl is with him. One of us died and I couldn’t sense anyone near him. I suspect it was her. No one would loose an arrow in the middle of a crowd.”
Nameless chewed on the information and his rabbit. It wasn’t a surprise, although it was disappointing. Those two nightblades were strong, and the only way they would be killed was if he did it himself. Nameless and the old man finished their meal and returned to the hunt.
Two days later they came upon the battleground the old man had sensed. The trail of the men and the blood on the ground were all the evidence Nameless needed. That and the two bodies lying right next to the trail. He recognized the pair, and he grieved their loss. They were young, but they had been talented and dedicated.
They dismounted, and Nameless began preparing the rites of passage. He stacked what small wood he could find and cleared the brush from the area. Then he stacked their bodies, gently, on the kindling. He and the old man observed a minute of silence, and Nameless went to work starting a fire. The kindling caught easily, and in only moments the bodies were burning. From nothing they had come, and to nothing they would return. It was the way of all life.
After the fire had died down, Nameless caught a whiff of another scent, another body left out in the open. He walked for a ways, following his nose. The scent was strongest when the wind blew from the north. Nameless moved that way, coming over a small rise and seeing the body he had smelled. It was another young man, dressed in the robes of a monk.
Nameless didn’t care about this body. The man had been weak. There were no signs of struggle, only a head detached from its shoulders in one clean cut. Nameless could imagine what had happened. The monk had spilled everything he knew, and he had still been killed. The secrets meant nothing to Nameless. He had no intention of honoring any of the promises he had made to any of the people of the kingdom. It was unlike his kind, but survival meant more to him than his honor. He was already vilified among his people, let them have one more fact to stoke their rage. They were alive, and that was all that mattered.
What did matter to Nameless was discovering that his opponents were ruthless. The monk had posed no physical threat to them, and from the look of it he hadn’t even put up a fight. But they still killed him. Nameless approved. They too, were willing to do anything necessary. They would be worthwhile opponents.
Nameless returned to the old man. He could tell something was on his companion’s mind, but he hesitated to speak.
“Out with it. You haven’t held back much before. Why start now?”
“Fair enough. I can see you know what happened here. This was an attack on the king.”
“So?”
“You can also see the paths diverge here. We know the nightblades are heading further north. The king is heading further west.”
Nameless indicated he had better get to the point.
“If you were interested in regaining your honor with the People, the head of a king would be a good way to start. He will cause chaos if left alive.”
Nameless was surprised that he didn’t reject the idea out of hand. The old man was right. If left alone, Akira did seem to have the ability to cause trouble. Nameless had imagined the king was directing troops from someplace hidden, coordinating small attacks that would annoy and disrupt the clans. Now that they knew Akira was with the group, the old man would be able to track them, no matter where they went. Nameless could stop Akira before he caused too much damage. Bringing the head of Akira would go a long way towards repairing his relationship with the clans.
But Akira wasn’t the greatest danger to the clans. He was the easier target, the one that would bring Nameless back into good standing with the People, but he wasn’t the one Nameless had to truly protect the clans from. It was the other two, the wind and the void, who would change the course of events. Akira was an annoyance, but if the two nightblades continued to kill off the demon-kind, or summoned the other nightblades from wherever they hid, their occupation of the land might come to an end. Nameless knew there was only one path forward.
“We ride after the nightblades.”
The old man fixed his stare on the younger man. “We ride towards death, then.”
“So be it.”
The old man sighed, and without further attempts at persuading Nameless, turned his horse towards the north and towards the nightblades.
19
Akira was disappointed to have the two nightblades leave his company. It was more than the fact that they were strong. He was surrounded by strong warriors, and although none of them had the skill or ability of either of the nightblades, it was not their combat prowess he missed. He missed their attitude and levelheadedness. Neither of them were particularly interested in gaining his favor, and their advice to him had always been above reproach. They didn't always see things the same way, but Akira knew he could trust them to speak their minds.
Besides that, he considered the two of them to be friends. It was hard to believe, considering they were nightblades and he was the king of this new kingdom. But fate seemed to make for strange acquaintances, and there was no doubting there were few others that Akira would rather have by his side.
Akira pushed away the thoughts as they rode off. There was no use questioning the decisions of either Ryuu or Moriko. They were going to do what they thought was right. They always had and they always would. And although he missed them, he had to admit that he agreed with them. If Nameless was out hunting them, it was safer for everyone if they were separated.
The information about the monasteries had disturbed Akira more than he let on. He hadn't wanted to say as much in front of the two young warriors, but if the monasteries were to lead their own faction or divide up the land in any way, there was no way the kingdom could stand against the Azarians. If the land was to have any hope at all, they needed to remain united. The time for petty differences had passed the moment the Azarians came into the kingdom. Akira didn't want to believe the report, but it made sense, and it explained a lot that had happened over the course of the past two cycles.
Akira conferred briefly with his men, but his decision was made. If Ryuu and Moriko had brought him the truth about the monasteries, he needed to act on it immediately. They were five days ride from the nearest monastery, a small one named Hope. Akira searched his memory for any information about the monastery, but all that came to his mind was that it was one of the smallest monasteries in the land, holding less than a dozen monks the last time he had checked.
It was as good as place to start as any, so Akira and his men headed that direction.
Akira and Captain Yung lay in a dense patch of gras
s less than a league away from Hope. To say the monastery had changed would be an understatement. Akira had only visited it once before, but his memories of the place were of a small, welcoming monastery. It was located in the middle of the plains, and once you entered its walls, it was easy to believe you had found a place of true peace. It had been a silent and relaxing visit the last time he had come, and Akira remembered he had regretted leaving so soon.
Hope was no longer a center of peace. All around the monastery people were swarming about in activity. From what Akira could tell, the vast majority of people were preparing and planting land. For hundreds of paces, fresh black dirt stood in stark contrast to the green grasses of the prairie. Akira was no expert in farming, but it looked like the monastery was trying to raise enough food to feed dozens, if not hundreds of people.
The walls had changed too. The last time he visited, the walls had been beautiful wooden structures, the wood brought in from a small forest many leagues away. The walls had been more symbolic than defensive, a symbol of separation between the everyday world of the Three Kingdoms and the world of the sense. But now the wall was reinforced with stone twice as high as Akira stood. There was little doubt the monastery was no longer focused on peace.
Nothing that Akira saw made him happy. The monastery was preparing for war, preparing to last for a siege, reinforcing what Ryuu and Moriko had said. To make matters worse, they only rarely saw monks come out and partake in the labor. When Akira did see a monk, the monk would wander around the workers, clearly providing supervision. From their distance, the workers didn’t seem happy.
Anger built in Akira. Those were his people, and no one should be forced to work against their will. The monks thought they were superior. They always had.
Akira looked at his captain, "I need to get closer to see what is going on."
His captain shook his head, and Akira suppressed his frustration. There was no one better at defending Akira, but a large part of that was because Yung was a cautious man. Akira appreciated his caution most days, but on others, like today, the caution could be infuriating. He knew what his captain was going to say even before the words left his lips.
"I do not think it is a good idea, my king. If it is more information you seek, let me send one or two of the men. Their loss would mean little compared to yours."
"This is something I need to see with my own eyes. If the monasteries have betrayed our trust, I need to see it myself. I will only go and observe. I will return in the morning."
"If you are set on this course of action, at least allow me to accompany you."
Akira gave his captain a mischievous grin. "I'm afraid not. You need to stay here and remain in command of the troops. If something does happen, I need to know somebody will come and rescue me."
The captain cursed under his breath. “I might just leave you there.”
Akira laughed out loud. Such humor was rare from Yung. "It will be fine. You worry too much."
The captain ordered one of his best swordsmen to join Akira. Together they changed out of their riding clothes into peasant garb. They didn't have any way of concealing swords, so instead they hid knives and daggers wherever they could. Akira's captain watched the proceedings with a disgruntled eye, but he said nothing. He had served under Akira for many cycles, and was well used to the behavior of the man who was his king. There were some battles he wouldn’t win.
Without fanfare, Akira and the swordsman, named Yuki, left for the monastery. The sun was setting by the time they reached the gates.
There was a monk stationed there. He had, of course, seen Akira and his retainer approaching from a long ways off, but he made no move to greet them, waiting until they approached close to the gate. "Who are you, and what brings you to Hope?"
Akira and Yuki gave fake names, claiming to be farmers who were seeking sanctuary at the monastery. Akira figured this to be the most likely explanation for why the monastery was so crowded. People had to be running to them as places of refuge. The monk eyed the two of them carefully. "I do not recognize either of you from around here." It was half a statement, half a question.
Akira wasn't prepared for the increased scrutiny, but Yuki was. He spun a story, saying they were from lands further to the south, driven north in front of a clan of Azarians. It was a good story, and by the time the soldier was done, Akira half-believed it himself.
The story seem to assuage the monk, and he gave them a welcoming smile. "I am sorry I had to ask, but these are hard times. I hope you will forgive me."
Yuki replied, "No offense has been taken. We are simply grateful to find a place where we can be safe."
The monk nodded. "If it is safety you seek, you have come to the right place. Have no fears on that account, we are strong enough to withstand the might of the invaders."
The monk led them into the monastery, crowded as it was at night. There were dozens of people here, all of them with a look of fear in their eyes. Akira wasn't sure if the fear was of the Azarians, or of the situation they found themselves in now. The people were dirty, and the monastery smelled much worse than Akira remembered. They were huddled close to one another, and at night they shared a common sleeping space far too small for all of them.
That evening, Akira struck up conversations with many of those at the monastery. The stories they told were much the same as the one Yuki made up for them. They were farmers, villagers, traders. In one way or another, each of them had been driven from their homes and their lands by the advance of the Azarians. They had heard from handouts, traveling monks, or from family and friends that the monasteries were places of safety. While the stories were all slightly different, they were all at heart the same.
Safety, it seemed they had. But the safety that was promised came at a price. As soon as they arrived, they were put to work. As Akira had seen, many of them were out farming the lands around the monastery, trying to grow as much food as possible. Those who had been farmers were put in charge of these groups, under the supervision of at least one monk.
Others were assigned the task of building the wall. Anyone with expertise was tasked with helping to lead the efforts. Stones were taken from soil that was tilled by the farmers and brought to the wall for construction. It was a haphazard business, but day by day, the wall grew higher and thicker.
There was another group Akira hadn't seen from his scouting. They were the dirtiest and the most unhappy with their stay at the monastery. The monks were digging underneath the monastery, trying to create more room both for people and for food. Those who were not able or willing to help with the farming or the building of the wall were tasked with digging, a task in which they saw no sunlight for almost the entire day.
As Akira looked around at his fellow disheveled occupants, he saw the signs of strain already written across their bodies. Skin was hanging from several of them, and almost everyone had a haunted look about them. They had found safety, but they had not found peace. Akira's anger was kindled. He couldn't believe the monks would be so bold and so callous in the treatment of the others. He had never been overly fond of the monasteries, but he had always assumed their best intentions. As he looked around the room, it became harder and harder to do so. This was a blatant grab for power. Like the others, he desired rest, but as he struggled to find sleep, he was not thinking about what chore he would be assigned the next day. He was thinking how he could save his people.
When the sun rose the next morning, Akira was still unsure what he should do. On one hand, his people had a level of protection and safety here they wouldn't were they out on their own. Even though the monks' behavior angered him, he couldn't believe that they would fail to protect the people within their walls should the threat appear. He wasn’t pleased. No one should have to exchange their freedom for their safety.
His final decision was to make no decision at all. They would leave immediately. Everything he had seen confirmed the report Ryuu and Moriko had brought to him. The monasteries were making a grab for
power, and they were doing it on the backs of Akira's people. But Hope was not the center of the problem. As near as he could tell, there were still less than a dozen monks inside the monastery walls, and if change was going to begin, it wasn't going to start here. The Chief Abbott of the monasteries was in the land that used to be the Western Kingdom. If Akira was going to change anything, that had to be his next destination.
He whispered his plan to Yuki as soon as he was up, and the guard agreed. Even though there were only a handful of monks here, they were well known for their martial prowess, and should the situation turn violent, Yuki wasn't sure he could protect his king.
As the monastery woke up around them, Akira and his guard packed their belongings. They would attempt to leave with as little commotion as possible.
As soon as people started going about their daily tasks, Akira and Yuki made for the exit. Akira glanced left and right, looking to see if their exit was drawing any attention. As near as he could tell, none of the monks seemed concerned about them.
Their success lasted only for a moment. Akira heard a voice behind him. "Excuse me, but I don't think I've had the pleasure of meeting you yet."
Akira turned around, and his heart sank as soon as he saw the speaker. Of all the monks in the land, the one that stood in front of them was one who had been at Stonekeep for the Conclave. It was one of the monks who had lied to Akira, who told him Renzo was not a nightblade. Akira knew his face would not be known by everyone, but this monk certainly knew who he was. He threw off his hood, all pretense of hiding done for.
The monk did not seem surprised to see Akira. He had probably been spotted yesterday when he came in. He cursed himself for his stupidity and not listening to his captain. He should learn to trust his men more.
The monk let out a sly grin, and all around him Akira could feel the other monks closing in a loose circle. "Lord Akira. What a pleasant surprise."