Nightblade Boxed Set

by Ryan Kirk

  “Right now, all the clans of the Azarians are spread throughout the land. This was by design. The clans as a whole were given a mandate to spread out. They never really trusted us, and they wanted to see the land they’d conquered for themselves. But they aren’t settling, not quite yet. There’s one more thing they need to do. This autumn, they will come together in an annual celebration called a Gathering.”

  Moriko nodded. She had been at their Gathering during the last cycle, and she had a fair number of good memories to go along with the nightmares of those days. She had wondered if they would hold to their traditions in a new land.

  “At this Gathering, the clans will decide where they are going to settle. The People, as they call themselves, are nomadic, but they do recognize vague territories. Apparently, it keeps inter-tribal disputes to a minimum. Normally, they wouldn’t worry much about it, but the clans are under stress. They lost far more people than they expected when they invaded, and clan dynamics are very different than they once were. The Gathering will be very important, and everyone will be there. I know where this Gathering is going to be held, and if we strike it hard enough, perhaps we can send them all back into Azaria.”

  Akira let the idea sink in and then turned to Moriko. “Moriko, of all the people here, you know the Azarians best. What do you think?”

  It took Moriko a moment to realize her name had been called and all faces were turned to her. She hadn’t come to the meeting expecting to become a key source of information. She thought in silence for a few moments.

  When she spoke she was hesitant, as though she was testing the words for herself before letting others in on them. “I think the Abbot is right about one thing. If we are going to strike the Azarians in any meaningful way, this will be our best opportunity. They haven’t settled too well into the land yet. If we wait for a future Gathering, no matter how hard we hit, they won’t budge. I’m also not sure the kingdom will be able to mount a resistance if we wait another cycle.”

  Everyone seemed to know there was more, and Moriko was uncomfortable with how closely everyone was hanging onto her every word. “However, I don’t know if we have the ability. The Azarians will view any attack as a test of their strength and will, and they’ll believe the only way to pass that test will be to remain. If we truly want them to retreat, we can’t just attack them. We need to break them, and I’m not sure we have the strength.”

  Ryuu spoke softly into the resounding silence that followed Moriko’s statement. “Do you think that’s true even with the nightblades coming to help?”

  Moriko nodded.

  Everyone seemed disappointed until Akira spoke. “Thank you, Moriko, for your honesty. I believe Moriko is right about the timing, which means we absolutely must seize this opportunity. If we wait another cycle, or for any other opportunity, I fear our strength will have diminished too far. Ryuu and Moriko have told me several hundred nightblades are on their way, and I intend to make full use of them, along with every soldier and citizen who can stand and fight. I do not know if we’ll be successful, but it is the only chance we have; if we give up, we give up the kingdom.”

  Those around the table pondered Akira’s words, and one by one, everyone nodded their consent. The decision was made, and they settled down to make their plans.

  33

  Akira and Ryuu rode together near the head of the column. Behind them were thousands of men, the vast majority of the soldiers who were left to fight for the kingdom. As far as the column stretched back, Akira knew their numbers paled in comparison to the full number of Azarians. But it had to be enough. It was all they had.

  It had been almost a full moon since they had come together and decided to attack the Azarian Gathering, but it felt as though it had only been a few moments. Entire days passed almost without Akira noticing. All of his energy had been directed to organizing the attack. Unlike the Battle for the Three Sisters, there was no contingency planning for the soldiers. If they failed, nothing else would matter. There would never be another attempt.

  Some days had been pleasant, filled with reunions. Meeting again with Makoto had been a sweet moment, one Akira treasured. They mourned together the loss of Mashiro, who had been like a brother to Makoto. Akira hadn’t realized how much he missed his general until they met again. Makoto’s gentle nature inspired him and kept him focused on the task ahead. Together they worked endlessly to plan the best attack on the Gathering.

  Sen had come into the camp, and meeting with him had been particularly bittersweet. The old man had come down from Stonekeep to visit Akira, and together they made plans and reminisced about times gone by until the moon was high in the sky. For many cycles Akira had kept the older lord at a distance, but now the practice seemed foolish. Once, Akira had thought Sen was a potential enemy, but he had rarely been more wrong. Sen was the strongest ally Akira could imagine, and he regretted the cycles of wasted time.

  Sen had offered to ride into battle alongside Akira, but Akira had refused his kind offer. They couldn’t risk both of them. Akira was younger, stronger, and a better soldier. He would be more useful on the battlefield than the older lord. If Akira was to fall in battle, it would be up to Sen to take on the role of king. Akira wasn’t sure what good it would do. If they failed, the Northern Kingdom was vulnerable and would soon fall. But it was important to maintain their pride. Even if they were all to fall, they would do so with dignity.

  Initially, Sen had been resistant to the idea of staying back, but Akira had persuaded him. None of the lords of the Three Kingdoms had any living heirs, and to leave the land completely without leadership was irresponsible. It had to be Sen, at least until another ruler could be determined. It was frustrating to plan for a future Akira didn’t hope for, but they had to be prepared.

  When they began their march, Sen had been the hardest to leave behind. Akira was humbled by the old man’s courage and generosity, and wanted to do nothing more than sit and talk with him for as long as time allowed. Memories flashed through his mind, his childhood visits to Stonekeep and Sen’s small castle. Sen was the only tie Akira had to the days of his youth. He openly wept when the old man rode with his honor guard back to Stonekeep. Akira couldn’t shake the depressing thought he might never see the lord again.

  It would be beneficial if they could wait longer to make their strike. Akira and Sen had both sent out calls throughout the kingdom for volunteers, sending riders from village to village to recruit anyone who was willing to risk life for their land and their families. People had been trickling into the camp for several days, and every day they delayed they grew in numbers. But it was a risky game they played.

  They couldn’t be sure how much longer the Gathering would last. Moriko had told them the celebration lasted a full moon when she had been among the Azarians, but she had no idea if that was tradition or not. They had waited as long as they dared, and they couldn’t risk another day.

  Ryuu had been instrumental in the planning of the attack. Every day he spent the entire morning meditating, his sense wandering throughout the kingdom. He kept Akira updated on the status of the Gathering, and every day Akira worried he would come back with news the Gathering was breaking up. But he never did. The nightblades from the island approached and volunteers trickled into camp. The time would never be better.

  Their battle plan, again, was simple. They would attack the Gathering from different directions. The Azarians had formed their Gathering at the confluence of the two great rivers, but they stayed inside the boundaries of the old Southern Kingdom. In other words, their backs were to the river. Akira and his men would attack from the southeast and Ryuu and the nightblades would attack from the southwest. With any luck they would drive the Azarians into the river and out of their land.

  Akira spent much of the journey lost in his own thoughts. Ryuu rarely spoke, and their plans were laid, so there was little to do but ride and think. Akira had always dreamed of becoming king, but he never thought it would be like this. More than anythi
ng, he had wanted to bring peace and prosperity to the land. He had never expected he would be forced to save it. Unfortunately, it didn’t seem to be his fate to lead in a time of peace. He would have to settle for doing all he could to save his people.

  The king looked over at Ryuu, the nightblade who had sparked so much change in the land. But as much as the land had changed, Ryuu had changed even more. Akira remembered when he had first met the nightblade. He remembered the day well, thinking at the time it would be his last. He had been disarmed easily, his own sword held against his throat. Ryuu had been so young, and so naively idealistic.

  But those ideals had cost the young man, and had burned away much of who he had been. Akira understood the nightblade better than he thought. Ryuu was still idealistic, but in a different way. He had been forged in difficult trials, and his idealism was more realistic now. He rode forward with purpose, something Akira had never really seen from him before.

  He spoke softly. “What is on your mind?”

  Ryuu glanced over at him briefly. There was no deception on his face. “My battle with Nameless.”

  “You must have fought well to still be alive.”

  The nightblade shook his head. “Not the battle I’ve already had. The one I will have in three days.”

  Akira frowned. “I know you have never been in a large battle, but I can assure you, the odds of you two actually meeting on the battlefield are slim.”

  Ryuu disagreed. “No. We will meet. His rage towards me and Moriko is bottomless, and although she can hide from him, I can’t. Even several days away, I can sense him as clearly as I can see that tree over there. I have little doubt he can do the same. He knows I’m coming, and that she’ll be with me. We will meet.”

  Akira thought about the nightblade’s words. “You’re that strong, then?”

  Ryuu nodded. He was never one to talk much about his own strength. He was so much like the warriors he had idolized in his youth. The strongest warriors had no need to boast. It was the silent swordsman that Akira feared most.

  Akira continued his thought, trying to get to the heart of what Ryuu was telling him. “But despite your strength, you fear you aren’t strong enough?”

  Ryuu nodded again.

  Akira wasn’t sure if there was anything he could say to make Ryuu feel more confident. The young man had an accurate assessment of his abilities, and if he thought he wasn’t strong enough, he probably wasn’t. The thought disturbed Akira, but it wasn’t his place to question the nightblade.

  “All we can do is all we can do.” It was a saying his father had used all too often.

  Ryuu rolled his shoulders back, as though he was trying to shed the weight of responsibility he felt. “That’s true. It doesn’t make it any easier, though.”

  That evening, as the rest of the men set up camp, Akira watched as Moriko and Ryuu prepared to leave to meet up with the nightblade expedition. It felt as though a fist was grabbing his heart and squeezing. Up until this moment the march had seemed like a dream, the sort of heroic exploit he imagined himself leading as a child. But as he watched the two nightblades efficiently pack up their gear, it became all too real to him.

  They were marching to a battle they had little hope of winning. They were hopelessly outnumbered, and Moriko, who knew the Azarians best of all, thought that even the strength of the nightblades wouldn’t be enough. There was an excellent chance he would never see the two of them again, and just for a moment, he was seized by the desire to tell them to run, to leave the kingdom and never return. They had done enough.

  He kept his silence, and it wasn’t long before they were ready. The two nightblades turned to face him. There was so much he wanted to say. He wanted to express his gratitude for all they had done, wanted to tell them to be careful, wanted to tell them to escape the madness that was coming. But none of the words could escape his lips. To speak about his feelings would be to demean their import.

  Akira met Ryuu’s gaze, and although they said nothing, they understood each other. Akira knew what Ryuu was thinking, and he believed Ryuu understood him also. There wasn’t anything to say.

  In a surprise gesture, Ryuu knelt down to the ground and bowed all the way down, his forehead pressing against the floor. After a moment of hesitation, Moriko did the same.

  Akira fought back tears. He had known the two of them for cycles, and never had they given him more than a nod. Coming from the two of them, a simple nod had always been enough. This was more than he deserved. He knelt down to the ground across from them and returned the gesture. None of his men were around, but he wouldn’t have cared if they were.

  He remained in his bow, even after the rustle of their robes reached his ears. He knelt, the cold ground reassuring against his forehead, a few tears watering the grass beneath his face. The sound of two horses trotting away came to him, and it wasn’t until the sound faded into silence that he came up from the ground.

  The two nightblades were gone, and Akira was certain he would never see them again.

  34

  There were days where Nameless wished he had taken different actions in his life. It wasn’t quite regret for his choices, but it was close. These days, he wished he had stayed far away from the first Gathering in the new land. When they crossed the Three Sisters, their plan had been simple. Defeat the armies of the kingdom and explore the land. At the first Gathering they would share information and let other clans know where each was planning to settle. It had been so simple when they spoke of it back in Azaria.

  There had been some complaints. Some felt they should skip the exploration phase and go straight to settlement. They had fairly detailed information from the monasteries. But he had convinced them otherwise. It wasn’t that he distrusted the information from the monasteries, although the thought did cross his mind. Nameless had pushed for exploration for two reasons. First, it introduced all the clans to the land that was going to be theirs. If they were going to live here, they needed to know it, deep in their bones. They needed to see just how perfect this land was for them. Second, although the information from the monasteries was most likely accurate, the monks didn’t see the land the way one of the People would. If this land was going to be their new home, they needed to understand it from their own perspective. For example, the monks would never consider the mating or migration habits of large game.

  The role of the first Gathering had been to take all the information the clans brought back and put it into one coherent whole. Then clans would discuss where they would settle. Any clan was welcome to settle wherever they wished, but clans wouldn’t want to share the same space. The peace enforced by the demon-kind was no more, and weaker clans would be swallowed by stronger ones if they tried to settle in the same place. The idea had been that by discussing it at the Gathering, bloodshed could be avoided.

  What Nameless hadn’t considered was how strong the pull of tradition was. He had thought perhaps the importance of their situation would have inspired the clans to a more forward-thinking mindset, but many of the clans had returned to the old ways. Few looked to the future of the People as a whole. Their thoughts were only for themselves.

  Nameless didn’t always blame them. In his calmer moments, he forced himself to remember they had all grown up in a time of hardship. They couldn’t afford to look beyond their immediate clan and their immediate future. There hadn’t been enough food to think of the People as a whole, not when your own stomach was constantly rumbling.

  But here they were in a land full of food, full of resources. There was enough for everyone, and clans could afford to look beyond themselves. The only problem was that they couldn’t. They never had before and they couldn’t make the shift.

  They also didn’t see that the People were weaker than they ever had been. The move had cost them far more than Nameless had hoped, and it continued to cost them. There were barely enough demon-kind left to be with each clan, and the clan numbers had decreased substantially. Their new land was still hostile to
them. If they didn’t work together, they would all die apart.

  But he might as well have been arguing to a group of trees for all the effect his words had. The largest and strongest clans claimed enormous amounts of land for themselves, much more than they would need for many cycles. Smaller, weaker clans felt as though they were being forced to settle in lands not much better than those they had left. They came to him, having grown used to the protection of the demon-kind, but no words of his would sway the larger clans. Unless he wanted to resort to force, there was nothing he could do.

  Nameless considered returning to power. He still had the support of the demon-kind, and perhaps, if he could unify the clans, at least for another cycle or two, everything would work for the best. But the idea made Nameless sick. His only purpose had been to get them here. They needed to find the strength to survive on their own. They needed to be able to survive without him.

  Day after day they met, but nothing changed. The weaker clans continued to approach Nameless, begging him to do something. Under his leadership, conflict between the clans had come to a complete stop. The demon-kind had kept everyone in line. In Azaria, Nameless had known he needed every person alive he could. The weaker clans had appreciated the protection, and some had grown stronger under his leadership. They didn’t see why he should give up his power.

  So Nameless continued to be torn between two ideals. On one hand, he feared that if he allowed the demon-kind to assert their authority once again, there would be no turning back. The demon-kind would need to rule the clans from that day forward. They would be responsible for the welfare of all clans, a responsibility that went against their traditions. Nameless had listened to all the legends growing up. There was a reason the demon-kind shunned authority. He knew how dangerous power could be. The demon-kind were stronger than anyone else, but the reason they had been successful was because they had been raised as servants. In this way, their power was channeled and controlled. Nameless had broken that tradition, but had only wanted to break it for a time. If the demon-kind remained in power, eventually disaster would befall them. The legends were clear on that point.