Nightblade's Honor

by Ryan Kirk

  The nightblade frowned. A tiny force. He had expected seven or eight at least. If they were attacked, they would be at a great disadvantage. Koji was good but still just one blade. But another question was even more pronounced in his mind.

  “Why me, Mari? Wouldn’t I be better suited for working with a group of blades?”

  “Perhaps, but I have two simple reasons. The first is logistic. If I want to travel small but travel safe, I need the best, and from every account I’ve heard, that’s you. Second, I trust you.”

  Koji wouldn’t have felt more uncomfortable if Mari had thrown him in her tent’s fire and stabbed him repeatedly with a knife. He opened his mouth to speak, to tell her the truth, but nothing came forth.

  Mari watched him carefully. “You seem uncertain.”

  Koji stammered. “I am honored, Mari, but I don’t know if I’m best suited to be so close to you.”

  Mari’s eyes narrowed, and Koji was certain she could see into his heart to discover the secret lurking there.

  Koji wasn’t ashamed that he had slain Juro. He had been wronged by the lord and been well within his rights to revenge himself on the man who tried to kill him unjustly. He didn’t want to hurt Mari, but he needed to tell her the truth.

  He took a deep breath but still remained silent.

  Mari pierced him with her stare, the only sound in the tent the one log crackling from the heat of the fire.

  “I believe you are. There are going to be a few days of preparing and organizing, but be ready to leave soon.”

  With that, Koji’s audience was at an end. He thought again about speaking, but the commitment he’d grasped only moments ago had wavered. He stepped out of the tent, the winter air feeling especially bleak.

  Chapter 14

  Asa was certain of one thing. She hated winter. She couldn’t remember the last time she’d been warm. Vague memories of summer floated in her imagination, but every time she tried to hold on to one, a gust of icy wind stabbed through her clothing, and she was back in the present, freezing, miserable.

  Finding her destination had been more challenging than she’d expected, mostly because the locale she thought was her destination had changed. At the first place she tried, she discovered the person she sought was already gone. Undeterred, Asa followed the directions given, wishing she only knew the land better. The area was one of rolling plains, and after a few days of travel, one hill in the land looked much the same as the next. Lacking a better knowledge of the land, she wished her directions had been clearer from the man who had given them to her.

  She came over yet another rise, and suddenly her entire world changed. She cursed her luck. If she had come from any other direction, the house would have been much easier to find. The rise in the land sheltered the domicile from the wind on one side, and on the other, tall trees stood majestic, bending in the wind but not breaking.

  The woods ran to the north and south, but Asa’s vision of the forest had been blocked by the land. Had she come from any other direction, she would have been able to follow the tree line to her destination, probably saving her at least a day or two.

  She extended her sense and felt three lives below. As soon as she felt them, doubt crashed against her heart.

  She wasn’t sure she should be here. Honestly, she wasn’t even sure she was safe here. But she had nowhere else to turn.

  Asa glanced back at the endless plains she had crossed. Maybe it would be better if she returned the way she had come? Her journey had been hard, but the difficulty paled in comparison to what she would face down there. Already her face burned with shame.

  She stood there forever, studying the house in an attempt to delay her decision. It was a small house, once clearly run-down, now repaired in places. Firelight flickered in the low light of early evening, and at times Asa thought she could smell the scents of food cooking. Her stomach rumbled with desire.

  The location of the house was excellent, sitting just inside the wood line, protected from the elements by the trees and hill. A casual traveler could probably walk fairly close in the daylight and never know the house was there. The location suited her friend as well as any place could.

  Asa could sense him, down there with his wife and child. That by itself was reassuring. She was close enough that he would be able to sense her, and his natural inclination was to be invisible to the gift. If she could sense him, that was only because he willed it. A small gesture, but one that spoke volumes.

  That gave Asa the courage to put one foot in front of the other. She carefully shuffled down the hill, afraid she’d slip and fall in the snow, embarrassing herself even further. She made it down to the bottom of the hill without incident.

  Asa couldn’t bring herself to trust, not completely. She kept her hands well away from her swords, but she proceeded cautiously, her sense extended, seeking a trap she couldn’t see. Inside the house, her friend stirred from his place near the fire and came to the door.

  Asa was about ten paces away from the door when it opened and Daisuke stepped out. Although his physical presence wasn’t intimidating, even seeing him caused her heart to skip a beat and halt her progress. She tried to hide her fear to little success. She could still sense him, which was a good sign, but she wasn’t stepping any closer. Not without an invite.

  Daisuke crossed his arms, a war of emotions crossing over his usually frozen face. Asa kept her sense focused on him, prepared to run if he gave any indication of attacking.

  A stranger meeting Daisuke might think nothing of him. He was of average height and size. His dark hair was cut short, and although his winter clothing hid all visible traces, his movement belied the strength of his limbs. If one didn’t look in his eyes, he’d seem no more than a kind stranger. But he was probably one of the most dangerous men Asa knew. She didn’t want to be his enemy, but there was a real chance she was.

  The wind whipped between them. Asa didn’t allow herself to react. Her eyes narrowed in focus, trying to get some indication of what Daisuke would do. If he attacked, she wouldn’t have much warning. For his part, Daisuke was as still as a statue and just as expressive.

  Finally, when Asa didn’t think she could take it anymore, his eyes softened, and a smile broke out on his face, as though he was seeing a long-lost friend.

  “Come in, Asa. You look like you’re about to freeze. We’ve got hot food and a fire.”

  Asa released a breath, a wave of relief passing over her.

  “How many trees are within ten paces?” Daisuke asked.

  Asa paused as she attempted to count.

  “Too slow, Asa. A moment, nothing more, that’s all you’ll ever have. If you aren’t fully aware, you’ll miss it.”

  Asa sighed. She’d heard this speech before. Several times already today, in fact. “What am I missing?” She tried to keep the exasperation out of her voice, but she failed miserably.

  “Everything.”

  Daisuke also paused, and Asa knew he was about to launch into another tirade. He might be one of the most dangerous people alive, but he was a poor teacher by her estimation. When she was feeling charitable, she would acknowledge that what he was attempting to teach was difficult. He couldn’t show her what to do. He couldn’t demonstrate a technique. All he could do was explain, and she wasn’t understanding.

  Much of Daisuke’s skill relied on an almost complete awareness of the environment. Asa had seen him in action several times, so she knew he lived what he taught. All the same, she had been training under him for a full moon, and she still didn’t feel as though she had a quarter of the awareness he did.

  “Asa, we’ve been over this. You know what you need to do. Discipline your mind. Where are you?”

  “Here.”

  “And when are you?”

  “Now.”

  He shook his head. “But you’re not. Even now you’re thinking about other ways to gain the skills you desire. There is only now, always. If you can do that, I will have little left to teach.”
r />   “You could teach me how to hide from the sense.”

  This time it was Daisuke’s turn to sigh. He had told her repeatedly he didn’t know how to teach the skill that made him so dangerous to nightblades. His invisibility had always been something he was able to do naturally. The answer didn’t convince Asa, but Daisuke was insistent.

  Asa knew that skill with the sense differed among blades, and there was no end of debate among scholars as to what was birthright versus training. She had always belonged to the camp that one’s ability with the gift, once bestowed by birth, was entirely shaped by practice. Training—nothing else—was the reason some could sense farther than others or sense at a deeper level than others. If Daisuke could hide from other blades, she reasoned she could also learn. He disagreed.

  “Come,” he said. “Let’s practice together.” They sat down in the snow and closed their eyes. Asa let her sense expand, as did Daisuke. The point of the exercise was easy. He just wanted her to be aware of all things. The practice of the exercise was almost impossible. Asa wasn’t sure how to fall into a relaxed state of awareness. She could only focus on one thing at a time.

  Daisuke, on the other hand, seemed to know everything. At times she would ask him a question, and his answer was almost instantaneous. After most of the morning had passed this way, he stood up.

  “Enough for now.”

  They walked through the forest, Daisuke again testing her awareness. They would do some light sparring, and then came more questions. His expectations were simple to state but impossible to achieve.

  One time, between bouts of sparring, she asked him how he had trained. A sad smile came across his face. “Just like this.”

  “How long did it take you?”

  “Several moons to grasp the basics. A lifetime to become as good as I am now.”

  “That’s not a reassuring answer.”

  He gave a nonchalant shrug. “If it was easy to do, everyone would. This is how you become more dangerous to your opponents. You have to work harder than they will.”

  At times, Daisuke’s pragmatism got on her nerves. Just once, she wanted him to give her some sort of inspirational talk, some sort of encouragement. But he never did. He always pushed everything back on her. She was free to leave whenever she wanted. If he asked her to complete a task she thought was ridiculous, she was welcome to refuse. Everything, both for good or ill, was on her shoulders.

  Asa respected his consistency, but still he made her mad.

  Asa most looked forward to late afternoon, the only time in the day when she felt as though she was making progress. She still remembered their first day out in the forest after her first warm meal and bed in days. She had taken a fighting stance, and Daisuke had looked at her with a question in his eyes and asked, “Don’t you carry two swords?”

  Asa had been confused. “Yes.”

  “Where’s the other one?”

  She looked down at the one short sword she held. “I left it in your house.”

  The answer confused Daisuke even more. “Why?”

  She frowned. “No one has ever trained me with two. My former master used to call it a disgrace.”

  “You’ve trained all these cycles with a short blade to take advantage of your speed, and you don’t fight with a second?”

  Asa shook her head slowly. She had practiced some, in secret, but she didn’t think she was very strong with two blades. The only time she’d tried the move in combat had been against Kiyoshi, when it had done her little good.

  “Are you more concerned about honor or strength?”

  Her answer was immediate. “Strength.”

  “Then go get your second sword.”

  Asa’s life soon changed. Daisuke taught her the fundamentals of fighting with dual blades, and after she’d passed the initial challenge of manipulating two swords, she improved quickly. If she could sense Daisuke, she could beat him.

  Today he hid himself from her sense. Some days he forced her to rely on sight and her skills with two swords, depriving her of the advantage of her gift. The daily battles were often even. His sense against her two blades made for fascinating exchanges.

  She had been training under Daisuke for more than a moon. The sun was going down earlier at this time of year, but by the time it did, Asa was well exhausted from the day’s training. She hadn’t advanced her awareness nearly as far as she’d like, but her combative skills were progressing nicely.

  She wasn’t ready to leave, though. In her bones, she knew the storm was coming and that she’d have to be stronger yet.

  Daisuke’s small house contained four people but didn’t feel crowded. To Asa, the environment felt comforting, like wrapping a thick blanket around herself in the coldest heart of winter. Daisuke and Keiko, his wife, slept in a small loft just big enough for a bed. Mika, their daughter, shared her room with Asa, an arrangement that delighted the precocious girl to no end.

  One of Asa’s small worries had been that Keiko wouldn’t like having her as company. She was a jealous woman, and although Asa had no desire for Daisuke, the blade still remembered the glares she had received the first time they met in Haven before it burned.

  There was no cause for concern. Keiko had welcomed her with open arms, as though she was a cherished friend and not someone she had only met once before.

  The last time Asa had seen Daisuke’s family, she had helped them escape from Haven. Those had been trying times, and guile and haste had been required to get them out. She was glad to see they were both doing well. Mika had now seen six cycles and looked as though she had doubled in size since Asa had last seen her.

  Asa also noticed that at times Mika became almost invisible to her sense. The first time it had happened, Daisuke had been in the room, and he had shaken his head. Asa understood. Her own mother, after the death of her father, didn’t want her to become a blade. After everything Daisuke had seen, it was little surprise he didn’t want Mika to become involved in the life of her father.

  An observer passing by would have seen nothing unusual about the meal that night. The four of them sat around the table, the bulk of the evening’s entertainment coming from Mika’s endless stream of questions. Asa answered as many as she could, but some of Mika’s questions were challenging. She didn’t want to tell Mika she met Daisuke in a heated battle against eight guards. She didn’t know why the grass was green, and she certainly wasn’t going to tell the girl how many men she’d kissed.

  The entire time, Daisuke and Keiko exchanged loving glances and gentle smiles. Asa imagined that when she wasn’t present, they were the target of all these questions. They were probably grateful for a short break.

  The fire warmed the room, and Asa felt both body and mind relax as the evening wore on. The meal was simple but tasty, Keiko clearly proud that her cooking had improved in the past few moons. Asa wasn’t sure, but she felt like she remembered Daisuke once saying he did most of the cooking when home.

  Unbidden, memories of Asa’s childhood returned to her. Her own family had sat around a table in the winter much like this. Growing up, she had loved winter on the farm. There were fewer chores to do, and the sunlight was shorter. They spent more time together as a family, sitting around the fire while Sachio, her father, told stories.

  Some time had passed since she had thought of her family, and Asa realized that the sharp stabbing pain she usually felt was gone. There was still a constant ache, but the pain had diffused and become something else.

  Asa turned to Daisuke during a short break in Mika’s questioning. “Daisuke, do you know any good stories?”

  Daisuke’s grin was easy. “I do, but Keiko is the real storyteller in the family.”

  Mika clapped with excitement, and Asa repositioned herself to be more comfortable. Keiko thought for a moment and launched into a tale about a brave dragon who wanted to be human. Variations of the story were common throughout the Kingdom, but Asa had never heard one told half so well as Keiko’s. Each character had a unique v
oice, and Keiko knew exactly when to pause for dramatic effect.

  Asa fell completely into the world that Keiko’s voice created. Inside the house it was no longer winter, but a lovely spring day. The world wasn’t about to fall into chaos, and flying dragons existed and wanted to give up their strength and immortality to be human. Keiko finished her story, making Asa feel almost as sad as Mika looked.

  For a single moment the world was perfect. Keiko relaxed comfortably into Daisuke’s arms, and Mika was lost in the story world her mother had woven. Asa felt as though she hadn’t a care in the world.

  It couldn’t last. His movement was subtle, but Asa sensed Daisuke tense. The action, slight as it was, snapped Asa out of the world of comfort and into the world they lived in. She focused her sense, pushing it out until she sensed what had gotten Daisuke’s attention. Far away, at the edge of her ability, a group was gathered.

  They weren’t close enough yet to see the house and could miss it altogether depending on just how bad the weather was outside.

  Keiko, in Daisuke’s arms, felt the change in her husband and sat up. She looked at him inquisitively.

  Daisuke gave her an unconvincing look. The group wasn’t huge, but it wasn’t small, either. Asa wasn’t certain, but she counted about twenty. “Perhaps it’s time for you to put Mika to bed,” Daisuke said.

  At just that moment, Mika yawned. “But, Father, I’m not tired!”

  Daisuke replied, “No, you’re not, young one. But look at your mother. She’s worn out from a hard day of work. Maybe you could take her to your bed and help her go to sleep. Could you sing her a lullaby?”

  Mika nodded vigorously as Keiko let out an exaggerated yawn. “Yes, Father. Are you going to sleep soon, too?”

  Daisuke approached Mika and gave her a tight hug. “Of course. Asa and I are just going to go outside for a little bit. You know how your dad likes to train.”

  With that, Mika and Keiko went into one of the three sleeping rooms and shut the door. Asa and Daisuke threw on heavier clothes and went outside.