Sunstone - Dishonor's Bane (Book 2)

by Guy Antibes

  The man frowned. Evidently he had some counter-move planned if Shiro had struck. They traded thrusts and parries. Shiro used the flat of his blade a number of times to change the path of Beech’s sword, but just enough.

  Shiro backed up to take a breath and he found his feet sliding towards Beech. He glanced at Peleor and could feel power coming from the Dakkoran sorcerer. The two worked together to hurt him. Shiro was able to fight against the pull by moving to the side as the power drove him forward. Beech sliced down where Shiro should have stood. So the two men would rather deal with Chika or Tishiaki and fought to end his life.

  “That was much too close. I think we have measured each other’s capabilities sufficiently.” Shiro stood up, but Beech wouldn’t stand for it. Shiro didn’t want to use power in the match, but he didn’t have a choice.

  The pull began again. Shiro slammed his magical shield down, relieved that the pulling stopped and levitated over Beech’s head as quickly as he could and pointed his sword into Beech’s back before the man could turn around. He could have teleported, but he didn’t want Peleor to know they could do that.

  “What?” Beech could only look puzzled as Shiro levitated again and poked his sword into Beech’s side.

  “I’d rather not do it again and slice your neck, Captain,” Shiro said. “It’s evident that no blood means something different in your language than it does in mine.” He looked pointedly at Peleor. “A fair enough match, don’t you think, sorcerer?”

  The pulling ceased. Shiro noted a sheen on Peleor’s brow. “My title is Wizard, actually, and I believe you are correct. A cultural misunderstanding. I think we have seen enough. Tomorrow at the inn where we met and we will negotiate our terms and give you your marching orders.” Peleor gazed at Beech, who looked more shocked than anything as he put on his cloak.

  “Tomorrow, Ropponi.” Beech said. His voice was anything but friendly.

  Chika walked the two men to their horses as Shiro handed Tishiaki’s sword back to him. The man accepted it in his right hand, but the point immediately dropped to the ground.

  “Why didn’t you tell me?” Shiro said.

  “About this?” Tishiaki raised his right hand. “You wouldn’t have given me command. I can use it, but I can’t lift much more than a pot of water or a large jug of wine.”

  Shiro put his hand on the man’s left shoulder. “I’ve seen you in action, Tishiaki. You command because of your mind and experience. You also have sufficient power that you don’t even need to use a weapon.”

  “I… I’m sorry. I’m one of those who are diminished on Besseth. I cannot even teleport.”

  “Nothing to be sorry for. We are a unit. You know that and you know that we will fight for each other and together as brothers and sisters. We all have strengths and weaknesses. I’ve shown that often enough. I don’t have the experience being a war leader and I can do some dumb things.”

  Tishiaki sighed. “We all do dumb things. Don’t minimize your impact as a leader. I’d follow you anywhere, Shiro, but I’m not too happy about following them.”

  Shiro turned and saw their two mounted visitors vanish around a bend in the road. He shook his head. “Peleor isn’t even discreet about his power. I’ll bet my quick shield and levitation twisted his guts.”

  “It twisted mine. I’ve never seen that used in battle before. You can levitate nearly as quickly as teleporting.”

  “A new skill, I guess. I’ve shifted side to side before, but never like I did today. See how many of our warrior-sorcerers can do it. If nothing else it will provide some shock value.” Shiro laughed.

  “More than that,” Tishiaki said as he levitated over Shiro’s head. “I know I can speed that up. Just remember that you can’t put much power behind your thrust.” He looked towards where Beech and the wizard had disappeared. “Still, I don’t trust them.”

  “Where else will we go? Our people still need to learn the language. I spent most of a week learning what I did and I still didn’t understand all that they said. We need to understand the nuances of the culture. I do know for sure that the ‘no blood’ condition was no misunderstanding. They wanted me dead so they could negotiate with a newer, cowed leader. That won’t happen now,” Shiro said.

  “No it won’t. We won’t head north to Happly with our eyes closed. We treat everyone as an enemy, even our employer, until proven otherwise. Right?”

  Shiro smiled. “With your help. You’ve got more seasoned eyes than I do, so I’ll need them as we navigate our way in our new land. With the sorcerers and the bureaucracy, there was a certain predictability in Roppon. I surmise that there is little predictable in this strange land. The troops performed very well today. I suppose you teach them all to do that so they will follow orders?”

  Tishiaki nodded.

  “But our own tactics need to be based on unpredictability. Our enemies might behave oddly politically, but I would guess that their armies would act much the same as ours do. We’ll need to be versatile. Without my power, my blood would be soaking the practice ground. It is our advantage, remember that.”

  “I’ll not forget it now,” Tishiaki said. He levitated, more quickly this time, and pinched Shiro’s side. “I don’t need my right hand for this.”

  Shiro grinned. “Indeed you don’t. Practice. See? You can lead your troops into battle.”

  “I will.” He slammed his right fist over his heart and quickly showed Shiro a multi-pronged metal shape that sprouted from a leather cover over the end of his right arm. Tishiaki’s power probably activated the prongs. He winked and let Shiro bow in return.

  What a revelation! Shiro thought as he made his way back to his tent. Those prongs could hold some things, but he remembered the sword’s point dropping to the ground. He wondered how much power Tishiaki had to use to appear to have normal use of his hands. No wonder he took the guise of a woman. The physical expectations would be less. He thought he might have lost Tishiaki at the practice ground if he hadn’t stepped in.

  But then his thoughts turned to Beech and the wizard, Peleor. Whatever terms they desired, Shiro wouldn’t agree to more than a year. If they didn’t immediately go to war, perhaps it would be a one-year paid education. At the end, he’d know Besseth better and perhaps find the right place for his force. For that time, he would drill into the entire band that they would be living within a bed of snakes.

  ~~~

  CHAPTER THIRTY-EIGHT

  ~

  ALL IN ALL, THE DAY HADN’T GONE SO POORLY. Beech and Peleor were revealed as dishonorable men. Tishiaki wouldn’t be hiding his infirmity any longer. He could lead his forces with less distraction. They didn’t even have to reveal some of their secrets. The two Bessethians didn’t know about disguises or that they could teleport and Peleor didn’t lay his eyes on the Sunstone.

  Shiro thought he’d walk with the local translators into Grianne and check up on Shinku. They made him speak in the Bessethian tongue the entire way into town. When they parted company Shiro thanked them for the opportunity to be an object of their laughter. He proudly said that in Bessethian. He turned into the street that housed the same tavern where he met Captain Harlance Beech.

  He walked up to the inn and heard groaning in an alleyway. “Shinku?”

  A louder groan came from the darkness. Shiro produced a globe of light and saw Shinku lying in a broken heap. Blood pooled beneath him. It didn’t take him more than the blink of an eye to grab his shoulder and teleport back to the camp.

  “Tishiaki!” Shiro yelled as soon as he could. “Help!”

  Soldiers soon surrounded them. “Help me take him into the tent,” Shiro said. He reached back for his healer knowledge and began to gingerly diagnose Shinku’s injuries. The man could only croak when he tried to speak. He wheezed terribly, fighting for every breath. Shiro looked at his throat. Someone had crushed his windpipe. Shiro used his magic to strengthen the tissues of Shinku’s throat.

  Tishiaki ran in. “What happened?”

  “
I found him dumped in the alley beside a tavern. We teleported as soon as I knew it was Shinku. I haven’t done a complete examination of him, but I have strengthened his throat, so he can breathe.”

  “Broken feet. A broken knee.” Tishiaki said.

  Shiro found soft spots on his skull where someone had battered his head. “What a mess.” Shiro went to work, shoring up the man’s skull.

  “I need some food,” Shinku mumbled.

  “His jaw is broken,” Tishiaki said.

  “We will be here all night working on him. I need something to keep my energy up.”

  Shiro left the tent to find something to eat.

  “I don’t see him lasting the night.” Tishiaki said, as he came up beside Shiro.

  “Shinku’s made of stern stuff,” Shiro said. He actually agreed with Tishiaki, but Shinku could probably hear them talk. A Red Rose gave a skin of wine to Shiro. Then he went back into the tent.

  Once he finished on the man’s head, the healer leaned over and spoke softly in Shinku’s ear. “Who did this?”

  “Ropponi. I tried to fight them off, but I couldn’t. They beat me with sticks and called me a traitor.”

  Shiro shook his head. He shouldn’t have let Shinku go into town alone. Here he thought he gave the man a night of fun, but sticks. In Roppon, only the worse traitors were beaten to death with sticks, not good enough to soil the steel of a proper sword.

  Shinku raised an arm, his hand showed broken fingers. What kind of pain must he endure? “I’m sorry.” His chest shuddered as he groaned one last time and died.

  A country of snakes? No. Ropponi did this. He doubted the tradition of stick beating existed on Besseth.

  “Ropponi.” Shiro said as Chika stepped into the tent. “The Guild sent assassins to Grianne and they killed Shinku with sticks.” Shiro ground his teeth in anger and felt a shock of shame that he had let Shinku die such a painful, needless death.

  “Let’s punish them,” Chika said, looking down at Shinku’s broken body.

  Revenge never proved anything in Shiro’s personal philosophy, but punishment did. He easily rationalized Roniki’s death as such.

  “I’ll assemble our best squads.”

  Shiro shook his head. “Chika and I work well together and we’ll take them out by ourselves, no matter how many there are.” Shinku had even left his sword behind, so Shiro took that as the instrument of justice and grabbed a staff. “Sword and staff, Chika. Run. We’ll teleport to the alley where I discovered him.” Shiro could hardly think, he felt so angry with himself and his anger warred with his grief. Shinku had pledged himself to the Red Rose and to him personally. Now he lay dead in his tent. Shiro desperately wanted to cry out in frustration and pain at the man’s loss. He had led the sailor to his death.

  “Don’t blame yourself,” Tishiaki said, laying his hand on Shiro’s shoulder. “He isn’t the first nor will he be the last to die under your command. It always hurts, and let it do that, but a commander must command and you can’t do that feeling sorry for yourself. You reminded me of that earlier today. Mete out the justice those dogs deserve.”

  Shiro put his hand on Tishiaki’s. “Thank you. We’ll get through this together. Put up a double watch. They might want to attack the camp.”

  “Already ordered.”

  Chika ran to his side and before anyone could say anything else, they stood in the alleyway. Shiro could still smell Shinku’s blood. “Disguise yourself as a Bessethian, but don’t do any talking. You’ll give us away more quickly than I will.” Shiro couldn’t help but smile, but that turned grim as they exited the alleyway. Both of them looked like the language tutors that Shiro had said farewell to little more than an hour before. It seemed much longer than that, but a deep blue still rimmed the western horizon.

  They walked into the tavern and sat. “Rimmel. I thought you swore off drink,” a serving lady said.

  Shiro had to talk. “My throat.” He pointed to his neck. “Water.” He grabbed the sleeve of the server. “Ropponi?”

  “One of your clients, I think, had a run-in with them.”

  Run-in? Shiro didn’t know what that meant, but maybe a fight. “Where go?”

  “You might be wanting a healer, Rimmel. You sound awful.”

  Shiro nodded.

  “They are staying two doors down. The Ram’s Foot. I’d have the keeper throw them out, the way they treated your man. I’ll be back with your water.”

  Shiro shook his head and pointed to his throat. “Healer.”

  They both nodded at each other and Chika helped Shiro out. Once they left the tavern, they walked down to a three-story inn. The sign had a picture of ram’s horn and a hoof. Shiro couldn’t understand the significance of the name. Bessethians!

  “We will go in as Ropponi.”

  Chika nodded, but Shiro put his hand on her arm. “Not ourselves.”

  Shiro turned into Kinoru, his old Koriaki friend, and Chika, the cook, walked into the inn.

  “Other Ropponi here?” Shiro said.

  “There are ten of them up on the top floor. Two are hurt pretty badly. It seems they got into a fight and I’m glad it wasn’t here.”

  “Thank you,” Shiro said as he climbed the stairs.

  As they reached the third floor, they listened at all of the doors and heard Ropponi words coming from two of them. “At least Shinku took a few out. With only ten, it’s doubtful they’ll be attacking our camp. You stay in the hallway. It’s likely that they could be in rooms all along here. There’s likely a sorcerer with them, so don’t hesitate to use your power.”

  If they were assassins, they’d all be proficient with weapons. Shiro stood at the door and heard moaning. He blasted the door down with a pulse of power and found four of the assassins. One lay on a bed, wrapped up in bandages and three sat on the floor ignoring Bessethian-style furniture. Shiro didn’t give them a chance to get up and slew them all before they rose.

  He looked at the injured man. “You killed my friend. I will finish what he did not.” By the time he withdrew Shinku’s blade from the dead man’s chest, others stood at the door. He heard fighting on the other side. Shiro blasted a hole in the wall and began to bring them down. He gave them no mercy. They had given Shinku no mercy and he wouldn’t let their act pass unpunished.

  The assassin’s had no answer to their shifting and power-enhanced moves. Eleven Ropponi lay dead at their feet. A door opened and Sumi quickly closed it. Shiro could feel a ward building on the door. He cut it to shreds with his power and entered the room. Sumi didn’t recognize him. Two other sorcerers backed up as Chika followed Shiro into the room.

  “Don’t use your power. I am shielded. Ask Sumi.”

  “He is Shiro in another guise! Do as he says if you value your life!” she said.

  “Guard the corridor.” Shiro said to Chika.

  “What did you intend doing?”

  Sumi’s look of shock receded as she lifted her chin. “We are here to kill you, Chika and Tishi, of course. Without leaders, the rest of the renegade White Rose guard will dissipate. Besseth itself will eliminate you all, in time.”

  “That won’t happen now.” Shiro threw out his hand and squeezed. One of the sorcerers clutched his chest and collapsed on the floor. The other retreated against a wall.

  “You aren’t supposed to be able to do that,” the remaining sorcerer said.

  “Supposed to and can’t are two different things. Ashiyo knows how quickly I learn. Why are you here, Sumi?” Shiro said.

  “We waited for one of your guards to arrive in town and executed him.”

  “With sticks?”

  “Oh, you noticed. You are quick,” Sumi said sarcastically. “Of course with sticks. You are traitors to the White Rose.”

  “So you killed an innocent man because of your hatred?”

  “None of you are innocent.” Sumi sniffed.

  “He was a sailor on the ship that brought us. He’s never set foot in the White Rose valley.”

  �
�An honest mistake,” Sumi said with a shrug. She obviously didn’t fear him. She should have.

  “You’re a dead man, anyway,” the sorcerer said. “Sumi has convinced us that you are too powerful to be trusted leading a force of sorcerers.”

  “Yushidon knows of this?” Shiro said as he killed the sorcerer the same way he dispatched the other.

  Sumi snorted. “He’s a fool. I demanded that he sink Mistokko’s ship, but he refused. I had to charm a few of his men to come with me across the sea.”

  “Now it’s your turn,” Shiro said.

  “You promised not to kill me. I know you are a man driven by honor,” Sumi said, her face turning white.

  Shiro threw a ward to keep her from teleporting. “I won’t kill you, but she will.”

  “Who’s she?” Sumi said, with her eyes focused on Chika’s dripping blade. Shiro could see her struggling to teleport.

  “You’ll never know,” Chika said as she slashed the woman’s throat, and then ran her sword through her heart to make sure she was dead.

  Shiro teleported them back to the camp. He wobbled on his legs. The smell of blood on his saturated clothes made him sick and he retched next to his tent, tearing off everything he wore. The death he had meted out tore at him, even if it was punishment for Shinku’s murder. Chika stood over him as he leaned on his hands and knees and retched again. She left him and returned with a bucket of water and clean clothes.

  “Burn them.” Shiro said, pointing to the pile of bloody clothes. “I don’t want to wear them again.” He stood as he put on a robe. “How are you?”

  Chika smiled a bit pensively. “Not quite the kind of a good time I would have expected, but I’ll get through it. Sumi made the taking of life worth it.”

  Shiro stood a little straighter. “I agree about her. I feel a bit better not having to worry about her leading the remnants of the White Rose Society. It shows you can’t trust anyone in Besseth or on the Roppon Isles.”