Clash of Men

by Damon Glatz

  Each of the five nations were home to its own elemental Mythic, a legendary terror and guardian of its land. The northern Mythic was a peaceful one, and would never join a war. A Mythic had never been defeated in battle before. Victory was inconceivable.

  Daisuke snapped back to the battle. The odds of victory aside, his training kicked in and there was only one thought left on his mind, only one way to die with honor.

  "Keep fighting!"

  Though the men looking at him were in shock, the command was passed down the ranks and back down to the ground. His samurai began to battle again. Dragon or no dragon, if the Ashland army is defeated the war is won. The Mythic was still a good distance away, as its roars traveled faster than its wings across the plains. The remaining knights began to fall back.

  Now was the Shogun’s chance to finish the army beneath him, to reduce his enemies to nothing and achieve total victory. He raised his hand to signal the advance of his men, to wipe away the Ashland army for good. He paused, looking back at the crimson beast soaring toward him across the vastness of the plains, the great wings of the immortal dragon born from the God of the Sun.

  If he attacked the retreating knights and defeated them on the field, his men would be defenseless against the Mythic in the air. It could simply fly over the wall and destroy all the lands within. Alternatively, if he defeated the Mythic, if he could defeat the Mythic, the Ashland army would retreat and live to invade another day. His victory here would be meaningless.

  He thought of his family beyond The Wall. His wife, his son, they would receive no warning, no way to hide from the Fire Mythic. Nothing but ash would be left. He shook his head and lowered his hand.

  Damnit.

  "Archers! Take aim at the monster!" Daisuke ordered. The archers swallowed their fear. An order from the Shogun was issued, and all were to follow.

  "Take aim at the monster." The command echoed along The Wall.

  Easier said than done. A Mythic was a beast awoken from myths and legends, erupting suddenly into reality and about to raze their homeland into nothingness.

  What can arrows even do against an evil like this?

  Soon the logic of the Shogun’s decision sank in. They had no choice. Once the beast was in range of The Wall the archers let loose a volley of arrows that shredded the sky. The creature let out a column of flame from its mouth and incinerated the arrows in midair.

  Nothing but ash. This thought continued to run through Daisuke’s head.

  His focus returned, his rage changing to determination.

  Nothing gets past The Wall. Nothing.

  "Keep firing! Kill it!"

  Daisuke began to fire his own arrows at the monster.

  The volleys never reached their target, the inferno spewing from the mouth of the beast was too intense. The dragon arrived at the front lines and flew along the length of the wall to where the battle was raging. Leaving a trail of fire and ash in its wake.

  I wonder if Ashikaga was spared…

  The dragon stopped short of Daisuke’s position on The Wall and turned back south, focusing solely on the ground forces. The knights retreated the best they could as the dragon ate and burned thousands of men within an instant. Any knights who were unfortunate enough to be in the battle were destroyed along with the samurai. The dragon was killing and burning men indiscriminately, the remaining Ashland forces who survived the retreat were frozen in fear.

  Is anyone safe from this monster?

  The earth shuddered as the beast landed in front of the tower Daisuke was positioned on. Any men remaining below were crushed into the dirt like insects. The Mythic itself was enormous. While standing with all four legs on the ground, its neck towered over The Wall. Its spiked red wings were broader than the largest man-made structure Daisuke had ever seen. Even from this distance, the heat of its fire could sear flesh. The samurai fought hard but stood no chance. In a moment, half of Daisuke’s army was reduced to dust.

  The battle was lost.

  Daisuke focused his breath. There was nothing left to lose now except the promise of an honorable death. He readied his bow and fired at the beast. The arrow did little but ricochet off its plated scales. The Shogun did not care, and he fired again, and again.

  The dragon slowly reared its massive scarlet head above Daisuke’s position on The Wall and roared, spreading its wings as wide as possible. The breath of the monster was hot and reeked of death. Its teeth were covered in the blood of the men Daisuke had ordered to their deaths. The sound of the roar was enough to deafen a man. After its bellow was completed, it began to take off. The wind caused by the beating of its wings sent men and stone flying through the air. The monster circled around, scorching the earth beneath it with a pillar of spiraling flame, leaving a trail of blackened earth.

  Daisuke did not need to feel for another arrow. He knew exactly how many he had, and how many he fired. He was out. He dropped his bow and drew his personal katana, a long black steel samurai sword. It had been handed down through his family for over a thousand years: Kaminoshi, the sword of the Shogun. For generations this weapon had defended the lands of the Emperor, today it was called upon once again to do the same.

  Nothing but ash.

  The dragon turned and began to fly directly at The Wall, at Daisuke, bellowing another roar as it charged. Daisuke was no longer afraid of the Mythic. The time for fear has ended. There was only one way out of this. Daisuke held his sword to his side and ran forward to the edge of The Great Wall.

  All the men lost.

  He began to run faster toward the edge.

  All the families and history that would soon be destroyed.

  The dragon flew closer, almost within range.

  Ashland would forever remember that the Feng Dynasty did not go down without a fight. Stories would be told that each and every man took up arms to fight till the bitter end against even the most horrible foes. Just like their honorable Shogun did.

  He reached the stone edge and leapt off into the open air. His blade raised over his head as he soared into the vast sky.

  The dragon let out a mighty roar and opened its ragged jaw, ready to end the last Shogun of this soon-defeated empire.

  Shogun Daisuke locked eyes with the beast and swung his sword to meet the Mythic of Fire. Always ready to fight for his nation, always ready to die.

  Chapter One:

  The Boy from the Plains

  The hot sun beat down on Ohitekah’s shoulders. He could feel sweat running down his back. It felt good, cooled him down. He reminded himself not to worry about his scent, having chosen a position downwind. The winds were fickle however and could change whenever they wanted to, he had little time to waste. He took a deep silent breath and glanced behind him nervously. Ohitekah was being studied carefully, his every move analyzed and judged. He tried to not let that bother him, but he could feel the eyes of his tribe burning into his back.

  Akando let no detail be spared in his scrutiny of the boy, despite how much he wanted him to pass. Ever since Ohitekah could walk, Akando had been keeping a watchful eye over him, making sure he and his mother were safe and provided for. He had grown to be a relatively quiet child, due to few children of his age in the tribe. He was worried Ohitekah’s youthful solitude would affect his ability to lead, making him unable to command. The boy had one chance to prove that he was ready. Akando, and the rest of the hunters in the tribe, waited for his call to strike.

  Ohitekah understood his mission, his one chance. But even in this stressful time, he found himself lost in the beauty of the plains, the only home he had ever known. The way the wind rolled the emerald sea around him, the sweet air that filled his body with each passing breeze, the endless landscape and rolling hills in every direction. He heard there were other lands out there, beyond the plains. A blue ocean that stretched on forever and brave men that live on islands of stone. A whole mysterious country surrounded by a giant wall. A nation that lives under the ash of a bellowing volcano. And even a city m
ade of gold to the south.

  These places seemed too fantastic to him. All Ohitekah knew was the simplicity of the plains. His people seldom strayed near its borders. His life was nothing but the green and yellow grass that seemed to never end. Quite frankly, he liked it that way. Those other places were too much for him, and he could not even begin to imagine those worlds. His place was here, with the buffalo.

  Which reminded him: he was leading a hunt right now.

  Ohitekah had been on several buffalo hunts before, however this one was special. Today he had to lead the hunt. A role he had been preparing for since the Elders decided he had come of age. One of the greatest responsibilities he could imagine. The tribe was testing him, seeing if he could handle the task of supporting and leading his people. A task that Akando was supervising. If he thought Ohitekah was incapable, he would immediately assume command and lead it himself. Too many lives were at stake should the boy fail to provide food for the tribe.

  Ohitekah inched his way carefully up the hill that hid his tribe from the massive herd in the valley below. The buffalo were grazing on the open field, unaware of their hunters just beyond the peak. He looked back to his men, around fifty of them, old and young. Each man had his own horse, his companion. For the hunters of the plains, each horse was a four-legged family member. Akando stood next to his horse at the base of the hill, awaiting Ohitekah’s report.

  Ohitekah scanned the herd, it looked smaller than expected, maybe close to a few hundred bison. Ohitekah checked his quiver, stocked full with arrows he had been making for the past few days. He felt the tension on his bow. It needed to be perfect. He looked back to Akando and made a fist, indicating the herd was in a tight grouping. Akando nodded, acknowledging the intelligence. Then Ohitekah hesitated, trying to remember the signal for a small herd. Akando raised an eyebrow, waiting for him to follow up. Ohitekah made an uncomfortable face and shook his head slightly, embarrassed. Akando rolled his eyes, he then lifted his palm to his brow, then at his nose, then again at his chin.

  Ohitekah nodded, Akando had casually reminded him of the three signals for large, medium, and small. Ohitekah lifted his palm to his chin, Akando nodded again, then Ohitekah began to move silently back down the hill to regroup.

  His mind began to drift as he descended.

  What would happen if I mess up? What would the tribe think of me if after all this time I failed them?

  He shook his head. He couldn’t think that way. Focus. Be positive. He remembered how it was done before, on the many other hunts he had been on before. Leading hunts is in his blood, he reassured himself, he had heard the legends of his father’s hunting abilities. He signaled for the group to divide into two units. They moved into position easily, the process was routine.

  The men know what to do, without being told, Akando thought to himself.

  We just need to test his confidence, how well does the boy act under pressure.

  Ohitekah began to feel his heart race. This was the moment they had all been preparing for. Without wasting another second, he threw his arm forward and signaled the charge. They started to gallop over the hill in two groups. The hunters formed a large V as they raced along the open plain. The buffalo started to raise their heads as they heard them coming. Ohitekah raised his fist and let out a loud cry, echoed by the rest of his tribe. The buffalo were stirred into a panic and began to stampede. At full speed, the hunting party started to catch up to the herd.

  I’m doing it!

  Ohitekah drew back his arrow and loosed his first shot. Now, he was in his element. Training since a very young age, he had mastered the skill of archery. He learned it not as a hobby, but as a survival technique. Riding and shooting were as natural as breathing to him. He enjoyed holding three or four arrows in his draw hand so he could shoot faster without moving to grab another from his quiver. This was a technique he observed by studying experts from other tribes.

  His horse needed no commanding or direction. It knew exactly where to run, its distance, and its speed. Ohitekah could focus his full attention on his first shot. He made sure the arrow was placed directly on the animal’s heart, on the side of the body. The buffalo would fall to its side and the arrow could be cleanly retrieved. The kill must be swift, as the buffalo are trying to survive just as much as the tribe is. It would be cruel to leave them in agony. Ohitekah had much respect for these creatures that had provided him with seventeen years of life. The first shot was clean, straight behind the front shoulder. The buffalo went down instantly.

  Ohitekah readied his next arrow and moved on to the next bison. He needed as many kills as he could manage. He moved forward to one of the largest in the herd, its hair thick and black. He took aim and drew back his longbow. The next shot was precise, same placement as before, yet the frightened and injured animal continued to run. This one was stronger than usual. He shot it a second time just behind the shoulder, it started to limp but persisted to run.

  Come on...

  Ohitekah drew his third arrow for this persistent beast and took aim. Before he could let off the shot the buffalo suddenly turned and attempted to ram his horse. Ohitekah retreated quickly and let the buffalo pass in front of him. He kicked his heels into the side of his horse and raced him back forward. Ohitekah drew again and pierced the right side of the buffalo before it could turn and attack again. After a brief moment of stubbornness, he went down. Ohitekah had never seen such courage in a buffalo before.

  While Ohitekah was still lost in thought, his horse had already begun to move forward to the next buffalo. He jumped back into the action and readied his bow. He had to press forward. Ohitekah had no time to see how the rest of his men were fairing with their kills. He had to focus only on his mission, and trust his tribe was fulfilling their duties.

  Ohitekah took down five more buffalo before he started to run out of arrows. He was more than satisfied with his count. Even if he could kill more, he would not want to. More than seven total kills per person would be too big of an impact on the herd, so he stopped himself. This was a hunt for food, not sport. Ohitekah turned his horse around and looked back to the plains behind him. A few of the last hunters chased their final bison for the season. The rest were preparing to tend to their kills. The hunt had finally come to a stop and the last of the stampede trickled past him. The ground now bore the spirits of about a hundred or more of The Creator’s children. Nevermore may they live in fear of being hunted. They can rest in peace now.

  It was now Ohitekah’s responsibility to clean and field dress all of his kills. He looked far back to the hill he was hidden behind just moments before. The rest of the tribe who were not hunters started to walk over the hill. Their duties were to make camp in an area near the hunt and assist with the cleanup. His mother, Johanna, was among them. She enjoyed cooking and feeding for the tribe the best she could, though most likely she would find her own son’s kills and prepare them first.

  Ohitekah found his closest kill and blessed the body of the bison, he was able to identify his targets apart from the others by the features on their bodies and faces that he remembered from the hunt. Recognizing his own arrows that he fletched himself helped as well. After he approached the body, he thanked the great beast for its skill and cunning, its strength and sacrifice. Ohitekah drew his carving knife and began to skin it. This cycle repeated itself with each buffalo for some time. Locating, blessing, cleaning, and skinning. Eventually, he neared the bison that had been on his mind most of the day, the large one with darker fur. It lay on the ground, but something drew Ohitekah’s attention. It was still breathing. When it saw Ohitekah it grunted and moved its horns toward him in the dirt, kicking its legs.

  It was still trying to fight.

  Ohitekah was stunned, it had been almost an hour since he had downed the great animal. He readied his last arrow to end its suffering.

  "I admire your courage and envy your strength. You must have been the chief of your great tribe," Ohitekah said quietly to the buffalo on the g
round. "Thank you for your gifts. I will never forget you." Ohitekah fired his final shot into the chest of the fallen beast. It breathed its last breath and finally found peace. After a moment, he retrieved only two of his arrows, for the bison had broken the other two on its left side when it had collapsed. He took his time to field dress this black furred bison. The fur from his other kills he would share with the rest of the tribe, but he wanted to keep this prize for himself.

  The entire tribe worked on skinning and cleaning the animals. The entire body was stripped and used, not a single bone wasted.

  “You did very well today.” Akando spoke from his left. Ohitekah turned to face him.

  “Really?” His face darkened. “But what about the-”

  Akando waved his hand, silencing him “The signals take time to learn, don’t worry about it. Let’s look at your results though!” He motioned to the hundreds of pounds of meat the tribe was collecting around them. “I don’t think we’ll be able to eat it all!” He joked.

  Ohitekah gave an uneasy smile, his slip up had been causing him stress for some time. But Akando relieved his anxiety and he felt himself relax a bit.

  “I’m going to report to the elders, and you should prepare for some good news tonight.” Akando smiled. “Let your mother know you did a great job, she should be proud.”

  “Of course, I’m proud.” Johanna spoke from behind Akando in a soft voice, “Ohitekah, I’ve finished with the last one. Help me move it to the camp please.”

  “Yeah, thanks.” He nodded and hurried to where his last kill was.

  Johanna and Akando stood in silence for a moment together, waiting for Ohitekah to move out of earshot.

  “He did very well.” Akando spoke first. “Better than most expected I’m sure.”

  His mother nodded with a smirk. “Oh I knew he would, he’s his father’s son after all.”

  Akando glanced to her, “Do you think he’s ready? More than likely he’s going to be sent off tomorrow.”