The Wind and the Void
The Wind and the Void
World’s Edge
Copyright
© 2016 by Ryan Kirk
ALL RIGHTS RESERVED
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Cover Design by: Andrei Bat
This one is for Kelly,
I’m proud of the woman you’ve become
Despite all my attempts to ruin your life as an older brother. . .
Prologue
General Toro awoke to a cold, crisp morning, the third in a row. Despite the number of cycles he had seen, or perhaps because of them, Toro was fascinated by weather. In the Three Kingdoms, the farther south a traveler went, the warmer the weather became. But Toro was almost as far south as anyone in the Three Kingdoms had ever been, and though the autumn moon had just risen, already he woke to frost covering the ground in the mornings. It was as though the weather was broken. It felt as though the world was broken.
Toro picked up his sword and tied it around his waist. He pulled the blade out, just a little, to ensure it still came smoothly out of the scabbard. He needn’t have worried. Toro was a man who took care of the details, and his blade, a family heirloom hundreds of cycles old, still shone as though it had just come from the forge. Its presence comforted him. The world around him might shatter, but the sword would remain, solid and unyielding in a world of chaos.
Toro was grateful even to wake up. Every morning fewer of them did. Every night they came. No matter how many torches were lit, they still found the shadows. They struck at random, and it was becoming commonplace to wake up to find your bunkmate with a slit across his throat or a stake through his heart. Toro had lost dozens of men, but the fear was an even greater threat.
He took a deep breath, calming himself before the day ahead. Then he stepped out of his tent, disguising his shock at how cold it was outside. All around him, men moved with practiced discipline, purposeful in spite of their fear. Toro took a moment to look around, to recognize and remember the faces in the crowd. When he rejoined the Great Cycle, a day he feared was not long in coming, he would go knowing he was proud of the men with whom he served. The First was the best of the Southern Kingdom, and he was humbled to be their general.
Toro began his morning routine. He went to a space in the camp dedicated to practice, an open area that messengers and soldiers avoided walking through. He was pleased to see the space was filled with men practicing. Although the area was crowded, the soldiers all made room for him. He drew a few stares, but by now his men were familiar with his routine.
Toro drew his blade. He never practiced with wooden swords. He hadn’t for many cycles. Steel was all that mattered. He made a few cuts, warming up his body and mentally checking his form. For as long as he could remember he had been pursuing the perfect cut, the cut that would sing out as he struck. As his body, hardened by cycle after cycle of hard use, started to loosen, his movements and patterns became more intricate. His body remembered every cut, every step. The world around him shrank until it was just him and his sword, and then even that distinction became meaningless.
When he finished sweat was dripping from his body, but he didn’t even notice. Sights and sounds slowly returned, and Toro was among his men once again. As sometimes happened, some of his men had stopped to watch. Toro still believed he was one of the better swords in the Southern Kingdom. He didn’t have the speed or strength of the younger men, but his experience triumphed over their physical ability. His men were welcome to watch and learn.
His practice complete, Toro went about the daily business of commanding an army. His first task was to the walls. The First was stationed at Fort Azuma, the fort built by Lord Akira at the southern end of the Three Sisters. Toro walked with his back straight and his head up. Especially in these trying times, his men needed to see their general confident.
He was greeted by the same sight that had tormented him for the last few days. Out there, in the Azarian plains, beyond the reach of his strongest bow, was a sea of humanity. The Azarians had come with a strength no one in the Three Kingdoms had ever dreamed possible. There were tens of thousands of them, more than could be counted. Men, women, and children. The female nightblade, Moriko, had been right: Azaria had brought their entire nation to make war on the Three Kingdoms.
If it had just been the clans Toro and his men had gotten used to fighting, it would be different. Fort Azuma covered the entire pass, and during the summer without conflict, its walls had been strengthened and made taller. Though Toro’s troops were outnumbered at least ten to one, they might have held. But the hunters changed everything. It was the hunters who came in the night, unseen, killing his men as though it were a game played among children, a lethal game of hide and seek.
Toro had no answer to the hunters. He had doubled and tripled patrols, and lit torches throughout the camp until he worried they would run out of fire before they ran out of food. His men still didn’t sleep at night for fear their lives would be taken without a fight. The hunters would break his men long before the army beyond the walls would.
Toro stared in frustration at the army, thinking that if he just studied them long enough, a solution would come to mind. But none ever did.
As he watched, a youth ran from the camp towards the fort, bow in hand. The shouts of the warriors behind him carried to Toro’s ears. He shook his head. They played this game every morning. The youth sprinted towards the fort, all alone on the plains that had seen so much death. Toro heard the grunts from the archers that held the wall, but their discipline held. He had ordered them not to shoot at these individual taunts unless their shot was sure. There was no need to waste arrows.
The youth got close, closer than any who had come before.
They are getting bolder
, Toro thought to himself. Were they restless in the other camp? The youth aimed at Toro, as they always did. His uniform was different than the rest, and if they didn’t know he was the general, they knew he was important. The arrow flew, a lone dark streak against a cloudless and uncaring blue sky.
Toro watched the arrow, amazed again by the strength of the Azarian bows and archers. The youth was just inside the edge of his archers’ range, and none of them felt confident enough to take the shot. The arrow dropped down, and Toro instinctively stepped back as the arrow clattered against the stone wall of the fort just below him. The boy had only missed by two paces. Toro shook his head, but waved nonetheless. He might as well torment them a bit while he could. They would come soon enough.
Toro sat in his tent, going over his correspondence and reports for the day. When he was younger he had thought the role of a general was to give inspiring speeches and lead men into battle. He had never guessed his greatest enemy would be day-to-day paperwork. The process didn’t bring him joy, but it was his eye for detail that kept his army fed, supplied and prepared to fight the enemy who threatened the Southern Kingdom.
Toro ran his well-practiced hands through the papers, memorizing stockpile information, scouting reports of the surrounding area, and the number of troops and their distribution. He paused to consider the morale reports his commanders had given. The news wasn’t surprising. The men were close to breaking, but Toro had no ideas for stopping the hunters.
He didn’t consider himself to be an excellent strategist. Lord Akira’s two younger generals, Makoto and Mashiro, were much better. But Toro had a lifetime of experience and could put together disparate pieces of information to create a whole picture of what was happening to his army. Unfortunately, the conclusions he was reaching weren’t pleasant. They were holding, but unless something happened soon, discipline would break.
Since he had no grand ideas, he pushed the thoughts out of mind. He saved his personal correspondence for last, both because he looked forward to it and because he feared it. Toro opened the unfamiliar letter first, not surprised when he saw it came from his new lord, Tanak. He couldn’t bring himself to put the honorific to Tanak’s name. It was Tanak who had invaded the Southern Kingdom, killed thousands of soldiers, and left Toro alone in the south to defend against the much more dangerous enemy. The man didn’t deserve the title of lord.
Toro read the letter once in disbelief, then a second time to ensure he hadn’t been imagining the orders the first time. The letter ordered Toro to stand down and retreat from Fort Azuma. The First was to return up the pass, where they could meet with Tanak’s advisers to discuss the new command structure of Toro’s army. Tanak would send a small exploratory force down to the fort to meet with any Azarians and negotiate a lasting treaty.
Toro swore to himself. Tanak’s decision was wrong, and he was placed again in a situation where he had to decide between his duty and the right action. The last time had been in the spring, when Lord Akira had left him here. At the time, Toro thought Akira was making a mistake, but that mistake was now the only thing standing between tens of thousands of Azarians and the Three Kingdoms. Or the Two Kingdoms, whatever they were calling it now.
The only reason that Toro could imagine Tanak would order the First back was because he didn’t believe Toro’s reports. He must think they were some part of a plot to give the newly merged kingdom into Akira’s hands. But nothing could be further from the truth. If Tanak doubted the sincerity of Toro’s reports, Toro would delight in stationing his new lord on the wall. Then when the arrows started to fall he would at least do some good as a shield.
He shook his head. Such thinking wasn’t right. Personally, he might detest Tanak, but Tanak was his rightful lord, and as general of the First, he was sworn to obey. But if he did, the Three Kingdoms would lose their best defense. Tanak’s letter implied any possible aggression from the Azarians was due to the Three Kingdoms’ encroachment on their land, but Toro didn’t believe that argument for a moment. You didn’t bring fifty thousand troops to the field of battle to take over a single fort. You sent them to take over a new land.
