The Wind and the Void (17 page)

Moriko leapt at the hunter and tried for a cut at his neck. Maybe it was her exhaustion, maybe he had seen her shadow, but he sensed the strike and was able to dodge it, continuing to swing wildly at Ryuu. Moriko cut him twice across his back, frustrated and willing to settle for anything. The hunter finally fell to his knees, continuing to swing haphazardly. On his hands and knees he crawled forward, his focus only on Ryuu. He stabbed at Ryuu, but the nightblade was well out of his reach.

Moriko walked around the hunter. He was bleeding out, but slowly. She was moved to pity as the hunter continued to thrust his short blade into empty air. He had given everything and more. Moriko made one final cut, and it was perfect. The hunter’s head fell from his body, and to Moriko’s amazement, the hunter’s body crawled forward one more pace before it fell.

Moriko dropped to her knees, allowing exhaustion to take her. Her eyes met Ryuu’s, and there was pride there. They had defended themselves against eight hunters, well-trained and well-prepared. He had to be feeling the same elation she was. She smiled at him, an effort that took all her strength. He returned her smile, and then his eyes rolled up in his head and he collapsed in a heap in front of her.

Chapter 12

Nameless cursed his fate. The old man had reported the death of the four pairs he had sent. So many, and still they had fallen. He was made a fool by the nightblades, and he swore he would have his revenge. But for now, more pressing matters concerned him.

The winter had been a challenging one in the plains south of the Three Sisters. Game had been hard to come by, and the culling of the weak and useless had already begun. Nameless’ demon-kind had been hard-pressed to find enough food in the area. But the end was in sight.

Nameless decided that once the People were safely in the land to the north he was going to give up his position as leader of the clans. They had been on their own for so long they were almost impossible to lead. Every day he dealt with new complaints from the assembled masses, and he knew there was a sizable number of the People ready to go their own ways. Only the strength and the threat of the demon-kind held them together.

The resistance was led by the Red Hawks, the same clan that had sheltered the nightblade woman. Nameless had confronted Dorjee soon after the woman escaped, and Dorjee had claimed he hadn’t known of her strength. He had taken her word that she was nothing but a messenger. There was no lie in Dorjee. Nameless had hunted for the Red Hawks before, and though the mistake angered him, Dorjee was an honest and competent leader of his clan. Nameless had considered taking Dorjee’s head regardless. At the time the Red Hawks possessed few friends among the clans. But Nameless couldn’t bring himself to separate a clan from a strong leader. Dorjee had made a mistake, but he had done no wrong. He claimed he had tried to introduce the nightblade to Nameless much earlier, but hadn’t received an audience. There were enough witnesses to testify to the truth of the story.

Nameless let Dorjee live, and since that day, those who disagreed with Nameless went to Dorjee, who heard all their complaints. The Red Hawks hadn’t had many friends last fall, but now Dorjee regularly held council with at least a fourth of the clan leaders. Nameless wanted to take action, to kill those who rebelled, but Dorjee was a wise man. He brought the complaints to Nameless with a plain simplicity, and Nameless took responsibility for dealing with them as well as he could. Though Dorjee had become the leader of a rebellion, they had yet to take any action against Nameless’ orders.

An uneasy truce sat between Dorjee and Nameless. Nameless had honored the Red Hawks by placing them front and center in the upcoming invasion, and Dorjee couldn’t refuse without consequence. Nameless hoped that perhaps the soldiers of the Three Kingdoms would take care of the problematic clan if he couldn’t.

Dorjee was one problem, but Nameless was frustrated much more by those who didn’t possess Dorjee’s patience and wisdom. Mostly it was young men who thirsted for fame and adventure. They formed groups ranging from a few individuals to a few dozen. Usually they only caused minor mischief, running their horses through camps, practicing their archery too close to others, the sort of actions Nameless could overlook.

Sometimes, however, one of these small groups would go too far. They would lead a small raid on another camp, potentially steal some women. Cycles ago, it would have been permissible, but Nameless wanted as many of the People as possible to cross into the Three Kingdoms. They couldn’t fight amongst themselves when they had a much greater task in front of them. So far the groups had remained small, and Nameless and his demon-kind had been able to step in. It would take a larger group to pose a serious problem. But Nameless hated every time he had to resort to violence against his own people.

Their problem was that they couldn’t focus on the future. They saw only the suffering of the present moment. Nameless knew the winter was hard and that people suffered and went hungry. But if they didn’t relocate, there was no future for them. The land to the north was rich in resources, and they needed that land if they were going to survive. Nameless knew it wasn’t easy, and that their challenges weren’t over; but if they didn’t act now the People would continue to decline until they were but a memory in the stories of others, a ghostly threat to scare misbehaving children.

It was a thankless task he had begun, but he had hoped at least for understanding. The demon-kind understood, but only because it was their shoulders that had carried the burden of the People for so long. They knew how much harder it was getting to survive in the empty lands. They saw further than the rest of the People.

Nameless was grateful for their support. Without them, this joke of an alliance never would have existed. If he lost the demon-kind, he lost them all. It was a thought that ran through his head dozens of times a day, especially now as he approached their final conference before the invasion was to begin.

Nameless came to a small gathering of the demon-kind, just a little over a dozen. These would be the men and women who led them into battle. The clans would not fight as a single unit. They weren’t the organized armies of the Three Kingdoms. Each clan fought for itself, with at least one pair of demon-kind to guide them, to be their eyes and ears. The demon-kind knew what waited for them on the other side of the Three Sisters, and if they could triumph in one battle, they could bring an end to the Three Kingdoms in one stroke.

Once the clans were safely in the Three Kingdoms they would disperse throughout the land and make it their home. Their alliances would be over. Their way of life would resume as it always had. The demon-kind would no longer rule. They would serve once again. It was the agreement he had made with each clan.

Nameless brought his mind back to the present. He could look to the future all he wanted, but to get there he needed to take the first steps. The old man had joined them at the fire. As much as Nameless detested his presence, the man had skills they needed. With a nod from Nameless they all gathered close together and studied a map drawn in the dirt.

The snow in the pass had melted, and it was time for Nameless and the People to begin their move. The scouts had determined the way was open, and furthermore had reported that no archers waited in the nooks and crannies that ran throughout the pass. Nameless approved. Had there been, he would have sent some of the demon-kind after them. They’d die without killing a single soul. Whoever was leading the defense of the Three Kingdoms had some wisdom at least.

The old man began, his voice strong but soft. He had spent the better part of the day wandering the northern areas of the pass with his gift. Nameless knew they would be expected, and he wouldn’t lead his people into a trap. The old man and his gift gave them a decided advantage.

“Most of the soldiers are grouped directly in front of the pass. That will come as no surprise. However, they also have men waiting to the east and west of the opening of the pass. From what the scouts report, the land on the other side of the pass is very hilly, ideal for hiding many men. I expect they hope to funnel you towards their center and attack from both sides, surrounding you like the mountains you just came out of.”

The old man paused for a moment to let the commanders consider his words. Nameless could find no fault with them. If he were commanding the opposing forces he would do something similar. He let the old man continue.

“I have also noticed there are troops and horses higher in the mountains, hidden from view. They will wait until we are committed, and then I expect they will sweep down the mountains and attack our flank.”

Nameless shook his head. “Are you sure? Those mountains are steep. Our riders would never dare them, especially in combat.”

The old man shrugged and gave one of his enigmatic smiles. “All I can say for sure is where they are now. What they will do is just a guess, informed by experience.”

Nameless looked around the circle. One of the other demon-kind spoke up. “I think the old man is right. Our spies from the north tell us the horsemen of the Northern Kingdom are well-used to mountain paths. Perhaps they are the ones hidden up high. Our cavalry is used to the plains, not mountains. They will know this and seek to take advantage.”

Nameless considered the advice for a moment.

“I agree. Now that we know how their soldiers are spread out, we know exactly what they plan. How shall we proceed?”

With that other voices joined in the conversation. Nameless was their leader and an excellent commander, but everyone present was skilled in the arts of warfare. He knew when to step back and let them work as they saw best. Their plan came together a piece at a time, and Nameless allowed himself to smile. They knew exactly what waited for them on the other side of the pass, while the Three Kingdoms would be taken completely by surprise. They would crush their opponents without a thought.

Chapter 13

The waiting was always hardest, Akira decided. There was a special type of fear one felt when an enemy was directly in front of you, a piercing fear a swordsman had to learn to overcome. But the fear that emanated from a silent battlefield was worse, somehow. It gnawed away at your courage one slow bite at a time, and Akira had never learned how to defeat it. Part of it was fear for his men. No matter how well they were led, many were going to die, and there was nothing he could do about it. He couldn’t save everyone.

The pass had opened up two days ago, according to the scouts. But the information had to be taken with a grain of salt. Akira’s scouts considered the pass open when a soldier on horseback could ride the entire distance without undue difficulty. Once that was true it was possible to push an army through. But Akira had no guarantee the Azarians considered the pass open at the same time. If he was in their position he would want to invade as soon as possible. But for all he knew, they would be content to sit at Fort Azuma for another moon.

Akira’s men were in position. They had their instructions, and if the battle was lost, they were to break as soon as the word was received. Akira wasn’t proud of the order, but he had the future in mind. If they couldn’t stop the Azarians here, he would need every man alive to fight against an occupation.

Akira had tried to send scouts all the way into Azaria, but Nameless had already positioned archers in the pass. The archers kept taking positions closer and closer to the Kingdom, which seemed as good an indicator as any the Azarians were preparing to invade. Akira had sent scouts along the game trails, but they were watched as well. Whatever actions the Azarians were taking, Akira was fighting blind.

The sun hadn’t yet risen when a messenger came to him with the news he had been waiting for. A scout had finally seen the Azarians moving. It had only been a short glance, but the pass was filled with them, and the scout predicted they would arrive by daybreak. Akira let out a sigh of relief. At least the waiting was over. He gave orders to rouse his generals and begin their final preparations. Then there was little else to do but sit and wait for the inevitable.

At daybreak the battle for the Kingdom began. Akira and his honor guard stationed themselves on a rise where Akira could see the battle unfolding. In the soft oranges of the sunrise, Akira saw for the first time the threat he had worried about for two cycles. Azarians filled the pass from side to side, advancing at a steady pace.

Akira’s first line of defense were the fortifications at the edge of the pass. They weren’t as well-built as the walls of Fort Azuma, and even the attempts to strengthen them in preparation seemed meaningless. It had been many cycles since there had been any need to fear an attack on this end of the pass, and most of the preparation had gone into repairing the fortifications instead of strengthening them.

The Azarians came close enough to the walls that they could shoot arrows over the top. Their lack of discipline was immediately apparent. Instead of waves of arrows, the sky was filled with a constant mass of death. Arrows flew as fast as the Azarians could string and shoot their bows. Akira’s archers returned fire, the first tentative steps of outright war fought at a distance.

Akira watched with intense focus. The longer the Azarians were willing to fight at a distance, the better it was for his men. The soldiers of the Three Kingdoms were more disciplined with their shots, and they had the advantage of being behind a wall. Akira was certain that for every man he lost, the Azarians lost many more. He wondered how long it would be before the Azarians realized it as well.

It wasn’t long. Approximately two dozen men and women burst from the Azarian ranks and sprinted for the walls. As soon as they did, the ranks of Azarians started advancing, and more and more arrows were sent towards the walls. Akira, standing safely in the distance, could see his men struggling to stay on the walls against the constant onslaught of arrows. Every time the front ranks of the Azarians advanced, more came through the pass and into bow range. His men never had a chance to catch their breath. Akira lost sight of the foremost Azarians as they dipped below the level of the walls. But just a few minutes later he watched as men practically vaulted up and over. He shook his head. He hadn’t seen any ladders or siege engines. They had just climbed.