The Wind and the Void (33 page)

Nameless was grateful for his time with them. The clan might be small, but each of them was hard and strong. If all the clans were made of warriors like these, there was nothing they couldn’t accomplish.

He traveled with the clan for almost another full moon before trouble struck.

The clan had been traveling west, hoping to find the bridge that spanned the old Southern Kingdom and the Western Kingdom. Their final goal was the plains of the Western Kingdom, and they were eager to be on their way. But as they approached the bridge, Nameless realized something was not right. The Kingdom, to his gift, was a loud and bright land. It was always full of life and energy, and the land practically sang to him. But today the land was quiet, as though a hush had fallen over every living thing. The hairs on the back of his neck stood up, but he could sense no danger. Nameless didn't warn the clan because he was not confident of what he felt, or more accurately, what he didn't feel. He knew something was wrong, but unless there was something solid he could bring to the clan, he would remain silent.

When the attack happened, it happened with a suddenness and ferocity even Nameless didn’t expect. He felt them at the edges of his awareness, but they approached quickly. Men charged over the hill, and it took Nameless only a moment to realize his clan was being attacked by monks.

Quickly, he cleared his head of disbelief. It was hard to imagine monks attacking, but here they were. There wasn’t any time for thought, only action. Nameless drew his sword and leapt into the battle, summoning all the energy he could.

His gift told him there were almost a dozen monks altogether. In the moment Nameless had to think, he realized that no matter how fast he acted, he wouldn't be able to kill all the monks before they reached the clan.

Then the battle was upon them and there was no more time for thought. Nameless rushed into the melee, his sword singing in the air. Three monks fell before they even had a chance to react to him.

Four monks turned to face him while another four ran towards the clan.

The four who remained surrounded Nameless, but he had no fear. He knew the monks of this land were stronger than the average person, but they would not be able to touch him.

They attacked as one, their blades moving to strike in well-rehearsed unison. But Nameless wouldn't give them that chance. He moved in towards one of them, forcing them all to react. The monks were good, but they had no idea what they had brought down on themselves. Nameless was faster and stronger, and in only a handful of passes, all the monks had fallen to his blade.

He didn't take any time to gloat. The other four monks were wreaking havoc within the clan. The clan had strong fighters, but they had been taken by surprise, and the monks were strong themselves.

By the time Nameless reached the battle, several clan members had already fallen, but so had one of the monks. When Nameless entered the fight, everything changed. Two of the last three monks fell in quick succession, a look of confusion plastered up on their faces. Nameless severed the spine of the third, causing him to collapse in a useless heap on the ground.

Nameless lifted the monk’s head from the dirt. “Who sent you?”

The monk tried to summon up the energy to spit, but Nameless felt it coming and slammed the monk’s head into the ground. He pulled at the monk’s hair and brought him face to face. He waited for his answer.

“You’ll never have our land.”

Nameless pushed the monk’s face into the dirt, holding him there until he almost suffocated. The monks were beyond foolish. They had helped Nameless and the People enter, and now they thought they were stronger? His rage could barely be controlled. He stood and let the clan know they could treat the monk as they wished. His death was certain to be slow.

A silence descended upon the party as the clan started to take care of their dead. Every death was keenly felt in the small clan.

Nameless watched them work with anger rising in his belly. It was one thing for the people of the Kingdom to resist the advance of his people, but the monks had been allies, promising aid and assistance once his people came into the land. Now they had betrayed him, and betrayal he would not stand.

He thought about offering to help the clan with the care of their dead, but he knew it was a task they would want to take care of on their own. He respected this clan. Respected their strength. They deserved better. It was time to show those monks they weren't in charge of this land. Nameless walked over to the man who had first greeted him, the man who led this clan.

“Forgive me, but I must go. I must have vengeance for this act."

The leader of the clan nodded, and Nameless could see the fire of vengeance burned in his eyes as well. As he left, he could hear the final words of the clan leader echoing in his mind. "Make them pay."

Chapter 27

Akira and his men rode in silence. Not because they were hunted, or even because they were hunting. It was sorrow, pure and simple.

He understood how his men felt. He battled the same emotions, and when he was honest with himself he had to admit he was losing the fight. All summer long he and his men had fought valiantly, but the situation seemed worse than ever.

The village they passed two days ago was the third in a row devastated by the Azarians. It was getting worse. In the spring, it had seemed like there needed to be some pretense for the Azarians to attack. Now they simply walked into villages and started the slaughter.

Despite a life on the battlefield, Akira was still surprised by how much blood a human could lose. In the last village, dried blood covered every surface that wasn’t burned down. As they always did, the Azarians left one alive to spread the tale. In this case, it did them no good. Akira didn’t think the young man would ever speak again.

In the village before the last, the sights had been even more gruesome. There was a grove of trees outside the village, and every villager but one had been hung from the trees. Not by their neck, which would have been a relative mercy, but by their arms. Their skin and organs had been removed. There had been no survivors. The body of one young woman wasn’t hanging with the others, and Akira suspected she had ended her own life rather than live with what she had seen.

That time, Akira’s men were able to track the clan, and they had attacked. Perhaps it hadn’t been wise, but it had been right and necessary. They caught the hunters out scouting, before they could raise the alarm for the clan. It had taken almost all his men to encircle the two hunters with spears, but eventually they fell. They attacked the rest of the clan in the middle of the day. The clan was taken by surprise, their confidence in their hunters misplaced.

Revenge had been exacted, but the price was steep. Between killing the hunters and attacking a large clan, Akira was down to just over seventy men. They were being whittled away, slowly but surely.

Even though they found revenge, their hearts were still empty. Tensions were rising between the Azarians and the citizens of the Kingdom, and the citizens were paying for it with their lives. Too many didn’t know how to fight.

No matter how much they did, no matter how hard they fought, Akira and his men were learning a brutal truth.

Nothing they could do was enough.

Since the last village, Akira and his men had stayed off the road. They were wanted men, and he decided to call a halt to their wanderings for a time. He told the men it was so the wounded could recover, but he had not been completely honest.

In truth, Akira had to decide what he was going to do next. He had hoped, at the beginning of the summer, that his small group would ignite a spark of rebellion, but now he understood it had always been a foolish dream. His men had fought well, but it was going to take much more to ignite the will of the people against an oppressor as strong as the Azarians. For rebellion to take root, hatred of the enemy had to overcome the fear of the enemy. There was plenty of hate to go around, but much more fear.

Akira considered different options. They could keep fighting, but even his honor guard wasn’t strong enough to make a difference in the Kingdom. They would continue losing men slowly until they were all gone. But the other option was to disband, and that was just death in another mask. Akira would much rather go out fighting.

His reverie was interrupted when a messenger burst into his camp. The man was breathless and looked as though he hadn't eaten or bathed in days. His horse didn’t look much better. Akira sat up straight, his heart full of fear. There was no way they would receive good news in a time like this. He wasn't sure how much more he could bear, but he wouldn’t let his men see his despair.

The messenger was welcomed around the fire, but Akira could see he was not alone in his fears. His honor guard glanced about at each other, worry in their eyes. He hoped this would not be the piece of news that ended all their intentions. His imagination ran ahead of him, creating different scenarios that meant the end of them all.

After the messenger had caught his breath and been fortified with some food, he looked straight at Akira to deliver his message. He didn’t seem concerned that everyone could hear him. "My king, I've traveled long and hard to find you. Although word of your deeds has spread throughout the land, you are still remarkably difficult to track down."

Akira allowed himself a slight grin. "Good. If we are hard to find, it is safer for us to strike. Tell me now, my men have ridden long and hard, and we have little stomach for polite conversation. What is your message?"

Akira was grateful when the messenger got right to the point. "My king, I've been sent by General Makoto. He and Lord Sen’s armies still hold the lands of the Northern Kingdom. To this day, no Azarian has entered there. I come with information and a question. General Makoto has tasked me with informing you of our troop distributions and our logistics. In return, he wants to know what you plan next. He wonders if you are going to continue to run around the land like a beggar king, or if you are going to come to your senses, join him, and fight."

Akira couldn’t believe what he was hearing, but the messenger misunderstood why. The poor man thought he had offended.

“Those were his exact words, my king. Not mine.”

Akira looked around the campfire. Perhaps it was just the light of the fire reflected in the eyes of his men, but he thought he saw a spark of hope that hadn't been there before. Ever since the Battle of the Three Sisters he and his men had thought they were the only ones left, but in a single moment, they found out they weren’t alone.

Ideas started to race through Akira's head. Makoto was alive. With armies at his disposal and the whole of the Northern Kingdom at his back, there were still possibilities. They had options once again.

Akira's heart, starved for so long for hope, suddenly surged forward. He didn't know exactly what they were going to do, but they were going to make a statement, a statement the Azarians couldn't ignore.

Chapter 28

Ryuu wasn't sure how much more he could take, but fortunately the time of waiting was almost over. In a few days Tenchi would call a meeting of all the blades on the island, and a decision would be made. Despite his best efforts, Ryuu wasn't sure which way everyone would vote. In some corners of the island his message had been well received, heard by blades eager to return and assume their rightful place in the Kingdom.

But for every person he met who was excited, there was one who wasn't, one who was either attached to the life of the island, or afraid the blades’ return would spell their inevitable doom. Ryuu didn't agree with them, but many would not be swayed, and many shared Tenchi's opinion that the Kingdom was not ready for them to return. For too long the blades had been the stuff of nightmares.

Ryuu was certain he had already presented his argument to everyone on the island, so there was little left for him to do but to be present and answer questions and concerns the people would raise. He only hoped it would be enough.

He was training with some of the older nightblades when Tenchi found him. Tenchi watched their practice with interest, but gave no advice. When Ryuu finished, he went over to Tenchi to see why he had come.

"You fight well. You have become even stronger since you left the island."

"I still need to be stronger."

Tenchi nodded. "Yes, you do."

"That's all? I know you sensed the battle between Nameless and me. You know he is stronger than me. You know how much will depend on the outcome of our next meeting. All you’re going to do is agree with me? What comes next? What technique will I use to defeat him?"

Tenchi shrugged. "I have taught you all the combat skills I know. I wish it were otherwise, but you have already mastered every technique we know." He turned and stared directly at Ryuu. "You either get stronger and beat him, or you don't. I wish there was more help I could offer, but that is the truth of it."

Ryuu rolled his shoulders back. The sun was shining brightly, and it was hard to think of the dark future when the present moment was so beautiful. "Well, why find me if not to teach me? I know you didn't come here just to rain on my day."

Tenchi grinned, and Ryuu was glad to see he hadn't lost his cheerful disposition. "You're right, of course. There is someone who would like to see you, and I've come to escort you to them."

Ryuu looked around. It was an unusual request, for the island was small, and he was certain he had visited everybody since his return. He couldn’t think of anyone on the island who would be able to send Tenchi as a messenger.

Ryuu had learned not to ask questions of Tenchi when he wasn’t in the mood to answer them, so he sheathed his sword and turned to follow him. Moriko, who was nearby, did the same. Tenchi turned around and motioned for her to stop. "I'm sorry, Moriko, but I think this is a meeting best held by Ryuu alone."