World's Edge (17 page)

“I am glad to hear it. I know you wished to enter the fray, but I am grateful for your protection.”

Renzo hid his thoughts. Tanak wasn’t grateful; he was terrified of death. He would have collapsed into a blubbering pile of terror if he hadn’t known Renzo was nearby. In Renzo’s eyes, he wasn’t fit to lead, but it was because of his weakness he was the perfect tool.

Tanak continued. “What do you think Akira will do now?”

Renzo was wondering the same question. Akira was a competent leader of his kingdom. Weaker than Sen, in Renzo’s estimation, but still competent. Akira’s First had never come up from the pass, even though there weren’t any reports of battle. His Fourth was a disorganized mess and his Fifth had just been shattered. Tanak’s First had taken substantial losses, and they were fighting at less than half strength. Tanak’s armies were slightly larger than Akira’s, and Renzo’s best guess had Tanak with almost half again as many soldiers left. He tried to put himself in Akira’s position, but the truth was, he had no idea. He was a killer, not a commander.

Renzo’s primary concern was that they hadn’t done as thorough of a job destroying Akira’s armies as he had hoped. While they couldn’t mount an organized resistance, they were loyal to Lord Akira, and they could harass supply lines.

Renzo answered honestly. “I don’t know. But he won’t take this without fighting back.”

Tanak nodded. “I think you’re right, old friend.” He walked away, and Renzo shook his head. Allies they might be for now. Friends they definitely weren’t.

Two days had passed, and little had occurred to improve Renzo’s mood. Tanak had decided to celebrate with his men after the victory. He ordered that two days be spent reorganizing the troops. His argument was that it would give his men a chance to relax, to rejoice and get to know the new soldiers in their units.

It all sounded fine to Renzo, but time was Akira’s friend more than it was theirs. They needed to keep jumping forward, pushing before Akira could organize his troops. Rest was fine, but ultimate victory required more of the men. It would require sacrifice. But still, Tanak was the ruler, and there was little Renzo could do to force the issue.

His fears regarding Akira’s left-over troops were proving to be well-founded. Though Tanak and his men were supposed to be at rest, they were attacked over and over. Nothing major. Nothing even substantial. But every soldier they lost here was a soldier who couldn’t push deeper into the Southern Kingdom.

Renzo spent the evening in his tent meditating while the revels happened without him. His tent was small and bare, and many commented on Tanak’s closest adviser and how he kept little for himself. Renzo traveled and lived simply. His life was dedicated to one purpose, a purpose not even Tanak had ever guessed at. His life was dedicated to forcing the blades to take their place in the Three Kingdoms once again.

His meditation was interrupted by a clamor of activity outside, the shouts of men in battle. Renzo furrowed his brow. It wasn’t the sound of men in friendly competition around a campfire. It was the sound of men at war. Renzo allowed his sense to expand. Here in the camp, he usually kept it close to him. But a battle was being waged outside, about a hundred paces away from his own tent, right next to Tanak’s.

Renzo reached for his sword, but hesitated. His blood burned with the desire to fight, but he had to hold here if he could. If there was even a rumor that Tanak had a nightblade in his army, their entire situation could change. He prepared, covering himself in cloth, leaving only his eyes uncovered. If he did have to fight, he couldn’t be recognized. All the while he kept his sense on the battle.

It was hard to tell with so many people, but Tanak guessed it was almost a hundred men attacking, a group of incredible size considering they were so near the heart of Tanak’s camp.

The battle moved closer to Tanak’s tent. Too many of his honor guard were drunk or ill-prepared for combat. It would be only moments before Tanak himself was involved. Renzo had no love for Tanak, but he was necessary to Renzo’s plans. He stepped out of his tent and took a moment to survey the scene. The soldiers from the south had stolen uniforms from Tanak’s men. Renzo assumed they’d raided the dead on the battlefields. It was how they had managed to get so close without drawing suspicion. Dishonorable, but effective.

It was all the information Renzo needed. He drew his blade, felt the energy of the night surround him, and he moved.

To Renzo, killing the soldiers from the south was as easy as drawing breath. Their strikes were weak, slow, and Renzo could sense them coming far before they were a danger to him. There was a moment when Renzo felt some measure of disgust at the work he was called to do. It wasn’t that he had to kill so many men, but that the men he had to kill were so weak. They didn’t deserve to hold a sword. If they were stronger, if they could truly fight for themselves, he wouldn't be needed.

Soldier after soldier fell to Renzo's blade. His ears filled with the screams of battle, but the longer he worked, the fewer screams he heard. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw that Tanak had left his tent. His armor was on haphazardly, and his eyes were bleary. He did not shout orders or give commands, but gazed upon the battlefield with a look of disbelief on his face. It was as though he could not understand what was happening right in front of him. Renzo swore to himself. The man was so blinded by his own vision of greatness, he didn't realize he was just as fallible and as mortal as the person standing next to him.

What was more of a problem for Renzo was that Tanak was standing outside his tent, open to attack from any who saw him, and there were plenty of soldiers from the south who had seen him. There weren't many left, maybe ten to fifteen, but those remaining attacked with a renewed vigor when they saw their target in the flesh. Renzo understood. For the soldiers who were attacking, this had never been a mission they planned on returning from.

Renzo brought his attention back to the moment, and his blade sang its song as it drank the blood of one victim after the next. In a moment, he was by Tanak's side, defending him from the last few remaining warriors. The Lord of the Western Kingdom didn't even draw his blade. Renzo didn't know if it was due to disbelief or to fear, but it didn't matter. Either way, the man was pathetic.

The last attacker fell to Renzo's blade. Renzo examined himself quickly and saw that one of the warriors had managed a small cut on his arm. He was disappointed in himself, but he pushed it aside as he looked at Tanak. Although he had yet to come to his senses, Tanak seemed otherwise unharmed. Renzo didn't bother asking him if he was fine, but stole out of the camp so he wouldn't be noticed.

Chapter 13

Like Moriko, the hunter who had captured her seemed to prefer silence over empty conversation. Moriko had hoped for a while that the hunter would have a horse, but that was seeming less and less likely the further they walked. He seemed to be on foot as well. Moriko would have been content with the silence, but she was here to gather information.

“What is your name?”

The hunter turned back and looked at her over his shoulder. He seemed to be deciding whether or not to speak to her. “My name is Kalden.” After a long pause he asked, “What is yours?”

“Moriko.”

She could see him saying her name silently, learning the combination of sounds. She hoped it would start a longer conversation, but Kalden turned around and kept walking, content with the level of discourse. Moriko allowed the silence to continue for a few hundred paces before she decided to try again. “Are you a hunter?”

Kalden didn’t respond for a long time, and Moriko wondered if he was avoiding the question, or if something had been lost in translation.

“I am a goner.”

Moriko frowned. “Goner. What’s a goner?”

He searched for the words. “I am gone from the clan. I am not allowed to return.”

Understanding dawned on Moriko. “You’re an outcast?”

He nodded. “Yes, that is the word.”

“Why?”

He glanced at his arm. “It is a long story.”

With that, Kalden set his shoulders, and Moriko understood the conversation was over. She had hit a sore point and wouldn’t get anything more from him for a while. Even though they’d only exchanged a few words, there was a lot for Moriko to think about. Until she learned more, there was nothing to do but keep following him to see where this journey led.

As the sun set, they settled to make camp for the night. Moriko wasn’t sure how it would work, but Kalden went about setting out his camp gear as if she was a traveling companion and not a prisoner. He seemed to take her word at face value. Moriko set out her own equipment. When they were both done, they sat and ate Kalden’s food and watched the sun set. As they ate, they studied each other in silence. Moriko was surprised when it was Kalden who broke the silence.

“You speak little. I thought you would speak more.”

Moriko was startled. It was about the last thing she’d expected to hear.

“Why?”

“Our leader, he says your people speak much but don’t fight much. You seem different. You don’t speak much. I don’t know how much you fight.”

Moriko decided there was an opportunity to break through the ice between them.

“Why didn’t you kill me, back there when you caught me sleeping?”

Kalden was silent for a moment, and Moriko wondered if she’d pushed too hard again. But then he spoke. “With you, I might be able to get back to the clan. They might let me return if I bring you with me.”

“Kalden, why are you an outcast? Does it have something to do with your arm?”

He looked up, searching her face for some sign of deceit. There was none. She was genuinely curious about his arm. Moriko had watched with fascination throughout the day as he had completed tasks one-handed. She realized how much she had taken having two arms for granted. It was clear he hadn’t been trained to survive with one arm, but he still managed to live remarkably well.

“I lost it long ago. My kind, we are special. We are called the demon-kind. Do you know?”

Moriko nodded. “We call your kind hunters.” She assumed they were talking about the same thing.

“It is a good description, although it does not describe how terrified our clans are of us. They say we are not natural. We see things, understand things no one else can. You too, I think, can do this.”

Moriko nodded again. There wasn’t any need to insult his intelligence. She had been using her sense when she was captured. He would have felt it and known immediately the type of person he was dealing with.

“That is news. Our leader says your people don’t have demon-kind. That you have hunted and killed them all.”

Moriko shrugged. “It is mostly true. There are very few of us left.”

“Why do you hunt and kill your strongest people? Here we are feared, but we are not killed by our clans.”

She shook her head. “I don’t know. Fear, probably. Fear of what they don’t know.”

Kalden thought on her answer for a moment. “When we are young, we are given a test. There is a creature we must hunt, a wild creature that kills many of us. We are to go with only a knife and kill such a creature. If we fail, we are killed by the demon-kind. All demon-kind must be strong, otherwise we are useless.”

“I had seen ten suns. Like all demon-kind, I was sent out with my knife. I was proud. Excited. I found one of the creatures, but I was not good enough. It knew I was coming. I did not hide, did not hunt well enough. It attacked and we fought. It bit deep into my arm, but I stabbed it, again and again, until it died. I then took it one handed back to the people.”

Moriko imagined the story. She remembered Akira saying something about the hunt each potential hunter had to take. Sure enough, Kalden wore a necklace with the tooth on it. So it was more than a legend. She admired Kalden then. She knew little about the creature he had killed, but if it was a trial, she assumed it would be dangerous. To make the kill while still bleeding, then drag the creature back home. It was impressive. It was a strength worthy of a nightblade, or a hunter.

“What happened next?” She didn’t have to feign her curiosity.

“The demon-kind were undecided. It happens, sometimes. The kill is made, but the man is wounded. It happened with me, it has happened with others. After two days, the arm was bad. It was red and big. They took the arm and waited to see if I would live. No more was given. I lived, but I couldn’t be demon-kind, not with only one arm. Because I killed, I wasn’t killed, but I was not demon-kind.”

Moriko was able to fill in the blanks. He had succeeded in his trial, but there wasn’t any place in their culture for weakness, so he couldn’t take part in it either. He occupied some place in the middle. Not an outcast, but not part of society either.

Kalden’s story, rather than answering any questions for her, had piqued her interest for more information. But he seemed to be done telling stories for the day. Maybe he realized he had said too much, given away a bit of information about their society. She knew she wouldn’t get anything out of him for the rest of the night.

As they lay down to rest, Moriko started to worry. Kalden’s story, simple as it was, had touched her. He was a man who had triumphed over adversity, but whose life had been horrible nevertheless. In some ways, it had resembled her own. For the first time, she wasn’t sure she’d be able to kill him if it became necessary.

The next morning, Moriko awoke to Kalden practicing his forms. Moriko was surprised, memories of Ryuu running through her mind. How many mornings had she woken up to watch him practicing his forms? It gave her a weird sense of déjà vu she couldn't quite shake.

Moriko watched Kalden's practice with interest. She had been captured without a fight, so she had never seen his fighting style, and she had never seen the fighting style of a one-armed man. Again, she was impressed by his movements. Although he had not been trained in one-armed combat, he moved with a surprising grace. Moriko was certain she would beat him in a fight, but she was just as certain he would be a dangerous opponent to many of the swordsmen in the Three Kingdoms.