The king looked over at Ryuu, the nightblade who had sparked so much change in the land. But as much as the land had changed, Ryuu had changed even more. Akira remembered when he had first met the nightblade. He remembered the day well, thinking at the time it would be his last. He had been disarmed easily, his own sword held against his throat. Ryuu had been so young, and so naively idealistic.
But those ideals had cost the young man, and had burned away much of who he had been. Akira understood the nightblade better than he thought. Ryuu was still idealistic, but in a different way. He had been forged in difficult trials, and his idealism was more realistic now. He rode forward with purpose, something Akira had never really seen from him before.
He spoke softly. “What is on your mind?”
Ryuu glanced over at him briefly. There was no deception on his face. “My battle with Nameless.”
“You must have fought well to still be alive.”
The nightblade shook his head. “Not the battle I’ve already had. The one I will have in three days.”
Akira frowned. “I know you have never been in a large battle, but I can assure you, the odds of you two actually meeting on the battlefield are slim.”
Ryuu disagreed. “No. We will meet. His rage towards Moriko and me is bottomless, and although she can hide from him, I can’t. Even several days away, I can sense him as clearly as I can see that tree over there. I have little doubt he can do the same. He knows I’m coming, and that she’ll be with me. We will meet.”
Akira thought about the nightblade’s words. “You’re that strong, then?”
Ryuu nodded. He was never one to talk much about his own strength. He was so much like the warriors Akira had idolized in his youth. The strongest warriors had no need to boast. It was the silent swordsman that Akira feared most.
Akira continued his thought, trying to get to the heart of what Ryuu was telling him. “But despite your strength, you fear you aren’t strong enough?”
Ryuu nodded again.
Akira wasn’t sure if there was anything he could say to make Ryuu feel more confident. The young man had an accurate assessment of his abilities, and if he thought he wasn’t strong enough, he probably wasn’t. The thought disturbed Akira, but it wasn’t his place to question the nightblade.
“All we can do is all we can do.” It was a saying his father had used all too often.
Ryuu rolled his shoulders back, as though he was trying to shed the weight of responsibility he felt. “That’s true. It doesn’t make it any easier, though.”
That evening, as the rest of the men set up camp, Akira watched as Moriko and Ryuu prepared to leave to meet up with the nightblade expedition. It felt as though a fist was grabbing his heart and squeezing. Up until this moment the march had seemed like a dream, the sort of heroic exploit he imagined himself leading as a child. But as he watched the two nightblades efficiently pack up their gear, it became all too real to him.
They were marching to a battle they had little hope of winning. They were hopelessly outnumbered, and Moriko, who knew the Azarians best of all, thought that even the strength of the nightblades wouldn’t be enough. There was an excellent chance he would never see the two of them again, and just for a moment, he was seized by the desire to tell them to run, to leave the Kingdom and never return. They had done enough.
He kept his silence, and it wasn’t long before they were ready. The two nightblades turned to face him. There was so much he wanted to say. He wanted to express his gratitude for all they had done, wanted to tell them to be careful, wanted to tell them to escape the madness that was coming. But none of the words could escape his lips. To speak about his feelings would be to demean their import.
Akira met Ryuu’s gaze, and although they said nothing, they understood each other. Akira knew what Ryuu was thinking, and he believed Ryuu understood him also. There wasn’t anything to say.
In a surprise gesture, Ryuu knelt to the ground and bowed all the way down, his forehead pressing against the floor. After a moment of hesitation, Moriko did the same.
Akira fought back tears. He had known the two of them for cycles, and never had they given him more than a nod. Coming from the two of them, a simple nod had always been enough. This was more than he deserved. He knelt down to the ground across from them and returned the gesture. None of his men were around, but he wouldn’t have cared if they were.
He remained in his bow, even after the rustle of their robes reached his ears. He knelt, the cold ground reassuring against his forehead, a few tears watering the grass beneath his face. The sound of two horses trotting away came to him, and it wasn’t until the sound faded into silence that he rose.
The two nightblades were gone, and Akira was certain he would never see them again.
Chapter 34
There were days where Nameless wished he had taken different actions in his life. It wasn’t quite regret for his choices, but it was close. These days, he wished he had stayed far away from the first Gathering in the new land. When they crossed the Three Sisters, their plan had been simple. Defeat the armies of the Kingdom and explore the land. At the first Gathering they would share information and let other clans know where each was planning to settle. It had been so simple when they spoke of it back in Azaria.
There had been some complaints. Some felt they should skip the exploration phase and go straight to settlement. They had fairly detailed information from the monasteries. But he had convinced them otherwise. It wasn’t that he distrusted the information from the monasteries, although the thought did cross his mind. Nameless had pushed for exploration for two reasons. First, it introduced all the clans to the land that was going to be theirs. If they were going to live here, they needed to know it, deep in their bones. They needed to see just how perfect this land was for them. Second, although the information from the monasteries was most likely accurate, the monks didn’t see the land the way one of the People would. If this land was to be their new home, they needed to understand it from their own perspective. For example, the monks would never consider the mating or migration habits of large game.
The purpose of the first Gathering was to take all the information the clans brought back and combine it into one coherent whole. Then clans would discuss where they would settle. Any clan was welcome to settle wherever they wished, but clans wouldn’t want to share the same space. The peace enforced by the demon-kind was no more, and weaker clans would be swallowed by stronger ones if they tried to settle in the same place. The idea had been that by discussing it at the Gathering, bloodshed could be avoided.
What Nameless hadn’t considered was how strong the pull of tradition was. He had thought perhaps the importance of their situation would have inspired the clans to a more forward-thinking mindset, but many of the clans had returned to the old ways. Few looked to the future of the People as a whole. Their thoughts were only for themselves.
Nameless didn’t always blame them. In his calmer moments, he forced himself to remember they had all grown up in a time of hardship. They couldn’t afford to look beyond their immediate clan and their immediate future. There hadn’t been enough food to think of the People as a whole, not when your own stomach was constantly rumbling.
But here they were in a land full of food, full of resources. There was enough for everyone, and clans could afford to look beyond themselves. The only problem was that they couldn’t. They never had before and they couldn’t make the shift.
They also didn’t see that the People were weaker than they ever had been. The move had cost them far more than Nameless had hoped, and it continued to cost them. There were barely enough demon-kind left to be with each clan, and the clan numbers had decreased substantially. Their new land was still hostile to them. If they didn’t work together, they would all die apart.
But he might as well have been arguing to a group of trees for all the effect his words had. The largest and strongest clans claimed enormous amounts of land for themselves, much more than they would need for many cycles. Smaller, weaker clans felt as though they were being forced to settle in lands not much better than those they had left. They came to him, having grown used to the protection of the demon-kind, but no words of his would sway the larger clans. Unless he wanted to resort to force, there was nothing he could do.
Nameless considered returning to power. He still had the support of the demon-kind, and perhaps, if he could unify the clans, at least for another cycle or two, everything would work for the best. But the idea made Nameless sick. His only purpose had been to get them here. They needed to find the strength to survive on their own. They needed to be able to survive without him.
Day after day they met, but nothing changed. The weaker clans continued to approach Nameless, begging him to do something. Under his leadership, large-scale combat between the clans had come to a complete stop. The demon-kind had kept everyone in line. In Azaria, Nameless had known he needed every person alive he could. The weaker clans had appreciated the protection, and some had grown stronger under his leadership. They didn’t see why he should give up his power.
So Nameless continued to be torn between two ideals. On one hand, he feared that if he allowed the demon-kind to assert their authority once again, there would be no turning back. The demon-kind would need to rule the clans from that day forward. They would be responsible for the welfare of all the clans, a responsibility that went against their traditions. Nameless had listened to all the legends growing up. There was a reason the demon-kind shunned authority. He knew how dangerous power could be. The demon-kind were stronger than anyone else, but the reason they had been successful was because they had been raised as servants. In this way, their power was channeled and controlled. Nameless had broken that tradition, but had only wanted to break it for a time. If the demon-kind remained in power, eventually disaster would befall them. The legends were clear on that point.
On the other hand, it seemed obvious that the People needed the demon-kind more than ever. Together they were strong, but if they allowed clan rivalries to dominate their time here, they might cease to exist altogether. They were balanced on the edge of a blade, and a fall to either side would kill them all. Nameless had no doubts about it, but few others seemed to agree with him.
In all this, Nameless had an unusual ally. Dorjee, the leader of the Red Hawks, was a vocal supporter of Nameless. Of all the clan leaders, he was the one who seemed to see the situation the same way Nameless did. They certainly didn’t agree on everything, but they were united in the knowledge that the clans needed to work together.
It was a strange twist of fate that the man who had virtually led the rebellion against Nameless on the other side of the pass now urged his followers to unite. It was working, too. The Red Hawks had almost tripled in size since coming over to the Kingdom. Between marriages and other alliances, the Red Hawks had absorbed several smaller clans and were stronger than they had been in many, many cycles.
The greatest point of contention between Nameless and Dorjee was the method by which the People would come to live with the citizens of the Kingdom. Nameless believed the only way to get the people of the Kingdom in line was to intimidate them and make them understand who was strongest. Dorjee argued that the people of the Kingdom didn’t think the same way the Azarians did. He believed that by moving into the land and making peace, much more could be achieved. Although Nameless hated to admit it, Dorjee’s strategy had been successful for his clan. His clan was still strong, and didn’t seem to have the never-ending problems with the native people that so many other clans had.
But Nameless couldn’t quite bring himself to see facts the way Dorjee did. In his mind, strength was still paramount. If they didn’t assert their strength, they risked finding themselves subservient to the people of the land. The moon was almost full, and the time of the Gathering was coming to a close. If he didn’t find an answer soon, it would be too late.
Nameless still hadn’t found his solution when he learned of the attack.
The news came from one of the demon-kind who had been riding far from the Gathering. He made his report in haste. “We will be under attack soon. I’d estimate about ten thousand, almost half of them trained soldiers. They’ll be here tomorrow morning.”
Nameless was surprised. He continued to underestimate the strength of the people of this Kingdom. Individually, they were weak, but they had strong leaders who brought them together. They were still outnumbered, but it was a substantial enough number that Nameless worried. They didn’t have to kill every one of the People, they just had to get the People to shatter. Did the commanders of the Kingdom know how fragile the alliances of the People were?
“Send word around. Gather every fighter who will come meet them on the field. I’ll gather the demon-kind.”
The messenger left, and Nameless was left alone, his thoughts racing. It could only be King Akira, but it seemed unlike him. In all his time here, he hadn’t known King Akira to make any foolish mistakes, and this felt like one. They had little hope of destroying the Gathering. Did they know how divided the clans were? Even if they knew about this weakness, an attack against the Gathering would only serve to unify the People. Were they just desperate?
There had to be something more happening. Akira was brave, not dumb. Nameless wished, not for the first time, that the old man was still with them. He could have warned them of this attack and let them know of any others.
It wasn’t long before Dorjee came to visit him. “What’s happening?”
Nameless looked up at him. “I don’t know any more than you do. There’s about ten thousand heading our way. They’ll be here in the morning.”